Zuko asked, before Medic left. How.
She'd raised a brow, not pausing in her task of stuffing leftover bandages into her bag. Zuko's knee was wrapped so tightly it hardly bent. "How, what?"
Link was still gone—gathering supplies, Medic had conjectured—and Zuko felt a stutter of hesitation at prying. Hushed gossip was the behavior of social-climbing courtiers, not a prince. Still. If he were hiring Link to get him to his ship (and hiring was, indeed, the correct term; Zuko wasn't rude enough to demand days of someone's time for no pay), it was necessary to know, so he said, "If he can't hear anything. Uh. How come he understood what you were asking earlier?" It was out of nothing other than sheer practicality, he told himself. No, no morbid curiosity, or baffled intrigue. Certainly not.
Medic had tapped her lips. "Watching the mouth move. Not sure where he learned how to do that, but it works. So long as you face him when you talk, he'll pick up what needs to be picked up. Usually. Sometimes he might want you to repeat what you said, and he'll throw you one of these." Here, Medic mimed the finger-spool that Zuko spotted earlier. "Don't worry about it too much. I've known the kid for a few years now; he gets his point across just fine."
She'd left not long after that, with brisk instructions to rest his knee and a friendly shoulder-pat to Link, who walked in with a satchel as she was leaving.
Zuko had eyed the—what had Medic said they were? Hylian?—with a critiquing look.
'A friendly 'hello' is often a pleasant conversation starter,' Uncle's phantom voice offered, sounding hopeful.
"You can get me to the coastline port?" Zuko snapped instead. Better to forgo useless formalities when time was of the essence.
(And if Uncle had really been there, he would have swooped in with an elegant, 'I apologize for my nephew, come, I'll brew us a tea, you like jasmine, do you not?' )
Because Uncle wasn't there, Link just nodded.
"And you would be able to arrange transport?"
Nod.
"I need to get to my ship as fast as I can. My un—my crew will be waiting for me." Hopefully. There was no love lost between Zuko and his men; he was hoping that Uncle would distract them with enough tea-times and music nights to keep them around until he could get there.
Another nod.
And, to be clear: "I will compensate you for your time. If you take me. Once I return to my ship. I'm not some—some charity case."
Link didn't react much; the knowledge that he couldn't hear anything pressed Zuko into a corner of doubt. How could it be possible to catch everything someone said, just by watching their mouth? His gaze flickered to the shorter boy's hand. Should be say it again? It was important—he was not some dishonorable schmuck trying to sleaze a free ride, strange Earth Kingdom peasant or no—but Link must have noticed his seize-up, since he softened a smidge and gave another one-bob nod.
"Then I want to depart tonight." Manners prompted Zuko to add, "If possible."
Link paused. Glanced outside, as if he were weighing mental scales. But then he shrugged and nodded again.
Zuko kept his shoulders straight. They were not sagging in relief. "Oh. Okay." Shit. That hadn't sounded commanding at all. "Are you prepared to leave immediately?"
(Azula would have gone for more of a 'we leave immediately or your HEAD leaves your BODY', but Zuko wasn't ready to play that bluff).
Link didn't answer this time—he only held out an arm, expression blank. Expectant.
Now, then.
Zuko stood up and put up the appropriate amount of protest at Link's ducking under his shoulder, but he didn't fight it as they shuffled outside, where fireflies were starting to flicker awake at the edge of the trees, and the sky had turned a creamy pink-and-blue. Two fat-necked ostrich horses idled by the road. Link slipped out from under his arm once they'd reached the first one.
Zuko stared up at the animal, dubious. "This is your…uh, horse?"
Silence.
"It's technically the Royal Guard's." The familiar voice belonged to Stablehand, who'd peeled out of the woodwork to survey the pair. He pointed at the animal in front of Zuko. "This is Squash." Then, pointing to the other horse, "And that's Sebastian. We've always got a few royal steeds checked in at the stable."
"And you just let people take them?" The Fire Lords never hired out their possessions to common folk; Zuko was pretty sure Sozin would have had an aneurism at the idea, and Ozai...Ozai would break into genuine laughter, then torch whoever suggested such a thing for their blasphemy.
"Well—I mean, not just anyone. They're reserved for members of the guard."
Which made more sense, but still felt strange. "So—your earth king just lets his guards take his animals? Whenever they want?"
"Eh. Not exactly. You're supposed to fill out a form. But out here, we bend the rules a little." Stablehand shrugged. "The closer you get to the castle, the finnickier stables get about paperwork. But it's a network of stables, y'see. So as long as Linkie checks Squash and Seb into one of our sister stables in the south, it's clear in our books."
Odd system. Very Earth-Kingdom in flavor. Zuko tried to disdain it for that reason alone .
Someone called from the stable, and Stablehand called back something nonsensical before turning to Zuko and Link. "Duty calls," he announced. "Good luck finding you ship, Zuko. Very nice to meet you. And I'll see you around, Linkie—you posted up here at Akkala next month, by any chance?"
Head-shake no from Link.
"Bummer. Castle?"
Nod.
"Mm." Stablehand seemed unbothered. "Well, drop by when you can. Have a good trip!"
And Stablehand faded into the background so that it was just Zuko, Link, and the horses. Zuko surveyed his horse. Squash. There was a modest satchel strapped to the rear of the saddle, but not much else. "Those are all the supplies we need?" Everyone Zuko had met since waking up seemed to think Link was capable, but then again, 'everyone' was code for 'two people', and Zuko refused to be stranded in the wilderness because of someone else's poor judgement. He was already lost in the Earth Kingdom boondocks because of his own poor judgement, he didn't need to shoulder anyone else's, thank you kindly.
Zuko had been staring at Squash's saddle. He only realized his mistake when cold fingertips gently touched the side of his chin and turned his face towards his impromptu guide.
Oh. Zuko's face burned in the non-literal way. Link was watching him, but with his eyebrows knelt into frown, and he made the 'repeat' gesture."Ah. I—are these all our supplies?"
Link nodded this time, first patting the satchel on Squash, then pointing to a similar pack on Sebastian.
There was no graceful way out of that fumble (and if there was, Zuko absolutely would not be the one to find it) so he settled for hiking himself into the saddle, doing his best not the jostle his knee. It felt awkward and clumsy and the feelings were not helped by the fact that Link bounded into Sebastian's saddle in one smooth motion, height and heavy armor and all. He gave a quick snap of the reigns—Zuko copied the motion—and they were off.
At a walk.
It was equal parts unsettling and relieving that Link couldn't hear, Zuko decided ten seconds into their journey. Unsettling, since Zuko usually got his point across by yelling, so it was unclear how to get Link's attention without throwing a rock and hoping the armor held up. And because it was similarly unclear how one got answers to questions that required more than a nod or head-shake. Still. Relief: there were no political games being played, no coy questions or thinly-veiled insults to sift through. Azula always said that he was awful at talking, anyway. "If I had to pick one thing you're great at, Zuzu," she'd once proclaimed, "It's making yourself sound like a complete idiot."
(Ursa had chided her. Zuko hadn't noticed at the time, but Ozai, overhearing, had worn a nasty smile of agreement.)
First and foremost, though, it was inconvenient. Zuko huffed, shoulders tightening. What part of 'I need to get to my ship as fast as possible' had been too vague?
Link seemed to fidget in his saddle, too, and glanced back at Zuko, tapping his knee with a slight frown.
"My knee is fine," Zuko grumbled. "Aren't we going to go any faster?"
With a bright nod, Link straightened and dug his heels into the horse's side. Zuko followed suit. At least that much was familiar—the horses broke into a trot, just like an ostrich horse.
Link was still watching him, and he tapped his knee again (motion only made faintly ridiculous, being bobbled up-and-down on horseback).
"It's fine." Surprisingly, not a lie. "We can go faster."
A sharp tongue-click and flick of the reins was all it took to break into a canter, the pace fast enough that Zuko felt a stirring of satisfaction at their progress while not fast enough to require that he press his injured knee. Now that they were on the road, not on the forest, Zuko kept an eye out for anything. A signpost. A familiar tree, for spirit's sake. Periodic glances skyward just in case the Avatar happened to appear. Yet minutes bled into minutes bled into an hour before Zuko broke his methodical scanning. There were no clues. No familiarity with the Earth Kingdom port the Wani sailed into last night. Though, if nothing else, this was still somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, of that Zuko was sure. There was a distinct lack of snow and while Zuko didn't know a lot about the Poles, he knew they were frozen hellholes. And Air Nomads didn't have swaths of land, they had temples tucked on mountaintops.
(It couldn't be the Fire Nation because a) these people didn't recognize him and his exceedingly recognizable face, and b) entertaining the idea that he'd broken the terms of his banishment would have Zuko glancing over his shoulder every two seconds, like Zhao was behind every tree waiting to pop out, so the possibility was thrown out.)
So Zuko had wandered into a potentially spirit-filled forest and had woken up somewhere unrecognizable, yet still within the Earth Kingdom's borders; it stood to reason that if he made it to the border, he could follow the coast and rejoin his ship. A good plan. A better plan than Zuko usually had, given that he often didn't have a plan at all.
He spent the next hour listening to hooves pounding against the dirt and wondering what Uncle and the crew were doing in his absence. Probably playing a ship-wide pai sho tournament. Uncle had a way of guilting people into playing with him no matter how many times he'd played (and beaten) the person in question before. Another hour's worth of fuming was spent on the fact that, at this moment, the Avatar was getting farther and farther away, hidden somewhere in the clouds. Zuko's honor was flying away and there was nothing he could do about it but sit in the saddle and scowl.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
They stopped when blues-and-purples had bled from the sky and the stars had flickered to life. Those represented a million new anomalies and pulled the Noose of Dread tighter still: there were no recognizable constellations. You couldn't spend three years at sea on a glorified rust-bucket like the Wani without learning a thing or two about interstellar navigation, and Zuko spent enough time with his eyes trained upward to know what the night sky ought to look like. It did not look like this. No Chariot of Agni. No Calderron. The Dragon constellation was brightest this time of year, but the patch of sky it usually slept in was a bare smattering of dull stars.
Zuko was so preoccupied with the night sky that he nearly missed Link's outstretched fist and subsequent rein-in to a walk. He brought Squash to the same pace, not bothering to ask why they'd stopped. Nighttime travel was never a great option, and even though Zuko was certain he'd be able to take any would-be assailants—that is, the Blue Spirit could take on any assailants—one couldn't ride through the night on alert for days, injured. Zuko followed Link for several silent minutes, into the wood. Followed the sharp right turn they made once the road had faded from view. Bit his tongue, even though he was tempted to ask why can't we just stop here, until the land dipped, and the trees broke apart to reveal a small clearing and a moonlit pond.
That was as good a cue as any for Zuko to begin the herculean feat of dismounting. At least Link was busy leading his horse to the water and loosely tying the reins to a nearby branch, instead of hovering around Zuko with his blank-yet-critical gaze. Like I need help getting off a horse. I can take it. Zuko held his breath and slid off, bearing the brunt of the force through his right leg again. It wasn't as bad as before. The wrapping helped. Before Zuko could start shuffle-walking his own horse to water, Link returned and took Squash's reins wordlessly.
"Oh. Uh. Thank you." Though Zuko wasn't sure if Link heard—no, that wasn't right—wasn't sure if Link saw, since he was already halfway to the tree-turned halter-post.
With nothing better to do, Zuko shuffled to the edge of the woods and picked up branches littering the ground until he had an armful, then brought it over to the clearing, subsequently dropping the pile prematurely because Link had, by some wizardry, produced a) a small pot, b) a ladle, c) a bundle of herbs, d) one gleaming kitchen knife, e) two blankets, f) a chopping board, and g) a bag of shiny red apples. He was currently shrugging off the bow on his back, and only paused when he caught Zuko staring with the sticks spilt at his feet.
"Where'd you get all that?" Zuko sputtered.
Link huffed with what might have been a laugh—that is, a louder-than-normal exhale through the nose, even though he didn't smile—and pointed to now-deflated packs on Sebastian and Squash's backs.
"That's ridiculous." Physics-defying, spirit-damned ridiculous. "Those packs couldn't have carried that much. The blankets alone would take up most of the room."
With a shrug that sent Zuko's royal sensibilities into a peal-clutching gasp, Link returned his attention to the bow, giving the string an experimental thwang before pulling an arrow from the quiver and lining it up. His gaze met Zuko's, and held up a hand with two splayed fingers.
Two…arrows?
No, Zuko amended, when Link darted off into the forest. Two minutes. Obviously. He'd go hunting for dinner and would be back in two minutes.
Limited mobility meant that Zuko was relegated to menial tasks. He re-gathered the wood, dumped it in the clearing's approximate center, and after two minutes of back-and-forth claimed one of the two blankets and laid it out by a log. It was fair to borrow one of them, he decided. Since he was paying Honey Hair for this little excursion. As soon as he got back to the ship. Then it would be fair.
One of the horses let out a soft little whinny, and Zuko ambled over. He knew this much from three years of travel abroad: pack animals rested easier without saddles on their backs, and these were similar enough to what ostrich-horses wore that he could handle both. When he'd relieved Squash of her mount, she'd sidled her ginormous body a bit closer to Zuko. Like a pat of affirmation.
"Yeah. You're welcome," Zuko mumbled. After all, why not talk to the horse; even if his travelling companion came back unannounced, it wasn't like he'd overhear. "You did good. You're pretty fast."
Squash flicked her tail in response.
"Not that bad. For an Earth Kingdom animal," Zuko added. "I don't think we have any of you in the Fire Nation. I'm not sure. I'll check when I go home."
Squash snorted.
(Zuko tried not to feel slighted that Squash sounded skeptical of his statement. He would go home. And be welcomed with open arms, honor finally restored, if he could only apprehend one measly twelve-year-old—)
The conversation fell into a lull, as conversations with animals tended to do. Zuko glanced around the campsite, hobbled over to his pile of kindling. Arranged it into a teepee. Then, stupidly, without a second thought, sent a burst of fire from his palm and watched the fire catch with a lively crack.
Something dropped behind him.
Zuko whirled—Link stood, frozen, the carcass of a bird dropped on the ground.
He's scared of firebenders.
That was the only explanation for Link's statue-still stance and his abandoned game. Zuko turned completely. Link took a step back.
Of course he's scared of firebenders. The entire earth kingdom is scare—has a heathy respect for firebenders.
(Healthy respect was the language used amongst generals. It was more diplomatic than the term 'scared shitless').
"It's alright!" For some stupid reason Zuko's heart pounded in a furious drum, and he held his hands up, disarming. By all counts he should be using his flame to cow this random Earth Kingdom peasant. It was easier to detach by mentally labelling him 'earth kingdom peasant' instead of 'Link the Royal Guard who agreed to take me where I need to go'. But then, all Zuko wanted was to make his intentions clear. He was a firebender. That would instill fear in anyone from the Earth Kingdom because of the simple fact they'd been at war for a century. That didn't mean he was about to start flinging fireballs everywhere now. "You don't have to—I'm not going to do anything to you."
Link blinked. He did a good job a keeping his face blank, Zuko had noticed (a trait Zuko had wished he possessed, Once Upon a Time in the Fire Nation Court), but even he couldn't bite back a grimace.
"You're not—well, you are the enemy. Of the Fire Nation. But you're actively assisting in a mission of vital importance to the Fire Nation and that's—" good? An excuse? Zuko felt himself turn crimson and shook his head like an animal wicking water. "I'm not going to burn you. So you don't have to worry about…me burning you."
Still, Link shook his head. Zuko paused. There was more confusion than fear in Link's face.
Was this… "Haven't you ever seen a firebender before?"
A frown, followed by the spool-tracing motion. Again.
"A firebender," Zuko repeated. His gaze narrowed. "Soldiers. Wearing armor like mine." He pinched a piece of his fabric for emphasis. "We're firebenders. You have to have seen one before." Though it was possible to have a run in with Fire Nation troops without flames breaking out, it was…somewhat uncommon.
Or completely unheard of, whichever, Zuko ignored that small detail.
Motion regained, Link reached down to pick up their dropped dinner, eyes never leaving Zuko's face. The subsequent head-shake 'no' was slow, hesitant.
"That's impossible." Zuko heard the snap, the anger in his tone, and didn't bother to temper it because the notion was too absurd. "You've never seen someone firebend before?"
Bird retrieved, Link made a wide arc around Zuko and the fire and sat down opposite Zuko. His hand reached for the knife. Stopped. Then another spooling motion. Again.
"I asked, haven't you ever seen someone firebend before—but that's a dumb question, everyone's seen firebending!"
Link chewed on his lower lip, eyebrows knotting in a way that already looked familiar to Zuko, before he made a vague, blustery hand-motion at the fire.
"Yes! Fire. Bending." Without thinking, Zuko brought a flame to life in his palm. "Even those water tribe savages know what firebending looks like."
This would be so much easier, Zuko thought, if the shorter boy would talk…as it was, Link stared at the fire in Zuko's hand, brows still tangled.
How to explain, to make it clear—inspiration struck Zuko like Azula's lighting, and he extinguished his flame, grabbed a nearby stick to act as an impromptu pen, and began scratching words in the dirt. Haven't you ever seen a firebender before? Glee—unbidden and unannounced—sprung up in Zuko's chest, and he beckoned Link closer. "Come here," he said, tapping the inscription in the dirt. Link obliged, making anther wide arc around the fire until he was a foot from Zuko's side, and the writing was in clear view. Zuko tapped it once more, just to be sure. "There. That's my question."
Link studied the words for a mere second before he shook his head and grabbed a stick of his own and scrawled in the dirt next to Zuko. New…symbols. Nothing like the signs Zuko knew.
Glee had the wrong address.
"You've got to be kidding," Zuko muttered, more for his personal benefit than anything else. "We speak the same language. The scripts should be the same."
Should be, being the operative term. Reality wasn't so kind.
Link didn't seem too disappointed. More importantly, he also seemed to be over his earlier shock, sitting down on Zuko's side of the campfire to give the prince a look. Not a smile—his mouth didn't much move—but there was a levity in his eyes that suggested a smile, and it was a friendlier gesture than Zuko expected. He scrubbed out the failed letters in the dust and started anew.
"I couldn't read what you wrote. It's not—it won't work." Zuko knew the words were moot since Link was focused on the ground. He churned on regardless. "It's probably my fault. I'm unlucky. Of course it wouldn't be that easy."
Zuko leaned a bit closer, trying to catch the shorter boy's eye so that he would see-listen. Only then did he catch sight of the new inscription on the ground, which really wasn't an inscription at all. It was a picture.
They didn't use the lame letters, but they saw the same world.
Fire. An admittedly crude sketch of an open palm with a dancing flame cradled within, but recognizable nonetheless. Link tapped the drawing with the toe of his boot, then let his gaze rest on Zuko. Waiting to see-listen.
"That. That's firebending. Exactly." For the third time, Zuko lit a flame. He kept it small, just in case… "Other people do this. You have to have seen someone else firebend."
A vehement head-shake from Link.
"Never?" Zuko tried to picture a part of the world that hadn't been licked by flame at some point in the last hundred years, and came up with a fat, blank map. Even Ba Sing Se saw smoke for six hundred days. "You've never come across a Fire Nation soldier before?" In a last-ditch effort for clarity, Zuko pulled at his collar, where the symbol of fire was. "This symbol?"
Link shook his head again, softer this time, more contemplative.
It was a strange honor to be the first firebender someone ever saw, and for the reaction to be neither petrified nor disdainful. It was more than just interesting. It was alarming. "Wait," Zuko said, wiping the marks in the dusk away. He'd spent hours poured over maps, trying to chart the Avatar and his troupe of companions who seemed determined to visit every spirit-forsaken island between both poles. His rough map of the world was just that: rough, but undeniably a map of the world. (The Fire Nation was perhaps drawn a big above-scale, but that was the way it ought to be, anyway.) "There. There's a map. Where are we now, exactly, on the map?"
For a while, Link studied the picture with such a single-note intensity that Zuko was certain this, this would be the break he needed. Honey Hair would mark an X, and Zuko would know where that stupid magic forest (it was the fault of that stupid haunted forest, Zuko was certain of this as he was certain the sun would rise tomorrow) had dumped him. Glee's subtler cousin, Satisfaction, knocked on the door.
The door opened just long enough for Satisfaction to get punched in the metaphorical face.
Link's head-shake was more than an admission of 'I don't understand' or 'I don't know.' It was quick and decided and managed to say 'This is wrong' without saying a word. He cleared his patch of dust and began a new sketch—a different map, Zuko realized. Squarish, one big block of land with one or two islands dotted about, and a few pointed squiggles. Link paused, drew back, then added a final detail in the middle of his map, tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth in concentration.
A…building?
No. No, not just a building. It was a castle, no doubt the one that Stablehand had mentioned hours before. Where Link was a member of the Guard.
The noose of dread tightened until Zuko could hardly breathe. Earlier today he would have dismissed the sketch as a regional map, the product of a backwater Earth Kingdom education in sore need of expansion. But the distances that Medic had listed earlier rang though his head like warning sirens. "Where are we now? On that map?" he asked.
Link made a tidy X on the right side of his map.
"And—the port we're going to? Where's that?"
Another X, this time near the bottom right corner.
Thus began Zuko's Map Jigsaw. Trying to reconcile Link's map with his; this wasn't Ba Sing Se, and the landscape wasn't that of Foggy Swamp, and it couldn't be there because that was a mountainous region, couldn't be there because that patch of land was far too small to fit three days' worth of galloping—
No matter which way Zuko moved the pieces, they didn't fit.
Nothing fit. The sky didn't fit, the people didn't fit. The stunning lack of firebenders didn't fit.
For the first time Zuko wondered if he were even in the right world at all.