Chapter 24 - Gangzhou
"The shape of the spine means you don't have to worry about cinches," Yan-lin said over her shoulder, part of her face shielded by her hair. "But you do have to worry about the wings. The blanket needs to go over them, and you can't let it push on the flight feathers."
"I thought ostrich-horses can't fly," Hikoshu said dully, watching as she flipped a striped blanket across the animal's back. Dawn was still a bleak gray around them, the ground upheaved where Diem had dismantled their camping site.
"They can't, but they still have flight feathers." Well, that made no sense. "They're used for mating displays. Here, hand me the saddle."
The saddle, a narrow, curved contraption of green leather and surprising little weight, was oddly shaped. Then again, his basis of comparison was on bison and buffalo-yak, so he wasn't sure what exactly would've been 'normal shaped.' Obediently, he hefted it into his arms and passed it on. Yan-lin was far too small to saddle the ostrich-horse, but as in the previous days, she somehow managed, mostly through the grace of the beast's good humor.
"Check for misplaced feathers, adjust the stirrups, and you're done." Dusting her hands, she turned back to him with an accomplished smile. "Now you're ready to ride."
"You mean he's ready to cling on to you while you ride," Diem corrected as he saddled his own mount, and her smile faded. "You'd probably be better off teaching him how to control a horstrich. Besides, I think your bird would be a little happier if you two switched positions. Readjusted your weight."
"But then she wouldn't be the one in charge," Hikoshu added facetiously, though in reality, he didn't want to learn. He had little interest in non-humans, animal and spirit alike, and he didn't intend to ride one of the creatures again after this. "I think she enjoys me being at her whim." Diem flashed him a half-grin beyond the black, fur-feathered neck of his ostrich-horse.
"Now if only you were the kind of man to enjoy it, too."
"I just don't trust him not to get us killed on these passes." Yan-lin looked between them with a petulant frown, clearly displeased with their mutual teasing. "I'll be glad to teach him on flat ground."
Diem disappeared behind the ostrich-horse's back. "Sure you will. But will you really ride rump after he learns?"
"Of course," Yan-lin obviously lied, and Hikoshu almost laughed at her transparency. "What?" she said sharply at his amusement.
"Nothing." He bent to gather up the saddle packs. "Just imagining how much happier I'll be when I'm between your legs, rather than you in between mine." Lugging the packs over his shoulders, he missed her appalled expression, though he heard Diem chuckle coarsely.
"Here, I thought you two were gentlemen," she muttered, her face red as she wrestled a bridle onto Ben-Pao's head. The ostrich-horse croaked in irritation at the rough treatment, but she didn't seem to notice. "It's hard to believe the Avatar would say such things."
"Yeah, well, two days ago, it was hard to believe I'd ever be this sore, either."
And to be sure, he was still sore. Walking, lifting, riding—it seemed no matter what he did, he would discover some new ache or protest. But the sensation had grown familiar, like the afterburn of a strenuous training session, and it slid easily to the back of his thoughts now whenever he chose to ignore it. So with little concern, but also with little enthusiasm, he took his place behind Yan-lin and resumed his usual silence.
Hikoshu supposed he could have tried some conversation. Certainly, it would have made it easier for him to stay awake, given the monotony of the skinny mountain trees and the heavy exhaustion that still haunted him from last night. Yet with nothing to say to Yan-lin, and no interest in speaking to her hair bun, Hikoshu remained mute, letting his mind wander over the crisp blue sky and a biting wind that brushed over the slopes. The two ostrich-horses, in line with each other, clicked sharp talons against the rock-strewn path, and the sun crept along behind them.
"Talk to me, Hikoshu," Yan-lin suddenly said, after they had gone most of the day, and through three breaks, without speaking. Hikoshu had to shake himself from a long stupor.
"About what?"
"Something. Anything." She turned her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye, though the awkward jostle of the ostrich-horse kept him from holding her gaze. "After all of these years, and I can't even say what your favorite color is, or if you play an instrument. So just tell me something."
The feeling was mutual. Maybe she, too, had realized that after everything they'd been through together, they really were just strangers. "Random details won't tell you who I am."
"They'll tell me what to get you for New Year."
He didn't smile at the joke, nor did he respond at first. He needed a moment simply to find an answer. "You know that orange color right before dusk? On the bottom of the clouds? That's my favorite color. When it looks like the sky's on fire." He'd watch the sunset often at the Western Air Temple: the mixture of colors, from deep violet to a light coral pink. Then there, just around the sun, that halo of gold—a crown of burning clouds. Nothing else had yet compared to such a sight. "And I don't play any instruments."
"Do you read?"
"Not since the Fire Temples. Never had much time."
"Games?"
"Pai sho, on occasion. We used to have iceberg-jumps during the summers in the South Pole, but I'm not a very good swimmer."
"Anyone special in your life?"
His thoughts immediately went to Mayami. Her smiling face, the thin tattoo twisting with her cheek. "No. Not really."
Again, she went quiet, and he wondered if the game of questions was over. If perhaps she had grown bored. "I like tree bark," Yan-lin said finally, just as he started to think she wouldn't speak again. "Every tree has different bark. Some are orange underneath, some are white. Some smell and taste bitter, some are fragrant. And no matter where you are, you can always find your way by the trees." Swiftly, then, she answered her own questions, as if he had asked them in turn. "I play four instruments. I read now more than I used to. My favorite pai sho move is the Tiger-Dog Pouncing, and I've never swam in my life."
"Never?"
"I don't like deep water."
"Well…I guess I now know everything about you," he said dryly, and though he couldn't see her expression, he knew she was grinning.
"I'm a pretty simple person."
"Somehow I doubt that." He paused, almost surprising himself with his next suggestion. "Maybe after all of this, I can teach you how to swim."
"You'd want to take me swimming?" Now she sounded dry. "Somehow I doubt that, too."
Silence once more. But it seemed different now—less hostile, less intolerable, as if some old ghost of ill-boding had been chased away. Perhaps it was because he and Yan-lin had just shared their first real conversation in years. They had never felt anything but anger and mistrust for the other, every exchange weighed carefully for truth and discarded more often than not. But now they spoke of tree bark and icebergs, and despite the insignificance of the idle chat, it had a profound effect on him. Suddenly, almost involuntarily, he let his arms relax around her waist and allowed his body the slightest contact with hers. Yan-lin must have felt the change, but she held tightly to the saddle with one hand, struggling to give him space.
Diem eventually broke the quiet, glancing back at them over the swaying fluff of his ostrich-horse's tail. "This pass is a lot busier in the early part of the spring. They use it for trade in peas, wheat, beans, so on. During the winter, though, Omashu looks to the southern and western slopes for the fish trade."
"I don't think Hikoshu cares about how Omashu feeds itself," Yan-lin said, which made Diem grin. She was right; he didn't care. But he also suspected that such small details were important things for an Avatar to know. Stowing the information away in his mind and hoping it'd find somewhere to stick, Hikoshu spoke up.
"Is this the only pass to the east?"
"More or less." His ostrich-horse chirruped loudly as Diem gestured toward the surrounding countryside, hidden by dense thickets of pines. "These mountains are hard to cross. In fact, I'd say the range itself protects Omashu more than any wall or chasm. It was created by an earthbender to separate two warring tribes. Bet you didn't know that."
"One earthbender did all of this?" Hikoshu didn't mask his surprise, or disbelief. The mountain range which held Omashu was enormous, quite possibly the tallest one he'd ever seen. He could hardly imagine any bender, even an Avatar, having the power to raise such giants from the earth.
Diem acknowledged his skepticism with another grin, the quirky expression spreading easily across his face as he leaned backwards. "Well, the war ended up killing the man she loved. And you'd be amazed at the power one person has when what she loves is threatened."
"Hikoshu doesn't like tragic love stories," Yan-lin interjected, and that surprised him more than the story had. Not so much because he didn't remember telling her something so trivial—which he certainly didn't—but because she did remember it. "He finds them more tragic than romantic."
"Fighting for what you love most is always romantic," Diem said simply, holding up his hand with a dramatic flare, and Yan-lin's ostrich-horse gurgled in agreement. Yan-lin in turn flashed Hikoshu a look of smug satisfaction, as if they'd been engaged in a years-long battle and she had just been declared the victor. Even without knowing the argument, Hikoshu felt compelled to scowl, yet instead he found himself smiling at her private glance.
"Have you ever been to Gangzhou, Hikoshu?" Diem continued, facing forward once more.
"This is the farthest I've traveled into the continent."
"Well, then, you're in for a treat."
It took time for him to understand Diem's meaning. As the day progressed and the trees thinned, the deadened roar of a distant river began to hover on the edge of his awareness. He didn't think much of it until close to sunset, when the ostrich-horses took a sharp turn in the trail, the mountain dropping away to form a steep precipice. Reflexively, Hikoshu swung his head toward the less-dizzying underbrush of the opposite side, but not before the panorama caught his eye. The mountain east of them was stark against the lavender-hued sky, its mottled green face cast in a golden light from the setting sun. So abrupt were the colors that Hikoshu nearly missed the city that stood at its base, as brilliant as if it were made of bronze.
After a moment, he realized it was actually made of the same sandstone as Omashu, emerald-tiled roofs glittering over smoothed walls that turned coarse where they morphed into the city's foundation. The base itself was an island of rock, looming high above a wide, deep-flowing river. Shadows darkened its foaming rapids, which crashed loudly on the rock and divided the eastern mountain from the one the travelers currently sat atop.
"Gangzhou's the only way for any eastern invading army to cross the Yongsan River," Diem said as he brought them to a stop, and Hikoshu took note of the two bridges that connected the island town to either mountain. "Needless to say, it's a little hard. Anyone makes an attempt, and earthbenders just wipe out the bridges. Amazing city, really." With that, he kicked his ostrich-horse back into motion. "Come on. If we hurry, we'll make it before dark."
"It's lovely," Hikoshu said, mostly to himself. And it was lovely. Not so much for its unique features, but because it reminded him of the Western Air Temple. An island in the sky.
Yan-lin nodded. "The Earth Kingdom has many lovely places." Her voice was soft, almost sad, and he glanced at her in curiosity. "Beautiful places." Yet before he could ask, she spurred the ostrich-horse on, and the city disappeared behind the trees as the sun's lingering warmth faded away.
When they finally reached the paifang arch that marked the mountain-side of the West Bridge, the gold of late afternoon had transformed into purple dusk. Immediately, Hikoshu was struck by the stark differences between Omashu and Gangzhou. Even at this time of day, the bridge was open, without guards or walls, and a smattering of people still strolled along the jumble of wooden and stone merchant stalls that lined each side. With the encroaching twilight, most had chosen to close up shop, and Hikoshu suspected from their look of sheer permanence that the town had never been threatened enough to institute the defense mechanisms that Diem had described.
The cobble streets of the town proper were narrow and the buildings were tall, creating a darkness only intermittently broken by street lamps or lanterns hung over doors. People flitted in and out of the shadows of these as well, with so little concern or malicious intent that Hikoshu unconsciously relaxed. As if familiar with the roads, Diem guided them through alleys that held no enemies, and long after Hikoshu lost his sense of direction, they emerged on a broader thoroughfare. To the left of them stood a stone building slathered in yellow paint, which seemed to be Diem's destination as he brought his ostrich-horse to a halt in front of it. From around its wooden window slats drifted voices and music, indicating that business had not yet closed for the night.
"This is where I take my leave," Diem said, slipping down from his ostrich-horse. He tossed his reins along the saddle horn and then approached their mount to help Yan-lin off. Instead of placing her on the ground, he held her in a tight hug, her toes barely brushing the stone.
"Are you sure you won't come with us?" She sounded detached, but with the light seeping through the window slats, Hikoshu could see the desperate way she clung to his over-robe. In response, Diem gave her an affectionate smile, resting a hand on her head.
"You'll be fine. If anyone could talk them into helping, mud pie, you could."
"You're not staying the night?" Hikoshu asked in confusion as he, too, dismounted, though with far less grace. Diem glanced over the top of her head to take him in.
"I have to head back. Huan didn't know I'd be gone this long, and I'm liable to lose my job if I don't hurry on home."
"But you'll break a toe in the dark, or walk off a cliff," Yan-lin murmured as she stepped away.
"I've been up these passages countless times. I know where all the rocks and drop-offs are." Then, pulling her into one last hug, Diem pressed her head under his chin. "You have to be careful. Don't tell anyone I helped you, alright?" She said something into his coat that Hikoshu didn't quite hear, but which made Diem smile.
"I appreciate everything you've done," Hikoshu said, starting to bow. Diem waved off the gesture.
"Here's something about sand-dweller culture. They bow like this." He pushed Yan-lin back so that he could bend at the waist. Instead of pressing his hands together, however, he held them up next to each other, palms toward his face and close enough that Hikoshu could only see his eyes. "Cover your mouth. It's a big thing with the sandpeople." He straightened as Hikoshu mimicked the gesture. "And stand on one leg."
Yan-lin laughed, pushing at his arm, which made him grin. Realizing he was being teased, Hikoshu dropped his hands and stared at them flatly.
"Good enough. Yan-lin can probably help you polish up." Then Diem mounted his ostrich-horse again and recovered his reins. "Take care, mud pie. Watch your back." He brushed a finger down his nose with one last cocky grin. And then he was nothing more than a retreating form on a dark street.
Yan-lin watched him go long after the night had swallowed him, neither the light nor the silence illuminating whatever she was feeling. Finally, as the evening cold became too much to bear, Hikoshu touched her arm to catch her attention.
"Will you be all right?"
"Yes, of course," she said automatically, glancing at him with apparent apathy. "Why wouldn't I be?" Quickly, she turned away to seize the ostrich-horse's bridle. But Hikoshu had seen something in her expression when she looked at him. Something he recognized despite her attempts to hide it, because it closely echoed the singular emotion he'd had for weeks.
Loneliness.
o~o~O~o~o
"Four days to cross the grasslands," Yan-lin said, a thin finger tracing the map spread in front of her, symbols scrawled in yellowed ink along its surface. She was on her stomach, stretched out on the bed, a lumpy mattress stuffed with hay and thrown precariously on a rickety wood frame. Aside from a rough-hewn chest and an even rougher stool, the room was relatively empty.
"Four days," she continued, her bare feet swaying in the air as she spoke, "until we reach Aksu. Then it's just a matter of finding sandbenders willing to help us."
"And how long will that take us?" Hikoshu said from his spot on the floor. The bed didn't look like it could hold two people, nor did the stool look like it could hold one, and so he sat cross-legged just below the mattress while he fiddled with his shoe. Diem had been able to provide a pair to replace his worthless palace slippers, all gilt and no substance. But all of his good leather would have gone into shoes he could sell, and so the mountain had already worn holes into the thin soles. Hikoshu was going to have to pad them, at this rate.
"Depends." She pushed her loose hair over her shoulder and propped her chin in her palm. "It's the end of the caravan season, and I don't know which tribe controls the oasis town."
"How long does that mean?"
She shot him a perturbed frown, carefully refolding the map along its worn creases. "I don't know. Days, maybe weeks. It all depends on how fast we can find sandbenders, and then convince them to help us."
Hikoshu groaned and allowed himself to collapse backwards onto the hard stone floor, a brush of bent air cushioning his fall. "We don't have that kind of time."
"It's the best we can do, without Diem. They're a very insular culture; they don't often volunteer to act as trail guides for outsiders."
"Can we buy their help?"
"With what money?" The bed creaked as Yan-lin sat up. "I only found enough caches for supplies to get us to Aksu. And unless you have any…"
"Whatever the Tribes gave me, I left at the palace." He stared absently at the cracked ceiling and wondered if there was another room above them. He supposed there was, as he could hear its occupants on occasion as they moved around. What problems were they facing? Were they merchants? Traveling poets? Was this just an unremarkable stop in an already-long road? Distracted, Hikoshu almost forgot their own conversation. "I suppose I can charm them into helping."
Yan-lin snorted. "You should probably leave that up to me."
"I would, if you were at all charming." Silence answered him, and the bed groaned again.
"You're not going to sleep down there, are you?"
He lifted his head to spy Yan-lin over the questionably-sturdy wood rods that made up the foot-board. She was peering at him, having crawled forward along the mattress, her expression doubtful.
"I don't imagine you want to sleep on the floor," he said simply and let his head fall back.
"The proprietor said the bed could hold two."
"Well, the proprietor was lying."
"Hikoshu," she said with some frustration, her tone sounding eerily close to Miyo's when she thought he was being ridiculous, "you shouldn't have to sleep on the floor. There's plenty of room up here."
"If you're going to insist, then I'll take the bed and you take the floor."
"The point is for neither of us to be on the floor." A half-melted candle, sitting in a pool of tallow atop the stool, cast odd shadows on her face and disguised all but the irritation in her voice. Which was too bad—it meant he couldn't see the reaction his next comment garnered.
"I'm not sleeping with you, Yan-lin."
That left her at a loss for words, though it didn't curtail her distinct ire. Hikoshu merely folded his arms under his head and returned to his quiet contemplation on their invisible neighbors above. He knew he was annoying her incredibly. And to be honest, after the last two unbearable nights in the mountains, that mattress—lumpy though it was—looked as comfortable as an Omashu feather bed. But if it meant spending the night next to her, he imagined he would just take the discomfort.
"Fine," Yan-lin said, the word clipped, and suddenly she slid off the bed, Diem's bulky, cast-off robes nearly tripping her. "If we both can't have the bed, then neither of us will." He watched her askance as she lay beside him and rested her head against her elbow so that she could level a haughty look of challenge at him.
Preposterous. But at least her stubborn-headedness had left the bed now free, and Hikoshu seized the opportunity by getting up. "Suit yourself."
"Oh, no!" she snapped, and much faster than he anticipated, she'd sprung after him, jumping to the opposite side of the mattress. "Not without me."
Hikoshu stared at her with mouth half-agape. Why was she being so persistent? Whether it was out of childish humor or pure obstinacy, he wasn't sure. Instead of fighting it, however, he surrendered the bed once more. "Alright."
"I'm sleeping wherever you are, Hikoshu," she said firmly, which made him pause. Yan-lin eyed him with determination, her expression devoid of the absurdity that such a response should have merited.
Though part of him refused to be goaded into juvenile disputes, another part of him—the part that never could ignore a challenge—balked at the idea of this tiny girl telling him what to do. Rising to her bait, and thoroughly galled that he was, Hikoshu slowly climbed onto the mattress in newfound defiance. "You're not getting on this bed." But as he shifted his weight against the framework, the wood groaned unpleasantly, and with a spark of fear, he looked down in full expectation of it breaking.
Yan-lin took advantage of the moment of distraction to crawl onto the bed as well. This sent a surge of panic through him as the frame groaned even more loudly, but it was quickly drowned out by the panic that she might win. Hikoshu grabbed at her shoulders to push her off, and Yan-lin agilely ducked under his arms. He made another attempt which she just as easily evaded. Then after that, the scene morphed into chaos.
Hikoshu had no idea how he was failing to seize someone so petite; whenever he captured her elbow or caught her waist, she slipped away like water, and even his most complicated pins she foiled as if she were some wind spirit. More often than not, he found himself entangled in the blanket, struggling to free his hands as she laughingly dodged another failed hold.
And that was perhaps the most infuriating part—she was laughing. Yan-lin obviously didn't take the struggle nearly as seriously as he did, nor was she acknowledging the grating threat of the unhappy bed below them. The more determined Hikoshu became in conquering her, the funnier Yan-lin found the situation, as if they were two children engaged in a wrestling match. It spurred him to fight harder, though his renewed efforts were just as unsuccessful. And all the while, Yan-lin rolled across the mattress in fits of giggles.
So focused was he on the fight, Hikoshu didn't even notice when his anger first abated, or when he first started to enjoy himself. Only after Yan-lin, gasping and choking with mirth, gave up her fight to escape did he realize he was laughing, too. She surrendered the struggle grudgingly, allowing him to pin her against the half-mauled mattress. Still, a victory was a victory, even one that was handed to him, and as he straddled her waist, savoring his win, Hikoshu gave her a look full of smug glee.
"Bed's mine, diplomat."
Though her brown eyes danced with dying merriment, Yan-lin still managed a defiant glare, blowing away the wild swath of hair that had fallen in her face. "From where I'm lying, it looks like we're both on here."
Saltpeter. She was right. But his failure didn't sting as much as he expected, and he grinned broadly. "Well, it's going to be a very uncomfortable position to sleep in."
"Maybe for whoever's on top," she said snidely, which made him laugh in disbelief.
"Fortunately, I have no problem with being on top."
Abruptly, the innocent nature of their game vanished. Gone was the child-like joy the fight had conjured, and Hikoshu saw the scene for what it was. How he hovered over her, holding her wrists against the mattress just beside her head, and how the rhythmic movement of her breasts slowed with the passing of each tense moment. Yan-lin had finally realized it, too; her smirk melted into something shocked and a little less than certain, her eyes holding his in nervous anticipation. Waiting for him to act.
But for once, Hikoshu had no instinct to act on: only emotion, which he'd long ago learned to avoid when it came to impulses. "I'll sleep on the floor," he finally said, his voice still husky with his ambivalence, and too swiftly, Yan-lin nodded. Neither of them knew what had just happened, except that it wasn't supposed to. So Yan-lin didn't stop him as he climbed off the bed and retrieved his over-robe, slung carelessly over the chest.
She sat up while Hikoshu found his spot on the floor again, and he could feel her gaze on him as he bunched the old coat under his head. Hikoshu studiously avoided her eyes the whole time, just so she couldn't read his expression or he hers. With his eyes closed, he listened to the bed creak under her. A moment later, the bed stopped its noise as she blew the candle out.
o~o~O~o~o
The streets were bustling.
Hikoshu hadn't seen a bustling street in years, and so he watched with dim awe as men toting carts mingled in the fairway alongside women toting children. They all seemed to be going somewhere, bundled up against the chilly morning in coats and over-robes of varying browns. Occasionally there was a gray coat, or even a yellow one. But other than that, they were simply an anonymous crowd, different only in what direction they were facing.
How they could be so happy so early in the day, he couldn't guess. Of course, likely he was unhappy due to a miserable night on the floor. As a result, he scanned them with both awe and irritability, his clothes wrinkled and his hair awry from total disinterest in fixing either.
"Twelve coppers for two packs of feed?" Yan-lin was indignant. Glancing over from his perch against the stone wall separating two stalls, Hikoshu saw her embroiled in an argument with a green-robed, crab-faced woman who glowered at her from behind the counter. The stone stall, much like every stall along that street, had been bended conveniently from the side of the building just for this morning's market. To his right was another merchant, selling watered-down milk to two twelve-year-old girls. And across from him was a long line of a dozen differently shaped stalls selling anything from fresh rock-bass to glazed pottery.
"Twelve coppers. The North River Pass is snowed in and no seed is coming through. I can't go any lower." The crab-faced woman had hitched her wool sleeves up to her elbows, and the way the two hair buns pulled at her face made her glower look even surlier. Honestly, Hikoshu was glad Yan-lin was handling it. If it'd been left up to him, he would've just given her the money and taken the feed.
But, then again, he'd never had to haggle for anything. Spending nearly twenty years in one sheltered environment or another, Hikoshu had never had to pay for anything, either. On the few occasions he'd ventured from his sanctuaries, his needs had been universally met with little argument, if not total respect. The fact was that the Avatar would not be denied anything; too many people assumed it would result in the destruction of the world if they didn't give him whatever he wanted.
"The pass cleared up three weeks ago," Yan-lin said, utterly patient, though her tone was still offended by the exorbitant price. "And by the time the new seed comes in, that pack of seed you're refusing to sell me now will have rotted. Nine coppers. Not a half-copper piece more."
"Eleven coppers. I can always feed it to the cow-swine."
Actually, Hikoshu realized in surprise, this was perhaps the first time that his Avatar-hood hadn't come into play. In fact, he'd been known as the Avatar for nearly ten years now, and yet, at this very moment, he was cloaked in obscurity. Perhaps he was a little taller than most of the men who stopped in groups of two or three to joke with each other. Perhaps his clothes didn't fit as well as theirs, either. But for the most part, he was indistinguishable from any other person on that busy street.
For the first time in ten years, he was merely Hikoshu. Uncomfortable, he leaned a foot against the wall and tried hard to blend into the stone.
"Alright, a silver and nineteen coppers for two packs of feed, a sack of snow potatoes, a bunch of red carrots, and whatever peas you have left." They must've been reaching the end of the bartering, and he shot Yan-lin a surreptitious look as she pressed a hand on the counter. The crab-faced woman nodded.
"Two silvers and I'll throw in a sack of rice."
"Done. I'll be back with my horstrich to collect." The two women bowed to each other in agreement, and then Yan-lin was grabbing his arm to drag him into the crowd.
"Eleven coppers for moldy seed." She still sounded incensed as she marched in front of him, her braided bun bobbing with the angry jerks of her head. "Can you believe it? Really, I'll have to talk to Prefect Jusun about Gangzhou."
"So are we going to buy some new clothes now? And shoes?" Perhaps he should have let her finish her rant, but he was more interested in finding a pair of shoes that weren't losing their soles, as well as breakfast. The odor floating from a nearby noodle shop was quite tantalizing, and quickly, he forgot all about his frozen toes.
"Whatever clothes we buy right now, we'll have to replace in three days anyway." She turned her head to look at him askance. "Hikoshu, are you listening?"
Not really. They'd enter a plaza, filled with an assortment of people and dominated by a frozen fountain. A highly stylized, white stone armadillo-bear knelt in its center, five times the size of any flesh-and-blood armadillo-bear, its enormous paw tramping on a marble fish just above the fountain's dry basin. That, combined with the citizens who seemed far brighter than the gray sky creeping above them, robbed him of what little attention he could normally spare.
"Hikoshu!"
"Yeah, I'm listening." He hated it when she treated him like a child. "When are we leaving?"
Yan-lin didn't seem to believe him, her indignant look of earlier now leveled on him. "I already told you, probably not until after noon. Now that we don't have Diem's earthbending skills, we're going to need camping supplies. As in tents and sleeping rolls."
"Tent? Why do we need a tent?" He scoffed openly at the sky. "It hasn't snowed at all."
As if on cue, large, soft flakes began to fall on the crowd. Hikoshu stared at the clouds blankly, half-wondering if he'd caused it or if some spirit up there just found it amusing to toy with him. Yan-lin crossed her arms under her breasts, her expression wry.
"That's perfect. Maybe you could ask for it to rain money next, or perhaps even sandbenders." Then she walked away, leaving him to watch the sky in some expectation. With the abrupt change in weather, everyone was rushing now. They scurried across the cobblestone square, wood shoes clattering against the pavement, their hoods tugged down tight against a snowfall that was growing increasingly heavier.
Hikoshu normally would have bended the flakes away until he found shelter, but being so conspicuous in the middle of the plaza, he just hunched his shoulders and followed Yan-lin. Unfortunately, Diem hadn't had extra hoods that fit either of them, and now their heads were bare, exposed to the elements. In front of him, Yan-lin's bun was dotted with snowflakes.
Suddenly she stopped and turned to him, nearly causing him to run into her. He could see her cheeks were flushed with the wind and snow, her skin wet where the latter had melted. "We might not get out of the mountains if it keeps snowing like this." There was an implicit question in her voice.
"I can handle the snow," Hikoshu said with a frown, his eyes automatically traveling to the mountain rising above them, its silhouette obscured in white. "But I can't follow the trail."
"We'll have to be quick, then. Perhaps we can find someone at the inn who'll be willing to sell a spare tent." Absently, she brushed at his shoulder, and he turned his frown on her hand. "You're covered in flurries."
"Well, we are standing in the snow." His frown deepened as she smiled up at him. "What?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, though her smile grew wider. "It's just that it's kind of silly. I mean, here you are, most intimidating man in the world, and you're wearing a snow crown."
"Snow crown?" he asked uncertainly, tilting his head back as if he could see his own head, but Yan-lin clasped his chin to hold him still.
"No, don't. Don't ruin it." Then, satisfied he wouldn't disturb the thin layer of snow, she released his jaw. "It looks charming."
"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to ruin how charming my frozen scalp looks," he retorted, but her smile made him grin, and they shared a comfortable—if very cold—moment of silence.
It was broken quite sharply by an unexpected voice. "Mistress Yan-lin!"
She wheeled around at that, her smile vanishing into a look of horror, and even with her back to him, Hikoshu could feel the anxiety come off of her in waves. Not twenty paces away, two soldiers watched them, their armor hidden under thick green coats that extended to their calves, their heads covered in the wide salakot helmets of the Omashu guard. Perhaps she should've never turned at the call of her name, and Hikoshu imagined Yan-lin was quietly cursing herself for the hasty action. But it was too late now; the young soldiers had recognized her, and with caution, they approached.
"What are you doing out here, Mistress Yan-lin?" the sharp-nosed man on the right asked, feigning an easy-going manner that was betrayed by his stiffened shoulders. Next to him, his stouter, shorter friend walked with the same tension, though it also showed on his face. Even as the first man spoke to Yan-lin, the soldiers' eyes were on Hikoshu.
"It's official business for Omashu, and nothing I'm at liberty to discuss, Private Kinfu." Yan-lin's posture didn't change as far as he could tell, but abruptly she assumed a commanding presence, her voice filled with iron and her height increasing by imaginary inches. She was now the cool politician, ripped violently from his memories and shoved back into the present.
"I'm sorry, Mistress Yan-lin." The youth really did seem apologetic as the two stopped several paces from them. "But a message came two days ago. From the king. Said that if you were to pass through here, we should stop you."
Hikoshu didn't make any threatening gesture, though he adjusted his shoulders to show that he was certainly prepared to. "You might want to reconsider if that's an order you feel comfortable following." At his vague threat Yan-lin turned to shoot him a look of warning, which filled him with frustration. The two soldiers, partly hidden in the heavy snowfall, were quite obviously tense; Hikoshu could have scared them away with just a growl and an evil stare, if she would let him.
"His Majesty wanted to detain us?" Yan-lin addressed them again, her voice both indifferent and slightly dumbfounded, as if this were simply too ridiculous to believe. "Did His Majesty state why?"
"Not the both of you, Mistress Yan-lin," the young man—Kinfu—said, shifting his feet enough to disturb the layer of snow that had built on his flat helmet. "Just you."
"We were ordered to escort you back to Omashu." His friend had a much gruffer, more confident tone. "He said that you left the city without official permission, and that you were a witness to a possible attack."
"Of course." Yan-lin's words were deliberate. "Well, I will be glad to heed His Majesty's command, just as soon as I finish this current matter."
"His order was immediate." Again, Kinfu was casting him anxious glances, unconsciously touching a ceremonial sword at his hip. "No exceptions."
"And his order can burn, for all I care." Hikoshu allowed some of his irritation to creep into his voice.
"Hikoshu, no," Yan-lin said softly, spinning around to place a hand on his chest. He hesitated at the beseeching look in her large eyes. "Please, don't. Not over this."
"What are you planning to do?"
"What else? Go back to Omashu." Quickly, she dug the map out of a deep pocket inside her over-robe and pressed it into his hand. "Take Ben-Pao, get to Aksu. Find a sandbender."
"What?" Surprised, he didn't stop her from shoving a small purse of money into his other hand. "No…no, I can't. Not without you." He'd assumed she had some plan. But this wasn't a plan at all.
"Listen, they're just soldiers following orders. You know you can't fight them. But it's fine. You'll be fine." She now flattened both of her palms against his chest, as if that would calm him. "I'll be fine. This is how it's supposed to be." She gave him an encouraging smile. The absurdity of her encouraging him when she was the one heading back into that mess would've been laughable had it not been so upsetting.
"You're not going back with them."
Her smile grew softer at his protest, and swiftly, she stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the side of his mouth. "Thank you. For giving me another chance." When she stepped back, her eyes were filled with such sincerity that it actually tore at his heart, and she plucked at his wrists. "You should hide those, before you give some pickpocket ideas." Satisfied that he would conceal the map and coin purse on his own, Yan-lin gave him one more look of saddened reassurance, then pivoted toward the guards. "I'm happy to oblige His Majesty however I can."
Was she? As Yan-lin assumed her place between the two green-coated soldiers, Hikoshu watched her retreating back with helpless confusion. No, she couldn't want to go back to that life, but she obviously thought she deserved it. Perhaps, something in him reasoned, she did. Even if her demeanor had changed, Yan-lin's knack for subterfuge hadn't, and more than once Hikoshu had questioned the wisdom of trusting her again. So perhaps, by allowing her to leave, he had saved himself from suffering the same fate twice.
But he needed her. He needed her diplomacy with the sandbenders, he needed her pragmatism on the journey, and frankly, he needed her just to ride the ostrich-horse. More than anything, however, Hikoshu needed to know that he was never wrong to trust her.
The snowfall that obscured the trio walking away suddenly grew heavier, though none of them seemed to notice. Only when it became a veritable white-out did the soldiers stop in wonder, unaware that everywhere else in the plaza, the snow had ceased altogether. Hikoshu then seized the moment of confusion he'd created from the snow in order to bend Yan-lin backwards, the air ripping her away from the soldiers so violently that it sent the flakes into a whirlwind around them.
Yan-lin gave a yelp as she slammed into his chest. He shoved his hand against her mouth to forestall a cry and yanked her in the direction opposite the soldiers. "Come on, go!"
"Hikoshu!" she shouted, dragging behind him, which made him jerk harder on her hand to get her to run.
"It's not open to discussion, so just—" Hikoshu pulled up short as the ground shook, causing Yan-lin to smash into him. Just at that second, stone shot up in front of them, barring their way as three more walls emerged on all sides to box them both in. Growling, he threw the side of his hand and a powerful fire blast into the barrier, and the rock exploded as he pulled Yan-lin through the flames.
What remained of Gangzhou's citizens—the ones who hadn't yet escaped the snowy plaza—shrieked at the explosion and scattered as he dashed toward the fountain, the only source of cover in the wide-open square. Behind them, the soldiers refrained from another attack, but shouted instead for support. Clinging to his hand, Yan-lin gasped with the effort of running.
"Hikoshu, this isn't helping!"
"But going back to Omashu would?"
Her response morphed into a scream as the cobblestones crumpled underneath their feet, and Hikoshu grabbed her shoulders as he leapt the remaining distance into the fountain basin. To his surprise, he didn't find it dry; the water was frozen at the bottom, which caused them to slip and crash into the lower lip of the fish statue. Hauling Yan-lin hastily up with one hand, Hikoshu melted the fountain bed with the other. The ice shifted and dropped them a foot as it became water, nearly depositing them back in the basin, but Hikoshu kept his balance as he pushed Yan-lin behind him. Then, reeling in a tight circle, he threw the water as one gigantic wave from the fountain. It slammed against the cobblestone, ricocheting into two streams that met head-on the two original guards and pinned them to the ground with ice. Another soldier had already come to their aid, and Hikoshu let the remnant water course off of them to take him down as well.
Satisfied that they wouldn't come after them at least for the moment, Hikoshu once more took Yan-lin and ran. She was out of breath, which prevented any more arguments, and so she followed wordlessly behind him as he dove across the remaining plaza to disappear between the buildings. The screams of bystanders had faded into the curt, shouted commands of the Omashu guard. He knew they didn't have long before the entire town watch descended on them, which meant they needed to disappear.
Rounding the first corner, however, he found their escape cut off by a blind alley, a two-story building before them. As Hikoshu stared hopelessly at the cracking façade, Yan-lin took the moment of reprieve to plant her hands on her knees and catch her breath.
"They're earthbenders!" she gasped. "We can't outrun them when we're surrounded by earth!"
"So we'll hide." Then, ignoring her complaints, he scooped Yan-lin into his arms and jumped for an open window right below the drooping eaves.
He just didn't realize it wasn't actually open until Yan-lin screamed.
Twisting mid-air, he threw his back toward the black-oak shutters and wrapped his body into a ball around Yan-lin. The maneuver required a significant amount of airbending, which buffered the impact enough that he was afraid they would just bounce off and plummet back to the earth. To avoid that, he blew out his breath hard; the resultant air blast tossed them through the shutters and splintered the wood in the process. Yan-lin fell out of his arms as they tumbled into the room, crashing through folding screens and furniture.
Hikoshu winced as he pushed himself up from the rubble. A shard of pottery, the size of his finger, had embedded itself in the bottom of his palm. He ripped it out with his teeth and staunched the bleeding against his hip, then scanned the room for Yan-lin. Nearby, she moaned quietly as she lifted herself from the woven mat, her loose hair framing a bloody gash on her forehead.
"You're hurt." He crawled to her and reached to wipe at the cut, but she slapped his hand away with a scowl.
"Don't touch me!" Sitting on her heels, she pushed her hair back in order to glare at him. "You dragged me into this mess, but now you care if I'm hurt?"
"Do you seriously want to have this argument here?" Hikoshu's nerves still crackled, stealing any patience he might have had otherwise.
"Well, you've pretty much guaranteed this is the safest place for it." She spat on the floor as blood from the wound ran into her mouth. "Why won't you, just once, let things go? Why do you always have to fight?"
"Why won't you, just once, let me save you from something without berating me for doing it?"
"You aren't doing this for me, Hikoshu, you're doing this for—"
"For myself, yes, you've told me. You have a hard time accepting that maybe I care what happens to you."
"Oh, please. Two weeks ago, you were declaring how you never wanted to see me—"
Hikoshu groaned loudly over her. "Good spirits, Yan-lin!" He then grabbed her cheeks in both hands so suddenly that she flinched. With a firm grip, he held her head still so that he could give her his full glare. "I care about you. I—care—about you. Believe me, I'm not bleeding in the middle of this room for my health or sanity."
Yan-lin stared back, her wide eyes framed by the trickle of blood which was now mingling with his on her cheek. But she said nothing, and the tense exchange of looks was only interrupted by a whimper. They both turned their gazes further into the room, where a woman holding a toddler huddled in the corner. She watched them in tearful horror and no small amount of confusion, surrounded by the fragmented ruins of her home. The child, the one who whimpered, cowered under her arms.
"Ah…" Hikoshu immediately dropped Yan-lin's face, fighting back chagrin. "I am so sorry." He fumbled for the coin purse in his pocket.
Yan-lin looked to the window at the sound of voices in the alleyway. "We have to go." She got to her feet, pulling him up as he freed the pouch from his robe. "Forget the money and come on." Around them, the building shook. Hikoshu barely had time to drop the purse in front of the woman before Yan-lin led him out of the room.
"We can't go out the front door," she said, assuming control once more. "You'll have to bend us out one of these windows."
"I'm not jumping out of a window," Hikoshu objected, and the look she shot him was scathing.
"We went in one, we can go out of one." She darted past the central stairwell and turned down one of the other three corridors. At the end of the hallway was what she was searching for—an unshuttered window, framed on both sides by stiff armadillo-bear statues resting on their haunches.
"You don't understand, going up is a lot easier than going down."
"You've got to be kidding me. You're still afraid of heights?" She dropped his hand as they reached the window, allowing him to squirm away while she assessed the scene outside.
"I'm not afraid. I'm just very—" Hikoshu quailed as she grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the pane. Far, far below them, a cow-hog rifled through half-frozen rubbish. "Yes, I'm afraid. I'm not jumping."
"Hikoshu, you got me into this—"
"We can take the stairs."
"They'll be expecting us. And if we wait any longer, they'll have us cornered here, too." As if to support her dire words, the building shook once more. Yan-lin stared at him pointedly.
Crumbling under her perturbed frown, Hikoshu blew out his breath. "Fine. Hold on to my neck." Then, gathering his courage as well as Yan-lin, he climbed very reluctantly onto the shallow window ledge. The world swayed and his legs trembled, and he clung to the eerily-smooth stone of the precipice. Just beyond his feet, the alley danced in doubles, causing his stomach to churn with nausea.
"Go now," Yan-lin ordered, and Hikoshu wondered if she understood how relative 'now' could be when a man was peering into the face of his own demise. He swallowed, he steeled himself, then he adjusted his legs and steeled himself again. And then, he set his foot—
"Wait!" she hissed, and Hikoshu nearly fell backwards in his retreat. "They're coming down the alley now." Hikoshu couldn't look, but he could hear the men's voices reverberating on the wall of the building across from them.
"So we don't have to jump?"
"We're cornered," she whispered, frustrated. "We waited too long."
Relief mixed with worry. "What do we do then?"
Yan-lin moaned quietly beside his throat and dropped her head against his ear. "I don't know, I don't know…"
But they couldn't just give up—not after what he'd done to get to this point. He had created this problem, so he was going to have to solve it. Fixing his eyes on the roof of the building across from them, Hikoshu braced himself. "Hold tight and keep quiet."
"Why? What—" she gave a squeak of surprise as he leapt from the window ledge.
They flew at the roof so fast from his airbending that he barely had time to waterbend the tiles free of snow before they landed. The landing itself was hard, and Hikoshu almost lost Yan-lin in his desperate scrabble for a handhold. Luckily, his fingers caught the edge of the ceramic tiles in a death-grip, and Yan-lin's did the same just above his head. They both waited there for an anxious moment before daring to breathe. It took another moment for Hikoshu to force his petrified muscles into starting the agonizing crawl toward the roof's ridge.
"If we stay quiet and stick to the roofs," he whispered, "we might get out of here without being seen."
Beside his head, she nodded. "Why didn't you warn me first?"
"What part of 'stay quiet' did you not under—" In an attempt to lodge a toe under the edge of the tiles, his foot accidentally dislodged a tile instead. It slipped and clattered down the slope of the roof. Hikoshu listened, horrified, as it struck the pavement below. Then there was no staying quiet or being deliberate. Hikoshu clambered up the roof side.
As soon as he reached the ridge, Hikoshu pushed himself to his feet. Again, the world took on the motion of a storm-tossed ship, the mountainous vista a blur of gray, but he disregarded it in his panic. Yan-lin, in her own panic, tightened her hold on his shoulders until he thought she might choke him. "I'm going to make a run for the other roof," he explained, preparing her, "then I'll jump."
"Alright."
"Ready?" He took three rapid steps down the opposite side, but on the fourth, his foot caught on the tiles. Hikoshu cried out as he fell forward, and Yan-lin shrieked even more loudly as she flew over his head. He grabbed her arm at the last second with his injured hand, and she landed soundly against the roof just below him, the wind knocked out of her.
But Hikoshu didn't slide, as he half expected he would. Looking up toward the ridge, he saw his foot was encased in tile. One of the soldiers had trapped him. Grunting, he glanced back to Yan-lin, whose feet dangled past the eave. The upside-down vantage point—the sky at his heels and a barely visible road now above his head—disoriented him enough that he was forced to close his eyes briefly. "Here, give me your other hand."
Yan-lin was in shock, barely registering his request, but eventually her fingers brushed against his. Instead of taking her hand, however, he bended a snowball from a nearby chimney drift and mashed it against her knuckles, pinning her palm to the roof. Yan-lin cried out in pain as he froze her hand in place.
"What are you doing?"
"You have to let go."
"What?" she uttered, horrorstricken, and clung even tighter to his injured hand.
"I'm trapped and I can't get free while holding you. If you let go, I can break—"
"I'm not letting go of you!"
"Yan-lin." He tried hard to hold her terror-filled eyes—tried to communicate strength and encouragement, even as his mind quavered at the thought of them both tumbling to their deaths. "You have to trust me. I won't let you fall."
Yan-lin obviously had no inclination to trust him, but something must have come across in his gaze. Or perhaps she was remembering his declaration in the half-destroyed room. Or perhaps she realized how close he was to vomiting from the vertigo. Whatever the case, her eyes softened, her fear dissolved to some degree, and she nodded. "Don't let me fall." Then she let go.
Hikoshu didn't wait to see if the ice-pin had held. Twisting until he thought his ankle might snap, he hauled himself up at the waist and slammed a flame-wreathed fist against the offending tile. It cracked, nearly cracking bone with it, but the move gave him just enough time to find a handhold before it broke completely. "Yan-lin!"
The pin had worked; Yan-lin still hung from the roof just below him, her hand encased in ice. Her face was warped in a horrible expression of almost feral panic. "This isn't going to hold!"
"Wait, I'm coming down." He started to slide toward her, and barely missed a stone to the head as a result. Stunned, he looked back to the spine of the roof, where the helmet of an Omashu guard was just emerging from the other side.
Yan-lin shouted for him as he started back up the roof, but he ignored her in favor of this new threat. Instead, he took the offensive by throwing his fist into the guard's gut, using airbending to give him balance while the guard still struggled to find his. The young man coughed and swung at him, which he easily deflected with his injured hand. Then he took out the guard's precarious stability by grasping his wrist and twisting. The guard slid sideways in the direction of his arm and hit the roof on his back. Hikoshu immediately froze his hand to the tiles just as he'd done with Yan-lin.
As he straightened, two more soldiers appeared, jumping onto the roof from raised stone platforms. He leveled an air blast at one, which tossed the man back through the window he and Yan-lin had jumped from, and ducked a running attack from the other. The remaining guard regained his stance fast enough to block Hikoshu's thrust, but earthbending moves were poorly suited for rooftop battles. The soldier simply couldn't root himself well enough to dodge a side kick to the chest, and as the guard fell, Hikoshu dove forward to catch him by the ankle. This he froze to the roof, as well, and started toward the other side of the roof for Yan-lin.
The impact of an earthbender hitting the roof shook every tile, enough to steal Hikoshu's balance and send him into a fit of until-then-ignored vertigo. On the opposite slope, Yan-lin shrieked in terror.
Hikoshu recovered and threw one of the snow drifts at the earthbender, though it hit harmlessly on his shoulder. The soldier paid no attention, controlling his bare feet with tiles. This new man was formidable, twice the size of either of the two guards still pinned to the roof, and the gold studs on his uniform denoted a person of higher rank. Hikoshu wheeled back on one foot to throw air at the man, but before he could, the man exploited his poor stance and once more slammed his heel into the roof. The resultant quake shook the building, forcing Hikoshu to his hands and knees. On the other side of the ridge, Yan-lin's shriek became high-pitched. Alarmed.
"Yan-lin!" Hikoshu forgot about the man immediately and dove across the ridge. The ice had shattered; he arrived just in time to see her hand disappear beyond the eave. Without thinking, he threw himself off the roof headfirst.
Plunging like a dragon-hawk, Hikoshu used just enough bending to catch Yan-lin in the air. He covered her in his body to protect her from their inevitable landing, and only belatedly did he think to soften it with airbending. Throwing out a hand to stop the ground, he encountered vegetables instead.
They hit hard, his vision and mouth filling with leafy cabbage. He heard the wagon bed snap under them, and a very upset Earth Kingdom man shouting profanities. Dazed, Hikoshu allowed himself to lie in the cabbage as thoughts crashed in on him. Fighting on a roof. Falling from a roof. He was going to be sick.
Yan-lin had recovered before him, and she tugged at his hand hurriedly. "Get up!" Hikoshu started to, but just as soon as he sat up, something caught him in the back, tossing him from the destroyed cart.
He hadn't regrouped well enough to fight this new threat; he needed a few moments even to register that a rock band was now wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms to his side as he rolled onto his back. From above, bits of broken tile showered him, and Yan-lin quickly sheltered him with her own body, her blood-matted face full of resolve and lingering fear.
"Leave him alone!" she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Lieutenant Tin, call off your men! You're attacking the Avatar."
Hikoshu let his head fall to the side, giving him an eyeful of dirty toes. Those toes looked familiar, and he followed the leather greaves up to the gold-studded man from the roof. Lieutenant Tin, he supposed, with all of his gold insignia sewn into his leather cuirass. He was missing the green coat and salakot of the other soldiers, but he didn't seem to notice the snow that clung to his plaited beard. His eyes were locked solely on Hikoshu.
"I didn't imagine the Avatar would be so easily captured."
Hikoshu struggled to a sitting position, despite Yan-lin's insistence he stay down. "It's interesting that you think I'm captured. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just showing remarkable restraint."
Tin's eyebrows shot up at that. "You seem awfully confident for a man wrapped in stone."
"Well, I admit, it is an annoying inconvenience," Hikoshu said wearily, wishing he could wipe his mouth. Yan-lin must have slammed her head into his when they landed, as his nose throbbed and blood was bubbling with his words. "But I should have it off before I'm finished with most of those men behind you."
At the mouth of the alley and just beyond the destroyed cabbage cart, seven Omashu guardsmen stood at attention. Well-trained soldiers, they didn't betray any hint of disbelief or offense at his claim. The lieutenant, however, expressed their incredulity for them. "If you're trying to tempt my men into fighting you, you'll be sorely disappointed."
Hikoshu sighed, then airbended himself to a stand. Immediately, Yan-lin clutched his immobile arm as if to support him. "Believe me when I say I don't desire a fight. But I'm not going to let you take the lady without one."
"So be it." Lieutenant Tin raised his hand, signaling the soldiers behind him. In unison, they fell into an identical bending stance, and with a gasp, Yan-lin placed her body between them and Hikoshu.
"Lieutenant, don't do this!" she pleaded. "I'll come with you peacefully, but don't hurt him." The response took Hikoshu aback. She was trying to protect him? He had just assumed she hadn't wanted him to hurt the soldiers. Apparently, though, it was the exact opposite.
Unfortunately, Tin didn't look swayed, his hand still in the air. Surely he didn't plan to go through her. And yet Yan-lin didn't move, her feet planted in an almost earthbender-like stance. It compelled Hikoshu to interrupt before things escalated out of his control. "You know, I'm bleeding enough for one day. Instead of fighting—which would likely have only two outcomes, neither of which I'm thrilled about—why don't we compromise?"
Tin's hand faltered. "Your suggestion for a compromise, then?"
"If you're still intent on taking the lady into custody, I ask that you take me into custody, too."
"Fair enough. I would've done it anyway."
"Yes, but this way, I'm letting you keep your legs."
Lieutenant Tin stared for a moment, then gave a deep, throaty laugh and signaled for his men to stand down. "I imagine your bluster is at least half-show, but it's a show I'm enjoying nonetheless. Come, we'll take you both to the garrison and get you cleaned up. Then we can figure out just how much of this 'Avatar' business is actually true."
It wasn't the solution he'd hoped for, but Hikoshu now saw the benefit in surrendering. It gave him time to think, which he desperately needed at the moment, and kept them both safe at least for now. And in the end, if they couldn't sneak out of Tin's custody, he could still fight his way. There would be opportunities, and with a little rest, Hikoshu would be able to exploit them.
Yet he could barely muster the energy to be optimistic. Perhaps he was just too worn out. Perhaps he was too occupied by how much every part of him hurt. But part of him suspected it was because of the way Yan-lin refused to meet his eyes.
A/N: Long overdue, but I'm trying not to give up. Work, of course, is always insane, and my father - whose diagnosis of cancer last July really started the downward spiral of never updating - well, he passed away last month. Not to mention that I edited this chapter, lost the work during a computer crash, re-edited this chapter, decided it didn't have enough plot points and rewrote it entirely from the ground up, decided that I didn't like the rewrite and trashed it in favor of editing the chapter a third time, decided that despite the length, it really needed its opening scene and re-re-re-re-edited the chapter, and somewhere in there (around major overhaul number 5), I frankly lost track of what I was doing. Such that I really wasn't sure if this would ever get posted.
But it's posted now. 3,000 words over budget and with far less plot substance than I ever wanted. C'est la vie.