Chapter 4
Over the next three days, Temurin keeps a careful watch on Nekana. He doesn't care who she is; not really. But the road south to New Azulon is long, dusty, and boring. There is little else to do but watch her. They pass other travelers perhaps once or twice a day, yet none of the dusty foot-travelers look like they want to make conversation. Usually when Temurin's alone he passes the time by singing. Yet he feels Nekana wouldn't appreciate that.
"Do you know why this land is called the Broken Plains?" Temurin asks Nekana abruptly on the third day. She's lounging on wooden wagon seat with her feet propped up on the dashboard, frowning pensively. To the east stretch the Broken Plains. The Plains are an expanse of sparse grasses punctuated by the occasional determined tree.
"Were the Broken Plains named for the thousands of widows with broken hearts after the Fire Nation invaded?" Nekana sneers.
"What? No!" Temurin shakes his head. What is wrong with her?
Nekana laughs.
"Tell me then, doctor," she says, waving her hand permissively.
"This used to be a forest. But a hundred years ago, Firelord Sozin's invading army cut it all down to fuel his tanks and warships. The Earth King did the same with the forest closer to Ba Sing Se."
"Shouldn't a hundred years be enough for the land to recover?" Nekana says, sitting up straighter. "Unless the roots—"
"Without the trees, the forest's topsoil blew away," Temurin finishes. "Besides, both armies kept cutting. The forest never recovered. Thousands of people had to move to the coast."
Nekana is silent.
"I didn't know that, peasant," she says.
They rattle along the dusty road. The dry flecks of soil coating their boots seem to take a more sinister meaning. Even if they heaped all the dust into one place, reassembled everything that had eroded away, they'd be left with nothing but parched and lifeless dirt where once there was a breathing forest.
"Was the river affected?" Nekana asks. "The one south of us."
"The Qima River?"
"Yes. Did the soil runoff clog the river? Make it slow-moving?"
"Yes. I grew up there," Temurin says, surprised. She's very intelligent. But why would Fire Nation noblewoman know so much about agriculture?
"You must have received an odd education, to learn about soil science," Temurin says aloud.
"Well, I was shocked to learn you're literate."
Temurin snorts.
"Did your family own an estate?" Temurin persists.
Nekana grins. "You could say that."
"And you had to learn to manage the land?"
"I learned everything about our estate," Nekana says with pride.
Another wagon rumbles behind them, pulled by two ostrich-horses. As they pass, Temurin nods pleasantly. The driver merely scowls and pulls down the bridge of his hat. The wagon rattles past quickly. Very quickly.
"Friendly," Nekana notes.
"I hired you for a reason," Temurin snaps the reins and looks over his shoulder. The road and plains behind them are deserted for miles. Except…
"How do you know about agricultural science?" Nekana asks. She's returned to her her arrogant, lounging position, apparently unconcerned by the prospect of bandits.
"My wife and I studied at Yu Dao University," Temurin explains distractedly, still glancing over his shoulder. Is that a dust cloud?
"Ah yes, the elusive wife."
Temurin feels his lip curl. Leave it to this girl to poke fun at something she knows nothing about.
"Everything about you is elusive," Temurin snaps, settling back on the chair. "And yet you don't see me asking intrusive questions."
"I'm sure you're dying to know, though," Nekana says lazily. She actually swings one leg over the side of the wagon, as if the splintery bench is her own personal throne. For a second, she reminds Temurin of Crooked Zhao: confident, almost casual, with a flint in her eyes that says she wouldn't mind dismembering someone if she needed.
Temurin shakes his head. He's overreacting; this is ridiculous. He looks over his shoulder.
The dust cloud is larger.
"There's definitely a wagon behind us," Temurin says.
"Then it will be the third wagon we've seen today," Nekana rolls her eyes. Nevertheless, there is a tenseness in her arm muscles that wasn't there before. Her leg stops swinging.
"You're right." Yet Temurin can't help but wonder if Zhao has sent someone after him. That would be just his luck, finally take a risk and immediately die for it…his ribs still hurt from the aborted beating.
They travel on in silence for another few minutes—or what amounts to silence on the road. The low thunder of the wheels, the creak of the seats, and the scratching of ostrich-horse claws on thin soil create a restless cacophony. Temurin snaps the reins again.
The peasant is getting nervous.
Azula cocks her head to listen to the sound of the wagon approaching them. Next to her, Temurin's monolidded green eyes are narrow with tension. Azula bites back a laugh. If Ty Lee were here, she'd say Temurin's aura is positively black with negativity.
For the past three days, the doctor has vacillated between attempting to engage her in discussion and ignoring her completely, as if he both hungers for conversation and regrets bringing her along. It amuses Azula. Quite a lot about Temurin amuses Azula, in fact: his touchiness about his past (as if Azula cared!), the way he thinks he's in charge of this situation, and his obnoxious know-it-all attitude. Sometimes, she daydreams about revealing her identity and her brilliance, shocking the peasant into appropriate subservience…
The most hilarious thing, of course, is that Temurin thinks Azula doesn't know about the yapian hidden a box in the wagon.
She found the yapian the night after they left Taiyang. Lighting a rare flower of blue flame, she had searched his entire wagon while the peasant huddled in a bedroll on the ground. Dried herbs, medical textbooks, a stack of letters bound together…she had begun to despair of finding anything that would explain Temurin's strange beating and even stranger behavior. And then, beneath a crate of heavy glass jars, she found it.
Surely it isn't typical for a poor, traveling doctor to be transporting fifteen pounds of illegal contraband across the Colonies. In the Fire Nation, this yapian would earn Temurin a life sentence. Azula would sentence him herself; the Royal Family must promote order amongst its subjects.
Even so, Azula can't help but see drug trafficking as a petty crime.
"Are you ready?" Temurin whispers.
Azula sighs. What can bandits or a druglord's cronies do to the rightful heir to the Fire Nation? Pride flushes her cheeks.
Then just as quickly, ice, horror at her stray thought. Zuko is the Firelord, Azula tells herself sternly. Zuko is the Firelord, and I have to disappear. Her hands shake. Is it possible she can forget what she learned so quickly?
Perhaps next time, Zuko won't forgive her. Even his love must have limits.
Azula summons orange fire with both hands, then extinguishes the flame, her stomach roiling. Perhaps it would be better for her to die on this deserted road, killed by nameless bandits of low blood, rather than watch herself become Zuko's enemy again.
The wagon pulls alongside Temurin's cart and kicks up a choking cloud of dust. Temurin coughs. Who is it? Azula tries to peer through the haze, but sees only swirling particles. The wagon could be full of Earth Kingdom soldiers and she wouldn't know.
The other ostrich-horse screeches as someone pulls its reins.
Azula summons fire. The orange light only bounces off the specks, making it even more difficult to see. For a second, she thinks she sees a bearded face spinning in the glowing dust, with cruel golden eyes…but it can't be.
"Brace yourself," Azula orders Temurin.
Swirling her arms over her head, she creates a spinning disk of fire and shoots it over the opposite wagon. With a whoosh, her fire blows away part of the dust cloud. She summons another firewheel and sends it careening between the wagons, sweeping away another layer of dust. Both wagons have stopped now, and through the remaining haze, Azula sees the outline of the woman driving the other cart. The figure stands. With a fluid twist of her arms, she gestures towards Azula and Temurin, braids flying.
Azula knocks Temurin flat on the bench as the water whip smacks the air right above where he was sitting.
"Waterbender," Azula hisses.
"Waterbender?" Temurin says, green eyes wide. "Wait—"
But Azula is already standing ready with two whips of fire.
Soldiers pile out of the back of the cart, striking fighting stances. One of them must be an earthbender, to have bent all this dirt. But Azula is focused on the waterbender. Another water whip flicks out across the gap between wagons, but Azula merely steps to the side and lashes out with a rope of red fire. The waterbender jumps to the ground to avoid Azula's blast.
"Wait!" Temurin scrambles to his feet and grabs Azula's arm. "Mila, is that you?"
"Temurin?" shouts the woman on the road.
Azula lifts her hand to give the killing blow.
"Nekana, stop!" Temurin yells. "I know her!" His hand tightens uncomfortably on her wrist.
Abruptly, the dust cloud of cover dissipates, banished by the hidden earthbender, and Azula finds herself looking into the steely blue eyes of a Water Tribeswoman. Her hair is grey, half of it swept into a looping Water Tribe bun, the rest dangling in beaded braids. She is thin, wiry, with tan skin even darker than Temurin's and lines crinkling her eyes.
Sages, Azula hates waterbenders.
"Mila!" Temurin cries, and leaps down from the wagon. "I didn't expect to meet you on the road. Why aren't you in Bahasa? Where is Yu-chen?"
"I had business in Taiyang," Mila says. Her voice is deep and gravelly. "Yu-chen stayed behind to watch over the Red House."
"What business would that be?" Azula asks sharply. Behind Mila stand four young men, all dressed in plain clothing. They reek of the Earth Kingdom army. Azula also can't help but scan for the black-bearded, golden-eyed figure that she saw in the dust. But of course he isn't here.
After all, Father is dead.
"Who is this, Temurin?" Mila asks.
"Nekana. Zhao gave me some…extra responsibilities, so I took Nekana on as backup."
"I see," Mila says neutrally. "Well, now that she has added you to the team I will tell you: be careful, Temurin. I hope you haven't gotten in over your head."
"I'm careful, Mila."
"Make sure your Nekana is careful, too," Mila warns. "Crooked Zhao does not tolerate mistakes."
Azula has picked out the earthbender: he's the short one in the back, the only one not carrying a weapon. A waterbender, an earthbender soldier, and a Colonial doctor all allied with this Crooked Zhao. What is the Earth King planning?
"We're sorry for the misunderstanding," Azula lies. "We hope Crooked Zhao will understand that her agents are bound to cross paths."
Temurin shoots her a sharp look. Azula smiles innocently from her perch on the wagon.
"Indeed," Mila says. "Indeed."
Blue eyes still boring into Azula, Mila flicks her hand, and the four men clamber back into the wagon.
"We have urgent business in Bahasa," Mila says. "Will you be passing through, Temurin?"
"Yes," Temurin answers, eyes tracking the soldiers. "After we pick up my nephew in New Azulon."
"Then Yu-chen and I will see you there." Mila climbs to the top of her wagon seat, surprisingly nimble for a woman of her age.
"Beware of bandits, Temurin," Mila snaps her reins.
Temurin, still standing on the ground, covers his mouth with his scarf as Mila's wagon lumbers away. The short earthbender sitting in the back snaps his fingers, and the dust cloud swirls up like a tornado around the wagon, hiding them from view.
"You keep odd friends, Temurin," Azula notes.
"I don't know much about friends," Temurin frowns.
"Then we have something in common."
Azula stretches out her hand to help Temurin up into the wagon. He takes it.
