There is not a soul in this city who doesn't know the divide between upper and lower class.
The city rings are a picture of this as clear as a mountain spring's water. There is unrest, of course. There is hunger and need, resentment and greed. All of which are simmering beneath the surface of that peaceful veneer that the Dai Li enforces.
It is hard to find a place to start forming a movement. It could be anywhere, but all walls have ears in Ba Sing Se. Within the impenetrable city every single building is penetrated by the Dai Li. The listeners. The ordinary citizens who have been conscripted into service. Hypnotised to protect the culture and tradition, which is basically code for keeping the power where it is: out of the hands of the people.
If any kind of change is to come from the people, as all meaningful, lasting change must, then the groundwork will have to be slow. Careful. And at the same time, the Dai Li must itself be infiltrated. At the very least it must be made vulnerable to precise attack at the right moment. The leader must be incapacitated at that moment. The most loyal as well. There must be procedures in place to break the hypnotisation. There must be procedures in place for a re-education. Of every single citizen. So that they may recognise and understand what a threat to freedom means. What solidarity is. What power is, when it is used to the benefit of human life in general, not a few, privileged, lucky ones.
Because there are so, so many refugees in this city who were never afforded the privilege of an education beyond that of cultivating the land and the world order of nobility that rules, peasants who are little better than mules. Where I see clear injustice, the structures and reasons for it, and a way to change things for the better, they have been taught all their lives that this is just the way it is.
This is how it's supposed to be.
There are people in this world who are worth more than others, is what they are taught. By right of birth.
That is as wrong a thought as the assumption that because I have blue eyes, I am superior to brown-eyed people in every way. Superiority or worthiness have nothing to do with colour or place of birth. Unfortunately, in a feudal system like this, which relies on capital to maintain current hierarchies, place of birth does matter. And you can tell what that is by people's skin and hands. By the way they carry themselves.
Values such as right and wrong have everything to do with how you value human life. Life in general, really.
I suspect that it is about control. Humans have the desire to control their lives, to feel as though they have power, as though there is something that makes them special, something meaningful. If your life form is better than others, then why should there not be something that also makes you better than others of your kind? If you are better than others, then is it not your right to do as you please and they must leave you to it, or even obey you?
That rests upon the faulty, unproven assumption that human life is more valuable than other kinds of life. And even if it were true, what could possibly be a criterion for making one person better than another? It has to be one that is true, that is always true, not just in some contexts or time periods.
Then there is the question of hierarchy. What is it that could determine the better-ness of any life form? In this world, there is life in every corner, an energy that lives within, another world that is connected with it within which there live creatures whose makeup and powers greatly differ from what is common in this world. Their existence cannot be doubted. They are as true as the stool I sit on, watching the people coming and going from the market.
I am waiting for news from Momo. She is the cousin of Hana, whose son is part of the school that I have integrated myself into. Momo has friends in the next quarter, which is controlled by another gang, who are also attempting to build something like a school there. While the schools will be rather obvious centres to watch for the Dai Li, they are necessary. They are also good places to establish trust with people who are still thinking within the boundaries that have been set for them. You have a place in society, a role to play: mother, father, husband, worker, wife, carer, merchant, peasant, underling. You are not to deviate from the norm, from what has already been done millions of times.
You are not to be extraordinary. You are not to be free. You are not to be just you. You are to play your role and play it well.
Do not bite the hand that feeds you. But what if you are the hand that does the feeding? What if you are the hand that has been bitten time and time again that it appears normal? That the scar tissue has become so dense that the bites no longer hurt, the infractions no longer sting, the chains sounding like chimes in the wind.
I have been part of the biters.
It is a truth. Even now, I live because others work on the fields. I live because there are people who provide the sustenance. People who deliver it. People who sell it. Recognising that that is a lot of work took me a while. Privilege.
Ah, there is Momo. She is not alone. Another woman is with her, older, with keen eyes. She walks with a cane. She has the look of someone who knows that they will be obeyed if they order something. While her clothing denotes her as another refugee, another soul who has lost home and family to this war, her posture is that of a person who believes that they are enough exactly as they are and always have been. It's the kind of confidence that comes from knowing your place and liking it all your life. It's like mine.
Now what is Momo doing with a woman like that? What does a woman like that want with me?
I stand to greet them.
"Good afternoon," I say, inclining my head, "Would you like to join me?"
The table is far enough from windows and doors that at least no earthbenders will hear. And in public I can hardly create a dome of ice to keep the conversation private, so this will have to do.
"Good afternoon, Kai. May I introduce Ranra?"
Ranra inclines her head with grace. And because such things do matter, I greet her with the gesture that I would use back at home, in the North, to meet a foreigner who is formally introduced. A touch to my own gut, palm up, sweeping it towards her gently in an elliptical motion. And the recognition in her eyes is clear. "I'm sure I will be pleased to have made your acquaintance," I add, letting them know of my curiosity as to her presence.
She laughs, more of a cackle, "You will be."
They sit.
"How have you been?" I ask Momo, as we wait for the waiter to take and serve our orders.
"It's been a few hard days, but nothing I can't handle," she replies. She is the kind of woman who is strong. Always strong and she could be breaking inside, but she is going on. Because if she stops, she will not recover her momentum. "And you? How are you finding your feet?"
"Ever steadier," is what I say, and what I mean is that the city is a maze of intricate loyalties, webs of information, and I am slowly but surely understanding how information is distributed even between gangs. I am understanding the truces and battle fronts drawn in the shingles of the districts as conflicts are carried out in the night, always quick, always with techniques of assassination because anything that lasted longer would bring the Dai Li to the scene and no one wants that. So it is meetings in broad daylight in shops like this, at market stalls, in bars, that represent the diplomatic overtures any group might make. And if negotiations fail, if there is a dispute about territory, there will be corpses, cleaned away in the night. Several nights, and then one side will have conceded defeat – until it has recovered.
The waiter, a young man with dark shadows beneath his eyes takes our orders, barely recognising us as people. A side-effect of serving others is that they often do not see a person, and so one begins to dissociate from the situation, the way one is treated, views others as puppet-automatons themselves, because if one does not, the soul withers. More than it already has.
"I've been invited to offer my account of the invasion of the Northern Watertribe a the university," I mention, curious to see Ranra's reaction. And her eyes sharpen even more.
"Now that is an interesting opportunity," she says. "To write history."
She understands the impact this could have, the accounts of what we are capable of when facing the Fire Navy in our territories with sufficient preparation.
"Speaking of writing," Hana says, "Ranra has offered to introduce some people as teachers."
Which means that they can spread the word through the children. We are working on establishing a system of support and long-time education centres in order to better the lives of all people within Ba Sing Se, and shift power into the populations hands.
"That's good news. I'd be interested in speaking with them. You never know what you might learn," I say, and we all know it's to vet their intentions.
"I'll arrange a meeting, then," Ranra says, "I own a tobacco shop. Why don't we hold it there? Bring some friends."
We trade smiles. I do like where this is going.
I wonder what she stands to gain, personally. Her shop would be at risk from the Dai Li. But she seems like the kind of person who likes to know exactly what's going on.
.
I am cooking dinner when Mai and Circus Girl burst inside the flat like someone has lit a fire beneath their butts.
Peter is with me, looks up from his book about the Seiou period, a few hundred years ago and the founding of Ba Sing Se. It's largely propaganda material, but it is always good to know what the rulers have to say about themselves, in order to subvert the message they want to imbue – even if it is mostly always along the same lines. He's been quite enthusiastic about spreading knowledge. In order for him to do that, he must acquire some first. So he is improving his reading, soon his writing and sooner his skills of teaching, so that he may impart his wisdom.
"Is there something wrong?" I ask, when all the women do is catch their breath.
Circus Girl glares. Mai is the one who answers – as always. "There was a noble. He wanted- he wanted to take us to the upper ring. For entertainment. He just ordered his guards to take us!"
That catches Peter's attention. "What."
I don't wait for Mai's reply to her brother's outrage, "Did they follow you?"
"No, we got away," she replies. "I can't believe- this would never have happened in-"
She cuts herself off, Peter scoffs and I send her a long, measuring look. She catches both, frowns and turns away. She knows it would have happened in the Fire Nation. Perhaps not so obviously. Perhaps more officially legitimised, perhaps through brothels or human trafficking. But it is everywhere. It doesn't look as crass as this incident, either. Usually, a lone and often shy woman will be approached, her trust gained, her self-esteem bolstered – under very specific conditions. And soon, the affection and other support mechanisms provided to her will be slowly withdrawn, the human trafficker will ask a favour, something that she would not ordinarily do, except she desires the love and affection that was earlier provided. And once she has done what was asked, she will be rewarded with it. this pattern intensifies and continues. Of course, it can also look exactly like a slave-pen. But both are examples of human trafficking.
Mai and Circus Girl must have really stood out as exotic for a noble to decide to just take them. In broad daylight, no less.
"It's good that you got away unhurt. Where was it that this happened?" I ask as I turn back to the stew I'm preparing.
"Fukujou, one of the roofed markets where the bars and brothels were just opening up. He must have been waiting for-"
At her renewed silence I look up to see their faces. Angry, frustrated.
"Until we have secured a better network here where people have more effective means of defending themselves from such things, you might want to think of ways that will prevent this from happening again."
"What… do you suggest?" Circus Girl asks, suspicion in her voice, the scratch of it pronounced.
They're already wearing relatively dirty clothing, even if it isn't as threadbare as that of most of the population of the lower ring. Their faces are already framed by hair that is not as clean or luscious as it once was. If a noble tried to take them, looking as they do now, more physical veiling will not help much. Their pale skin stands out, their faces are clearly foreign, their features visually pleasing.
"We should think of deterrents that are visually obvious," is all I say. I don't want to be the one to suggest things like stuffing pillows in the fronts of their clothing to pretend pregnancy and so on. There's other kinds of discrimination that come with being a young woman, pregnant and without the markers of marriage, like rings, hair insignia, necklaces, wrist of ankle bracelets, depending on which part of the country you married in. In the rare case of a marital tattoo, they are worn on the forearms. The nobility of Ba Sing Se wear hair ornaments and clan symbols. The lower ring is a mixture of all of the above.
"You. What are you suggesting?" Circus Girl asks.
"What would prevent a noble from attempting what he did today?"
Tense silence is the answer to my question. I stir the pot. They know what is needed, and as undignified as it may be to have to denote one's status as 'taken' when one is not, when one is free and desires to remain that way, this is for their safety.
There are few things that are respected almost everywhere. Even nobles will be more hesitant to take someone's wife if she's not wearing rags. There might be trouble.
I cook in silence, Mai talks quietly with Peter and Circus Girl stares at me with hatred.
Some time later, Gorou, Ebisu, Fon and Dionu show up from their outing to the docks.
All of them note the tense atmosphere, but only Dionu asks. "What is it now?"
The exasperation in his voice would be amusing, if it weren't as though he is treating us like we are immature children.
"There was an incident of attempted kidnapping with the intent of rape afterwards on Mai and Ty Lee," I say, filling a bowl that Gorou is helpfully holding steady and handing to Fon. "We were thinking of visual deterrents for that sort of thing."
"Short of facial scarring," Dionu says, hanging up his jacket and letting down his hair, "You can either go with pregnancy or signs of marriage."
Then he comes to me with his own bowl. "Thanks," he murmurs, more out of habit than anything else, I think.
I hum an acknowledgement. Then I fill four more bowls, leave three by the pot for the women to take and Peter to have brought to him, the little prince. I settle by the window, on the wide ledge where I watch the street below.
It would be a slightly tense silence that we eat in, if Mai didn't march over, hands on her hips, in the middle of the living room of our flat. "Who'll be my husband, then?"
Fon chokes on his mouthful, Ebisu laughs, Gorou doesn't give a reaction and Dionu just shakes his head like he's done with all of us. It is this moment that Haruto chooses to stumble through the front door.
"What's going on?"
Mai stares at him. "Not you." She looks at each of us men in the room and lands on me. Her eyebrows rise demandingly.
Ah. Well. I suppose it does make sense for us to all pretend the charade, to give it some substance. I imagine Yue's face at the notion of my betrothal to a Fire Nation noble. "Alright, I'll have something for you tomorrow."
Gorou chuckles, low, dark eyes dancing with sadistic mirth.
"How about you make betrothal bracelets for yourself and Ty Lee then, Gorou? Since you find pretend betrothals so amusing," I ask, and his mouth firms into a harsh line to glare at me. But we only stare at each other for a few moments, before he begins to laugh again.
"Fine."
"What?" Haruto asks. He makes his way over to the stew and ladles himself a bowl. Then he comes to sit by me to get an explanation.
"They were accosted in a market today, almost taken to the upper ring to be forced into prostitution. We decided that visible symbols of marriage would be better deterrents than facial scarring."
"Ah."
And that is that. Because we're going to be here for a while yet. Until I have managed to set up that system, at least. Then we might move on and gather more forces with military experience. But that is at least a month and a half away. Hopefully, we can get someone into the Dai Li by then.
.
People die easily. It is a miracle that our bodies function, that we live. And yet, we do not treat one another as miracles, as ends of themselves. Too often, other people are means. But to what end?
Mine, in this case, is to make both the noble's lives more difficult, and other people's easier. That sort of thing isn't done through bureaucracy. That's meaningless menial busy-work that no one really needs. All it is is a means of control over people.
Keeping records for the sake of history, for the sake of spreading knowledge, I'm all for it. A filing system for that, alright. But a piece of more or less elegantly illustrated piece of paper to confirm my identity, which changes every day, little by little, so that I am no longer the man who left the Northern Watertribe is meant to assure others of my right to exist in a certain area? How absurd.
How easily forged, with a deft hand and the knowledge.
But with an invitation from Professor Singh, Head of the History department of Ba Sing Se, I don't even need that. All I do is tell the guards my new name and they allow me to pass through the gates of Middle, and Upper Ring, into the university grounds. Lush grass and lovely flower gardens line the pathways of the park surround the impressive university building. Not as imposing as the palace, which can be viewed from the roof.
It's been so long.
It is one of those paradoxes, that the subjugation of certain people was the means to this beautiful piece of architecture. Whoever designed it, and whoever built it weren't paid enough, because otherwise there would be architects and handymen who live in the Upper Ring. Such appears to be the way of the world, the sad world order.
Well. Fuck that order.
But, I digress. I am not here to try to convince wealthy people to give most of what they have to people who struggle to survive.
I am here to educate some historians on the Invasion of the Northern Watertribe that I think should actually be called the Defeat of the Fire Navy. Hopefully, that was the end to their fleet.
It's at the grand entrance of the university building that Singh waits for me. "Ah, there you are, hello, Kai, please follow me, the others are waiting."
He hurries. Then slows to accommodate my more sedate pace as I take in my surroundings. Stone floors, tall walls, decorated ceilings, doorframes carved with creeping greenery. Pleasing to the eye. He huffs, but my wordless smile keeps him equally silent. His movements are jittery, excited. It's been a while since I encountered anyone with such passion for gathering true stories. Or, as true as they can be, told from memory.
We pass through a small courtyard, a lovely, yet slightly bizarre fountain with a boar releasing water from its mouth, in the middle. The water gurgles pleasantly. On a bench sits an old woman, watching with sharp eyes as we pass through. Singh nods to her. Her mouth twitches in acknowledgement, but soon her eyes return to me. Scrutiny.
There is such a thing as the truth. But, most days, I cannot claim to remember the truth of events, only my perspective. And this perspective is as true as I perceived it.
"In here," he takes my elbow, unaware of how my other hand automatically twitched to gather the water from the air. Well. He's an academic. And a noble. I'm sure he feels he can touch anyone he wants however he wants whenever he wants.
We enter a sitting room, tastefully decorated. It seems to be a place used for conferences of small gatherings, that two scribes who are now present document. There are five others in the room. Two women, three men, all about Singh's age: well over middle.
.
TRANSCRIPT OF KAI SON OF UTAKATA'S ACCOUNT OF THE INVASION OF THE NORTH POLE
You know, it was actually quite exciting, in the beginning. I was sent out on patrols before, you see, and the skirmishes were bloody enough to not want that to happen in the city, but we always returned. Sometimes injured, but we have healers. I hadn't actually seen anyone die before the invasion.
When it was all over, the bay's water had turned red with blood. The tiger seals were feasting the next morning.
It all began with the arrival of the avatar. He'd come in on his flying bison, although no one got to see it fly until one of his companions took Princess Yue for a ride. He was as the rumours said, young and definitely an airbender. We welcomed him with a feast and he was introduced to Master Pakku, who would teach him waterbending. There was… a bit of a hiccup with that, when his other companion demanded to be instructed alongside him. The Northern Watertribe is a bit sexist that way: women heal and men learn to fight. She was having none of that.
After multiple confrontations, Pakku did decide to teach her. Now, there will be more women who are granted the same privilege. The Northern Watertribe will no longer cripple itself. I'll be curious to see what has changed when I return.
The avatar and her both then joined the efforts to put on a bit of a show for the Full Moon Ceremony. Thirty benders would bend in tandem to create a great wall that would sweep through the bay like it hasn't been done since the tribes came together to build the city, centuries ago. And that would have been that, if on aforementioned ride on the flying bison, Princess Yue and her new friend hadn't seen the Fire Navy's approach. Hundreds of ships.
There was a war council to prepare. One of the patrols was late in returning home.
It was decided that the bay would be our battleground, not the city. Waterbenders would fight there, aided by the warriors. All across it, beneath the waves, traps were laid to sink the Fire Navy's ships. And to stop the first wave of attacks, the benders raised that wall and froze it.
Another unit was sent out beneath the waves, to assess the numbers of ships and the troops on them. They sunk a few. Kimondo rhinos and thousands of soldiers.
We were in for a treat.
But we knew to use our home to our advantage. And so we prepared.
It went in our favour, at first. Fighting in shifts to conserve energy and use the full moon to our advantage. The wall served its purpose, as did the next that was erected. But inevitably, some of the ships made it into the city. That was expected, and the citizens had been evacuated.
What wasn't expected was that the commander of that fleet had planned to assassinate the spirit of the moon, whose physical body resides in that city. Zhao was killed by a unit that had infiltrated his ranks using the uniforms the scouts had brought back with them.
But he had sent someone else ahead. And the moon spirit was killed.
If there hadn't been so many warriors in the bay, defending the waterbenders, they would all be dead.
Not all was lost. Princess Yue, whose life was saved by that same spirit when she was an infant, sacrificed her life for that of the moon. She returned power to the waterbenders and what followed was a worse slaughter than before. The avatar had gone into the avatar state, crushing the remaining navy.
I never want to see anything like it again.
That much power… no one should have it. He saved us. But spirits are not human, they have no need for morality as we do. They only care for balance. And balance was restored – cruelly.
This was the initial telling of the story. What had followed were questions and some vague answers. Kai, the man whom Professor Singh had invited, revealed nothing of detail to the assembled scholars that would give away the exact defensive capabilities of the Northern Watertribe.
What he did go into detail on was the Avatar State. What it looked like. How powerful it was.
It sounded as legend.
It was not.
.
MAI
"Vulnerability makes you a target," he says to her, as he packs the pipe he found in the captain's chest with practised motions. It's telling that he's done this often. Telling of his drive to commit himself emotionally, only to calm himself and enjoy a good pipe. "Especially in a household whose patriarch favours the strong."
He glances at her before lighting the pipe, and once more she feels pinned beneath that cold, blue gaze. It's the kind of colour that can turn warm with affection that he doesn't hold for her, but her brother.
"I know," she replies quietly, "But I don't think strength lies in the ability to deceive and lie."
He huffs out a laugh, and with it puffs of smoke. He doesn't cough. "No. A convincing liar can believe his own words for as long as necessary. A good liar has a perfect recollection of who he told what. An honest person must always take into consideration the hurt they expose themselves to by speaking truthfully."
She remains silent, and feels that that is as telling to him as a verbal reply.
"And a calculating person recognises another easily," an odd thing to say, revealing himself like that. But Mai thinks she understands him better now. He cares for as long and deeply as he can, without ending up devoted. He cares for as long as what he shares won't be used against him. But he cares.
She understands that he is not certain of who to trust, but places enough in her to show that he will not watch her. Instead, he follows Ty Lee. She is no longer certain of whether it is because he distrusts her, or because he desires to keep her safe. She cannot tell whether he knows the difference at all.
"And yet," he muses, "Vulnerability is what is necessary to forge genuine human connections. And what is life about, if not connection?"
He fishes a necklace from his pocket. The pipe in one hand, he offers it to her with a glint in his eyes that she can't decide is amused or mocking. She hates that this is necessary. She wishes there were another way. But she hates having to flee, having to defend herself and her bodily integrity. She hates this. She knows that if she wore a noble's clothes this would never-
It doesn't matter. She can't return. She doesn't want to, with Azula…
She takes the necklace. The band is soft, sturdy material. The carved symbol is lovely, she can admit. It will be the first piece of jewellery she's worn since leaving Omashu in turmoil.
"The symbol has a meaning," Kaito says, watching her. "For what I would hope for in our partnership. I chose the ship because that is how we worked together, at sea. It is also our means of leaving this city when the time is right and you still travel with me."
It's a symbol of their relationship, however hostile it may be. It's also a symbol of his plans to leave, of the soon-to-be lack of necessity for this.
Mai fastens the necklace around her throat. It is a gentle reminder. It does not choke. But it sits there and it makes her think that it's appropriate for her situation. She could leave on her own. With Ty Lee. They could make their own way. But Kaito offers stability, and a measure of safety. He offers help in return for hers.
She can admit that it is nice to follow another's lead, to know that he has a plan. Because she has seen what the war has wrought.
She has seen. And it does not leave her cold.
Her calm is gone.
It always was a thin veneer.
.
IROH
It is lovely to see Zuko so… normal. Stunned by a girl. A young woman with a child in her arms, with the looks of a Fire Nation native. She looks familiar, and the way Zuko is looking at her… they know each other.
He watches them as they go to sit at one of the tables, Kaito moving towards Iroh, probably to speak with him about the schools. "Good evening," Iroh greets the young waterbender, but his eyes remain on the pair in the corner.
"Evening, Mushi. Do you have a few minutes?" Kaito asks, seating himself in a chair just beside the counter where Iroh waits for customers who won't trickle in until they have properly opened up shop.
Zuko and the young woman are clearly already deeply immersed in conversation.
"Yes, Kai, for you always," Iroh finally tears his eyes away, only to look back as a shimmer of blue on the woman's neck catches his attention. Slowly he looks back at Kaito. "That is a betrothal necklace your companion wears, is it not?"
The young man's half-lidded stare is amused. "I'm sure we'll be breaking off our fake engagement soon," he huffs a low laugh. "That is, so long as your nephew provides her with an alternative trinket that would be recognised as promises exchanged. There have been attempts to take her and her friend to the upper ring for… entertainment."
Iroh is both relieved for Zuko and reviled by the revelation. For something like that to be necessary protection… ah. But it appears to be the way of the world that the poor and defenceless are exploited, while the rich and powerful take as they please. He should know. He was one of them once.
He busies himself with a pot of tea. "What did you want to speak with me about?"
"Ranra says we're ready to start an evening school for adults or adolescents in a few days," he produces some leaflets. "I'm sure you know some people who would benefit from that sort of thing."
Iroh slips them into his own tunic. "I do."
He meets an intent stare, something Kaito rarely does. After a few moments, the man takes another scrap of paper from his sleeve. "There is something else. Meet me there tomorrow at sunrise."
Iroh takes the paper and watches the young waterbender rise from his seat, give him a nod and walk towards the door. The young woman notices and makes to stand. He waves her off. "I can manage the shopping on my own. Stay."
She frowns, then sends him a half-suspicious, half-grateful smile. "Don't buy fish tonight."
He laughs and with a final wave, he's gone.
She slumps in her seat, "He's going to buy all the fish…"
Iroh chuckles.
"Mai," he hears Zuko say, "How do you and he..?"
"Kaito is- we met in Omashu. He," she laughs, an incredulous note to it, "He kidnapped Azula and Peter, I mean Tom-Tom here and-"
"What."
"It's true! She had lost some of her memories, thought she was ten years old, and he kidnapped her. Ty Lee and I followed them, tracked them down, but just as we had them cornered, pirates showed up and took all of us prisoner. Agni, it was awful. But we broke loose, with Kaito's help and Azula regained her memories. But we'd- we'd had a disagreement about Tom-Tom and when we next made port to turn in the pirates, she and Ty Lee brought back my uncle! And there was a fight, but- Let's just say, Azula named us traitors and we're wanted in Fire Nation territories now," she explains without fully explaining at all.
Iroh makes his way over with tea. He wants to hear this. In full detail.
.
[Thank you all for your reviews. I am unable to reply to all of them. I hope you are well and healthy.]