Chapter 39

-Three Years Later-

Water.

Azula stands atop a swaying bridge. Beneath her the river rages. Thick rain whips her dark cloak to the side, and raindrops pelt the bridge and dot the choppy water below. Rain plasters Azula's cropped hair against her skull; rivulets of water drip off the short peak of hair at the base of her neck and run under her collar. Her hand tightens on the rope railing, all her attention focused on the river. The mountain snows have melted, and the river swells with fresh, icy runoff. Slowly, water creeps over the edges of the banks.

Earth.

Squinting through the spray, Azula eyes the canal branching off from the river, running south and east towards the dry Broken Plains. A wall of rock separates the dry riverbed from the turgid waters. It took the Qima villagers almost a year to dig that canal, even with the assistance of two earthbenders hired from Taiyang. Now the rock is cleared, the channels are carved, the gully lies empty and waiting. Still, in a moment of doubt, Azula stays her hand. She glances to her left, and Wakaba meets her gaze reassuringly. Wakaba nods. Azula raises her fist into the air.

Fire.

A torrent of orange flame bursts from Azula's fist, tall and bright as a beacon fire. Across the river, at the borders of the canal and farther south, smaller torchfires and beacons flicker into life. They defy the downpour. Azula breathes in deeply. She lets the warmth of the unseen sun build in her stomach while all the other fires wait. Then Azula intensifies her fire to blue. Torches hiss; dynamite lights; sparks crackle and skip across rock embankments. Azula and Wakaba grip the rain-soaked rope with cold hands.

Air.

With a boom louder than thunder, plumes of black smoke explode at the canal opening. Rock flies and dust clouds. In the distance, another dark pillar rises. And another. And another. Almost three years of measurements, calculations, and requests for funding rely on this moment. Lightning spikes the sky.

The Qima River splits in two. Half rushes into the canal, the redirected water quickly fills the artificial riverbed and flows eagerly downstream and to the west. The canal banks are lined with stone. They hold.

Wakaba squints through a spyglass.

"It's splitting down the irrigation channels," she says. "I think…I think it's working."

As if in confirmation, shouts of victory pierce the storming gale. Azula leans over the edge of the suspension bridge, almost losing herself in the rush of the water beneath her. They did it. They all did it. She whoops, and the wind carries her scream to join the yells of her teammates.

"We still have to check downriver," Wakaba reminds Azula.

"It's going to be perfect," Azula grins. She's soaked to the bone, but she's never felt more of a conqueror.

For the next four hours, Azula and Wakaba tromp through the rain and muddy banks, checking up on the dams and channels that funnel the Qima River west. Water flows deep and fast through the earthbender-crafted gullies. At each checkpoint, the two women greet the people who manned the explosions. Many of the laborers are Qima villagers, but many others are from different parts of the United Republic: Yu Dao, Taiyang, and even Kyoshi Island. Two of the workers are Fire Nation soldiers who stayed in Qima after Temurin healed their injuries. There are no unexpected leaks or breaches, no overflowed banks, and no mudslides. Even Wakaba, who usually is either timid or dour, begins to smile.

Azula reviews her calculations in her head. With the additional water being sent to the Broken Plains west of Qima, the cracked, desert-like soil should become fertile farmland within a year. Fields that were desiccated under the boots and fire of the Fire Nation will be green again; thousands more people will be fed. The Broken Plains could become the rice bowl of the United Republic. People who were burned out of their homes during the Hundred-Year War could move here, and…Azula checks herself.

Remember to think small, she reminds herself. Grandiose plans have burnt her before. For now, it will be enough that Qima River won't flood the village when the mountain snows melt.

It's less of a village than it was three years ago when Azula, Temurin, Altan, and Jirou arrived. Azula follows the outline of Wakaba's sturdy back through the pouring rain and notes all the new buildings erected around the main street. Ramshackle boarding houses, clumsily constructed, house the men and women who came to work on the Qima Dam. A gaudy green restaurant advertises authentic Ba Sing Se dim sum. The curved roof of a new bar streams with rainwater that splatters onto the dirt road.

Azula's mouth tips grimly. Thanks to Hegane's insistent checkups, the bar does not have a back room devoted to yapian.

Finally, they trudge past the newest shopfront: a sober façade that painted with the characters for Doctor and Pharmacy. It's possibly the most hideous building on the block, but Azula's chest warms beneath her soaked robes. Wakaba turns and glances at Azula, and even though Azula keeps her face expressionless, Wakaba rolls her eyes. That's one funny thing Azula has learned about friends—they can tell when she's lying! And she thought that was impossible. In any case, there's no hiding anything from Wakaba.

Hegane waits for them inside the entrance hall, flanked by her young scribe.

"Well, Nekana?" she asks before Azula and Wakaba have even removed their cloaks. "Should I expect the mansion to be underwater by tomorrow? Or did your mission succeed?"

Azula bows shallowly. Water from her cloak puddles on the floor. Really, Qima is hardly a metropolis, but surely Hegane could afford a few more servants.

"I could never fail you, Madame Mayor," Azula says smugly.

"Our preliminary check shows that the dam is working," Wakaba adds. "The river is flowing at twelve meters per second, and the offshoot is more than five meters deep at-"

"Mother, surely we should let Qima's top engineers dry off before they report to you," says a familiar voice. Azula's glad her head is still lowered, because she can't prevent a smirk from curving her lips. She composes herself before she rises.

Temurin stands slightly behind Hegane, accompanied by Haojun. Three years ago he kept his hair short, but now his black hair is twisted into a high bun and fastened with a simple pin. Working outside tanned his skin almost Water Tribe-dark. Azula doesn't mind. Although Temurin's robes don't show it, heavy labor has added lean muscles to Temurin's formerly slender frame. Temurin winks at her behind his mother's back. Azula flushes.

"Yes, go dry off," Hegane orders. "You're dripping on the carpet, and we can't have it ruined."

"Why can't it be ruined?" Haojun asks. She clutches the notebook she carries around town, pages chock-full of drawings and diagrams of the river. There's one with an analytical mind, but with a pure heart. Unlike Azula herself at that age.

"Well…" Hegane pauses, as if deciding something. She purses her lips. Then shrugs.

"I was going to tell you at the celebratory dinner tonight, but I might as well share the news now," she says, not bothering to keep her voice down.

"As you know, the Council in Yu Dao is deeply interested in our project. And since we've used benders and designers from the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, the Mayor of Yu Dao apparently started referring to the Qima Dam as the 'Qima Unity Dam.' News leaflets across the world have written about us.

"So, the Mayor asked if Qima would host the annual Republic Dialogue between the United Republic, the Earth Kingdom, and the Fire Nation. I agreed."

Azula stares at Hegane blankly. The plink of water droplets to the carpet fades away. The Republic Dialogue? Is she insane? Dozens of people will descend on Qima, the leaders of each nation, the Avatar…

Zuko.

Azula's hands tremble. Her knees are weak. She hasn't seen Zuko in over three years. How can she face him? Even with her cropped hair someone will recognize her, she'll have to hide again, she'll have to leave Qima, spirits…

"Nekana?" Wakaba asks, touching her shoulder lightly. "Are you all right?"

"Just a chill," Azula says. It isn't a lie. She feels chilled to her bones. Everything she's built, everything she's strived for, it's all going to crumble. Her face, her past, they'll always come back to haunt her. What must Zuko think of her? The last he heard, she conquered Bahasa…

As Wakaba guides her to a side room with a fire, Azula catches Temurin's eye. He nods in acknowledgement of her wordless command. They have to talk.