Chapter 37

In the topmost tier of the upper ring of the city, King Bumi watched as General Ji-Fu left his audience chamber. The general had come to discuss the timetable Bumi had set for turning the city over to the new king.

"Of course, I'm not saying I'll be the winner," Ji-Fu had stated easily, giving Bumi a disarming smile. "I just want to be prepared should that be the case." Then Ji-Fu had given him a very respectful bow before leaving the chambers.

Bumi watched him leave with a mixture of admiration for the man's cunning and disgust at his thinly disguised eagerness to take what he'd already claimed as his new place.

Ji-Fu certainly looked the part of king, Bumi had to admit. He was young to have reached such a position of prominence in the city—only having lived about a third of Bumi's 127 years.

Furthermore, Ji-Fu was well-mannered, distinguished, commanding—everything a king ought to be.

But Bumi didn't trust him as far as he could throw him and didn't want him anywhere near the throne of his city.

The one who could hear the earth was the one destined to rule Omashu. And if this young man Aang and Toph had found could hear the earth, he was the one. Everything else was just formality.

Unfortunately, no one else seemed to feel that way. Everyone—his generals, his advisors, the council—doubted the wisdom of placing an unknown, untried person on the throne of Omashu, based solely on an obscure earthbending ability.

Bumi knew they were wrong. The one who could hear the earth would become king, and Bumi seriously doubted Ji-Fu's ability to hear the earth.

There was certainly no doubt that Ji-Fu was a gifted earthbender—possibly the best in the city—if Bumi didn't consider himself—or young Toph, for that matter. And his advisors had been adamant that someone of the general's experience and abilities would be a much better choice for king than whatever young unknown Toph and Aang had managed to uncover.

In the end, Bumi had given in to their demands to allow Ji-Fu to participate and to their insistence on moving up the date of the contest. Besides, he was 127 and out of patience anyway. He had other things to do with his time than continue to be king of Omashu.

It didn't matter anyway. If this Jet person could truly hear the earth, destiny and the earth would take care of the rest.

As he exited the palace, General Ji-Fu was convinced that he made his own destiny. He would be the next king of Omashu.

He had carefully built the support he needed in the government, the military, and the city at large. Certainly he had his enemies, but there was no one in the city he couldn't defeat in a fair earthbending duel and once he proven his worth, no one would have the courage to stand against him.

Too bad he couldn't trust Bumi and the avatar to make sure the duel would be fair. After all, Bumi had tried to push Toph onto the throne weeks ago, despite announcements that the contest would be open to all comers.

Then Bumi had changed the rules again, declaring that the next king had to "hear the earth." Ji-Fu remained convinced that this was some trick to place a hand-picked successor on the throne.

All of Ji-Fu's research had led him to the conclusion that the ability was so mysterious and rare that it was more folklore than fact. However, he still felt confident in his ability to defeat any and all challengers in open combat and had managed to pull enough strings to get his name back in contention.

Just the same, the idea that the avatar had found some unknown ex-bandit who supposedly had the ability to do so did make him a little nervous. Ji-Fu took comfort in knowing that the city could be a very dangerous place for young Jet.

With a spring in his step, Ji-Fu crossed the courtyard outside the palace, the wind giving his green cape a little encouraging lift. In fact, it was very doubtful that Jet would even show up for the contest, he thought to himself with a secret smile.

Deep within the city, Jet and Zuko stood back to back, each fighting at least three opponents at the same time. Sure enough, the ruffians were untrained but savage—their fighting style reminding Jet of his own.

Before long, the two guys found themselves hard pressed to keep those blades at bay. Jet's headache was growing steadily worse and he sometimes saw six guys facing him instead of three as his vision blurred and doubled.

"Zuko," Jet said between strokes, "I know you want to be merciful and everything, but now is not the time to pull punches."

"I'm not pulling punches," Zuko retorted, giving one of the young toughs a hard slap on the ribs with the flat of one blade. "I'd just rather not kill them."

"I'm telling you that unless you want to fight all these guys by yourself," Jet continued, neatly scoring one of his attackers across the wrist with his dagger, "make quick work of them however you need to."

Before Zuko could ask for clarification, Jet suddenly stated, "I think I'm going to be sick."

And with that, Jet doubled over and threw up. Zuko decided survival was more important than discretion and called on his firebending abilities to send a blast of flame out around them, setting their attackers back on their heels and sending them running in panic.

"What's the matter?" Zuko asked as Jet shakily pulled himself together.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Don't lie to me," Zuko snapped. "What's wrong with you?" Jet wiped the blood from his dagger and put it away, then attempted to resheathe the black sword. He blinked several times at the scabbard as he tried to line it up with the blade.

Finally he got the blade to slip into place, only cutting himself a little in the process.

Then Jet began to walk down the street, but kept veering off to one side.

"What is wrong with you, Jet?" Zuko asked again.

"Just a headache, that's all," Jet replied. "I'm fine." They continued up the street until they reached a thoroughfare that was familiar to Zuko as well.

Despite Jet's repeated assurances that he was fine, Zuko had to keep pulling him back onto the sidewalk when he veered out into the street, and Jet threw up three more times before they finally reached the gates of the upper ring.

"Are Smellerbee, Longshot, and the guys here yet?" Jet asked the guard.

"I'm sorry, sir," the guard answered. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"The guys," Jet repeated. "Are they here yet?"

"I'm sorry, sir," the guard said again. "I don't know who you mean."

Zuko became aware that Jet wasn't exactly thinking straight when he began to yell angrily at the guard for not knowing what he was talking about.

"Master Jet isn't feeling well," Zuko interjected as he pulled Jet away from the confused guard. "We've invited some friends up for dinner tonight." Zuko gave the guard the guys' names, then added, "And be sure everyone knows to send up any messages from a young lady named Eun Min."

The guard made notes on all this and let the two in through the gates, Jet still muttering angrily under his breath that the guard should have known the guys.

"I mean, how many years were we all together?" he grumbled to himself. "I can't believe that guy didn't know who I was talking about." Then he began to veer off course again.

"This way, Jet," Zuko said gently, hoping to get his friend to Katara as quickly as possible.

"I know where I'm going, Zuko," Jet snapped. "I'm headed this way." He gestured to the side of a building.

"Hey, let's just stick together, okay?" Zuko tried to placate him. "Let me give you a hand."

"I don't need a hand," Jet replied peevishly.

Somehow Zuko managed to guide his short-tempered companion without seeming to guide him into the diplomatic compound. He headed toward Jet's apartments only to have Jet head across the courtyard toward Mai's place.

"Jet, you need to go home and lie down for a little while," Zuko tried to tell him. "See if that headache won't go away with some rest." And some judicious healing from Katara, he added to himself.

"No, I'm going to Mai's," Jet said firmly, pausing once to throw up in the bushes. He stopped at the fountain to wash his face and get a drink of water, then looked up at Zuko. "Man, my head hurts," he stated matter-of-factly. "Are my eyes bleeding?"

"No," Zuko answered cautiously.

"They feel like they're bleeding," Jet replied. Then he walked a few steps further toward Mai's apartments and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

"Katara!" Zuko could only yell as he hefted Jet over his shoulder and headed to the closest apartment—which happened to be Mai's.

Outside her window, Mai and Toph could hear Zuko's voice yelling for Katara. They went out to the balcony to see Zuko carrying Jet's unconscious body toward them. Toph, grateful for the stone steps beneath her feet, told Mai to stay put, then ran down the balcony stairs to the ground floor, throwing open the main door to the footman's surprise.

Zuko placed Jet on the nearest couch, then sent the footman to get Aang and Katara as fast as possible.

"What's wrong with him?" Toph asked.

"I don't know," Zuko replied. "Something's not right with his head though. He was complaining of a headache and I don't think he was seeing straight."

Mai came down the stairs as quickly as she could, then knelt beside the sofa. "What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"I don't know," Zuko repeated. "He said his head hurt."

Then Katara and Aang raced into the room. Katara knelt beside Mai, her waters immediately at the ready. "What happened?" she asked.

"It's a long story," Zuko began. "But I think it might have something to do with being knocked out downtown."

Katara peered beneath his eyelids and said, "This isn't good. Zuko, tell me exactly what happened to him."

Zuko briefly recounted the story of their kidnapping and escape—hoping Jet wouldn't mind too much that he'd broken confidence. They had, after all, mutually pledged never to speak of it again. He did, however, gloss over the fact that the kidnappers' hideout had been in a brothel. That was ground he didn't really want to cover.

However, just as Zuko was finishing his story, Jet opened his eyes and looked at Mai. "Mai, I gave your money to a prostitute. Please don't be mad," he stated evenly. Then before she could answer, his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out again.

Mai and Toph each darted sharp looks in Zuko's direction, but Katara just frowned.

"I told him to avoid blows to the head," Katara complained as she encircled his head with her waters. "Now as far as I can tell, he's bleeding between the skull and the brain."

"Can you heal it?" Mai asked nervously, her questions about the guys' whereabouts evaporating in the face of Katara's concerns.

"I don't know," Katara admitted. "I can feel the layer of blood, but it's hard to see through the bone to find the exact spot where he's bleeding—and I think there might be more than one."

"Aang?" Mai asked, now truly frightened.

"Let me see what I can find out," Aang said gently, then entered the avatar state. After a few minutes, he emerged and stated, "The only thing I can find out is that the bleeding has to be slowed or stopped so the blood can be reabsorbed. Otherwise, the pressure on the brain will grow and cause permanent damage--" he paused for a moment and looked at Mai and Katara sadly before adding, "--or death."

Mai shivered once, then looked up at Katara solemnly. "Do whatever you can, Katara," she said firmly. Then she stood and turned to her butler and the footman. "Take him upstairs and make him comfortable. Give Katara whatever she needs."

The two men carefully took Jet upstairs. But as Mai began to follow, Aang stopped her with a hand on her arm. "This is serious, Mai," he said plainly.

"I know," Mai replied calmly, then headed up the stairs.

Out in the city, Eun Min quietly approached the back door of the store where she hoped her friend was still working. It had been at least three months since she'd found her way there, having temporarily escaped the house in a trip to the markets.

She wasn't exactly sure where she was in the city because she'd had to retrace her steps from so long ago—Safflower, the madam, had taken her on a very roundabout path to the market, presumably to keep her from knowing exactly where she was. However, Safflower had not counted on Eun Min's excellent memory or determination.

She knocked quietly on the door several times, but no one answered. After several minutes, she'd decided her friend was not going to answer and began to consider which way to go from there. She couldn't stay on the streets by herself after dark. It was just too dangerous—plus, she knew Safflower and Suk-Chul would be looking for her.

Eun Min shivered, as much from fear as from the cool air as the sun began to go down. Suddenly, the back door opened and a tall young man about her age walked out of the shop carrying what appeared to be trash. She tried to hide as he tossed the garbage into a nearby bin, but as he turned to go back into the building, he saw her.

"Who's there?" he asked in a deep voice, then walked over toward her.

"I'm looking for Smellerbee," Eun Min replied, taking a chance that this young man was also a friend of Smellerbee's.

"She's inside," he replied. "Come in."

Eun Min shook her head. "That's okay," she answered. "Ask her if she remembers Eun Min. We met in her shop a few months ago."

The tall young man looked at her curiously, then went back inside. Within a minute, Smellerbee was out the door, looking around for her. As soon as she saw Eun Min, she ran to her. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I was so worried about you. I kept thinking you'd come back, but you never did."

Eun Min almost collapsed in relief that her friend really was a friend and not just someone who'd just pretended to be friendly to make a sale.

Soon, Smellerbee had coaxed her inside and sent Longshot and the young man she'd seen outside—The Duke, she was told—and another guest named Pipsqueak—whose name didn't fit him at all—were sent off to another part of the shop. Once they were alone, Eun Min told her briefly how she'd managed to escape the house, thanks to a pair of very good swordsmen.

They spent a few more minutes catching up, then Smellerbee informed her that she and the guys had been invited out to dinner with an old friend. Smellerbee immediately extended the invitation to her as well, but Eun Min declined.

"I wouldn't feel right just showing up at someone's house I didn't even know," she declared. "Besides, I don't want to go out in public right now. I'd be so afraid Suk-Chul or Hyun would see me and take me back there."

"You'll go back to that awful place over my dead body," Smellerbee stated firmly, taking her hand in a warm grasp to reinforce her sincerity. "Ever since you just took off that day when I knew you were in such terrible trouble, I haven't stopped worrying about you. You just stay put here. There's plenty to eat and there's plenty of room for you to settle in. In fact, there's a spare bedroll in the storeroom for you to use. I don't think its previous owner will be needing it anymore."

After showing Eun Min around, Smellerbee headed out with Longshot and the two other guests. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked at the door.

"I'll be fine," Eun Min replied. "You have a good time tonight. I'm just going to get some rest."

Once they'd left, Eun Min went to the storeroom, unrolled the bedroll, and lay down to sleep, surrounded by the smell of leather and a quiet she hadn't known since she'd left the little village of her childhood. For the first time in nearly a year, ever since her mother died, Eun Min felt safe.

Grateful for her escape, she sent up a prayer of protection for the two men who'd rescued her, praying extra hard for the one who'd given her the money that would allow her to start over. Then Eun Min drifted off into an exhausted, but peaceful sleep.

With Zuko's help the servants settled the unconscious Jet onto the bed carefully. Mai followed them up the stairs and seated herself at his side, taking his hand in hers. Sitting with him this way felt familiar to her. After all, she'd been through a lot with Jet over the past few weeks.

Through all of it, she'd kept her confidence in her own self-sufficiency, her ability to roll with the punches. Now, for the first time, she was shaken.

Katara's face had told her in an instant how serious the situation was. And looking at Jet now, she could see a stillness in him that worried her.

When he'd been injured before, she'd been able to see life in him, fight in him. But this terrible unmoving stillness that held him now was different.

She was so afraid. So very afraid.

On the outside, she summoned every ounce of her self-confidence to put on a brave front. But on the inside, Mai could feel herself beginning to crumble.

Katara moved to the bedside again, and Mai made room for her to work. The circling blue waters moved around his head, but Mai couldn't see any sign of improvement.

"I've done what I can," Katara said at last. "We can only wait and hope that the bleeding stops."

Mai managed to nod in agreement, then sat down again at his side as Katara stepped away.

The room contracted around her until all she could see was Jet. She knew the others still stood in the background, watching and waiting as well. But they might as well have been a thousand miles away.

Tears began to well in her eyes, but she forced them back, refused to let them fall, refused to give in to the fear that gripped her. She had to be stronger than that. She had to be like earth to him—strong and unyielding, unwilling to release him.

She held his hand tightly in both of hers. She could feel the wide band of the meteor ring cool against her skin. Jet had said the ring let him see her. So she bent down to press her forehead against it, willing it to tell him she was there, that she wouldn't leave his side.