A/N: And now it's time to look in on Iroh.
Disclaimer: Okay, I don't own Avatar or its characters. Owell. I'll get over it. So will you. In the meantime…
CHAPTER 4:
Iroh sipped at a final sake in the dim light of the tavern, wondering again at the turn of the wheel that had brought him back to this no longer sleepy port. The sake was the same, and he wouldn't have been surprised to discover that the tavern's owner – and his accommodating daughter – to be also the same. But so much else had changed with time. Ah, by now no doubt the daughter was at least a wife and mother, he thought with a smile.
In his time, the port had swiftly surrendered to the onslaught led by a young, hot-headed general, whose fury was quickly quenched by the many pleasures on offer to a conqueror with a ready smile and light hand. Iroh's fondness for the town had led him to invest in some of the more promising business ventures available. After all, he was fully aware that even as the heir to the Fire Lord, even given his promising military successes, it was wise to develop avenues of income that were independent of his position as head of state.
When he had subsequently bowed to his father's will at passing him over for his younger brother, Iroh had far more businesses than in this single Earth Kingdom port financially bound to him, all off Fire Nation record. After all, besides death in battle or through assassination, the greater risks lay in court intrigue that could blind Ozai or his brother to Iroh's loyalty, or divert necessary funding away from his military campaigns. Thus, Iroh had been careful to allocate a small portion of that funding as seed money on which to build his own fortunes. He knew he owed his formidable reputation as Dragon of the West as much to his financial acumen as to his military genius. But Iroh would have said you couldn't really have the latter without at least some access to the former.
Dai Horishi had at least trebled in size since then, and the Fire Nation had brought industry to attract laborers to steady wages and soil its harbor and skies. Iroh had noticed a new, large facility in the Fire Nation Sector he had once carved out of the delta region on the river's far banks, well away from the city proper. The city itself had crept up to embrace the very boundaries of that sector in an uneasy marriage of need, exploitation, and abuse. At least tonight the boundaries between the nations had disappeared in ancient celebrations of spring rites and the renewal of the land's bounty.
Iroh had long hoped that exposure to the different peoples and cultures of the world during his search for the Avatar would instill in his nephew the same longing for a harmonious co-existence that had finally stilled his own nationalist fervor all those years ago. But Zuko was cut from a different cloth than his uncle, his passions stronger, his will more focused. Or was he merely that much younger, and Iroh's patience inadequate to the task? And where was Zuko now?
Still struggling with the revelation that his father was prepared to imprison him rather than allow him more time to capture the Avatar, Zuko had allowed his uncle to direct their wanderings. If he was surprised at the course these took, or that his uncle was capable of tapping funding in strange places under names not their own, he gave no sign. Despite its apparent futility regarding his own situation, Zuko continued to absorb himself with the Avatar. Knowing no other course to offer him, Iroh did not attempt to discourage him.
Zuko knew no one else had as much experience with the trio as he himself, and believed no one else was better positioned to trace their whereabouts. For months he had tracked their movements by reports of the great flying bison, and the idiotic lifting of morale in those areas he passed through. But after confirming the Avatar's presence at the North Pole among the Water Tribe there, after so nearly succeeding in his quest, all trace had been lost.
The Fire Nation's search for the Avatar was too well-known, and he had ceased to travel openly.
It was no great puzzle that he had gone to the Pole to learn water-bending; he was only a child after all. Logic dictated that he would be seeking an earth-bending master now. Omashu or Ba Sing Sei? Or perhaps some remote village with a hermit master of the earth bending arts? The former cities were nearly impregnable, whereas the latter too numerous to search, even for the Fire Nation's vast resources. Iroh's smile broadened. Those resources were no longer available to the young prince, but his sister would find them of little help now either. So Zuko's odds of success, when measured against anyone else's, were at least better than even.
But what about his odds against the Avatar himself? One thing seemed relatively certain, the trio would steer clear of Fire Nation occupied territory, Earth Kingdom population or no. Any earth-benders would have fled or, quite literally, gone to ground.
It was quite possible that the inspiration of tracking the water tribe pair through music was nothing short of genius on Zuko's part, although Iroh had yet to place confidence in it. Lacking Iroh's scattered wealth, the Avatar and his companions would need some means of earning income if they couldn't count on local residents' charity. Wandering musicians were a common sight throughout the world, usually accompanied by story-tellers, and good performances were a reliable means for earning a few coppers. Iroh himself played the suungi horn (and of course sang and wrote poetry, as any Fire Nation aristocrat must). It was certainly possible that any of the three could boast some musical ability. And it was of course likely that the Water Tribe had some specific musical tradition.
But to then assume from there an individual song-trail that Zuko could track was simply preposterous. Wasn't it? Mind you, that little ditty about the motivation behind the activities of highly visible members of the Fire Nation and the avatar – "can't get no lovin'" (A/N: inspired by a Wolfeyes' Fanvid that appeared on YouTube) was most amusing and extraordinarily original. True, they had run across it in the plains bordering the mountains of the northern Air-Bender stronghold, a fairly direct course for the Avatar and his companions. But surely, anyone could have devised the amusing lyrics without real knowledge of the parties involved. Well, perhaps not, conceded Iroh with a low chuckle. But could children really be so, so knowing in their satire, even of themselves? Perhaps, in this case, Zuko had a surer hand on the pulse of his quarry.
Iroh assumed that Zuko had gone to search for evidence on his theory regarding the Water Tribe pair's musical travels among the performers in the city and its environs. Zuko had questioned every musician or story-teller they met regarding the origins of the pieces they played, sometimes even at the risk of making himself too memorable by his persistence. He had convinced himself the Avatar was in Omashu, and fretted at Iroh's insistence in giving the city a wide berth, keeping himself and his nephew constantly on the move.
Iroh frowned. They had already tarried too long in Dai Horishi. He turned his brain to considering how best to locate Zuko if he did not return to the tavern by morning.