Cadence Chapter Three: Misgiving

"I thought have learned by now to walk in the opposite direction whenever you see him," Mako mused, leaning up against the bathroom door frame.

"I did walk in the opposite direction," Korra insisted from the bathroom, her voice alternating between blocked and nasal to normal pitch and rhythm as she tried pinching her nose to stop the bleeding.

Since having been imprisoned, she'd attempted to escape a total of three times. The second time, she'd heard someone coming and, having learned from her previous escape attempt, simply made her way back to Mako's room as quickly as possible, sliding through the door barely a corridor ahead of the patrolling guards.

And just like before, Mako had said nothing. Korra still couldn't figure out why.

The third time she'd been almost out of, wherever it was this base was located, entirely; she'd actually been opening the door of the hidden entrance she'd been hustled in through, ready to run back to Republic City when Zhao and another guard had emerged from a nearby storeroom. Korra had suspicions they'd been drinking sake or sneaking extra helpings of cotton candy, she was sure they had been doing something they shouldn't, and had seen her.

Korra had been rather frightened at the idea that they might report her attempted escape to Amon, only to have her fears proved groundless; at least in that matter. Slaves tried to escape so often that it was up to the guards who caught them to administer punishment.

So Zhao and his friend had simply given Korra what she thought could truly run for the worst beating of her life.

It had been difficult to take, not only because she had been making an effort not to scream and give those sadists some sort of satisfaction, but also because she had been trying not to fight back, as she normally would have. With the collar on, it was debatable whether or not she'd actually have won the fight but if she'd broken out some bender moves, Zhao was certain to become more suspicious of her than he already was.

So, though it took more willpower than Korra had ever thought she possessed, she'd laid passively on the floor while she was kicked around like a beach ball. She vaguely recalled someone kicking her head into a wall before the whole world went fuzzy.

She'd awoken alone in the corridor, lying on the floor with a small, sticky pool of blood haloed around her head. She had taken slow, careful inventory of her injuries, noting that her temple was dripping blood, her left cheekbone was most likely broken, her nose was bleeding and her probing tongue had found a split lip in addition to two very loose teeth.

Her right arm had come up to cover her head at some point in time, and had subsequently been broken by a sharp kick. With every breath she took she winced; her ribs ached, so believed she could safely assume a few of them were broken as well.

Her body had felt strangely numb; as though she had been in so much pain her brain simply couldn't register it. Her mind had had clouded over and she vaguely admitted it was a miracle she hadn't sustained brain damage.

Somehow, Korra couldn't quite recall how, she'd mustered enough energy to force her fingers to repair the damage her head had taken and take care of any internal bleeding. And then she'd passed out again.

She'd come to again feeling a little better, but still aching and strangely numb. Ignoring the dizziness brought on by the collar, she'd performed a some more healing, this time repairing her broken arm and ribs and setting her loose teeth. She had been able to heal the broken bones completely, though she hadn't been able to do anything about the bruised muscle and tissue around them. For a moment, she'd thought she was going to pass out again, but after a few moments of grey nothingness closing in on her vision, she had found the strength to hitch herself into a standing position before slowly, painfully, hobbling back to Mako's room.

She had been seriously considering just curling up in a ball of misery beneath her blankets and attempting to sink into unconsciousness, but Mako was already awake by the time she'd returned. Apparently in the time it took her to regain consciousness, both the first and the second time, most of the 'night' had passed.

"Do you think you need medical attention?" Mako asked, his voice drifting into the bathroom, breaking her train of thought.

"If you mean that creepy guy with goggles then no, I don't need medical attention."

Korra almost wanted to laugh at how she sounded. The combination of a nose blocked with blood and a split lip made for interesting speech.

But she was being perfectly honest; there was no way she was letting the Lieutenant anywhere near her.

Mako shrugged as Koda came out of the bathroom, noting how the young man limped past him, face smeared with blood from his ongoing nosebleed.

Mako was inwardly amazed that Koda had been able to make his way back to the room. He looked like he'd been trampled by a herd of camelphant; his right arm was a mass of blotchy black and blue bruises, Mako was genuinely surprised it wasn't broken, and his hunched, shuffling walk told the fire bender that still, more injuries were concealed beneath the brown clothes he was clad with.

Koda had said enough for Mako to know that Zhao was the one who'd beaten him, and the news had neither surprised nor shocked him. He knew incidences were commonplace; slaves were beaten everyday for trying to escape, some far more severely than Koda, and yet it still didn't sit right with him. Koda's slight limp when he walked and mottled skin were unsettling in more ways than one; perhaps because he could finally put a face to the Equalist's cruelty, perhaps because it seemed so incredibly petty to beat someone at such a clear disadvantage, either way, it made him feel uncomfortable and restless, as though he should be doing something about it.

'But what?'

Koda had tried to escape, and had been disciplined accordingly. It was the way things worked.

Mako told himself that, trying ever so hard to ignore the whisperings of his conscience.

The next day was worse. Much worse. All of Korra's bruises and torn muscles had become stiff and swollen; she could barely roll out of her pile of blankets. She needed to rely on the support of the wall to stand.

Mako took one look at Koda, now resplendent in purple, blue and even black bruises, struggling to stand upright, and knew there was no way the boy could follow him throughout the base as he usually did. He could try, but he'd probably end up collapsed in a heap by noon.

"Stay here." The left his lips before he could stop himself.

"Really?" Koda looked as though he was seriously contemplating worshiping him.

"Don't do anything," Mako went on. "I don't want you fumbling around and damaging things."

Koda practically fell back into the pile of blankets. "No problem. I can do nothing. That sounds like a nice thing to do."

"Hn," Mako smirked and exited the room.

Korra waited for his footsteps to fade, wondering at his show of kindness. But no matter how nice he was being with her, she needed him far away for what she was about to do.

She needed to mop up most of the damage if she didn't want to be bedridden for days; she didn't feel safe if she wasn't at least healthy enough to attempt another escape. Illogical, yes, but she just felt that this wasn't the best place to be ill or incapacitated in. Korra knew Mako would be suspicious if he returned and all her injuries were magically healed, so she needed to somehow take care of her injuries without sacrificing their appearance. In other words, she needed to mend the bruised or damaged muscles, while leaving the skin itself untouched.

It would be difficult, but Korra was cautiously optimistic about it. And as Mako's footsteps finally vanished, she went to work. Entering the bathroom she turned on the tap, slowly and cautiously channeling the water into her right arm, healing the strained muscles and tendons she'd been unable to deal with the night before.

It took longer than she'd expected, mostly because the collar limited her power, often causing her to cease healing before she fainted, and so she had to heal herself in a jerky 'stop start' fashion rather than in one continuous session. In fact, by the time Korra determined she had done all she could safely do, she was startled to realise she had spent hours in a healing trance; there was no clock but she could tell by the way the lamp had burned down.

Glancing in the mirror to check that she still looked battered and bruised, which she did, Korra turned off the water and exited the bathroom. She made her way over to her pile of blankets and crawled on in, determined to sleep for the rest of the day. Her stomach was grumbling rather insistently, but she'd gone on political missions where she'd been unable to eat for days, so this was nothing.

And at the moment, her exhaustion far outweighed her hunger.

"Hey, wake up."

Korra turned over, jolted from her sleep to see Mako sitting on the edge of the bed next to where she lay. "I love your wake-up calls," she said sarcastically. "They're so gentle and considerate."

"I bought you some dinner," he said softly, flicking his head at the tray resting just inside the door.

"You're forgiven!" Korra pronounced, scrambling upright, making sure to keep her movements ginger, halting as though her muscles were still stiff and tender.

Breakfast was a communal thing, at least on her part, Mako always awoke before her and she'd not once seen him eat breakfast. Mako took lunch with Amon and dinner was brought to his room; and since Korra had begun to serve him as his exclusive slave, there had been two dinners delivered.

Korra reached for her plate and began to scoff down her food. She could always tell which meal was hers, and while it couldn't be called sparse, she was never given as large a helping as Mako's was and her dinner was always free of side-dishes and sauces.

Mako ignored her hurried devouring and proceeded to eat very neatly and cleanly, but that wasn't new. Mako had always been surprisingly fastidious in table manner, despite his lack of upbringing.

"You're looking more mobile," he commented blandly.

"You'd be surprised what a day of rest can do," Korra smirked.

Mako rested the back of his head against the cold stone, drawing in deep gulps of air as sweat slid over his skin, feeling a sort of triumph as his muscles ached and burned. He'd pushed himself to the very limit today.

Koda held out a glass of cool water, which Mako took and drained before tossing it back to him. Under normal circumstances, the dark-haired boy would have made some remark, but with Amon and the Lieutenant still present in the arena, he was playing mute again.

Mako didn't think Koda had so much as sighed in Amon's presence during the entirety of his imprisonment.

"We are moving soon, Mako," the head of the Equalist Faction informed him. "Pack your things; we head out tomorrow."

Mako nodded vaguely, and Amon and the Lieutenant left the arena.

To Korra's great relief; she had little interaction with them, but she didn't like having them around. They were sadistic psychopaths, who would?

"Does that include me, or do I get another job now?" she asked, fiddling with the empty cup.

"That includes you," Mako answered.

"No offense, but I think you're short a few marbles to want to be mentored by that guy," she muttered as they left the underground arena and moved towards Mako's room.

Mako glanced at Koda, wondering at what seemed like a hint of bitterness in the slave's voice. "I need to become powerful; he is simply the path to that power."

"If you say so..." Korra muttered.

Mako couldn't help wondering about the slightly hurt tone Koda seemed to take when he spoke of Amon and Mako's alliance with the Equalists. After all, why should a slave care what he did?

Just one more mystery to add to the growing pile that involved the boy.

On another note, Koda's bruises had finally vanished, though he had healed from Zhao's beating in a surprisingly short amount of time.

"Master Mako!" someone called from behind them. "Master Mako!"

Mako stopped, half-turning as he waited for the man who had been calling after him to catch up with him.

"I made inquiries about a chocolate-haired woman, as you instructed," the man said, and Korra had to work to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. "And one of the slaving groups dispatched recently mentioned that they'd been apprehending a family of travelers when a dark haired woman wearing water tribe insignia, intervened. In the ensuing fight, she fell into the river and was swept downstream. They pursued, but found him-" he nodded at Koda "-instead, and so took him to fulfill their quota."

"Understood." Mako turned away and began walking again, effectively dismissing the man before him.

So, Korra had indeed met up with a slave party but it seemed as though she'd escaped. And yet, there as still an unsettling feeling seeded in Mako's stomach.

Korra hefted Mako's bags, huffing as she shifted the weight to a more comfortable balance over her shoulders. Mako might not have much in terms of material possessions, but he had a lot of weapons.

Korra wished she could use just a touch of her super-strength. The bags weren't dragging on her shoulders yet but they had several hours of travel ahead of them.

"Do actually own anything besides weapons?" she asked.

"Not really," Mako said.

"Has anyone ever told you that you desperately need a life?" Koda asked. "Because you do."

Mako scowled, but it didn't seem to quell the slave.

"Did you have an accident or something? Because it's like the only expressions you can make are scowl, smirk or that of disinterest."

This was strangely reminiscent of Mako's days in Republic City and his arguments with his brother, Bolin and Avatar Korra. Except seeing as Koda was his slave with ambitions of escape, Mako wasn't concerned that he might get too close or that he might become too attached to the boy.

Koda's gaze shifted past him and his face fell, his expression becoming markedly grimmer. Mako turned, his amber eyes narrowing as he watched the elites hustling their exclusive slaves into Sato mobiles, preparing to move out. It was certainly distasteful, but it was an aspect of the Equalist Faction he just had to tolerate.

Korra couldn't help but be unsettled by the sight. She hadn't really allowed herself to think about how bad things could get for her; she'd just concentrated on surviving but she was now facing a very sobering realisation that in many ways, she was very lucky that Mako had chosen her.

She wondered how Mako could be so cold-blooded about it. The teenage boy she knew would never have stood by while people were so obviously suffering abuse. But then again, maybe she had never really known Mako at all.

She shook her head, firmly clearing it of such thoughts to focus on the immediate situation. "So, how are we going to do this?" She asked a moment later.

"Amon, the Lieutenant and I will set off first," Mako explained. "The elites come in groups staggered over the rest of the day, all taking alternate routes."

"Clever," Koda nodded. "If you're an unhinged sociopath trying to avoid being apprehended."

Mako glared, but Koda merely raised an eyebrow in a blatant challenge. "How am I wrong?"

Then said sociopath stepped into the room and Koda drew the mask of a cowed slave over his face like a veil. It made Mako wonder exactly how good an actor the boy was, to give such a convincing illusion of subservience when he was anything but.

"Ready to go, Mako?" Amon asked, the subtle growl in his voice making the hairs on the back of Korra's neck stand up.

Mako nodded, and then they set off, moving through the forest at a brisk pace.

It wasn't what Korra had expected. She had thought Amon would have insisted on being transported in a top of the line Sato mobile, guarded by half a dozen or so other vehicles. It seemed very unlike him, somehow, to be traveling simply by foot at what amounted to a rather sedate pace, for someone like him anyway.

But then, she supposed that the whole 'ostentatious Sato mobile brigade' would be more likely to attract attention, and not flashing across the country at lightning fast speed was either another way to avoid detection, or a concession to her as Mako's exclusive slave. They probably thought her unable to keep up with such a pace.

And she was going to do nothing to disillusion them. As the hours stretched on, she deliberately began to make her breathing just a touch heavier, giving the impression that she was not as strong as she really was. Mako knew she was some sort of a bender, of course, but she would be sure to leave him, Amon and the Lieutenant with the impression that she was a fairly weak one at that; the less threatening they thought her to be, the better off she was.

Though they had set off early in the morning, the sun was setting below the horizon by the time they came across a towering wall, like the kind that surrounded Ba Sing Se, the uniformity of the stone broken only by a large metal gate in front of them.

The looming doors opened, and Korra realised this must be a village she'd never visited before. The village in which the Equalists carried out most of their business.

It was rather surreal. Korra had never really thought of the Equalist Faction as anything but just that; a faction, a minority. She'd never given them much thought at all really, at least, not as much as to stop and think there'd be actual houses and civilian people living in it, under the control of Amon. But sure enough, there were houses and roads and markets and everything you would expect in a village.

But the similarities ended there. The people scurried about their business like field mice watching for an Eagle hawk overhead: nervous, jittery and trying to get everything done as quickly as possible. Children stayed close to their parents, clinging to their hands, and families traveled like amorphous blobs, no member straying more than ten centimeters away from their protective cluster.

This was a village ruled by fear.

Korra looked at the terrified, worried faces around her, and felt deeply moved by sympathy. As soon as she got back to Republic City, she was blabbing the location of this village to the members of the city council; surely they'd do something to try and help these people?

Amon and the Lieutenant peeled away from them, passing a comment to Mako on where to go. Korra doubted it was meant for her reassurance; probably simply to remind Mako where they expected him to be.

"So where are we going?" she asked when they were out of earshot.

Mako didn't answer.

"Fine, be that way!" she huffed.

They traveled the winding streets of the village until they came upon what Korra thought must have once been a lord's house. It was certainly the largest in the village, and had a substantial garden bordered by a tall fence.

"We're staying here?"

Korra assumed the answer was 'yes' when Mako produced a key and unlocked the gate. She supposed it made sense for Amon to stay in what was clearly the most luxurious house in the village; if nothing else, it impressed his status upon his minions.

Mako led her into the house and Korra's impression of what 'luxury' was, increased. "This is pretty swanky."

"The house once belonged to the lord of these lands," Mako said absently.

Korra quirked an eyebrow; Now he chose to talk to her?

Still, she'd take advantage of it while she could. "So, where's your room?"

"Up these stairs. It was the room of the lord's first son."

Korra nodded, "Where will I sleep?"

"You're a slave."

"And you're a jerk. Anything else you want to add while we're stating the obvious?"

Mako rolled his eyes. "You're a slave; more specifically, you are my slave. You will sleep in my room as you have always done."

"I guess I can live with that."

Mako opened a door and stepped in, Korra following suit. After his sparse room in the underground base, she was rather taken aback at the amount of furniture in this room. There was a four-poster bed hung with rich purple curtains, a dresser and chest of drawers inlaid with what looked like ivory carvings, a weapons rack that took up half a wall, a nightstand made of a wood she didn't recognise but that certainly looked expensive, and an enormous window overlooking the gardens, a large window seat running underneath it with plump cushions at either end.

Korra whistled, impressed. She shrugged the bags off her shoulders and to the floor, taking the weapons out and placing them on the rack automatically, her eyes devouring every inch of this new area before staring out the window as she calculated the fastest route from it to the wall.

Mako watched Koda set up his weapons, the boy's mind obviously on escape once more. He was staring out the window, his eyes tracking what Mako could only guess were the possible routes out of the village.

As though sensing Mako's gaze on him, Koda turned around, his eyes dark with thought, brain gears turning behind them like the well-oiled wheels of a clock...

And then just like that it slotted into place, like the final piece of a puzzle. Mako knew where he'd seen those eyes before.

That night, while Koda was arranging his blankets on the small window seat and affording Mako a perfect view of his face, Mako struck with all the deadliness and accuracy of a weasel snake.

"Are you related to Avatar Korra?"

Naked panic flared across the Koda's face for one brief moment before it was stifled. "No. Why?"

Mako would admit the boy was good; unless he'd been watching his face in the exact instant he'd asked the question.

But he had been watching Koda's face, and he had seen the instant of panic before the boy smothered it.

So; it seemed that Koda was related to Korra. He had been fairly certain the boy was; after all, his turquoise eyes were the exact same shade Korra's were, and they were even the same shape! While there might not be much family resemblance in the rest of his visage, those eyes made his hereditary clear.

If he was related to Korra; how? Mako knew Korra had no siblings, so perhaps a cousin then? But even so, why had he never seen Koda before? If they were the same age, they should have bumped into one another at some stage.

Korra's heart was pounding so hard against her chest that she was sure Mako could hear it. What had she done? What had she let slip? Mako's smirk made it clear he knew she'd been lying when she pretended not to recognise the name; did he know?

She told herself to calm down; at this point, it seemed he had nothing more than suspicions. And panicking would do nothing but confirm those suspicions faster than anything else ever could. So she should just calm down, act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and continue making her bed.

Of course, that was easier said than done. Korra noted the slight trembling of her hands and turned away to adjust a pillow to hide it from Mako.

But if he did find out who she really was, what would happened then?

'Don't think about that!' she told herself firmly. 'You have to calm down, not get more worked up!'

Mako continued to watch her, a disconcertingly smug smirk decorating his face, before he eventually took his kali sticks and left the room, undoubtedly to train.

Leaving Korra to breathe a silent sigh of relief and concentrate on steadying her hands.

When Mako returned, the room was lit only by moonlight, and Koda was fast asleep in the window seat.

He approached the boy, watching for any flickers, any shift in colours, anything to hint at a transformation technique. But there was nothing. If a transformation was being used, Koda must have phenomenal energy control to maintain it while he slept.

Assuming that Koda was his real name. Now that he thought about it, it seemed rather like a play on 'Korra', and he wouldn't have put it past the turquoise-eyed male to have come up with a false name.

Slowly, silently, Mako approached the sleeping figure among the pile of blankets. He touched his hands to a lock of Koda's hair as gently as he could, trying not to disturb the slumbering boy, the physical contact triggering unwarranted memories to flash before Mako's eyes; and in Mako's mind the boy's chocolate locks grew into waist long hair, the tan skin like mocha, the face softened and lost its sharp, angular features. The nose became smaller, the chin less prominent, the hands more fine-boned, more delicate.

Mako stared down at the person his memories had just revealed, feeling as though his own breath of fire had just burned him.

It wasn't Korra's cousin.