Chapter 18
Temurin's patient hisses in discomfort as Jirou dabs the thick green poultice onto an open sore.
"That burns," she complains. To his credit, Jirou doesn't look sheepish or uncertain like he did yesterday, when he visited patients with Temurin for the first time. Instead the boy keeps adding the ointment, slowly and carefully.
"Why does it burn, Jirou?" Temurin asks. He leans forward in his chair. Since arriving in Qima a week ago, they've been able to move all the supplies out of the wagon and set up shop in his old house. The house he shared with Jinlian.
"Uncle?"
"Hm?" Temurin shakes his head slightly, an empty aching in his throat.
"I said it burns because the poultice is eating away the infection," Jirou says. "So it's a good burn."
"That's absolutely right, Jirou," Temurin says hurriedly. "Well done." He turns to his patient, who still looks sceptical. "It will only burn for the first hour or so," Temurin explains. "After that, you should start feeling better and the swelling should go down."
"What if it doesn't?" the woman asks.
"Well, you know where I live," Temurin says with a too-hearty smile. "I'll be here for another week, at least."
For the next ten minutes, Temurin chats with his patient and helps Jirou firmly bandage her leg wound. His nephew really has a knack for it; as they continue to travel before winter truly hits, he's sure Jirou will learn even more. And in a few years, if he wants to, Jirou could go study medicine in Yu Dao, like Temurin did. Focusing on medicine, Temurin can almost push the memories of this house to the back of his mind. And the prickling smirks people still shoot him when he's out in public in Qima. And how his daughter looks at him distrustfully, and his worries about Nekana. Almost.
As his patient leaves, she almost bumps into Altan in the doorway.
"Sorry," Altan says, flushed. But he pushes past her and throws a gazette on the table in front of Temurin. In large black characters, the headline screams: Bahasa Under Siege! Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom Armies Face Off for Second Day.
"Two days?" Temurin says. "But it's been over a week since we left!"
"I know," says Altan, frustrated. "The gazette's information is at least five days out of date. News travels slowly."
"'Less than 24 hours after the Earth Kingdom army appeared, a Fire Nation garrison from Taiyang rolled up in armored tanks which last saw action in the Hundred Year's War,'" Jirou reads. "'The two armies are now camped outside Bahasa's gates in a standoff that seems unlikely to end soon. With the vote on whether Bahasa will return to the Earth Kingdom or join the United Republic only a few days away, Bahasa's future is more uncertain than ever.'" Jirou looks up, frowning. "But if this is a few days old, anything could have happened! The city could be on fire, or the war could have restarted, or-"
"I know," repeats Temurin.
"We shouldn't have left her," Altan says bitterly. He sinks into a chair at the table.
"We couldn't have stopped her." Temurin rubs his temples wearily as they replay the same argument that's been running in his head for the past week.
"But we could have tried harder!" Altan snaps. "Instead we ran away like cowards."
"What do you want me to say?" Temurin stands, shoving his chair noisily. "That I feel like dirt, too? That I worry about her every minute, just like you do?" He walks to the door and grabs his bag. "In case you've forgotten, I've known her longer than you have."
"I'm aware," Altan says, narrowing his eyes. Silence descends weighty and stifling. Jirou looks supremely uncomfortable and loudly stacks his textbooks one on top of the other.
Temurin sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "That was…uncalled for." He slings the bag over his shoulder. "When I get back, we should discuss—well. Going back for her."
"Really?" Altan asks. He suddenly looks much younger. Hopeful.
"Where are you going?" Jirou speaks up as Temurin puts on his coat.
A whole new type of guilt and trepidation sweeps over Temurin. "I'm going to pick up my daughter from school."
Azula looks with distaste at the chopped-off finger in the box open in front of her.
Well, that went poorly.
"What happened?" she demands of Mayor Ginjiro.
"General Yuan's Earth Kingdom army grows tiring of our stalling, Your Highness!" the man whimpers. "She demands that we open our gates and allow her army to liberate the city!" Ginjiro glances at the finger and shudders. "Perhaps it's time you ordered the soldiers from Taiyang to attack. Preemptively."
"How many times do I have to explain this?" Azula snaps. "If we attack, we start a war, which the Firelord does not want. Imbecile!"
"Apologies, Your Highness." Ginjiro shrinks beneath her gaze, but it doesn't give her the pleasure it once would have.
"I'll be on the wall," Azula says, sweeping out of the room. If only she could negotiate directly, get General Yuan and the Fire Nation commander from Taiyang together in a room, she's sure she could hammer out a compromise and let the vote proceed fairly. But since she's unable to show her face, she's completely hamstrung. Her thighs burn as she ascends the stairs at a run. The siege has lasted a week, but aside from a few initial skirmishes there hasn't been any violence.
Azula bursts out into the chilly, bright afternoon sun. Striding to the edge of the wall, she surveys the scene: the Earth Kingdom army crouches less than a mile outside Bahasa's gates. And then, camped further out and separated from the city, stands the army from Taiyang. From here, the concentration of green and red army tents look like large patches of color on a quilt. Azula rolls her neck, trying to get out a stubborn knot. With a word, she could restart the war she and her father once fought so hard to win. She's fighting for peace because Zuko wants peace. But does she?
The clouds overhead are thick and white in the bright blue sky. If she restarted the war, she'd be fighting against people like Temurin and Altan. They could actually die. Funny how peasants dying never occurred to her before. Azula sighs, her breath a small puff, and stretches her neck upwards again to release the tension. Above her, a small cloud detaches itself from the main one, and quickly drifts to the left. It appears to swell as it travels, gradually getting larger. Azula squints at its odd behaviour. The wind is blowing to the right, not the left. And then her mouth drops open as she realizes what it is.
"The Avatar," she swears.
The cloud gets bigger and bigger until the form of the Avatar's sky-bison is clear. On top of the bison are two small figures, presumably the Avatar and that waterbender. Azula thinks quickly. She should have foreseen this; frankly, in retrospect it's surprising the Avatar took a week to get here. And now it's too late to run. So Azula braces herself for whatever is to come as the bison flies low over the city walls, circling Bahasa. With a whoosh of air, the bison flies straight up over her, almost close enough for her to touch. She stumbles back. As she does, she meets the large grey eyes of the Avatar. His eyes widen in recognition, and the bison makes a tight turn to land on the wall a short distance away from her. Her hair flies back in the sudden wind.
I'm not doing anything wrong, Azula reminds herself. Even so, her fists clench as the only people in the world capable of defeating her dismount from their bison.
"Avatar," she calls out. "Good of you to finally show up."
The Avatar leaps towards her in that eerie, half-flying way he always does. "What are you doing here, Azula?" he says accusatorily. He's wearing orange robes, one shoulder revealed, and looks thinner and taller than he was when she saw him two years ago. Behind him, the Water Tribe girl bends water out of her pouch, ready for a fight. Her face twists in disgust and dislike.
"I'm preventing Bahasa from falling to the Earth Kingdom," Azula says. "Doing your job, in other words."
"That's hardly what it looks like," says Water Tribe. She gestures at Azula's Fire Nation armour. "What's your game? Did you summon troops from Taiyang and Yu Dao just so you could make Bahasa your own personal kingdom?"
"What?" Azula sneers. "Water Tribe, why don't you let the civilized people talk? I know that forming coherent sentences is hard for Southern natives." She smirks as Water Tribe bristles with fury. "Avatar, what is she blabbering about?"
The Avatar holds his hands up placatingly. "Listen, Azula, we heard there was a siege, so we came to investigate. We just didn't expect to find you…running things." He pauses. "So what are you doing here?"
"I don't answer to you," Azula says. "It's a family matter."
"Um...clearly it's not?" the Avatar says, anger leaching into his voice for the first time. He points his staff sharply at the lines of opposing armies spread across the horizon. "Azula, if you don't explain yourself right now I'm going to be forced to-"
"Calm down, little Avatar," Azula says, somewhat pleased she can still get under his skin. "It's quite simple, really. I was in the area. I found out the Earth Kingdom army was coming, so I decided to protect the city." As she speaks, the Avatar and Water Tribe exchange sceptical glances, and Azula finds herself growing irritated. Why won't they believe her?
"I'm only doing what Zuko would do," Azula adds testily. Then she realizes she sounds like a whiny child, and scowls even further. Something about the Avatar and Water Tribe just sets her on edge.
"Azula, the last we heard, you ran off into the forest," the Avatar says slowly and calmly, the way you might talk to a cornered and rabid animal. It's infuriating.
"Then you're about a year out of date," Azula snarls. "Check your facts, Avatar. Only three months ago I saved Zuko's life."
"No offense, but why should we believe you?" says the Avatar. "You have to admit, you commanding Fire Nation armies without Zuko's knowledge looks pretty bad."
"I don't—" Azula growls in frustration. "I don't expect people like you to understand. But I am trying to help Zuko in whatever way I can."
"Zuko sent us. Why would he want your help?" Water Tribe says cruelly.
Azula falls silent. Having these people from her past here calls to mind things she'd rather not think about. Her attempts to murder Zuko. Her mental instability after the war—a problem that hasn't completely gone away. How utterly useless and homeless she really is now.
"If you really are trying to help, the best way would be to stand aside," the Avatar says. "I'm here to supervise the election and get everyone to go home. Your presence will only—"
"Make things worse," says Azula dully. She deflates. "I know." The thing is, he's right. All her life, she thought she was good at politics. At manipulating people. But now, unable to use her name and face to negotiate, she can't fix this situation. She's an expert of war, not peace. No matter what Zuko says about love, there is no place for her in this new world. Everyone, even Zuko's friends, will always see her as a monster. Azula looks back up at the clouds, which had seemed so hopeful a few minutes ago. Now they drift pointlessly overhead, without a goal or destination. Worthless.
"Fine, Avatar." Azula unpins her bun and shakes her hair loose. "Go save the people. Be a hero. I won't stop you."
The Avatar hesitates. "What will you do?"
Azula laughs harshly. "I'll just go back to pretending Princess Azula never existed."
"Should we just let her go?" Water Tribe asks the Avatar, not even bothering to lower her voice. "She could still be dangerous."
"Don't worry, Water Tribe," Azula says. "I won't make the mistake of showing my face again." She starts down the stairs leading away from the wall, armor clanking heavily.
"Azula, wait—" the Avatar sounds conflicted, and almost sorrowful.
"Send Zuko my love," Azula says over her shoulder. I won't ever try to be Princess Azula again.
