-Danger,Deceit-
Book 01.: Fire Nation
Chapter .03: CONVERSATIONS

[Silence does not mean that nothing is being said.]

Mai could swear the left night-iris in the arrangement opposite her had wilted another degree in the last hour. 'It's been at least an hour, right?' she thought, resisting the urge to start pacing. It was too hot in the hallway, even with all the windows open, as there was no breeze to speak of (odd, given that this was the windward side of the island). That, and the dark clouds building in the far east, promised yet another summer thunderstorm in the near future.

Mai was not inclined to pay attention to omens, but given who she was seeing, maybe Nature was trying to warn her about something. 'This is going to be sooo much fun…' she groused, pulling at the tight collar of her formal robe.

Chyou turned the page in her small book of poetry and glanced at Mai. "You'll do fine, Mai-dear," she said calmly. "It's only tea."

"Right, Aunty," said Mai, arching her eyebrow. "'It's only tea'… and you showed up at my house at the crack of dawn to stuff me into this thing and yank my hair back into ribbons."

Chyou "ahem-ed" and paid particular attention to a verse. "All right, I'll admit, the ribbons were just because I remembered how cute you looked when you were still wearing them. I never had a daughter, so I was just taking advantage," she said, as if that excused everything. "But you look nice in that robe, and besides, it never hurts to dress up a bit to pay respects to one's elders."

"Does this mean I should dress up every time I visit you?" Mai inquired, all innocence.

"Only if you want to, Mai-dear," her aunt replied in the same tone.

Mai's lips quirked in a wry grimace. For some strange reason, Chyou's teasing helped a little. Folding her hands into her lap, Mai leaned back against the stiff chair and tried to get her thoughts in order. Rubbing her bare wrists under the cover of her wide sleeves, she wished she had not given in to Chyou's arguments so easily. Of course etiquette demanded that one did not wear weapons whilst visiting one's elders, but since Sharanya was more like a dragon than a grandmother, there had to be some sort of allowance in protocol, right?

'What, you need weapons to feel confident about having a tea party with an old woman?' The small voice, like a persistent debate partner, spoke up.

She closed her eyes. 'It's more than that, and no, I don't.'

'Oh? And here I thought you decided it doesn't matter what the hag wants with you.'

'It doesn't! And it's not like I haven't already guessed. But if she thinks I'm with Zuko to help in her political games, she can go to hell!'

'What if she wants to keep you from marrying Zuko? It's been said she doesn't support him as Fire Lord, so maybe she's come here to interfere.'

Mai snorted, and covered it with a ladylike cough; Chyou kept reading her book, though her eyebrow arched for a moment. 'Like she could! And it doesn't make sense for a clan leader to prevent a marriage to the Fire Lord. Her aunt was Sozin's wife, after all.'

'Yes, and that turned out very well, didn't it?'

'… So, what, the Witch of the South is worried about history repeating itself?'

"… Mai?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Mai blinked at her aunt. Chyou tilted her head in the direction of an elderly servant woman who had appeared out of the woodwork and now stood by the door at the far end of the hall. "You don't have to wait up, Aunty," Mai said as she stood.

"Of course I'll wait," Chyou replied with a sly smile over the top of her book. "How will I be able to satisfy my burning curiosity otherwise?"

"There's that," agreed Mai, turning down the hall.

"Good luck!" her aunt added as the servant opened the door for Mai.

'Saying stuff like that only makes me want my daggers.' She sighed, following the servant out onto the veranda.

Blue sky and the distant sea horizon opened up before her, giving the impression that she stood at the edge of a soaring cliff at the end of the world. Even telling herself it was an illusion worked by the mansion's construction did not keep Mai's heart from leaping into her throat for a moment. To her left, in the north, the green-shrouded shoulder of the long-dormant volcano cradling the royal capital staggered down to the ancient lava plain below. A cool breeze drafted over her, the wake of a wide stretch of bamboo-framed canvas hanging from the ceiling. A servant, a young boy this time, pulled on the rope that manipulated the fan, swinging it back and forth in steady, quiet sweeps. Mai's escort did not spare him a glance, gliding over the table and two chairs standing just within the shade cast by the climbing sun and pulling the nearer one back in invitation.

The whisper-scrape of wood on wood jolted Mai's attention from the dizzying panorama, bringing it to the person occupying the opposite chair.

Sharanya did not seem to notice her great-granddaughter in the least, however, not even bothering to open her eyes as Mai took her seat at the table. A cane of polished ebony topped with gap-mouthed lion-dog's head carved from white jade leaned against chair, in easy reach of her long fingers, curled around the armrests of the cushioned chair. Her thin neck was apparently insufficient to support the weight of her head as she rested it against the high back, the sunlight probing the snow white of her hair, tied up in a scanty bun with a scarlet ribbon, picking out the odd grey strand. Her skin was nearly as pale as her hair, such that Mai could see blue veins running beneath the wrinkles of her forehead. Her deep crimson robe, cut in a style even more old-fashioned than the one Chyou had forced on Mai, looked almost too big for Sharanya's diminutive frame, the pointed ends of the layered shoulder cloths drooping almost to her elbows. Mai was at odds to find the imposing matriarch that had intimidated her two years ago in the person of this dozing, frail old woman.

The fragment of a half-forgotten nursery rhyme sprang to mind: 'Kitty-cat, kitty-cat, sleeping in a sunbeam, old and grey and bone-lean.'

Sharanya's eyes snapped open at the sound of Mai's suppressed snicker. Instead of the expected glare, dull brown eyes searched Mai's face with a puzzled air, as if she did not even recognize the granddaughter she had summoned in the first place.

"Good day, Great-grandmother Sharanya," Mai said, bowing over the table with her hands folded together in front of her. 'Don't tell me the woman's finally gone senile,' she thought, irritated, relieved, and suspicious all at once as she sat up and waited for Sharanya's bidding.

Sharanya coughed, dry and raspy, her still-unfocused gaze sliding away from Mai without a word, drifting out to somewhere in the sky over her shoulder.

Someone stepped onto the veranda behind Mai. She turned her head to see the old woman, this time flanked by four young female servants, all bearing pieces of what Mai immediately identified as a formal tea ceremony set.

'Oh, so it's going to be one of those kinds of tests, is it?' she thought, looking back at Sharanya as the servants swiftly and silently laid out the accouterments, the rosewood "water-catcher box" first, the emptying bowl placed on top of the left half, the lidded brewing cup on its saucer directly in front of her and the pair of rounded teacups nearer Sharanya. The bowl and cups were all fine bone china, nearly translucent, painted with delicate sprays of wisteria for the summer season. Simple to the point of plain, yet another affectation of an older generation, to present a face of humility and detachment from the material world, though Mai guessed there was not a piece of china in her house that would fetch the same price of a single teacup. The heavy stoneware pot, full of boiled water, was placed on its own table to Mai's right, the bamboo "cup" containing the ladle, tongs, and tea scoop (all lacquered bamboo themselves) on the table near the top left corner of the box.

Lastly, the old woman, obviously the senior household servant, placed the china tea salver, mounded with crinkled purple-green tea leaves, on the left corner of the table and presented Mai with a folded square of rough lavender silk. Already composing herself for the trial ahead, Mai nodded and took the cloth.

A deep breath… and memory overtook her.

'"Mai? Mai, stop fidgeting and watch your mother. If you're going to marry the Fire Lord, you need to know how to do this properly. Now, place the napkin in your lap, over your right knee. Bow."'

The tightness of her collar, the sweeping view of sky, mountain, and sea, even Sharanya, faded into the background. The memory of oft-repeated ritual guided her hands, whispering to her with her mother's voice.

'"Lift up your napkin like so and fold it… keep your thumb straight! Only ignorant Earth Kingdom peasants stick their thumb up at sun. Lift the lid of the pot, as though you're lifting a lotus flower from a pond and lean it against the side of the pot. Yes, good."'

Mai plucked the ladle from the cup, drawing it over the napkin in her upraised palm, wiping away the imagery dust clinging to its bowl. Changing hands, she placed the napkin in her lap and scooped a ladleful of steaming water from the pot.

'"When you open the lid of the brewing cup, your pinky must be extended... farther, farther, no, your finger won't fall off. Yes, I know it hurts, but you have to get used to it if you don't want people laughing at us. You don't want that, do you?"'

She poured the water slowly, in three deliberate circular motions, holding the lid at a right angle to the lip, her pinky stretched to the point of pain from lack of practice. Placing the ladle's handle astride the mouth of the pot, Mai dipped the lid into the cup, turning it between her thumb and fingers, purifying the already spotless china. Her pinky began to tremble, but she did not change the pace of the rite, replacing the lid on the cup before slowly emptying the water into the teacups, her forefinger holding the fragile lid place. Excess water spilled through the slats of the box like muffled raindrops. '"If there's too much water in the brewing cup, let it spill over, like too much happiness. And when you place the cup back on the saucer, you must frame it with your other hand, to cushion the sound. And keep your pinky extended!'"

A moment's respite. Mai splayed her fingers over her lap, resisting the urge to massage her strained pinky. 'I haven't had to do this in years,' she thought, a sharp stab going through her chest. Almost as many years since she had so clearly heard her mother's voice, even in dreams. 'I'm not going to think about that.' Reaching for the tongs, Mai spared a glance at Sharanya, trying to gauge the old woman's thoughts: was she doing well or not? Wait, was Sharanya even paying attention? Her great-grandmother's eyes were closed, her square jaw resting on her high collar. Mai almost dropped the tongs, but covered the near-mistake with the swipe of the napkin, forcing her outrage back down before using the tongs to pick up the first teacup.

'"How many times are you going to drop the teacup like that? You're going to break them one of these days if you don't pay attention!"' Mother never said anything about other people falling asleep! More water sloshed through the slats as Mai upended the teacup into the other, keeping it at a right angle as she turned it round and round, the subdued scrape-scrape of china on china setting her teeth on edge. After patting the outside dry with the cloth, she repeated the process with the other teacup, emptying what was left into the bowl.

'"Even though that's the hard part, Mai, don't think you can be lazy! If you brew the tea incorrectly, you spoil everything about the ceremony."' Mai picked up the tea salver, presenting the tea to the dozing biddy across from her. Holding the salver in her palm, Mai removed the lid from the brewing cup, balancing it tenuously between the base of the cup and the saucer. '"It's ten years bad luck for you and your guest if the lid falls into the box, Mai, so you must never let it happen."

'If I could be sure she'd actually survive all ten of them, it might be worth the curse,' Mai thought as she brushed a measure of tea into the cup and set the salver aside, reaching for another ladleful of water. She replaced the lid without incident, lifting the brewing cup and pouring the wakening flush of pale yellow tea into the cups.

'"It's not wasting tea, Mai – the leaves are bitter when they first open, so you are doing your guest the greatest favor by ensuring they only drink the sweetest tea.'"

Using the tongs to empty the cups one by one into the bowl, Mai rolled her eyes at the memory. 'Like she even cares. Senile old bat.' She poured one last ladle of water into the brewing cup, breathing in the mingled fragrances of apples, moon peaches and soft rain. 'High Mountain Oolong. Aren't we fancy?' Pouring the golden amber tea into the cups, Mai placed the brewing cup back on the saucer and bowed, concluding the ritual.

Sharanya had not been asleep, apparently, for she reached for her cup as soon as Mai straightened, not even waiting for her granddaughter to present it to her or wish her "good health."

'Saves me a bit of trouble, then.' Mai shrugged it off, picking up her own teacup and sipping the product of her trial. The tea was as smooth as oil, tasting slightly of honey and wood smoke. At this point in most tea ceremonies, the participants were expected to converse, but since Sharanya seemed satisfied just to sit, drink tea, and stare at nothing, Mai felt no obligation to drag out the niceties any further.

All the same, Mai was surprised when Sharanya placed her teacup on the table, stood without a word, and picked up her cane. Years of etiquette indoctrination took over and Mai hurried to her feet, bowing, but Sharanya had already turned away, exiting the veranda through the same door Mai had entered, the tump-tump-tump of the cane on the wooden floors fading into nothing.

Mai stared after her. 'For a crippled old woman who needs a cane, she moves pretty fast…' What, exactly, she was expected to do? Chase after her?

Just then, Chyou came bustling out onto the veranda, her white veil fluttering in the artificial breeze of the overhead fan. "Grandmother Sharanya passed me in the hall, but she didn't say anything," she said, clasping Mai's hands between hers and surveying the table. "A tea ceremony? Goodness, when she said 'tea,' I didn't think..." Catching herself, Chyou smiled at Mai, encouraging her to do the same. "But I'm sure you did well: if there's anything Yuming bragged about, it was how ladylike she brought you up. And those awards from the Academy..."

Mai shrugged, still thrown off by Sharanya's behavior.

"So…" Chyou turned to the door, urging Mai along with a gentle pull of her hands. Once her niece fell in step, Chyou released her. "What did you and Grandmother Sharanya talk about?"

"Nothing," Mai replied, anger bubbling up in her once again. 'Who the hell does she think she is, jerking me around like that?' She glared at the polished wooden floor of the hallway as she followed Chyou toward the mansion's forecourt, where their carriage waited. Bad enough to put her some stupid ritual Mai had thought years behind her, but to not even say "Thank you" or "Good job" or…!

Chyou slowed, tilting her head up at her niece, dismay clear in her eyes. Before Mai could ask her what the problem was, her aunt looked away, mentioning off-hand, "We'd better hurry home, Mai-dear. Your uncle's been called to the capital for a couple days, and he wants you to have dinner with us. You will, won't you?"

'That's right, he's reporting to Zuko about that last attempted poisoning. Poor Uncle Peizhi.' "Of course. Maha's been after me about the household accounts, so it'll be nice to eat out for once."

"Mai-dear…" Chyou sighed, but instead of chiding Mai on shirking her responsibilities as mistress of a household, she swept up into the carriage.

Mai settled in beside her, staring out the narrow gaps in the slatted sides at the passing scenery, vowing to throw out the old tea set that had been crowding up the display in her dining room.

Other than a brief awkward moment when Peizhi asked why Xue had not joined them for dinner, the meal was delicious enough to dispel most of Mai's bad mood as result of her "meeting" with Sharanya. Chyou was not only a talented hostess who provided a good table (with the help of an excellent chef, naturally), but she had plenty of stories from her younger days as a nationally-renowned musician to recount that were always light, humorous, and told with just the right amount of dramatic effect. And once she had gotten a cup of wine in her, they even became interesting.

"… and then the curtain went up, and you would never guess what the audience saw," she said with a meaningful arch of her eyebrows.

Mai had a very good idea of what the "great reveal" might be, but it was fun to play along. "What was it?"

Chyou pursed her lips, pretending to pout. "Mai-dear, you're supposed to guess."

"But you just said I never would."

"That's not the point! You know I don't like it when you act cute. Peizhi, do you care to take a guess?"

"Hm? I'm sorry, Chyou, my attention wandered a bit," Peizhi said with grimace of embarrassment glancing over his craggy face. "What story was this?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't try that; I think I told you this story already, you just want to be sure so you can spoil the surprise for Mai!"

"I would never spoil a lady's story, that would be unconscionable," Peizhi riposted, pulling a very unconvincing "affronted gentleman" face that lasted until Mai snickered into her wine-cup.

Chyou made a noise like disgruntled mudhen, which only caused her two dining companions to laugh harder. "Well, I see that my audience has tired of my story," she sniffed. It was only after a fair amount of cajoling and more laughter, and Mai's eventual guess of "a rabbarroo playing the goong harp" that Chyou relented. "So, the curtain goes up, and not only has the stage crew forgotten to lower the night backdrop, but Master Zihan and young lady he got into the production by claiming she was his "protégé" were up-stage center, performing the crowing romantic scene from the play's finale with far more… conviction than any pair of actors in the history of Fire Nation theatre. They brought the house down.

"Of course, the play was banned by the Department of Morality and Social Welfare the next morning, and I was forbidden from sponsoring any stage productions for a year, but it was an astounding production and still talked about today. I believe the young lady went on to join the Ember Island Players, a much better place for all concerned in my opinion."

"A good thing nobles can't be actors," Peizhi said. "Can you imagine the shame something like that would bring to a family?"

"It was certainly embarrassing for those two at the time, but actors have become nobles, in the past," Chyou reminded him. "They might again, with this new Fire Lord."

"Hmmm…" Peizhi frowned into his wine-cup.

"I never really understood the difference between playing an instrument or dancing on stage, and acting in a play," Mai commented, to give Chyou a chance to smooth over her slip of the tongue.

Her aunt took the lead with gratitude. "According to the Codes of Propriety, it's assumed that actors 'glorify immoral behaviors' through their interactions on stage and off," she said with a glance at the ceiling which, from a less proper lady, might have been called a roll of the eyes, "whereas dancers of the Five Classical Styles and musicians 'glorify the virtues and aesthetics of Fire Nation tradition.' Of course, things were much more open to interpretation before Fire Lord Sozin built the Institute of Aesthetic and Cultural Studies and drew the lines of morality."

"And as a distinguished graduate of the Institute and member of the Department of Cultural Edification, you no doubt approve of such a measure?" Peizhi asked wryly.

"As an official of the Ministry of Ceremonies, I must agree with the precepts of my office, no matter where I happened to be educated," was Chyou's demure reply. "That's not to say I don't approve of what the Institute does. I just think that a more open environment for study and experimentation is a better tribute to our cultural heritage."

"Remind me again why you never wanted to serve in the Ministry of Justice," her brother-in-law kidded. "You'd have made a magistrate in no time."

Chyou dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "Oh, memorizing all those law codes! Sounds terribly boring."

Before Mai could get in a smart remark, her aunt waved her hand, summoning the servants to begin clearing the remains of their dinner. "Who wants to sing tonight?" Chyou asked as they walked out onto the covered landing overlooking the capital city. From this vantage point, perched up in the teeth of the caldera rim, they could look out over the whole of the capital, aglow with lanterns as the moon rose behind them. The long-promised storm from the morning growled and spit arcs of lightning as it rained on the Shunfeng Plateu to the east of the capital, the dark thunderhead towering over the tallest spires of the rim opposite as a splotch of ink-black against the starlit night sky.

Mai had forgotten about Chyou's love of "audience participation" in her music. 'She and Zuko's uncle really need to meet up,' she thought as servants brought out chairs and a pair of spindly trestles. Chyou's personal maid materialized, bearing her mistress's guzheng zither, swaddled in thick silk. It seemed unwise to trust such a young, delicate girl with such a bulky, ancient instrument, but the servant apparently knew what she was doing and set the zither up without incident.

"Tell Xue to come and join us," Peizhi bid the girl as she bowed, taking her leave of the family.

The silk strings of the zither plunked discordantly. "Ah, I dropped the plectra!" Chyou exclaimed, bending over in her chair to pick up the scattered ivory finger picks. Mai picked up one that had landed near her toe, while Peizhi bent under the zither to help his sister-in-law. "It's alright if Xue stays in his room," Chyou said after apologizing for her clumsiness (Mai wondered about that). "He needs to prepare for the start of the next term; it's only a week away."

"Are you certain he's studying?" Peizhi asked, dubious. "He seems to have made a point of avoiding me since I came home."

"I'm sure you're just imagining things; what nephew isn't happy to see his uncle, after so long?"

"Aunty, do you mind singing the first song?" Mai asked in a bid to dispel the suddenly tense atmosphere. "I don't think I'm up to singing tonight."

"What? Oh, certainly." Chyou slipped the last plectrum over her left thumb and plucked at the strings, making minute adjustments to the bridges. Mai settled back in her chair, watching her uncle out of the corner of her eye. Peizhi seemed a touch put-out by the way the conversation had ended so abruptly, but as Chyou finished tuning and began plucking the scales of the first song of the evening, his posture relaxed. The low rumble of thunder and the breath of rain brought by a chance breeze seemed to inspire Chyou, as she began to sing:

'North of the Black Cliffs, battered by the waves
and east of the Grander Pavilion,
the heavy march of clouds flattens the sea.

The feet of the unlucky traveler
sink deep into the mud, and he stumbles,
and hurries on, eager to find his home.

The birds in my garden became silent,
and sought the shelter of their mud-built nests.
Even the turtle-duck hides under its wing.

The flowers of the field, untouched by men,
sleep beneath the grass, drinking the torrent.
Shall we gather the fire-lilies at dawn?

I listen to the chatter of the rain
dancing on the face of the Eastern Lake…

"… and think of the willows, bowing their heads," Chyou and Peizhi sang together, the notes of the zither fading as the song ended. "Lucky for us, it seems the storm has decided to move on," she observed, smoothing her hands over the still-trembling strings. Peizhi chuckled, and signaled to a servant to bring the plum wine.

Mai, who had been watching the play of fire-and-shadow as it moved further north, away from the capital, breathed an internal sigh of relief. 'Two storms averted, so long as Aunty sticks to singing, and Uncle to listening.' Peizhi must have had a worse time of it with Zuko than she had with Sharanya; while not saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment was second nature to her, Mai was surprised at how often Chyou had tripped up that evening.

Her uncle poured the clear, syrupy liquor into three tiny eggshell cups, and Mai took a well-earned sip.

Chyou declined the proffered cup. "After this song," she said, once again plucking at the strings. The tempo was slower than the last song, the notes lingering and almost seeming to sigh:

'The blossoms of plums are falling,
A hundred and hundred yet remain,
Whither have you gone, love, calling,
here I wait, littered with petals.

The blossoms of plums are falling,
A dozen and dozen yet remain,
The letter you sent me, scrawling,
only hasty words I read there.

The blossoms of plums are falling,
One, but one single bloom remains,
Far you have gone from me, calling,
chasing dreams I cannot follow...'

"That was Father's favorite song."

"Oh, good evening, Xue!" There was momentary strain to Chyou's smile as her son leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed at Peizhi. "Thank you for joining us."

"Why weren't you at dinner, young man?" Peizhi asked, getting up from his chair.

Xue snorted. "Why do you care? You're not my father."

'Didn't know I was getting a free "Family Drama Floor Show" with my dinner tonight,' Mai thought, sitting very still in her chair and affecting a disinterested mask as Peizhi advanced on Xue.

Like the hidden train of a silk sleeve revealed in the wave of a dancer's arm, Chyou seemed to materialize by magic between her brother-in-law and her son. "Xue, don't use that tone with your uncle," she said mildly. "Now, apologize."

"Sorry," Xue muttered with a roll of his eyes.

As her uncle's back was to her, Mai had to imagine the expression on his face. It was not that hard, given that even Xue flushed a bit and dropped his gaze to the floor (not for nothing was their uncle the former warden of the Boiling Rock, or the current overseer of the Iron Tower, for that matter). "Apology accepted. But perhaps you should go back to your room and study your 'Virtues of Obedience' a little harder," Peizhi said after a beat, his voice carefully controlled, though Mai noted his right hand had tightened into a trembling fist.

Xue seemed to think the better of whatever retort was on his lips. He bowed to his mother, bidding her "Good night" before turning on his heel and stalking back into the house.

"I'll speak to him," Chyou said breathlessly, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment. "I'm sorry for his discourtesy."

Peizhi's hand brushed over her cheek, stopping her before she could bow. "You don't have to apologize for him, Chyou." He turned to Mai, acknowledging her with a nod. Mai would have preferred they all forget she had been there at all. "I have an appointment with the Minister of Justice early tomorrow morning, so I'm afraid I'll have to withdraw for the evening. Feel free to spend the night, Mai, if you prefer."

'And sit through breakfast with Xue? I don't care if the Palace caters.' "Thank you, Uncle Peizhi. Good night." Mai rose and bowed.

"Mai..." Chyou began once Peizhi's footsteps faded into the house. The timely arrival of her aunt's maid saved Mai from having to endure an awkward explanation for what had just happened (not that she needed one).

"Mistress, pardon my intrusion, but I was asked to deliver these letters to both you and Lady Mai," the girl said, bowing and drawing two very different pieces of folded paper from her sleeve.

The thick red paper folded in thirds, bound by an old-fashioned gold cord sealed with a wad of black wax impressed with the gold-dusted "gathered bamboo" Sun crest went to Mai, while the white paper, folded over with a smaller sheet of black and sealed with a red chop stamp, was handed over to Chyou. 'What now?' Mai thought, holding her letter between her thumbs and forefingers. She wondered if Chyou would say anything if the missive just happened to fall off the balcony...

"Oh?"

Mai stuffed Sharanya's letter into her sleeve. "Who's it from?"

"From a Lieutenant Commander Zhì, of the Shé clan. She would like to call on me the day after tomorrow, to pay her respects for... ah, she was one of Ta's protégés, I thought the name looked familiar."

'Oh, right. Her.' Mai felt a moment of embarrassment at not having passed along the obnoxious woman's request. The look on her aunt's face, shaded with sorrow and pain, vindicated her somewhat, until her conscience prodded her, hinting that maybe a little bit of warning for Chyou might not have been amiss. 'Or maybe, having not gotten a reply, she should have taken the hint that she wasn't wanted here,' Mai argued back.

"Would you like to meet her, Mai?"

"What? Why?"

Chyou folded the letter over, looking thoughtfully at the characters incised on the seal. "The lieutenant commander is the Shé candidate for the Fire Lord's wife, according to my sources. Wouldn't it be a good idea to meet her?"

"I don't see the point," Mai replied, deliberately blasé.

"Mai-dear..." Chyou sighed, slipping the letter into her robe. "If anything, this can be an opportunity to expand your social circle. While anyone would envy being able to walk into the Inner Palace at anytime, I worry that you don't seem to have made other friends in the Court since..."

"I've had enough of people who want to use me." It came out more harshly than she wanted. See the shock on Chyou's face, Mai almost apologized. But it would be cheap to wave away honesty with an insincere excuse.

Chyou's hands, fingertips roughened by years of plucking zither strings, closed around Mai's, her smile gentle. "I'm sorry, Mai-dear, I'm nagging. I'm sure there will be other opportunities for you to meet her; who knows, you might become friends."

Mai doubted that very much.

"What does Grandmother Sharanya say?"

While she appreciated the change in conversation, the new topic was one Mai had rather hoped to avoid. With distaste, Mai took out the letter and, using one of her knives to cut under the wax seal, opened it and read. "... Our esteemed matriarch found my company so entertaining that she wants to see me two days from now." It took a fair amount of willpower for her not to crumple the summons into a ball and hurl it from the balcony. Instead, mindful of Chyou's silent observation, she folded it with the proper respect accorded to the clan seal and slipped it into her sash. "I'm getting some use out of all those tea ceremony lessons, aren't I?"

Chyou was not fooled in the least. "Mmm... would you like me to come with you again?"

"And make you sit around when you have a caller the same day? No, but thank you, Aunty. It's been a while since I've taken out my carriage anyway; what's the point of keeping one if you're not going to use it?"

Her aunt conceded to Mai's scrupulous attention to social obligation. "Well, try to talk about the weather, or your studies this time, Mai-dear, and I'm sure it will be more fun."

"Yes, Aunty."

A/N: For the record, I've had training in Japanese tea ceremony (chadou), but not any of style of Chinese ceremony - my information for the tea ceremony Mai performed comes from research and one interesting (to me, anyway ^-^;) video I discovered on YouTube.

Further note (with apologies to my great-aunt): I would have preferred studying the Chinese style - sitting on your legs for hours HURTS.