Chapter 15

Temurin sits before Mila and Yu-chen like a man awaiting his own execution. He doesn't remember how he got back to the Red House. Nekana must have led him there. He keeps remembering how Jirou ran down the dusty street towards him in New Azulon: free. Not terrified and pale as he was when the Fire Nation soldiers dragged him away. Jirou is alone now, just like Temurin's daughter is alone with only her grandmother to care for her…why did Aliya trust Temurin with her son, her oldest son? Temurin looks around for Nekana, but she isn't there. She waits just outside with Altan.

"Please," Temurin says again. "I know you can help him."

Yu-chen and Mila exchange a glance.

"We can," Mila says. "But if you could just wait three days—"

"Spirits, Mila, who knows what the Fire Nation can do to a child in three days!" Temurin says angrily.

"We can use this," Yu-chen says to Mila. "Accelerate the timeline. Let everyone know that the Fire Nation has taken an innocent child prisoner."

Temurin clenches his fists in his lap. He doesn't care what timeline they're talking about. As long as they agree to get Jirou out.

"That could work," Mila nods. "Send out the messengers to General Xia. We rescue the boy tonight. The others can arrive by tomorrow."

"Thank you," Temurin exhales, relief mixed with foreboding.

"You owe Crooked Zhao even more now, Temurin," Yu-chen says sharply. "And Crooked Zhao always gets a return on her debt."

Once again, Azula finds herself plotting against the Fire Nation.

This time is different, she reminds herself sternly. She isn't trying to undermine Zuko, she's just trying to free a child. Yet it's obvious that Yu-chen and Mila are plotting something more…

When Temurin and Mila emerge from Yu-chen's office, they both look grim. Azula ceases her pacing immediately.

"We are going to fetch the boy," Mila says. Her hand rests on the pommel of her sword.

"I'll come," Azula volunteers immediately.

"I don't think so," Mila growls. "You're Fire Nation." Her blue eyes are as steely and contemptuous as Zuko's waterbender friend. Sages, Azula hates waterbenders, with their smug smiles and their hair braids and their—

"You should stay here," Temurin agrees.

"Fine," Azula sneers. "If I'm not wanted, why risk my life?"

"It's not that—" Temurin starts.

"Do you want to save your nephew or not?" Mila shrugs on a sealskin coat with blue stitching; sewn inside the fur lining of her coat are an assortment of knives that would make Mai's mouth water. Clearly they aren't on a peace mission.

"You and Altan should wait here for me," Temurin mutters as he leaves.

Azula ignores him. If Temurin doesn't trust her, why bother to reply?

She watches from the second-floor window as Mila, Temurin, and a two dangerous-looking women with long knives leave the brothel. Temurin still wears her red scarf, the scarf she brought all the way from the Fire Nation palace. Another fall wind sweeps down from where it hovered above the cliffs. The chill sweeps between the towers of rock like an air and funnels through the boulevard. The red silk curtains billow inward.

As soon as Mila and Temurin disappear from sight, Azula climbs up and stands in the window frame, surrounded by twisting pennants of red. She pulls her hair from her ponytail and lets the wind sweep through her hair. Air may be the weakest element, but it's also the wildest.

It takes only seconds for Azula to swing down to the street. And only a few minutes before she reaches the inn where they are keeping the ostrich-horse, the wagon, and the crates of yapian.

Azula's wagon clatters across the cobblestones of a completely deserted street. And no wonder. The wind picks up, and she can hear the barest hint of a whisper. She ignores the voice just like she ignored Temurin.

The clouds are as dark as twilight. Sleet still flecks the coat of her Earth Kingdom jacket. Azula thinks of her time in a Fire Nation jail. She wonders if Jirou is afraid. Azula was never afraid, of course, even when she was locked up in the insane asylum for years. You have to be sane to be afraid. Yet even though Azula hasn't decided if she's sane or not, Azula feels a sweep of icy fear as she sits on a hard wagon bench outside the Red House. It is so cold in the Colonies, colder than the islands of her home. The sun cannot break through the clouds. A child is captured. Temurin does not trust her. There is a plot hatching beneath the scarlet phoenix-carved eaves of the Red House. And she will never be home again.

"Take these crates inside," Azula orders two sturdy-looking women standing guard outside the Red House. "It's a shipment for Yu-chen."

The women obey Azula's tone of command, hauling thousands of kuai worth of yapian into the Red House. A small boy stands below the windows with a long, curved lamplighter. He strains on his tiptoes to reach the nearest scarlet lantern, but trips and nearly catches the shutter on fire. Azula watches him speculatively.

"Have you ever met a firebender, boy?" she asks.

He shakes his head.

"Then close your eyes. And don't peek."

Azula breathes in deeply, judging the distance to each of the lanterns. Then, not quite as fast as her lightning, she sends out ten short bursts of orange fire. The lantern wicks catch. The street glows with as red as fire-embers.

"Okay. Now you can look."

"Wow," the boy's eyes are wide. His pale skin reflects the red lantern glow. "You're like magic!"

"Yes," Azula agrees. But her eyes alight on a now-illuminated second-story room. It's Yu-chen's study. And it's empty.

She owes Temurin nothing.

Altan does not appreciate being deserted by his friends in a strange brothel. After he searches the Red House for half an hour and finds neither Nekana or Temurin, Altan resigns himself to abandonment. After he wanders into the kitchen and exchanges a few pleasantries with the cook, he finds himself seated at a sturdy wooden table peeling potatoes. It seems like the safest place.

Hide and wait it out. That's always been Altan's tactic. He cuts an eye out of a potato and throws the skin on the floor. Jirou has more guts than any of them. The way he just went up on that platform and spoke his mind. It was monumentally stupid. But still…

"Are you looking for your friend?" A young man dressed in a long white nightshirt enters the kitchen.

"What?" Altan asks stupidly, a half-peeled potato in his hand. The newcomer picks up a raw, peeled potato from the bowl on the table. He crunches down like it's an apple.

"Your friend. The firebender with the golden eyes. She just headed upstairs."

"You're eating a raw potato," Altan tells him.

"You're peeling potatoes and you don't even work here," the man retorts. "So which of us is the idiot?"

Cheeks burning, Altan heads upstairs.

The red lanterns inside and outside are lit. Women laugh from behind closed doors as Altan hurries through the second-floor hallway. Only one door is cracked open. Carefully, Altan peers inside. He sighs with mixed relief and irritation when he recognizes Nekana.

"Where did you go? I was looking for you!" he snaps.

Nekana glances up and smoothly shuts Yu-chen's desk drawer.

"I've been looking for Yu-chen," Nekana says. She tucks a piece of paper behind her belt.

"For the past hour?"

"Let's have a drink," Nekana smiles.

"I don't want—"

"Look, Altan. Aren't the red lanterns beautiful?" Nekana says. She takes his hand and drags him to the window so he can see the intricate painted dragons and fire-lilies painted on the red paper.

"They are," he says begrudgingly.

Nekana beams at him. Her golden eyes glitter in the firelight.

"Have a drink with me," she says again.

And this time, Altan can't bring himself to refuse.

Temurin feels like crying in relief when he, Jirou, and Mila finally reach the inn. It had cost them, but he got his nephew back. Jirou is safe.

"I'm sorry," the boy says again dully. He's draped in a blanket, having lost his own coat, and looks thoroughly wet and miserable.

"We'll talk about it later," Temurin promises. Now is not the time to chastise Jirou, although once Jirou is rested by the spirits does he have something to say to the boy. Running away? Joining a political rally? Temurin closes his eyes. Everything could have gone so much worse.

Temurin expected Nekana to be waiting for him, but she's nowhere to be found as he leads Jirou to the bedroom.

"Change into something warm," Temurin tells his nephew. "I'll go get some ginger from the wagon for tea." Jirou nods weakly.

Temurin looks out of the bedroom window into the courtyard and blinks a few times before he can process the sight. His wagon isn't there. The whole courtyard is in view and his wagon…isn't there. Ice floods his body as quickly as if he'd jumped into a mountain lake at winter.

"I'll be back," he finds himself saying to Jirou before floating out the door. Where is Nekana? Where is his wagon? And where are his hundreds of grams of yapian? Ice is replaced by a throbbing heat at his temples. Betrayal. Betrayal again. Still, he struggles not to jump to conclusions. After everything they've survived together, Nekana wouldn't steal his yapian at a time like this. Probably. Or maybe she would.

"Is everything all right?" Mila asks.

"Can you stay with Jirou?" Temurin asks, fighting for control. "I need to check on something at the Red House."