The Undying Fire: Truth and Lies

by Boogum

Book 2. The scarred boy is found alone and half dead. All he has on him is a knife, a Pai Sho tile, and a bit of parchment with a riddle on it. He thinks he might have been searching for someone, and the wound on his shoulder and the fear prickling his heart tells him he was running from something. The problem is that he doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything.

7. Following the Silver Trail

The tavern was rowdy. There was a group of men drinking and laughing as they watched two muscled fighters competing in an arm-wrestling match—rough men who emanated an overwhelming stench of alcohol, blood and sweat, and who wore their weapons for all to see. Mercenaries. To the left, a row of women leaned over the side of the banister, putting on their best come hither expressions in the hopes of earning a bed to share for the night. There was a time when Iroh would have been distracted by those provocative looks, but he had no trouble ignoring them now.

Making his way through the crowd with a benign smile and a nod to whoever blocked his path, he stopped at a table in the far corner where three older men had stationed themselves. They were playing a dice game, but they paused when Iroh's silhouette cast a shadow over their table.

"Can we help you?" one of the men asked, scratching at his bushy side-whiskers.

Iroh spread his hands in a friendly gesture. "I couldn't help but notice you were playing Sānliù Bàozi. I was hoping you would let me join you. I have been travelling for many days and would enjoy a respite to rest my old legs, and some good company," he added with a grin.

The men chuckled and pulled out a seat for him, inviting him to sit and introducing themselves as they continued to play their game. Side-whiskers turned out to be a tanner named Boqin, the quiet gentleman to his right with the green scarf disclosed that his name was Gui and that he was a trader in a little bit of everything, but at the moment was selling masks. The last was a retired tailor named Peng, who was famed for his three-tooth smile.

"And what should we call you?" Boqin asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yingjie," Iroh responded, and then winked. "But I am also known as a master of tea."

The three Earth Kingdom men chuckled some more.

"A master of tea, he says," Peng observed with a wheezy little laugh. "Well, we shall have to test that boast of yours, Tea Master. In the meantime, why don't you show us your skill with a die?"

Iroh nodded, still smiling as he accepted the proffered dice. He rattled them about in his hand and released the three dice with an expert flick of his wrist. All four men watched as the wooden cubes landed to show the four, five and six facing upwards.

Peng groaned and covered his face with his hands. "I don't think we should have let him join us, Boqin. Our Tea Master is clearly a master at Sānliù Bàozi as well."

Iroh gave a hearty laugh as his winnings were pushed towards him. "Don't sell yourself short just yet, my friend. The winds of luck may still yet turn in your favour."

Peng still did not seem impressed that their new acquaintance had beaten them so quickly, but it was agreed that they would have another round. Gui started them off by rolling two fours and a three, which he then wrote down on the slate resting near his elbow. Conversation flowed easily between the four as Boqin, Iroh and Peng each had their turn, with Gui continuing to keep a tally of their points. It was as Boqin was getting ready to complete his third roll that attention turned back to Iroh.

"So, what brings you to Yangshuo?" the tanner asked, releasing the dice to more of Peng's groans as three fives appeared.

Iroh gathered the dice in his hand, pausing a moment before he spoke. "I lost my teashop in a Fire Nation attack some time ago. My nephew and I were forced to flee our home, but we got separated as we were travelling. I've been searching for him since." He sighed, both for added effect and out of genuine disappointment. "I had been led to believe that I might find him within this region, but so far I have found nothing, not even a whisper."

"Fire Nation scum," Peng muttered, and then spat. "They ruin everything. Burn down our homes, steal our earthbenders, and destroy our families! Not to mention the taxes they make us pay!"

"Quiet, you old fool!" Gui hissed. "You know that Captain Yaozu has his spies everywhere. Do you want to get yourself taken off to the prisons?"

Peng grumbled something under his breath about firebenders and what he would do if he were only ten years younger, but no one paid much attention to his muttering.

Boqin reached out and gripped Iroh by the shoulder. "I'm sorry to hear of your troubles, Yingjie," he said with open sympathy. "I do not wish to give you false hope, but we often have refugees pass through this way. Perhaps your nephew was one of them. What does he look like?"

Iroh played with the dice in his hand. This was the question he had been hoping for. It was far easier to get information out of people without arousing suspicion when they were the ones asking the questions, but he always had a moment of hesitation whenever he came to answer. The last time he had seen Zuko was on Admiral Zhao's ship, just before his nephew had gone to infiltrate the Northern Water Tribe and capture the Avatar. But that was Prince Zuko. Iroh was quite aware that, if he was indeed right in thinking that his nephew was still alive, Zuko would not resemble much of a Fire Nation prince now.

"My nephew is about a head taller than me," Iroh said slowly. "Black hair, young—only sixteen—and he has a burn scar on his face, right here." He placed his hand over his left eye, allowing his fingers and palm to outline the same comet-like mark that had been burned onto Zuko's features.

Gui tightened his grip on his drink. "I have seen a boy of that description. He was here in this town."

Iroh inhaled sharply. "Are you sure?"

There had been so many boys with scarred faces, so many times when he had got his hopes up only to have them crushed once again. He didn't know if he could bear to experience another disappointment.

Gui stared into the contents of his cup. "I'd never forget that young man's face," he said quietly.

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. There was a story behind those words, but now was not the time to be distracted with tales from the past. He had to find out if this boy Gui spoke of was indeed his nephew. He had to know.

Iroh set the dice down on the table and met the trader's gaze. "Can you tell me where I might find this young man?"

Gui shook his head. "You'd have to ask Tung-Mei. She was the one who had the boy staying with her. I only saw him once."

"Tung-Mei?"

Boqin smiled. "Our local healer. Her house is on the northern outskirts of the town. You can't miss it."

Iroh stood up and bowed to each of the men. "Thank you for your help, but I'm afraid I will have to cut our game short. I'm sure you understand."

The three old men assured him that of course they understood and that they wished him all the best in the search for his nephew. Iroh smiled and made his goodbyes, stating that he would have to play them again—and brew them some of his finest tea—the next time he passed through this way. Peng and Boqin both greeted these words with hearty laughs and jokes, but Gui remained quiet. Iroh was not surprised when the trader followed him to the door.

"Is that boy really your nephew?" Gui asked, holding Iroh's gaze.

"I can only hope," Iroh said with a strained smile. "It has been a long time since we have seen each other. My only wish is to be reunited with him again."

Gui fidgeted with a loose thread on his scarf. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then let out a small breath. "If you see him again, tell him that I kept his secret."

Iroh's eyes narrowed a fraction. "What secret?"

A wry smile. "If he is indeed your nephew, I'm sure you will find out."

An appreciative laugh escaped the old general. "You are a good man, Gui. I will remember that."

Gui nodded in acknowledgement and then Iroh took his leave, though now with a much heavier pocket. He grinned as he listened to the copper and silver pieces rattling about in his money pouch. Gambling was not something he always condoned, but it did come in handy when one was on the run and feeling a little short on change. Tonight had turned out much better than he expected. Just the thought of having a new lead to his nephew's whereabouts made his heart swell with joy and relief.

The sound of the tavern door swivelling back and forth drifted to his ears. He paused to glance over his shoulder and a brief frown passed over his features when he saw some of the mercenaries standing on the porch and glancing his way. When they started following in his footsteps, Iroh carried on walking and even started humming a small tune. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the sound of the warriors' feet, getting closer the farther he got from the main square. Iroh clasped his hands in front of him and hummed a little louder, looking quite relaxed.

A spiked mace was suddenly shoved in front of his face. Iroh looked up to see a large man with tattoos covering one side of his cheek. He didn't need to check behind him to know that he was surrounded.

"Good evening," Iroh said amiably. "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?"

The tattooed mercenary looked a bit nonplussed for a moment, but he pulled himself together a second later. "Give us your money, old man! Unless, of course, you want to have your brains spilled over the road."

Iroh stared at the group of men with a measuring look. He knew that he could take them out with his firebending. He also knew that he had a good chance even without his bending. The mercenaries, while intimidating for their size, were certainly no Rough Rhinos. But Iroh had not made it this far by wasting his energy on every battle that came his way. Maybe once he might have jumped at the chance back when he had been just as hot-headed as his nephew, but he had learnt over the years to pick and choose his fights carefully. Now was not the time to show off his strength.

"I will give you the money," Iroh said, still keeping his tone friendly, "but know this: the sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" a man clutching a broadsword demanded.

Iroh met his gaze steadily. "You flaunt your strength because you can, but you will never gain true respect as warriors if you continue to abuse and extort money from your fellow men."

The mercenary with the tattoos let out a great, belly-rumbling laugh. "Listen to the old man talk. Just shut up and give us the money, grey-beard. I grow tired of your jabbering."

"Very well." Iroh reached into his pocket.

"Hold it!"

All of them paused at the sound of the new voice, including Iroh. A smallish figure dropped down from the nearby building, clutching a sword that looked a little too large for him. The newcomer was dressed in black, but his face was covered by a blue mask with white streaks that formed a demonic grin—the Blue Spirit's mask. A crease formed on Iroh's brow. He had heard many tales about the Blue Spirit, not to mention had his own suspicions concerning the warrior's identity. He knew without a doubt that this was not the same masked swordsman who had once freed the Avatar from Pohuai Stronghold.

The mercenary with the tattoos turned his mace on the intruder. "So you must be the infamous Blue Spirit. You're a lot smaller than I imagined, but that's okay." He ran a finger along one of the spikes on his mace. "It'll just make it that much easier to crush you."

"I'd like to see you try!" the boy retorted, raising his sword.

Something in Iroh's stomach plummeted heavily, for the masked fighter was indeed just a boy, judging by his size and the soft, rather high-pitched quality to his voice. The leader of the mercenaries seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as a cruel smile curled his lips.

"Take your best shot, kid," he taunted. "Let's see if that sword of yours can do better at threatening me than your bratty mouth."

The boy made a frustrated sound and lunged with his sword, only to have it knocked aside—and indeed right out of his hands—by the colliding force of the mace. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the clang of the sword as it hit the ground. The man with the tattoos let out another of his great, belly-rumbling laughs.

"That was almost too easy," he said, shaking his head in disappointment. "I can't believe Captain Yaozu and his men had trouble with you. You're nothing but a weak, snivelling little brat!"

The boy took a step backwards and tripped on an uneven bit of ground, making him fall onto his backside with a yelp of surprise. Unable to suppress a whimper, he started to scramble away, but one of the other mercenaries kicked him in the side before he could escape, forcing him back towards their leader. Iroh clenched his fists as he heard the shrill cry of pain that escaped the boy's throat. He had witnessed enough.

Still smiling cruelly, the man with the tattoos planted his boot on the boy's stomach and raised his mace. "Say goodbye, Blue Spirit."

The spiked end began to fall, but Iroh grabbed the handle and struck a hard blow to his head. The other mercenaries blinked as their leader dropped to the ground with a thud, allowing the boy to get back to his feet and run for cover. Before the other men could even think to react, Iroh discarded the mace and snatched the length of chain from the mercenary to his right, whirling it around his head in a tornado of metal before he brought it down in a lashing loop, sweeping three of the mercenaries off their feet in one clean strike. Only two were left standing.

"Watch out!" the boy cried.

Iroh ducked just in time as an axe came careening for his face. He flicked the chain up and around him, weaving it around his body like a shield of corporeal wind before letting it shoot forward with all the speed of a lunging snake to hit his opponent in the forehead. The man keeled over in an instant.

"Behind you! Behind you!"

Spinning in a flash of brown and grey, Iroh latched the chain around the charging mercenary's leg and dragged him to the ground before he could have a chance to strike. A hard elbow to the head dealt with that one and then Iroh was moving onto the next man, picking up a discarded sword as he went. They clashed in a collision of metal against metal, blades scraping against each other in a ringing screech only to clash again as Iroh parried a blow and followed up with a quick counterattack that pushed his opponent back several paces. Something shifted the air near his face. He instinctively moved left, narrowly missing being stabbed with a spear. He'd been flanked.

Warily, he took a step back to position himself between the two men so that he could defend from either if necessary. His breath was coming a little faster now, reminding him that he was not as young as he used to be and that it had been a while since he had relied solely on anything but bending to win a fight. It was a frustrating situation, for he knew that the battle would have been over in three seconds if he'd been able to use his firebending. But he couldn't. He was a wanted man hiding in the Earth Kingdom and Zuko was still out there somewhere. It would be foolish to jeopardise his chances to find his nephew now.

Iroh took a firmer grip on the chain wrapped around his left arm and watched as sword and spear raced towards him. In one fluid motion he brought his sword up to meet the spear while the chain worked as a shield to deflect the other man's blade from slicing through his forearm, even if it couldn't protect him from the resounding pain that jolted through the limb. Both men broke away, already preparing for a combined counterattack, but this time Iroh didn't bother to defend; he side-stepped out of their path as they both lunged to strike. Spear and sword glided by each other and then made contact with vulnerable walls of flesh, leaving both mercenaries collapsing to their knees as blood oozed out from their wounds.

Now there was only one left.

Pausing to catch his breath, Iroh turned to see what had happened to the last mercenary. A sharp cry ripped through the air. His heart thudded in a violent pulse against his ribs. It was with a sickening presentiment that he looked towards the building to where the sound had originated. The boy had not run as he had hoped. Instead, Iroh saw the masked figure kneeling on the ground, clutching at his stomach and hiccupping on half-choked sobs. In front of him stood a man wielding a chicken-sabre sickle, getting ready to inflict the finishing blow.

Iroh didn't hesitate. He threw the sword at the mercenary with all of his strength, hitting the chicken-sabre sickle aside in a ringing clash of metal. Round and round went the clawed weapon, spiralling through the air like a silver spinning top before it and the broadsword clattered to the ground some distance from the building. The mercenary let out a growl and charged at Iroh, but he simply shifted to the left and put his foot out, tripping his opponent. A few seconds later and the man was trussed on the ground like a pig-rooster, trapped flat on his stomach while his wrists and ankles were bound together from behind with the chain. Judging by his angry splutters, he wasn't happy about it either.

Iroh ignored the mercenary's insults, as well as the groans and curses he could hear from the others. He had warned them what would happen if they insisted on flaunting their strength; he had no sympathy for their plight now. Instead, he made his way to where the masked boy was huddled near the building. Muffled sobs could still be heard from behind the cover of the wooden mask. It was clear that the boy was trying not to cry.

"Are you alright?" Iroh asked gently.

The boy hiccupped a little and removed his hands from his stomach. Crimson glistened on his palms and fingers and there was a splotch of something dark spreading on the fabric of his tunic. Iroh repressed a sigh. He had hoped to avoid this.

"I need to check the wound to see how I can help you," he said, still keeping his voice calm so as not to frighten the child. "Will you let me do that?"

The boy nodded and pulled up his tunic to bare his stomach, revealing the gash that had been sliced into his skin and which even now was spilling blood. Wordlessly, Iroh knelt and tore off a strip of his own shirt, which he used to wipe away some of the blood to see how deep the chicken-sabre sickle had entered, as well as if any vital organs had been touched.

"Is it bad?" the boy asked, sniffling a little.

"A little more to the left and you might have had a problem, but the cut itself isn't deep. A nice, clean wound, and one that should be easy enough to fix." Iroh smiled. "I had already planned on visiting the local healer tonight. It would be my honour to take you there so that you can be properly healed."

The boy agreed, if a little reluctantly. No doubt he was worried about having his identity discovered.

Iroh decided not to comment on that and handed over the torn cloth he had used to wipe away the blood. "Keep this on the wound," he said, placing the boy's hand over the gash. "It will help to stem the flow of blood until we get to the healer's home."

"Alright."

Iroh reached to pick up his injured charge, but a skinny arm was placed in his way.

"Wait, my sword," the boy said, looking around for any sign of his weapon. "Aunt Luli will kill me if she finds out I lost it."

"I think your aunt will be more upset to know that you got yourself hurt taking on a group of mercenaries by yourself," Iroh observed, picking up the dropped sword. "It was very brave what you did, of course, but perhaps not the wisest choice."

"You clearly don't know Aunt Luli," the boy said bluntly as he handed Iroh the scabbard strapped to his back. "Besides, I had to do something. You were just going to let them steal all your money!" The masked face tilted to the side as if a thought had just occurred to him. "Why did you let them bully you like that? You must have known you could defeat them, yet you just stood there."

Iroh gave a faint smile. "Sometimes we must pay a small price in order to reap great rewards. Those men wanted my money, but they would not have attacked me. I saw no need to draw unnecessary attention to myself just for the sake of keeping a few copper and silver pieces."

"But what those men were doing was wrong! Isn't it better to stop them so that they don't keep robbing and hurting people?"

Iroh sheathed the sword and slung the scabbard over his shoulder. "Perhaps, but being a powerful fighter does not give me the right to deal out justice wherever I see fit."

"I don't see why not."

Iroh's smile widened a fraction. "That is because you are like my nephew, young and angry. One day you will understand that it is better to have restraint when it comes to the battles you choose to fight. Consider the sabre-tooth moose lion: it does not attack every small creature that passes its way but waits until it or its cubs are truly threatened."

The boy tilted his head to the other side. "Is that supposed to be wise or something?"

Iroh chuckled. "Perhaps. In the meantime, I think we should just focus on getting you to the healer's house. That wound of yours isn't going to heal itself and I know it must be causing you a lot of pain."

"It does hurt," the boy admitted with another sniffle, which he then hastily disguised. "Not that I'm crying or anything. I'm not a child."

"Of course not," Iroh said gently, "but you will feel much better once you have seen the healer."

The boy murmured his agreement, which Iroh took as a sign that he had permission to continue. Careful not to hurt his injured charge any more than necessary, Iroh reached down and scooped him up into his arms. He was surprised at how light and small his burden turned out to be. This little swordsman was clearly younger than he had thought.

"Not too painful?" he asked, making his way towards the northern outskirts of town.

The boy shook his head. "I can handle it."

Iroh couldn't help but be impressed at the child's strength. Of course, thinking of that just reminded him of another boy who had been just as determined, just as brave. A boy he had promised to protect and who he had failed so miserably.

Zuko.

Iroh closed his eyes, conscious of the piercing ache that encircled his heart. It had been so long since he had looked upon his nephew's face. He prayed that the healer would give him the information that he desired. He prayed that this would not result in being just another dead end.

But even for all the love and pain that he felt for his lost nephew, he knew that this was not the time to think of Zuko. The young swordsman in his arms was still bleeding, and Iroh knew better than to let himself get distracted at a time like this. He took a firmer grip on the boy and quickened his pace, noting how the number of houses began to decrease as they got farther from the main part of town. Soon, they came across a dirt path that led to a small house with a porch. Wind chimes could be heard and he could see the light glowing from within the shut blinds, welcoming them forward in a halo of orange. An ostrich-horse was grazing on the grass in an enclosed pen, and it stared at them now with bits of grass sticking out of its mouth.

"Is this it?" Iroh asked.

Before the boy could answer, the door to the house banged open and a girl in a brown dress stomped onto the porch with a bucket in her hand. "I know, I know!" she called over her shoulder, sounding a bit exasperated. "I'll put Oki to bed and then—" She froze when she caught sight of them and the bucket slipped free from her fingers. "Gran! Mum! Come quick! Someone has been hurt!"

Not waiting for a response, she raced down the dirt path to meet Iroh and ushered them both towards the house. Iroh could barely keep up with her questions, but then the boy removed his face from Iroh's chest, revealing the blue mask that covered his face, and she abruptly fell silent.

"Y-you," she stammered, going a bit pale. "I heard the rumours, but—" A crease formed on her brow. "Wait a minute. You're not the Blue Spirit."

Iroh felt the swordsman tense in his arms. "Perhaps this conversation can wait," he said. "Our friend here has been through a lot and needs to see the healer."

The girl flushed to the roots of her hair. "Of course. I'm sorry. Please, follow me."

She cast a fleeting glance at the boy dressed up as the Blue Spirit and led them inside just as an older woman was about to step onto the porch. The group halted. Interestingly, the same perplexed look crossed the woman's features as she took in the blue mask. Then she saw the bloody cloth that the boy was holding against his stomach and her expression shifted from confusion to composed dismay.

"Fei," she said calmly, "get me a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth and tell your grandmother to start preparing the tea for pain relief. She'll know which herbs to use."

"Right!"

The younger girl, Fei, darted off out the back. The woman, who Iroh assumed must be Tung-Mei, gestured Iroh to follow her and took him through the sliding partition to a room where a bed had been made on the floor. The smell of healing herbs was thick in the air, but the room was warm and welcoming. Carefully, Iroh placed the boy down on the bed, making sure not to jostle him too much so as to aggravate the pain. He placed the sheathed sword down on the floor beside the bed.

"Thank you," the boy mumbled.

"It is my pleasure," Iroh responded with a smile, then stood back to his feet and faced Tung-Mei. "I'm afraid it's my fault that our friend here got wounded. He was only trying to protect me from the mercenaries."

"He?" a new voice interrupted with a laugh, and they all turned to see an elderly woman standing in the doorway, clutching a bundle of herbs in her hands. "That's no boy. No Blue Spirit either. Isn't that right, Suyin?"

"Suyin?" Tung-Mei exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise as she stared at the masked figure.

The boy removed the mask to allow silky black hair to tumble free to his—no, her—shoulders, for as Iroh looked upon the downcast face, he saw that the little swordsman's lips, eyes and bone structure were all decidedly feminine. The old woman was right. This was no boy and definitely no Blue Spirit.

"How did you know?" Suyin asked, mouth forming a sulky pout as she stared at her hands.

"I have my ways," the sharp-eyed old woman answered. "In the meantime, why don't we worry about getting that wound of yours stitched up, hrm?"

As if on cue, Fei entered the room again with a bowl of water and a bundle of clean cloths. She paused when she saw the girl resting on the bed, but Tung-Mei put a stop to any further questions and stated that people either had to be quiet or leave. Suyin was hurt and any interrogations would have to wait until the wound had been healed and she was satisfied with her patient's condition. That was how Iroh found himself sitting at the square table in the kitchen and drinking tea with Fei and Qiao, Tung-Mei's mother-in-law.

"And so I brought Suyin with me here," Iroh said, after he had finished explaining how the young girl had got wounded.

"We've had problems with the mercenaries before, but it's never been like this," Qiao mused, rubbing her chin. "They were hired to help the Fire Nation keep control of the town after the Blue Spirit fought off four firebenders. I'm guessing Captain Yaozu offered to pay them extra should they kill the Blue Spirit as well. Suyin was very lucky that you were there."

A crease formed on Iroh's brow. "So the Blue Spirit really did come to this town?"

Fei and Qiao exchanged glances.

"I saw him fight the firebenders," Fei said, placing her cup down on the table. "He left after the battle. There were rumours that he was back in Yangshuo—sightings of a figure in a blue mask causing trouble for Captain Yaozu and the other Fire Nation soldiers, but I guess that must have been Suyin."

Iroh stroked his beard. He'd had his suspicions about the true identity of the Blue Spirit, but he had never confronted his nephew because a part of him had also understood why Zuko must have turned to the blue mask. At the age of thirteen, Zuko had been burned, banished, and set with an impossible task as his only way to redeem himself in his father's eyes. It would have been more surprising had he not tried to create a new identity for himself in which he could forget about the burdens of being a banished prince.

Besides, the Blue Spirit had never done anything wrong. Stopped a few cutthroats and thieves, maybe; eavesdropped on tactical conversations, definitely. However, the masked warrior had still stuck to a firm moral code. Iroh had taken great comfort in that, knowing that the way one behaved while in disguise said far more about a person than what one did under one's own name.

As such, Iroh had turned a blind eye to his nephew's solo expeditions. He had allowed Zuko to escape and be someone else, if only for a moment, but he had to admit that he did wonder about his motives now. Zuko was alone, no doubt feeling angry and betrayed, and clearly had no qualms about attacking Fire Nation soldiers. There was nothing comforting in this knowledge. More than ever did Iroh realise that he needed to find his nephew, and soon.

He was about to speak when the partition to the healing room slid back. Tung-Mei smiled at the three of them and said that Suyin was ready to see them now. Her gaze flickered to Qiao. "And don't you go scolding her to death, Mother. The poor girl has suffered enough tonight."

"Offering wisdom is not scolding," Qiao responded, "and that girl needs a whole lot of wisdom. She should have never tried to take on those mercenaries by herself."

No one could deny the truth of this statement, but Suyin showed little remorse when she was asked why she had dressed up as the Blue Spirit and behaved so recklessly. She complained that people didn't fight back in Yangshuo; they just let Captain Yaozu and his firebenders walk all over them, and it had got even worse since the mercenaries had come.

"I just wanted to show them that we're not afraid and that we won't be bullied," she said, clenching her hands into fists. "That's why I dressed up as the Blue Spirit, because I knew they were afraid of him."

Tung-Mei frowned. "Suyin, it's not that we don't want to fight back, but there is nothing that we can do. We're not warriors and we're not benders. We're just people trying to survive the best we can until this war is over."

"Now you just sound like Aunt Luli," Suyin muttered. "She's always going on about how I shouldn't draw attention to myself and that we just have to bide our time and that things will work out somehow. But they don't. The taxes just keep getting higher and the Fire Nation soldiers are still occupying the town. The truth is that she's just scared."

"And for good reason," Qiao interjected. "Think what would have happened had Yingjie not been there to help you tonight."

Suyin looked away, her bottom lip trembling.

Fei knelt and took the younger girl's hands within her own. "Suyin, I understand why you dressed up as the Blue Spirit. I wanted to do the same after that day in the market. Le—the Blue Spirit was an inspiration to us all. But Mum is right. We're not warriors, no matter how much courage we might feel in our hearts. Please, don't put yourself in danger like this again."

A few tears rolled down Suyin's cheeks. "They took away my parents, Fei. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Fei looked up at her mother for help, but Tung-Mei just shook her head in a helpless gesture. Neither of them knew what to say to comfort the young girl. Qiao then stepped in to fill the void, telling Suyin that her parents would come back; she just had to be patient and not get herself into trouble.

"Just think how your parents would feel if they return and you've been hurt or aren't there to welcome them," Qiao pointed out.

"I guess," Suyin mumbled, looking down at her lap.

"Good. Then you'll know the best thing you can do right now is to stop worrying and get some rest."

"But what about Aunt Luli? She'll be—"

"Don't worry," Qiao said with a wry smile. "We'll deal with her tomorrow. For now, just try to get some sleep." Her grin widened a fraction. "Even twelve-year-old girls who claim to be vigilante warriors need their rest, you know."

Suyin blushed and looked away, but she didn't argue anymore and soon settled down in the bed, though Iroh thought the pain relief tea she had been given earlier might have had something to do with her sudden sleepiness. Tung-Mei, always the healer, picked up the bowl of bloody water and cloths and started ushering everyone out of the room, telling them to give Suyin some space. Iroh nodded and was about to stand up to follow Qiao and Fei when he felt a small tug on his wrist.

"Thank you," Suyin murmured.

He paused and smiled down at her. "You do not need to thank me, Suyin. I am just glad that I was there to help."

She made a sleepy noise that might have been in agreement and closed her eyes, allowing her hand to lose its grip on his wrist and drop back to the bed. Iroh pulled the blankets up around her more and smoothed the hair away from her face, wishing her peaceful dreams. He tried not to think of how he used to do the same for Lu Ten when his son was that age or how Zuko had never let him do so once.

Iroh closed his eyes, feeling the familiar ache press down on his heart. It was becoming so difficult to ignore the pain now, as if the absence of his nephew was a bruise that would never quite fade, just like the tender spot that had been created in his chest when Lu Ten and his wife had died.

Enough.

Iroh pushed the memories of his family aside and stepped away from the bed, sparing one last glance at the sleeping girl before he exited the room. He found Qiao and Fei once more seated around the square table. They invited him to join them while Tung-Mei got a fresh batch of tea ready. He accepted the offer and watched as Tung-Mei used spark rocks to create a flame to heat the water. Watching the fire flicker to life was not as comforting as it usually was for him. Fire burned within his body, but it had also hurt the people of Yangshuo too much, along with many other innocents in the world.

A crease formed on his brow and he stroked his beard as he pondered over everything that he had heard that night. "Are Suyin's parents earthbenders?" he asked, focussing his attention on the two females opposite him.

Fei nodded.

"Strange," he mused. "I thought that the earthbenders had escaped the prison rig where they were being kept."

"We heard that too," Qiao admitted, "but none of the ones from Yangshuo returned. My guess is that they were probably captured again while trying to come home. There have been many Fire Nation troops patrolling this area of late."

Iroh nodded. "That would make sense since Omashu has been conquered by the Fire Nation. The Governor would want to make sure that no one could come to the city's aid."

Tung-Mei, Qiao and Fei all exchanged a startled glance.

"Lee," Fei breathed, clutching a hand to her heart. "Do you think he's alright, Gran?"

"I'm sure Lee would have seen the sense not to go strolling into an occupied city," Qiao responded, but her tone and the pointed look she gave to Fei suggested that this was not a conversation that she and her granddaughter should be having.

There is a secret here, Iroh thought.

Normally, he would have allowed the matter to slide, understanding that every family had their stories that they wished to keep hidden. However, it had also occurred to him that Fei had started saying a name beginning with L when she was speaking of the Blue Spirit. If his hunch was right, which he had a good feeling that it was, this "Lee" was most likely the same boy who Gui had mentioned had been staying with the healers. After all, there was no reason for a merchant who traded masks to remember one boy with a scar. Not unless that same boy had bought a blue mask and then fought off four firebenders with just a pair of swords.

"This might sound strange," Iroh said slowly, "but can you tell me what this Lee looked like?"

"Why would you want to know that?" Fei demanded in a voice that bristled with suspicion.

A sad smile touched Iroh's lips. "I'm looking for my nephew. A man named Gui told me that a boy of the same description had been staying with you in your house. I was actually on my way here to see if that was true, but then the mercenaries showed up and Suyin got injured."

"Your nephew?" Fei repeated, looking a bit dazed.

He nodded and gave a brief description of Zuko, followed by the same story that he had told Gui and the others of how he and his nephew had got separated. When he was finished, all three looked rather subdued.

"That does sound like Lee," Tung-Mei admitted. "It's a shame you didn't come earlier when he was still with us. That would have solved many of his problems."

"That's if this guy is even telling the truth," Fei muttered. "For all we know, Lee might not be his nephew at all."

"Fei!" Tung-Mei shook her head at her and then turned to Iroh. "I'm sorry, Yingjie. As you can see, my daughter is very protective of Lee. He was only a shell of himself when he first came to us. None of us want to see him get hurt like that again."

"Believe me," Iroh said with all the sincerity of a loving uncle, "I would not dream of hurting him. My nephew is like a son to me. All I want is to hold him in my arms again and know that he is safe."

Fei held his gaze steadily. "Fine. Prove to me that you are telling the truth. What does the inscription say on Lee's dagger?"

"Never give up without a fight." A faint smile touched Iroh's lips. "Or 'Made in the Earth Kingdom', if you look on the other side. I gave that dagger to him as a gift while I was fighting in the war. I wanted him to remember the words so that he would grow up to be a strong warrior."

"Then it's true," Fei said in wonder. "You really are his uncle."

Iroh nodded even as something warm encircled his heart, chasing away his fears. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. At last, he had found concrete proof that his nephew was alive.

"Can you tell me his real name?" Fei asked, resting her chin on her hand. "We only called him Lee because he couldn't remember anything when he first started talking, but—"

Iroh gripped the table so hard that his knuckles turned white. "What?"

Tung-Mei and Qiao exchanged a troubled glance.

"Please," Iroh said when they continued to remain silent. "Tell me what has happened to my nephew."

Qiao sighed and told him about how a traveller had dropped a wounded boy off at their house. The boy had not been able to speak and would barely move unless someone guided his limbs into action. Two days later he'd come back to his senses, but it turned out that he had lost his memories in the process. Fei gave him the name Lee for the sake of being able to call him something, but they never did figure out his real name or where he had come from, just that he had once called himself the Blue Spirit.

"All he could remember was that he had been running from someone," Fei murmured.

"And that he had been searching for something," Qiao added. "That's why we suggested he go to Omashu. We thought he might meet someone there who knew him or might be able to help him. We had no idea that the kingdom had been conquered by the Fire Nation. There has been no news from the city for a while now." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yingjie."

Iroh slowly released his grip on the table. He knew he should say something, but he couldn't quite bring himself to speak. This was just so much to take in and a part of him wanted to believe that Qiao and her family were wrong. Zuko could not have forgotten everything, could not have forgotten him. Perhaps Zuko had just been trying to protect his own identity, knowing that Earth Kingdom citizens would not be welcoming to the Fire Nation prince, so he had pretended that he had lost his memories. Yes, that made sense.

But then Iroh remembered the way his nephew had barely seemed to recognise him that night after the explosion. He remembered how he had felt an inexplicable fear chill his bones, because something had whispered to his heart that Zuko was slipping away from him and that, if he didn't wake him soon, he might never hear that grumpy "Uncle" again. There was also the problem of how sincerely Qiao, Tung-Mei and Fei seemed to believe that "Lee" had lost his memories. Zuko was many things, but he had never been a good liar.

"Nephew," Iroh breathed in a pained whisper.

He covered his face with his hands, holding back the tears that prickled at his eyes as pain and regret formed hollow chasms in his heart, eating away at any of the brief joy he had felt. Dimly, he was aware of Tung-Mei placing a cup of tea before him and then sitting down to his left on the bench, but he said nothing. This was a harsh blow, for he could not help but feel responsible. If only he had not left Zuko at the North Pole. If only he had listened to his heart.

I will find you, Nephew, Iroh thought. I will find you, and somehow we will fix this problem. We will piece your memories back together.

Iroh had made a promise. He would make sure that he kept it.

oOo

The moon was especially bright that night. Iroh saw it as a good omen. The celestial light had always been the traveller's friend for those from the Water Tribe: a silver guide that could lead one through even the darkest of waters. Iroh got the feeling that Yue, the young girl who sacrificed herself to become the Moon Spirit, wanted to help him. He knew he would need her light to find his nephew.

Zuko was lost in so many ways. While the healers had disclosed that he had left for Omashu, there was no saying if he had ever ended up going to the city. Iroh did not have the time for another wild goose-chicken chase. He had to find Zuko soon, and he knew that it would be too dangerous for him to enter Fire Nation territory with Azula hunting his head. That was why he had decided to send a message through the Order of the White Lotus to check if the Blue Spirit or a boy named Lee had passed through Omashu, and to see whether anyone knew what had happened to the earthbenders from Yangshuo. The city might be occupied, but the Order's line of communication could not be broken so easily. First, however, he would need to find a way to send the message.

Now with a firm plan in mind, Iroh settled his bag more comfortably over his shoulder and stepped off the porch. The sound of a door opening and shutting from behind him made him pause. He turned to see Qiao watching him with her arms folded across her chest. Her hair gleamed silver in the moonlight, giving her a strange radiance, but her expression was grim.

"You're from the Fire Nation, aren't you?" Qiao said in a matter of fact voice.

Iroh could have lied, but the knowing glint in her eyes suggested that she wouldn't believe him. Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and forced himself to stay relaxed. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Your nephew. My granddaughter might not understand what it means to see a boy with fire-coloured eyes, but I do. However, it was the way he bowed to us that confirmed my suspicions."

Iroh looked at her with curiosity. "Yet you did not say anything and still helped him even though you knew the truth."

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. "I have lived through this war for too long. I do not like what the Fire Nation is trying to do, but I am not narrow-minded enough to believe that every person who was born to the lands of my enemy is evil. Lee needed our help, and that was all that mattered."

"Then I thank you." Iroh bowed to her in turn. "There are not many who can see past their own fear to help an enemy in need, however innocent. It is a relief to know that my nephew was in good hands while he stayed with you." He paused and reached into his pocket and pulled out a round wooden tile, which he then handed to Qiao.

"What's this?" she asked, holding the tile up to the light so she could examine it more clearly.

"A white lotus tile," Iroh answered. "It's a symbol of the society in which I serve, which seeks to re-establish harmony in the world. I believe you might be able to help us. We could do with someone of your wisdom and discreetness, and this town is in sore need of an agent to act as a point of contact."

Qiao's jaw dropped, but she pulled herself together a second later. "I suppose I could do that," she said with all of her usual brusqueness, "if it's to help end the war."

Iroh smiled and bowed again. "Thank you. I cannot explain everything to you now, but a man named Chonglin will come looking for you. Show him the tile and tell him that you have my permission to become an initiate and learn the cryptic arts. He will show you what to do from there."

"And what will you do?"

Iroh took a firmer grip on his bag. "I plan to continue my search for my nephew."

And as he once more looked up at the moon, so bright and silver in the sky, he knew that this time he would not fail.

oOo

A cool breeze slithered its way through Lee's tunic, sending goose-chicken bumps along his arms. He shivered and hugged his arms around his body, but he made no move to go back inside the tent to where it was warm. Sokka was snoring far too loudly and Lee had never really felt comfortable going to sleep unless someone was keeping watch. Plus, he knew that the nightmares would just start again the moment he closed his eyes. They were getting worse now, as if the realisation that he was Fire Nation had unlocked a door of memory inside him.

"Not that it makes much difference," he muttered.

He still couldn't remember anything substantial. It was always pain. Always hurt and longing and anger, even when his dreams showed no fire or tragedy. The last one had been like that. He had seen that man again, the one with the warm, reddish-brown eyes and grey hair. The one who he thought might have given him the dagger.

"Who are you?" Lee whispered.

The moon touched his face in a silvery caress, but there was no one to give him the answer he desired. He was alone, and even his own mind could offer him nothing but fragments and broken whispers.

Lee sighed and buried his face in his palms. It was a long time before he returned to the tent.

---

1) "The sly cat-eagle knows when to hide its claws" is actually a quote taken from Final Fantasy IX (though I added in the "cat" part to make it more Avatar-ish). I normally try to come up with my own proverbs, but this one just seemed to fit (and I was feeling a bit brain dead). So, yeah. Not mine.

2) 'Yangshuo' is the name of my imagined town were Lee stayed with Fei and her family. I have positioned it not far from the coast and the Kolau Mountains.