-Danger,Deceit-
Book 01.: Fire Nation
Chapter .05: COSTUMES
[See and be seen, but prefer the former.]
The Institute of Aesthetic and Cultural Studies' "Hundred Blooming Flowers Theater" was located between the respective campuses of the Institute and the Royal Fire Academy for Girls, right on the northernmost shore of Lake Jin Wen. Built in the latter half of Sozin's regime, the theater reflected a turning point in Fire Nation architecture, between the airy, sweeping heights of the old style (inspired by the Air Nomad designs of the Western Air Temple), and the more imposing, linear and swept-angle mode of "functionalism" that would become the norm of construction of Fire Nation Continental government buildings. Whoever had designed the theater was obviously influenced more by the former than the latter, and the result was, even by Mai's estimate… beautiful.
The Theater was actually a complex of smaller galleries and seminar rooms ensconced in the east and west wings fronting the broad, lantern-lit avenue leading up the central hall, the main stage where the Institute put on seasonal pageants for the gratification of the parents and other relatives of its students (and the utter boredom of their younger siblings and cousins). But it did not end there; behind the central hall was the Jade Promenade, a wide terrace bordered by jade-leaf hedges and weeping cypresses wending down to the Cypress Pavilion, a huge wooden stage open on all eight sides, where the ancient rites of solstice festivals were reinterpreted in dances and musical performances. It was also the launching point of the dragon-boat races held every year in commemoration of the founding of the Fire Nation over three thousand years ago (though since Sozin's great-grandfather's time, this "founding day" was combined with the reigning Fire Lord's birthday - a cost-cutting measure that became a sacred tradition).
It was the stone dragons climbing over the eaves and columns of the balcony above the central hall's massive doors, open wide to admit the stream of patrons for the night's charitable venture, that made Mai think of the dragon-boats. Last year, the state of emergency in the capital had made holding the races on Zuko's eighteenth birthday a risky prospect; on Iroh and the commander of the Palace Guards' advice (but against the wishes of the rest of the Council, as he told her later) Zuko had called off the celebration. Mai had thought it a bad idea at the time, since, as the scion of a traditional clan, she was aware of the symbolic value of the festival and suspected that many nobles saw Zuko's caution as weakness. She had held her tongue at the time, though, since the last thing Zuko needed when dealing with the threat of a coup was her second-guessing what must have been an agonizing decision for him. 'The Avatar was also pretty disappointed, though I guess it would be a bit much for a fourteen year-old airbender to get why harping on past dragon-boat races might get on Zuko's nerves.' Of course, Aang's surprise visit on Zuko's birthday had had more serious purpose behind it, none the least of which was the secret personal letter from the new Earth King, Qiang, cautiously extending an offer to open negotiations regarding the colonial issue. At the time, however, Aang's "cover act" of... being himself had made a tense situation worse, no matter what masks the Court might paste on when confronted with the person most responsible for the Fire Nation giving up its successful war. 'Hopefully, this year he gives us a heads up, at the very least...'
"Mai-dear, are you sure you're feeling all right?" Once again, Chyou's concerned question snapped her back to the present.
"Just admiring the decorations, Aunty," Mai replied, taking the program her aunt was holding out to her. "It's so... colorful in here."
"Yes, the Fourth Class was asked to come up with the theme and take charge of decorating," said Chyou, raising her eyebrow to indicate she had caught the note of sarcasm in her niece's voice. "I believe they called it 'The Turning of Summer in the Bamboo Forest.'"
"... What do banners of pink, purple, and red have to do with bamboo or summer?" Mai wanted to know, indicating the high-ceilinged lobby and mezzanine with a sweep of her eyes. Admittedly, the curtains of shimmering silk did a decent job of covering up the overly-ornate gold bas-relief panels of traditional dancers and musicians that graced the interior of the hall, but someone had had the "brilliant" idea of accentuating the color combination with strings of slender leaves of copper and bronze that tinkled and clashed with every shiver and billow of the curtains. Students from the Institute and the Academy, dressed in bell-sleeved formal uniform robes of white with red shoulder cloths, mingled with the patrons, discussing the décor on display or answering questions about the event, seating arrangements, and the menu of refreshments being served at intermission.
"They're... painted with silhouettes of bamboo?" Chyou pointed out hesitantly. Mai gave her a look and Chyou sighed in resignation. "I never understood the Modern Aesthetic movement when I went to school here; I'd always hoped it was just a fad."
"I thought you were all for 'experimentation' in the arts, Aunty," her niece reminded her rather gleefully.
Chyou was saved from having to answer by their sudden (and noisy) convergence with a covey of noblewomen she introduced to Mai as fellow members of the committee that had organized the charity concert.
"Have you ever been to the hospital on Liao Yang?" a Lady Kanok from some-such clan asked Mai breathlessly, her large amber eyes startlingly ringed with thick lines of kohl. "Isn't it a lovely place nowadays? Your aunt was so clever, organizing concerts like this and convincing the Navy and Army to help pay for reconstruction, as well they should have, they...!"
"I'm sure the Lady Mai is too busy with her studies," interrupted Lady Wan of the Xú clan, staring down at Mai over her third chin and impressive bust. The condescending smile she bestowed on her reminded Mai of the way Murni had surveyed her the other day; the old biddy was not nearly as skillful at concealing her thoughts as her younger relative, which amused Mai.
"Yes, keeping my nose buried in books all the time, it makes me worry that I'll forget how to talk with other people or even walk without banging into door frames," she said, enjoying the way the woman's ink-stained eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement.
"Oho, I imagine all your... meetings in the Inner Palace must alleviate your anxiety over something like that, even if you do hide yourself away from the rest of society," remarked Lady Ya of Zhao, a vassal of the Teng clan.
"Oh, Mai-dear, I think your uncle might have gone looking for the way up to our box; do you mind giving him this program?" Chyou asked, wielding the thick paper like a war fan, scattering the women clustering around Mai like pig-chickens shooed from a feed trough.
"Yes, Aunty. It was a pleasure to make acquaintance with you venerable ladies," Mai said through grit teeth, bowing and making a beeline across the foyer toward the staircase where her uncle waited.
"Got through the gauntlet none the less for the wear, I hope?" he asked her as she handed off the program. As her uncle was hardly a man given to outbursts of emotion, the fact that he was smirking without even bothering to hide it was as good as anyone else laughing their head off. "Your aunt anticipated the ambush, but I was the gate tile in case the vulture-wasps got too... enthusiastic."
"I don't know why you and I couldn't just go up to the box while she does her committee thing," Mai muttered. The increasing volume of the ever-larger crowd milling about the lobby and the clash of various strong perfumes worn by both men and women was starting to give her a headache.
"Doing what we dislike in order to maintain face with the other clans is part of being of the noble class, and something you especially need to get used to," Peizhi replied. However, he seemed more concerned with keeping an eye on Chyou than in preaching. Not that Chyou was doing anything special or unusual, far as Mai saw. Her aunt was in her element, holding court as dozens of patrons surrounded her, probably expressing admiration for the soldiers' hospital and the charity her aunt had set up for it, how it was wonderful to raise cultural awareness at the same time. 'Basically, they love a chance to make themselves look good. At least they have the manners to thank her for giving them another opportunity to put their virtue on display.' Not that she would ever say so to Chyou; looking at the way she smiled, Mai supposed it was a good thing for her aunt to have something that made her so genuinely happy.
There were more than a few senior military officers, both Army and Navy, in attendance, standing out in the crowd in their dress uniforms. A couple of the Navy captains in particular seemed intent on monopolizing Chyou's attention, and Mai wondered if they might have served with her Uncle Ta one point. "Uncle Peizhi, do you...?"
"If you will excuse me, Mai, I think it's time we got your aunt up to the box before they drag her off to handle a crisis backstage or some other such nonsense."
"All... right..." Mai agreed, surprised as Peizhi waded into the crowd, rather much like the prow of a battleship plowing through a sea (an image helped by the fact that he was wearing rather old-fashioned black formal robes). Chyou immediately but gracefully extracted herself from the officers and committee members hanging about and took Peizhi's arm. It had to be Mai's imagination that Peizhi glared at the captain who made a move to follow them.
"Oh, it's getting rather warm in here, don't you think, Mai-dear?" Chyou asked, laughing and fanning herself with her program as they rejoined her. Her eyes were shining with excitement. "Let's go up to the box, I want to see what they've done to the stage since yesterday!"
"Sure." Mai followed behind her aunt and uncle, still arm-and-arm, up to the relative quiet of the mezzanine. There were no gaudy banners up here to clash with the theater's usual decor, provided one did not turn around to look up or out over the lobby, and a cool night breeze wafted through the open windows and the balcony over on the far side of floor, softly scented with cypress.
"Good evening," Chyou said to the attendant guarding the short flight of wooden steps up to the central boxes. "I am Lady Chyou, and these are my guests for the evening." She handed her ministry seal to the attendant, who wore the Institute's Third Class uniform, her flowing black hair decorated with a single red peony behind her right ear. Given that she was on the rather short and plump side, Mai guessed she was likely a member of the music or visual arts school, rather than a dancer.
The girl hardly glanced at the seal. "Welcome back to the Hundred Blooming Flowers Theater, Lady Chyou!" she said, bowing low. Looking around furtively, she took a thin scroll from her long white sleeve. "Um, pardon me, but... do you mind signing my program? It's from your last alumni exhibition, three years ago."
"I would be glad to! But I'm afraid I didn't bring my brush set..." The girl had already reached into her other sleeve, producing a thin box containing a calligraphy brush and a stoppered jar of ready-made crimson ink. Mai wondered what else she had up there.
"I volunteered to help with the concert when I heard you were in charge of it," she babbled as she unrolled the scroll so Chyou could sign the bottom. Unlike the printed programs passed out for the benefit concert, it was a work of art in its own right, the names of the performers executed in ancient characters, then repeated in modern style alongside their particular discipline and honors. Chyou had top billing that year, one of two National Distinguished Artists listed. "I was sick the day they held tryouts for the accompanists, so I just had to find a way to meet you, even if all I did was watch the boxes!"
Chyou did not seem at all uncomfortable with the gushing, but Mai found herself edging away from the fangirl. Even Peizhi was looking wary. "I'm guessing you play the dan ty ba lute, Lady...?"
"Oh, yes, I do! How did you guess? And I'm Tam, of the Liao clan."
"Well, Lady Tam, I wish you the best of luck in your studies. I hope I can attend your graduation exhibition when it's held," Chyou said, writing a brief message and signing it.
"I'll send you an invitation the day I get recognized!" Tam promised, carefully draping the scroll over her arm so as to let the ink dry. Suddenly remembering her real job, she turned and unhooked the scarlet silk rope that "barricaded" the stairs up to the boxes. "Please, follow me to your seats!" she urged, face as red as the peony in her hair.
'Finally!' Mai happened to catch her uncle's eye at just that moment; clearly, the same exact thought had occurred to him at that same precise moment.
"Oh, stop it, you two," Chyou scolded under her breath as they snickered behind her.
"I suppose we just realized that people tend to get a little starstruck around you, Chyou," Peizhi commented, by way of apology.
Chyou glanced back, cheeks bright pink as he stepped up to the top of the flight of stairs beside her. "Now you're just teasing," she said lightly.
"Not really..."
Mai had a sudden, strange idea that she was intruding on something with her mere presence.
"Lady Chyou, this way please!" Tam beckoned them with a fluttery wave of her free sleeve toward a door a little ways down the rosewood-paneled hall. As her aunt and uncle moved off, Mai allowed her attention to be diverted to another set of doors, these embellished with an old-style gilt dragon protectively encircling the three-pointed flame emblem of the Fire Nation. A placard hanging from the lintel unnecessarily informed her, "This box reserved for members of the Royal Family. Long Live Fire Lord Zuko!" Below the placard, a knot of scarlet silk rope tied the doors' handles together, the only lock needed against casual incursion into the royal sanctuary.
'I wonder what it would be like, to go to a concert like this with Zuko, going up to this box, knowing everyone was staring up at us, trying to see us... guards at the door, on the stairs, keeping everyone away... does Zuko even like going to the theater?' She shook her head, even as she stepped toward the door. 'Not like it matters. Even if I'd had time to ask him to come, he wouldn't have had time for me...'
"Ah, excuse me... your aunt and uncle are already seated."
"Thank you," Mai said, giving Tam a disdainful look.
The girl's smile no longer reached her eyes. "It's too early to assume you can just walk into that box, Lady Mai," she said in an amiable voice. "Maybe you never will."
"Oh?" Mai asked, cold and calm.
"Indeed." Tam indicated the door Chyou and Peizhi had gone through, her false smile widening. "Shall I take you to your proper place, or shall I have the Keepers of Cultural Propriety escort you?" Another student in the same uniform as Tam appeared in the corridor, leading another group of theater-goers to another box, their chatter subdued as befit such august surroundings. One of the committee members from earlier, the Lady Kanok, noticed Mai, and waved cheerfully to her as they passed by.
'You smug little...!' Mai ground her teeth, right hand sliding out of the slit in her robe where her knives sat against her thigh. Tam was deliberately provoking her, knowing that Mai could not respond without embarrassing her aunt. 'She's not a candidate. Which clan do the Liao owe allegiance to?' "Thank you, but no; your assistance is not necessary."
"Ah, well - enjoy the concert, Lady Mai." Tam bowed, but did not move until Mai turned away from the dragon door toward her aunt's box.
'I shouldn't have come tonight, I should have known it would turn out like this.' For a wild moment, she was angry at Chyou for setting her up. 'Don't be ridiculous - Aunty wouldn't do something like that!' she snapped at herself as she slid open the door to the box and stepped into the small, shadowed room.
"... and look, they got the lanterns for the flower path installed in time! I think I told you, they told me yesterday that it might not be possible, and I was so worried, especially since some of the costumes the girls will be wearing have trains and long sleeves!"
"I think I remember you mentioning that..."
The box was constructed to seat six people comfortably, the slightly bowed plaster walls cushioned with thick silk in such a way that every sound from the still dark stage, the rustle of clothing scraping against the lowered curtain, the muted tap-tap-tap of stagehands running across it, were as crystal clear as if Mai were standing on it. One of the stagehands, clad head-to-toe in black, was busy lighting the bronze lattice-screened lanterns lining the raised flower path that ran from the rear of the theater to the stage, cutting the wide seating arena in half. Mai could hear the squeak of the lantern's door opening and the quiet fwoosh of the wick catching alight.
"... the Lai clan's Sundari, you know, the Palace Guards' commanding officer's daughter, her costumes were the ones that worried me most, but I think she took offense to the idea that a firebender of her skill would accidentally catch herself on fire."
"Hm..."
The box would seat six people comfortably... but Chyou and Peizhi sat very close together at the front, Chyou pointing things out to Peizhi and talking excitedly and Peizhi not looking at all where she pointed, his attention only on Chyou, his face turned so that Mai could see the soft, longing smile on his face that Chyou could not as she looked out at the stage.
Mai ducked out of the box so quickly the people in the hallway must have thought she was thrown out. Ignoring them (and Tam) as she hurried past the girl down the steps to the mezzanine, Mai tried to get ahold of herself.
'When did it happen? How long have they been like this? I thought Aunty only lived in Uncle's house because that's what was expected of her! If that's how they are, why does she still wear her veil?' There was still a crowd milling about the lobby, so Mai headed along the bay of windows to the balcony, searching for a safe place to calm down, away from prying eyes. 'Safe, ha! I guess that's what that box is for, but why'd I have to walk in on them like that! Why did Aunty invite me if she wanted a chance to be alone with him?' She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassed heat and leapt over the rope barricade that shut off the darkened balcony without a break in her stride, welcoming the concealing embrace of shadows.
It was quiet here in the darkness, lit only by the lanterns of the mezzanine behind her and the lights of the avenue beyond the balcony. The alcoves on either side of the doors leading out to the balcony were cozy little places, perfect for intimate conversations at intermission. Mai hurried out to the deserted balcony, wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and the moment she had witnessed. 'Maybe I'm just over-thinking things...'
The air was blessedly cool out on the balcony, and Mai heaved a sigh of relief. Laughter and snatches of conversation drifted up to her as more patrons climbed the steps and entered the theater through the doors just below, but Mai looked out over the expanse before her, the gradual slope of the caldera lifting the distant artisan's district above the shores of Lake Jin Wen. The street-corner lanterns were like scattered stars, but warm and clearly human, each one representing neighborhoods of dozens of families. Thousands of people, maybe even tens of thousands, lived in the capital, most of whom she would never meet, but who, one day, would look at her from afar, standing beside Zuko. Mai had never thought about it, but found herself wondering what they would think of him, of her; would their gaze be admiring, indifferent... hostile?
Shaking her head against the strange track her thoughts were wending down tonight, Mai looked to her left, where the outer wall and the east wing of the Palace ought to be visible... and started back. She was not alone on the balcony.
She must have gasped or made some sort of noise, for the other person, who had been leaning against one of the stone dragons winding up a supporting column, pulled back from the balustrade, staring at her in surprise. A girl, wearing a high-collared, long sleeved white tunic over a trailing skirt of Royal Academy crimson; the black flame sigil of the Third Year hung on the center of her red shoulder cloth and a cluster of snow orchids had been twined into her upswept brown hair.
Before Mai could say a word, the girl's expression of surprise shifted to recognition and from thence... a moment of fear, swallowed up by suspicion and anger.
"Hello," she said, her nasal, northern Continental accent the same tone someone might use when a cat dropped a dead helmet beetle on their slipper. "Is there something I can help you with?"
Was it just her night to get sneered at by vassals of noble clans? But where Tam had simply mocked, this girl regarded her with nothing short of hatred. 'What's her problem?' "No, I just came out here for some air. But I suppose I'll just leave."
"Sure, do that - since you can't do anything or go anywhere without someone stronger to back you up," she heard the girl mutter as she resumed her former position against the railing.
Mai hesitated, debating whether she ought to respond to that bizarre statement.
"Lán? Lán! There you are!" Mai and the girl both turned as another young woman ran out onto the balcony, her stylish crimson robes swirling about her voluptuous body as if speaking for their wearer's anxiety. Dozens of tiny bronze bells dangled from her gold sashes, jangling with every motion. "Everyone's looking for you!"
'...Purple?' Mai wondered, realizing the outlandish shade of the newcomer's hair was not a trick of the dim light. Not that dying one's hair was uncommon in the Court, but... 'Purple?'
The girl (Lán, apparently) ducked her head, looking every inch the guilty, chastened child. "I just..."
"Lán, I know you're anxious about your performance," the young woman said, adjusting the orchids in the girl's hair, "but, really, is this the way for a governor's daughter to... oh!"
Mai wondered if the woman honestly had not noticed her before, or if she was acting surprised to cover up something else. Whatever the case, she smiled as she bowed in greeting, feigning ignorance of Mai's staring. "Good evening, Lady...?"
"Mai, of clan Sun," Lán supplied, wrinkling her snub, freckled nose, like the epithet left a bad taste in her mouth.
"Ah, then, Lady Mai," the woman said, laying a hand on Lán's shoulder as if to warn the girl against anymore of her weird outbursts, "please pardon my interruption into your and Lán's conversation. The stage director and Lady Lán's cousin became alarmed by her absence backstage, so close to the start of this evening's concert and I was sent to look for her..."
"Why?" Lán snapped, shrugging away from the touch. "It's not like I'm the opening act, and besides, I'm already wearing my stupid costume!" She pulled at the tight, gold-embroidered collar of her tunic to emphasize her argument. "I'm just playing a flute solo - it's no big deal if I...!"
"I was hoping to hear you play," the young woman interjected wistfully. "After all those times listening to you practice, it would be wonderful to hear the audience applaud you. And I'm sure your mother would want to know how her daughter shared her talent with her countrymen."
"... Mother's not here," Lán retorted under her breath, but her frown was less pronounced, her shoulders less stiff.
'Is there a school for teaching how to guilt-trip people like that, or is it just a gift?' The purple-haired woman, whoever she was (the brat's tutor, maybe?), looked, at first glance, like any other fluttery, overdressed, overly-made-up, overfed noblewoman (save for her hair color). Her round face lacked a single hard line to lend her anything other than an air of fatuous contentedness, a striking contrast to the girl's baby-cheeked peevishness.
Nothing remotely intelligent in her appearance, except... her warm red-brown eyes appraised Mai, aware of her scrutiny and amused by it. "I'm sure Lady Mai would agree with me, that a noblewoman of your clan, whose skill recommends her to the worthy cause of Lady Chyou's charity should, at the very least, not allow her personal... reservations to interrupt the evening's program?"
'Why is she dragging me into this?' Mai was tempted to recommend that the brat scurry on home if she was not done with her hissy fit (possibly taking a running jump into Lake Jin Wen to cool off along the way).
"I'm not playing for her, her aunt, or that... charity!" hissed Lán. "I'll play for you, Priya, and that's it!"
"Ah-ra." The woman, Priya, beamed and hugged Lán. "Then, I'm honored. It's sure to be a beautiful performance."
Lán blushed bright red, glaring at Mai over Priya's shoulder, daring her to comment.
Silly, since Mai could care less about that. 'Lán and Priya... so, two of the "candidates" just happen to be here at Aunty's concert?' Chyou probably thought she had been doing Mai a favor, inviting her along to get a look at her so-called "competition." 'I probably wasn't supposed to leave the box, though. Best-laid plans, and all that.' Annoyed as she might be, she could not deny the least little bit of satisfaction of having sized up the two girls for herself. 'The Teng must be desperate, to nominate a brat like her to be Zuko's wife.' Priya was another story, though; Mai could not quite put her finger on it, but the purple-haired woman had to be hiding something, demonstrative as she was.
As if she had spoken these thoughts aloud, Lán's eyes narrowed and she pulled away from Priya. "Of course, it's not a problem to play for people who have the heart of an artist, even if they aren't given a certificate by the State. I mean, if it weren't for you being here, Priya," she said with a shrug, "it'd be like playing to crowd of tone-deaf koala-sheep." 'Like you,' her look added to Mai.
"Ah-ra, I think there are at least a couple of people from the Institute who meet that standard," Priya replied with a sigh, the only indication she might be frustrated with the girl's recalcitrance. "Lady Chyou, for example; it was her manuscript on music theory you showed me the other day, wasn't it?"
Lán's lips pursed at the veiled admonition. 'Your friend has more sense than you, brat,' Mai thought at her, quirking an eyebrow.
With a growl, Lán turned away, stomping back to the railing in a huff. "I'll go backstage when the concert begins!" she announced. "Tell Madam Singh for me."
"... I suppose I could go back without you," Priya remarked, making it sound like Lán had spurned her affection by her refusal. "I'm sure Madam Singh and the other students will be understanding of your... dilemma." She took a few steps toward the exit, then turned, waiting for her words to sink in.
'"Dilemma," in that she's a spoiled little brat.' Mai was thoroughly bored of the silliness, but the idea of going back to the box (and, more specifically, what she might walk in on!) convinced her to linger a little while longer. 'It's like I'm having my own private performance: an old-style comedy, of the little princess and her maid, and everyone's expected to learn something in the end.' She had always hated those kinds of plays; the morals were obvious, and the characters were predictable, idiotic caricatures that had failed to entertain her, even as a child. Ty Lee, naturally, loved them, and Azula had had a simple solution to being forced to endure them: throw a tantrum and set the stage on fire. 'Hmmm...'
"Fine, whatever." Lán looked over her shoulder and frowned at Mai. "Sorry we're not amusing you, but I was out here first. Feel free to scurry back inside anytime."
Annoyed (and more than a little disconcerted at the way the brat seemed to keep reading her mind), Mai frowned right back, but something below caught Lán's attention before she could retort. "Oh, look! Priya, it's Murni! She was able to come after all!" Smirking at Mai, who had involuntarily grimaced at the name, Lán stepped up on the stone coil of the dragon's tail wrapped around base of the column, boosting herself above the balcony railing.
"Lán, don't, you shouldn't...!" Priya began, stepping toward the girl, hand extended as though she could compel the girl's obedience like a puppet-master compels a marionette.
Lán ignored her, hiking one knee up on the railing and gripping one of the dragon's extended claws in order to lean out and wave with her free hand, calling, "Murni! Murni, up he- !"
It happened in an instant; the railing gave way, no more than a hairsbreadth and then the dragon's claw, weakened by decades of wind and rain, snapped in the girl's hand as she lost her balance and tried to regain it. Mai stepped back, instinctively recoiling from the horrible thing about to occur.
There was a jingle of bronze bells, a whirl of silks, and suddenly, Priya was standing between Lán and the treacherous railing, her right arm tight around the white-faced girl's waist, her left hand pulling the railing back into place. "Lán, might I have the claws?" she asked softly, looking straight at Mai.
Trembling, Lán handed the object over without comment. Very deliberately, without letting go of Lán or even turning her head, Priya pressed the disembodied appendage against the stump of the wrist, her fingers smoothing over the scales.
"Why don't we go backstage now," she said. Without waiting for Lán to respond, Priya more or less carried the girl off the balcony, nodding to Mai as they departed.
Mai waited a moment before walking over to the column and inspecting the dragon. 'No seams, nothing. She didn't use firebending to seal it in place.' One glance at the railing confirmed her conclusion: Priya was an earthbender. 'I suppose that gossip about her being illegitimate has some merit after all...'
But did that matter? Priya did not seem to care that she used earthbending (something that ought to be shameful for a young woman in her position) in front of Mai, ostensibly her main "competition." 'Obviously, she wanted to cover for the little brat... and since no one but the three of us were up here and there's no evidence...' Mai shook her head. Of course, that was it: Lán was obviously an unfit "candidate," so if Mai were to go about claiming she had seen proof that Priya was probably not her father's daughter, her own credibility would be damaged and Priya's status would be elevated for the simple fact that the Fire Lord's girlfriend was "jealous" of her. 'Nice try! Like I even have to be concerned about that, anyway.'
The gong would soon sound to begin the concert and there was no more chatter from the avenue below. If she waited any longer, Chyou would probably start looking for her, and Mai was not about to give Tam a chance to watch Mai having to explain herself.
'Everyone one of them, these... "candidates" and their minions,' Mai thought as she turned away from the railing and walked back into the shadows of the theater, 'if they're not trying to hide who they really are, they act...'
"... no better than commoners, aren't they?"
Mai whipped her head to the side; someone had spoken practically in her ear. A tall young woman, her hair pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, smiled at Mai. She wore a black, full-length robe, belted at the waist with a grey sash, which explained why Mai had almost walked past her without noticing. "That's what you were thinking, wasn't it?" she added.
'What's with people and lurking in this theater?' The girl was either a stagehand or one of the evening's performers who had not gotten into her costume yet. Given how pretty she was, the softness of her voice, and the proud way she held herself, Mai was inclined toward the latter.
"Hee hee..." A younger girl, who had been sitting on the settee in the back corner, bounced up beside the speaker. Though her hair was caught up in a long braid and her brightly-colored evening robes glittered in the dim light with baubles that made the other girl's robe seem even more plain by comparison, Mai discerned enough similarity in their features to guess that they were siblings. The braided girl wrapped her arms around her sister's waist, head tilted as she stared at Mai with wide golden eyes.
Mai's breath caught; their color was wrong, she was too young, too small, but... 'Ty Lee?'
"Those girls must've really scared you," the Ty Lee look-alike observed. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!" She grinned, all but giggling at Mai's discomfort.
She did not have to put up with this. Mai straightened and turned away from the weird pair. As she stepped back into the glare of the mezzanine, she heard the little girl say, "That's your competition, Sun-sun? She looks like an ostrich-hors...!"
"Sh, Kalai!"
Mai did not turn back, since she spied Chyou coming down the stairs, the worry on her face clear across the mezzanine. Thank Spirits Tam was nowhere in sight. 'Probably ducked back down her spider-snake hole.'
"Mai-dear, there you are!" Her aunt dropped all pretense of decorum and literally ran to meet her niece. "Lady Tam said that you looked ill, so I sent her to fetch a doctor while I...!"
Mai groaned internally. 'This is what I get for letting Aunty guilt me into something.' "I think Lady Tam was exaggerating. Actually, I was just meeting with some... interesting young ladies, and I lost track of time. That's what you wanted, right, Aunty?"
She could not help the tone of accusation that slipped in, but Chyou pretended not to notice. "Well, I can't say that I didn't hope you'd find some more interesting diversion here tonight than your aunt and uncle. It can't be all that fun for girls your age to have to entertain old fuddy-duddies like us all the time, much as I enjoy it. It's just not fair to you."
Mai was almost certain Chyou was not trying to guilt her on purpose. All the same, she felt a reflexive embarrassment for having leveled what might very well be a baseless charge at one of the only people in the world, outside of Zuko and Ty Lee, who actually cared about her.
'Speaking of Ty Lee...' "Let's get back to the box, Aunty," Mai said, looking back at the shadows she had come from. No sign of the girls, but they had to come out sometime. The sound of a gong being struck somewhere down in the lobby below punctuated the thought. As Chyou and Mai mounted the stairs, she glanced back one last time as theater attendants dimmed the lanterns. No one had come out; was there another way backstage that they might have taken?
"I found her, Peizhi," Chyou said as they slipped into the box. Mai's uncle appeared genuinely relieved, even as he shot her a look, admonishing her for making her aunt worry. "She got caught up in a conversation with a few other young ladies." They took their seats (Mai taking the far corner so her aunt and uncle could sit together) and Chyou handed her a program, noting, "The last two performances will probably interest you. Lady Sundari of the Lài clan is already a Distinguished Artist, even though she's only seventeen."
Mai, who had already spotted Lán's name on the program (playing An Orchid Blooming in Early Spring - Madam Singhe's simplistic sense of humor had not evolved at all, apparently), made the connection in an instant. '"Sun-sun" was it? Could there be a more insipid nickname?' "Would Lady Sundari happen to be the Lài hopeful?" she asked boredly, pretending to inspect the audience below over the edge of her program. Chyou had not been lying when she said one could see everything (or everyone, more importantly) from this vantage point. Although this was just a school production, every seat in the arena below was occupied. Mai caught sight of Priya's hair, tinted red in the light from the lanterns lining the flower path. Though the light was too dim to be certain, the person sitting bolt upright next to her had to be that Murni girl the brat had risked her life trying to get the attention of. 'Does that mean the Teng, Tuan, and the Xú have already become allies, or are those girls pretending to be friends while... wait, why do I care?'
"Whatever the rumors say," Chyou said as the lights lowered and the whispers of the audience ceased like they had all been struck dumb in the same instant, "Lady Sundari is one of those you can't really look away from. There are others, of course, but she is... exceptional."
"We'll see..." Mai muttered as red and yellow light flooded the stage...
A/N: Well, hi there - I'm still alive, apparently. And to celebrate, I'm offloading a crap-ton of new characters, cultural and historical allusions, and political and social intrigue on you all.
And now I'm going to disappear for another month. 8D