-Danger,Deceit-
Book 01.: Fire Nation
Chapter .06: SONGS
[There is a song to touch every heart.]
'Pretty standard fare,' Mai appraised as the concert wore on. Or, at least, she imagined it had to be; she had not been to an Institute cultural pageant since she had been a little girl. Chyou was her only relative of any consequence with connection to the school, and Mai's mother had been very good at finding excuses to turn down recital invitations (eventually, Chyou took the hint and stopped sending them). Even when Ozai had usurped the throne, and it might have been expected that Mai would be roped into royal obligations, somehow, Azula had wriggled out of it and saved her "friends" the trouble as well.
Her lack of cultural indoctrination notwithstanding, it only made sense to front-load the concert with musical ensembles, such as the one currently on stage, featuring twelve young women with various string instruments demonstrating variations on Dance of Spirits, an old folk tune. Watching people play instruments was boring, no matter how pretty the music might be. Watching people, especially attractive girls, dance around, throwing multi-colored fire, was not.
Unfortunately, the latter sort of exhibition invariably involved drums, which Mai hated, both because they gave her a headache and kept her awake. Speaking of which... Mai wrested herself from her state of half-doze as polite applause signaled the end of the twelve girls' ensemble.
Chyou leaned to her as the stage darkened, transitioning to the next act, the last one before the intermission. "I've heard about the Teng girl's talent, but I've never heard her myself. Since she's the only non-Institute student to merit a solo act, I imagine she's worth staying awake for, don't you think?"
"Maybe," Mai conceded, straightening in her chair. It was annoying, the way Chyou noticed things.
The stage lights went up, a subdued mix of blue and white, an impression of winter's cold. Lán stood center stage, while an older girl in plain white robes hung about near the backdrop, seated at a yangqin dulcimer. Mai could just imagine the scolding the little brat got behind the scenes before she went on. The sour expression on Lán's face informed everyone in the theater that this concert was a huge personal imposition, and the way she clutched her dizi flute made it look like she was of half a mind to fling it at the music master's head.
'Now that would be interesting,' Mai reflected. However, given how Priya had guilted the girl into good behavior (and saved her life from her own stupidity), it seemed unlikely to happen. 'Too bad...'
The music master raised her hand, and Lán raised the flute to her lips. She took a deep breath, eyes searching the crowd, seeking... finding...
The first throbbing notes of the flute, soft and mournful, evoked falling snow. The ethereal hum-drum of the yangqin dulcimer joined in, and suddenly, a chill breeze stirred the air, scattering flakes of snow. 'Cold, so cold, these northern winds... shall the sun ever be loosed, to free the orchid, sleeping, imprisoned in icy earth?' Mai started and sat up, shivering. Poetry. The little brat's playing actually made her think poetry! 'How the hell...?' She glanced aside at her aunt; Chyou watched Lán, one finger tucked under her chin, eyes shining, an artist appreciating another artist. Her uncle, who had adopted much the same posture as his niece throughout the night's performance, was sitting forward, enraptured by the blizzard the girl had conjured with her flute. It was... beautiful, terribly beautiful, and Mai shivered again. On and on, the storm raged, and the orchid yearned to be free...
And just like that, it ended. Oh, there might have been a lessening in the wind toward the last measure or so, but Mai was certainly left more with the impression of the terrifying grip of winter than the warmth that heralded the first budding orchid of spring, the whole point of the piece. She was hardly the only one; the applause that followed the long moments of silence after the last noted died away was hesitant, as though the patrons expected the girl to bring the song to its proper conclusion and were only just catching on that it was over. Lán, however, bowed perfunctorily and marched off the stage before the clapping reached ovation, prompted in no small part by Chyou getting to her feet and applauding with all her might.
"Well!" she exclaimed, dropping down into her seat and fanning herself with her program as the house lights went up for the intermission. "Well!"
"Chyou, please," Peizhi began, recognizing the ferocious glint in his sister-in-law's eye, "if the girl's family intended her to become a musician, they would have enrolled her in the Institute to begin with..."
"It's not impossible to arrange a transfer, with full credit!" Chyou interrupted in such a tone that Peizhi's mouth snapped shut and Mai scooted to the far edge of her seat. The theater below was emptying, the babble of conversations rising and falling like waves on a shore as people moved about. Much as Mai detested the idea of going out and mixing it up with the social class, she never felt safe around Chyou when her aunt was in a plotting mood; she had ended up here as a result of the last one, after all! "I think I'm going to have a little chat with Madame Singh. Mai, would you like to come along and say hello to your old teacher?"
"No, that's fine, you go ahead Aunty," Mai said as calmly as possible. "But you can tell her I said hello."
"All right, I'll pass along the message." As soon as her aunt left the box, Mai let out the breath she had been holding. Normally, Chyou would have found a way to coax (drag) her along, but since her aunt was intent on her newest scheme, she let her niece's anti-social behavior slip. 'I guess owe the little brat for this one.' She allowed herself a small, vicious smirk; if Lán could not deal with someone like Priya, Chyou was going to roll over her like a double-plated tank. 'Maybe I can grab some fire-flakes and sneak backstage in time...'
"By the way, Mai..." Peizhi glanced behind them to the closed door of the box, then moved into the chair Chyou had vacated. "You've probably guessed the real reason your aunt brought you here?" he asked at just above a whisper.
Mai nodded, unable to keep from frowning as her momentary good mood was spoiled.
"She's worried about you," her uncle explained, conciliatory but still stern. "She and I both want you to be happy, and if marrying that b... the Fire Lord is what will make you happy, then..."
"Uncle Peizhi, I know you feel responsible for me, but really, I can handle it myself," Mai interrupted, wishing she could just sink into her chair and disappear. Of all the people to happen upon her right after she had discovered Zuko's letter, it would have been her uncle. She could not even recall why he had showed up at her parents' house at all, but when he had seen the look on her face and the scroll in her hand, he had sat her down and subjected her to an interrogation that would have put the Inquisitor Unit of the Office of Reclamation, Restitution, and Retribution to shame. She had never been all that close to her father's older brother, even before Aunt Di'u died, but that night had marked a change. Uncle Peizhi had taken Zuko's letter as an unforgivable insult to his niece (and the Sun clan as a whole), and he, as her uncle and de facto guardian in her parents' absence, was essentially obligated to take that insult out on Zuko's hide. The way her uncle told her the story (a year later, once things had calmed down), throwing the future Fire Lord in the ice-box had only been the first step. Mai never told Zuko that he had been very lucky she had shown up when she did and thrown that stupid scroll at his stupid head, ensuring he would keep possession of it.
Though her uncle never said so, Mai was fairly certain he still disliked Zuko and doubted his worthiness for her.
Peizhi's forehead furrowed, less a sign of anger than of regret. "Mai, if it were as simple as you being with the boy you... have affection for," he said carefully, "then believe me when I say that I'd find some way to convince Chyou to let you go about it without her meddling."
Mai raised an eyebrow.
"Some way, somehow," he asserted wryly. "And Chyou wouldn't need much convincing, if things were that simple."
Mai sighed and rubbed her temples. "But because they're not, because Zuko's the Fire Lord, because I'm a noblewoman, because there are other clans just as strong as the Sun with daughters suitable for a royal marriage, and because the rules of society dictate that politics are more important than a person's feelings, you both have to help me, is that it?" Even to her own ears, she sounded like that little brat, Lán, whining about having to play her stupid flute. 'Still, it isn't fair! Even the Avatar can be with whoever he wants, without anyone interfering!'
"I knew you understood, even if you don't want to," Peizhi said. His gaze drifted out over the stage. "Our privilege as nobility obliges us to uphold the traditions and expectations of our class; without them, we'd be no better off than savages."
"Thank you, Uncle Peizhi, for your consideration," she said formally, bowing her head so she could safely roll her eyes. "I will keep your counsel in mind."
"Hm." He stood and looked at her, about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm going to the lobby," he said awkwardly. "Is there anything you want from the concession menu?"
"No, I'm all right. Thank you, though." As the door slid to, Mai slouched back her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and stared at the latticed frame of stage. Her right gauntlet creaked softly in protest to how tightly she pressed it against the left. 'Almost time to get it refitted again,' she thought, welcoming a mundane distraction to her current dark thoughts. No matter the care she took, wood and metal both were succumbing to age and wear. She had received them at her twelfth Summer Solstice Festival, from her mother, of all people. Even now, five years later, Mai shook her head in astonishment over it. After a whole year of demanding that her daughter give up her "unladylike obsession," her mother had placed the heavy rosewood box in Mai's wary hands. Her only response to Mai's excited gasp upon opening the case and seeing the gauntlets on their silk cushion had been a sniff and a muttered, "Well, there are just some things you don't fight against."
'Still don't know what she meant about that. I mean, the servants had already found almost all of the knives the White Lion-Dog gave me. Maybe she thought I had more she just couldn't find. Well, whatever.'
Speaking of white lion-dogs... Mai checked the program again, since there really was not anything else to do in the box (well, other than taking shots at that peony sigil carved into the frame above the stage, but Chyou would probably notice right off if she did). 'Should I really expect less from a girl who thinks she can marry the Fire Lord?' Mai thought, curling her lip. After a group ensemble dance, the next number was The Dragon Queen Assembles Her Troops, with Sundari in the lead role, naturally.
Based on The Tale of Lady Zai Qian, or The Golden Spear of the King Dragon Spirit from the "official history" of the Fire Nation, The Record of Foregone Deeds (little more than a glorified book of fairy-tales, as everyone knew), the dance was about the legendary Battle of the Sacred Crater, where Lady Zai Qian, the mythic founder of the ruling Fire Nation dynasty, and her allies, the Four Sacred Warriors, defeated the evil Tyrant Priest-King of the Sun Warriors and established what would become the capital city of the Fire Nation. More specifically, the piece was about the run-up to said battle, and was really an act from the much longer classical opera of the same name as the old story. The full opera was, in essence, an undisguised tribute to the virtue and legitimacy of the royal line, who claimed to be Zai Qian's direct descendants. Pure propaganda, but old enough to be considered traditional; the Institute itself housed the oldest known complete libretto and score of The Tale, transcribed over eight hundred years ago.
(However, the reference to the Priest-King, who, in legend and the opera, was a usurper as well as a tyrant, was probably why no troupe or school ever put on a performance of the opera during the eight years of Ozai's reign.)
Other than the actual battle piece, The Dragon Queen Assembles Her Troops was the most popular episode. Although it only featured five players, they were all supposed to be the best of the best, and each individual dance was meant to emphasize mastery of one of the Five Classical Styles of Fire Dance: Dancing Phoenix, Singing Dawn, Burning Lotus, Gentle Sword, and "Wild Torrent." According to Chyou, while the order of character introduction was set, there was no rule saying one character had to do a dance in any one particular style. It was a pretty safe bet, however, that Xuan Wu, the Snake-Tortoise of the North would do Gentle Sword; Sei Ru, the Blue Dragon-Deer of the East would do Singing Dawn; the Vermilion Bird of the South, Que Zu, was always a master of Dancing Phoenix.
When it came to the last two, Jishi Ku, the White Lion-Dog of the West, and Zai Qian herself, it was a little less certain. Given that "Wild Torrent," a waterbending-based dance form, had been declared "subversive" under Azulon (though Mai did not know why, since the Fire Nation had, in effect, conquered Southern Water Tribe and reduced the Northern Tribe to neutrality in his time), there were very few masters of it, and it had not appeared on any Fire Nation stage in at least fifty years. In the old days, "Wild Torrent" had been Zai Qian's, and Burning Lotus, a highly energetic style, belonged to the brash character of Jishi Ku. But since Burning Lotus was the most attention-grabbing of the approved dance styles, it tended to go to Zai Qian, whilst Jishi Ku often had to make do with one of the other styles, or risk being shown up (or worse, showing up Zai Qian).
As a child, listening to Chyou talk about the stories and dances, Mai had always thought that was unfair to Jishi Ku, whom she secretly liked because the White Lion-Dog had been the only one of the Four with any personality, who had once stood up to Zai Qian herself when she thought her queen had gone too far. And then there had been the time at Mai's eleventh Summer Solstice Festival, when she had actually met the White Lion-Dog herself...
'You mean, someone dressed like her,' Mai scolded herself for her momentary slip into childish fantasy. Whoever the stranger wearing the Jishi Ku mask had been, Mai would never forget her words, or her gift:
"Even if you have no fire or fangs, you can still have claws," she had said in Mai's ear, the bronze bells decorating her mane tinkling like wind chimes. No one seemed to notice, too busy looking up at the fireworks that lit up the night sky. Mai shied away, but not before a slim wallet of red leather, plain as could be, was pressed into her hand. She had opened it and discovered ten beautiful, crimson-enameled knives, each no longer than her palm.
"But be careful not to bare your claws unless you're certain you can strike true," Jishi Ku cautioned, raising a hand and, with a flick of her wrist, sending three similar knives into the trunk of a willow twenty paces to Mai's right without even turning her head. When Mai looked back to ask who and why, the Lion-Dog had disappeared. It took her months (and the loss of more than half her knives, both to her mother's searches and her own lack of skill) to send more than one knife at a time exactly where she wanted. And when, in eighteen months, she mastered the feat Jishi Ku had shown her, she eagerly looked for her at the next solstice, her thirteenth.
But Jishi Ku never reappeared.
'I suppose one visit in a lifetime from a warrior of legend is as much as a child should expect,' Mai told herself, annoyed that she still felt the gentle sting of disappointment after all this time. She only had one of the original knives left; it served as the model for the ones she inevitably lost over the years, though of course the ones she used now were longer and heavier. She supposed holding onto it was sentimental. It certainly was not because she hoped that it was some sort of talisman that would cause the Warrior to return. 'If she ever does show up again...'
The lights in the theater began to flicker; the concert would resume in a couple of minutes. Just as Mai began to wonder what was keeping her aunt and uncle, the door to the box slid open and Chyou, followed by Peizhi, entered.
"So, how did...?"
"I'm not giving up yet, I don't care what that girl says!" Chyou announced, the gleam in her eye dangerously bright and the set of her smile patently alarming. "That Tuan woman and the Xú girl can't be around her all the time, and Madam Singh can't pretend that she isn't the least bit interested in cultivating such a talent and think she can fool me!"
'She can if she's dealt with that pain in the ass for more than five minutes.' Mai decided it was up to Chyou to learn how obnoxious Lán could be.
"Looks like the show's about to start," Peizhi interjected, pointing out the obvious in a bid to distract Chyou from her fervor.
It worked, but only because the lights on the stage went up and Chyou instinctively reverted to a more peaceful spectator mode.
The ensemble dance went on far too long in Mai's opinion, and the accompanying flutist was hardly up to Lán's standard. She supposed it was impressive enough, that that many girls bended that much fire in that many colors in perfect synchronization, but then, so could a squad of well-drilled Fire Army soldiers, and their bending actually had a point besides looking pretty!
"Finally..." she muttered as the dancers fluttered off the stage like the flower petals or birds or whatever they were supposed to have personified.
The front half of the stage went dark, revealing that the backdrop of the dance had been a mere translucent curtain. Five shadows, the one in the center towering over the others, posed dramatically, backlit by an unsettling blood-red light.
*clack!*
A lantern flared to life, revealing a young woman crouched stage right, ghostly white from head to foot, her hair hidden beneath at veil much like Chyou's. Her eyes, outlined in red and black, stood out stark against her rice flour-whitened face. A delicate side drum was tucked against her left thigh, its skin pulled tight with the cords wrapped around the fingers of her left hand.
*clack!*
Like a scorpion-snake, her right hand struck the drum once more, the thick paper wrapped around her fingers bright red, drawing attention to them.
"Upon the shoulder of Mount Huo-kou are
arrayed the armies of the Dragon Queen," she sang, her high voice warbling and drawing out every word with great dramatic emphasis. The shrill plink-plank-plunk of plucked shamisen strings joined in from some player obscured behind the lattice stage frame.
'I hate narrators...' Mai thought, resisting the urge to plug her ears. The girl was singing above of her range, heaping indignity upon injury. Mai could only imagine what torture it was like for a professional like Chyou.
The curtain sailed up into the rafters, revealing the Four Sacred Warriors and Zai Qian, the Dragon Queen.
'Given that this is the school of the arts for the whole Fire Nation, of course their costumes would be top-notch, even for a charity concert.' Mai snorted as she got a good look of Zai Qian. All the legends spoke of her height, but was standing on a platform and hiding it with that ridiculous golden "dragon scale" cloak really as creative as Sundari could get? The spear in her right hand, decorated with a tuft of "dragon's mane," was only outdone in silliness by the ancient-styled helmet she wore, its outsized, articulated brim drooping nearly to her shoulders, its crowning horns surmounted by a plain bronze-colored disc, a very obvious allusion to the King Dragon Spirit, Huánglóng. 'I guess I should be impressed if she manages to take a step in that get-up without falling flat on her face.'
From the look on Sudari's white-painted face (or, at least what Mai could see of it between the winglike plates bowing out along her cheeks), she did not appear to have the slightest apprehension she could do that, and more.
*clack!*
"Below, in shadow, the warriors of
the Tyrant Priest-King gaze up in terror!"
Mai supposed she would be terrified, too, if her opponent were inflicting such a high-pitched assault on her eardrums.
*clack!*
"Xuan Wu, shield-bearer, the Black Snake-Tortoise,
from the North came she, holds forth now, proudly..."
"Ah, they went very traditional for this!" Chyou could not help remarking, touching Mai's hand as the dark-clad Xuan Wu dancer assumed center stage. Instead of a black band painted across her eyes, symbolizing Xuan Wu's blindness (the story went that the Tyrant Priest-King had burned Xuan Wu's eyes out in retaliation for refusing his advances), the dancer wore an actual blindfold. Her slow, gliding movements had to stem as much from her imposed sightlessness as the intentional choreography. The huge round shield slung on her back probably did not help matters.
"For thee, Zai Qian, steadfast be my shield
and fierce be my lash upon those who wield
for that usurper their devoted flame.
Retribution for stolen sight I claim!" Xuan Wu declared, not so much singing in a low alto as chanting. At least it did not stab the ears like the narrator's shrilling.
A large drum sounded from the rear of the stage. Xuan Wu's shield somehow went from her back to her left forearm in one sweeping gesture, revealing the white painted outlines of a snake-tortoise coiled around its center; a neat trick that garnered applause from the audience. A stream of white flame trickled from the fingers of her right hand as she slowly turned, the soft, steady beat of the drum opening the dance as a lute and zither joined in.
Xuan Wu's subdued, methodical dance was not meant to excite. Mai knew enough from observing Azula and Zuko that it was all about the long ribbon of flame, which the dancer manipulated as though it were a charmed serpent in her hand, coiling about her, then flicking out to strike at invisible enemies. The control required for such a feat was staggering.
*clack!*
Mai breathed out as the dance ended, Xuan Wu returning to her position at Zai Qian's left hand, the lash of fire dissipating. 'I wonder if Zuko ever considered taking up classical dance as a way to improve his firebending...'
"Next in turn, softly, speaketh now, the East's
serene Dragon-Deer, Sei Ru lamenting:"
Of all the Warriors, Sei Ru was Mai's least favorite, mainly because she was considered the model of the "virtuous noblewoman": quiet and retiring to the point of inert, concerned only for her clan, and loyal unto death to her leader. She was also supposed to have been a master archer, such that the Yuu Yan claimed her as their honored ancestor. But of course the Academy never paid much attention to that latter aspect.
Sei Ru, short horns and pointed ears affixed to her conical blue cap, pranced to the center of the stage, bowing deferentially to Zai Qian and the audience. Unlike Xuan Wu's plain black garb , Sei Ru's costume glittered with glass scales, sewn over the rich blue silk of her tunic and leggings, modeled on the Yuu Yan uniform. Even the design painted on her face evoked the elite warrior group, although Mai doubted any of them would be caught dead holding the stylized shortbow in her hands.
An erhu spoke up.
"Lo, the spirits of my children cry out," Sei Ru sang, sweet and delicate as birdsong,
"'Deliver the unjust, with fire put to rout
he, who hath virtue lost and outrage wrought.'
For them, Zai Qian, I plead: falter not!"
'And the reason she couldn't be the narrator was because...?' Mai wondered as Sei Ru danced about, bending "arrows" of yellow-tinged indigo fire to loose from her plaything of a bow. The girl had obviously been chosen for her singing voice, not necessarily her dancing ability, which was passable.
*clack!*
*Toom-TOM-TOOM!*
The sudden thunder of the large drum caused Mai to start. Sei Ru's dance had lulled her into a false sense of security.
"Now sound the war-drums; forth the Scarlet Bird:
Que Zu of the South. And thus she declaims," shrieked the narrator to be heard over the drums.
With a clash of cymbals, Que Zu advanced.
"From our nights' mourning, from our days of grief,
from misery borne by all without surcease,
our deliverance, Zai Qian. Rise now,
southern brethren, fulfill our solemn vow!" trilled the brilliantly plumed Que Zu, gesturing with her twin daggers, spinning them by the red streamers attached to their hilts until wheels of fire blazed and swirled around her. Dancing Phoenix style was all about flash and acrobatics; Ty Lee had once wistfully mentioned that, had she been born a firebender, she would have loved to learn it. Watching Que Zu cavort about, her vermilion sleeves flashing with gold-embroidered "feathers," Mai considered that, even without bending, Ty Lee would have made the better bird. 'I wish she were here to see this,' she found herself thinking. How many months had it been since Ty Lee's last letter?
*clack!*
The throaty moan of a shell trumpet shuddered the sudden silence that befell the drums.
"As the horns call out, the White Lion-Dog
of the West stands forth: Jishi Ku shall speak."
Mai leaned forward in her chair.
The bronze bells around her ankles jangling, Jishi Ku strode to her place, every movement confident to the point of arrogance. She reminded Mai of Toph, and not just because she was barefoot or the shortest of the group: Jishi Ku looked the type to brawl with anyone willing, no matter their rank or strength. Her wild, white mane ought to have been ridiculous, but it looked a part of her, like the dancer was indeed mothered by a lion-dog.
From somewhere in her mane, Jishi Ku drew her sun-and-moon swords and stamped her foot, thrusting one above her head and leveling the other at the audience, as though they were the army of the Tyrant Priest-King. The black lines scrawling across her face made her scowl all the more fierce.
*Toom-TOM-TOOM!*
*clack!*
"By the King Dragon Spirit bestowed fang and mane,
to thee, Zai Qian, do I pledge the same," Jishi Ku shouted, stamping her foot again.
"I, the last, the last of my murdered clan,
shall see justice returned to this island!"
The noise from the drums and cymbals was deafening, but Mai hardly noticed. This was what true Burning Lotus looked like: Jishi Ku, running wild! Red, white, and orange fire, kicked up from her feet, swirled around her, dancing around the crescent blade at the hilt, streaming around the hooked blade at the end until it seemed there were three wicked claws curving out from each weapon. Stamping, roaring, striking - Jishi Ku was working herself up into a frenzy, too eager for the battle to start! She might even tear apart the stage!
*toom!*
Jishi Ku froze, arrested by the abrupt hush of the drums. Zai Qian had silenced them with a thump of her spear's foot on the ground.
*clack!*
Nock arrow to bow and stretch sinew tight!" the narrator sang a trifle shakily, as though trying to recover from the savagery of Jishi Ku's dance.
"Cast earth upon your hands and take your shield,
spear, and dagger all. Call upon the fire
that within all virtuous warriors
dwell! At last, Zai Qian, Dragon Queen, speaks:"
The dragon-scale cloak dropped from Sundari's shoulders. 'Wait, she was standing on those the whole time?' Mai thought as more than a few gasps of surprise from the audience greeted the sight.
Strapped to Sundari's feet were a pair of peasant sandals, bits of wood worn to stride through and above the muck of a flooded rice paddy. But no peasant wore such tall sandals, not if there was only a single "tooth" to balance on! Seeing her standing on stilts like that should have made Mai laugh, but...
Moving like a lotus floating across the face of a garden pond, Zai Qian advanced to Jishi Ku, her left hand outstretched.
"The east burns red beneath Agni's fierce eye,
lit with the promise of battle's approach," she sang, the softness of her voice a jarring counterpoint to the storm and fury just before. Her range was not impressive, not after Sei Ru's performance, but it carried well enough.
"Oh, Warriors, my sisters by
plea and pledge, shared sorrow and oath:
Hear what I would ask of thee, beg of thee!"
Zai Qian and Jishi Ku stared at each other, and for a moment, Mai wondered if the frenzied Jishi Ku would strike at her queen.
All of sudden, the Warrior's shoulders drooped, her head bowing. The audience sighed in relief. Zai Qian smiled and touched her shoulder, serene in her trust of her comrade. Jishi Ku moved back to join the others, ceding the stage to Zai Qian.
The shamisen and erhu sang out. Without preamble, Sundari raised her left foot high and tucked the spear, point down, behind her, balancing only on the thin plank of wood strapped to her right foot.
"Dancing Phoenix?" Mai heard Chyou mutter, puzzled.
"With wounded hearts, yet steady flame,
With unbowed spirit and firm hand," Sundari sang, tracing the air, white flame trailing from her fingers in ghostly echo of Xuan Wu's Gentle Sword,
"We five, for our people, shall claim
this day: Justice, right, from wronged land,
And with dragon's might, cast down yon tyrant!"
The last word, shouted, was the cue for the drums to start up again. Sundari brought her foot down, leapt and whirled, twirling the spear above her head; if Mai did not know better, she would have said that move looked more like something Jishi Ku would do than any Dancing Phoenix. A ribbon of fire snaked along the length of the spear, and Sundari paused, crouching, watching it grow with Sei Ru's attentiveness. The snake of fire blossomed and the dance assumed Que Zu's flashy agility, the spear spinning a huge blazing wheel of red-gold above her horned helmet.
And then the dance changed all together, flames of all colors swirling around Sundari, frightening and lovely, a whirlpool of fire. 'Is this "Wild Torrent"?' Mai wondered, leaning against the railing of the balcony.
In the midst of the maelstrom, Zai Qian sang out:
"Yet, not for vengeance desired
beside me stand, oh Warriors,
lest our hearts in hatred be mired,
lest we become what we forswore,
should anger feed our fire and we become our foe!"
The flames faded and Zai Qian stood alone, her face raised as if to the sky, contemplating the Heavens. Though, from Mai's vantage point, Sundari was looking right at the Fire Lord's box, and spoke to the one who should be there:
"For more noble, pure, our undertaking:
a Lord, wise and kind, free of vice or hate,
honored, only virtue in peace seeking;
in him will I place my trust and fate."
'What?'
"I see she lives up to her reputation for spontaneous verse," Chyou assessed as the drums thundered once more and Zai Qian led her Warriors in a charge down the flower path, ending the performance.
"I doubt any of it was 'spontaneous'!" Mai seethed, a resounding ovation enveloping the theater as the lights dimmed again. "How could they let her get away with that?"
"She's that good," was Chyou's simple answer.
Scowling, Mai sat bolt upright in her chair. All that remained of the concert was Sundari's solo, the Lament of Lady Zhaoji. A story so popular, it had been retold dozens of times, hundreds of different ways, by the lowest wandering acting troupe to the Royal Court Opera. A story so popular and so convoluted and contradictory that the existence of Lady Zhaoji itself would have been open for debate, if not for the very real collection of poems and compositions for the guzheng zither she had left behind twelve hundred years ago. "Songs of the Hidden North" was mandatory reading for any schoolchild in the Fire Nation, and an entire course at the Institute was devoted to studying it. Exhibiting The Lament before such a high-brow audience, in such an illustrious venue, whether in song, dance, or instrument, immediately advertised an artist's nobility and cultural propriety.
'How clever of her,' Mai thought bitterly as blue-shaded lanterns flickered to life, casting the stage and the flower path in cold, gloomy light.
From the stage, a guzheng zither strummed the opening chords of the dance.
"My dwelling is this land of frost and snow," sang a sweet soprano Mai instantly recognized as the voice of the girl who preformed as Sei Ru, "But the South winds bring me summer once more."
A white lantern lit up the end of the flower path just under the box. Mai instinctively leaned over to see what was going on.
A sigh rippled through the audience as Sundari stepped forward, no longer garbed as the fiercely proud Dragon Queen, but now as the Lady Zhaoji, the stolen noblewoman, the forced bride of a Northern Water Tribe warlord. Her flowing robes, dark blue silk trimmed in white fluff (a stand-in for fur), covered her from throat to foot. Even Mai had to admit that the transformation was complete; Sundari might as well have been another person all together, just from the way she held herself, tragically beautiful in defeat.
"They whisper of my homeland, far distant,
A song of seven years passed, years stolen."
Lady Zhaoji glided down the flower path to the stage and posed again, head tilted against the back of her hand as she looked out over the audience, eyes shimmering. 'Wonder what she used to get them to water like that?' Then again, Sundari was probably one of those actresses who could cry on cue. 'Baaaaaaarf...'
"Memories stirred, I think of my belov'd,
Whilst I draw a long sigh of deep sorrow.
Am I yet a woman of the South Land?
The Fire within me darkens each winter."
The zither strummed, rippling chords over and over, invoking cascading water. Lady Zhaoji began to dance. Mai was fairly certain it was Dancing Phoenix style, but every motion was so slow, so dispirited, and the fire she conjured so faint, that it made her uncomfortable to watch. Firebending was supposed to be bright, intimidating, hot, passionate; could someone beaten down like that still firebend? For some reason, Mai was reminded of Zuko telling her of the time he had lost the ability to firebend, right after Aang accepted him as his sifu...
"A song of seven stolen years, and yet,
There are days when I forget my misery.
In my daughter's smile, in my son's embrace,
A warmth, not of the Sun, grows within me.
Memories fading, my thoughts turn to him,
my heart wavers, and I espouse the Moon.
Am I yet a woman of the South Land?
The Fire within me darkens each winter."
The dance became erratic, no fire now. Lady Zhaoji's turmoil, her loyalty to her homeland and her first love warring with her acceptance of her life, her growing feelings for the man who had stolen her and the family she had made with him, built toward the fateful climax...
"But the South winds bring me summer once more,
And bear the mist, rising from the dark sea.
If crimson sails are hidden in the cloud,
will the bright Fire rekindle in my heart?
Or would I hide my face and shrink away,
no longer a woman of the South Land?
Oh, Winds of the South, who bring me summer,
The Fire within me darkens each winter,
If I should break with this pathetic life,
would my spirit join with yours and be free?"
Lady Zhaoji lunged for the edge of the stage, as though it were the edge of a cliff (for a moment, Mai thought Sundari had mis-stepped and would actually fall into the first row of seats).
But at that moment, a horn called out. Lady Zhaoji reeled back from the brink, her eyes wide and confused, terrified and hopeful.
"Upon the horizon, the dragon sings
the song of War, flying fast to the North,
See! the red Zhurong banner, my belov'd,
Lashing at the too-slow winds that bear him!"
Cymbals clashed and drums boomed, the blue light swallowed up by the fierce red glow of oncoming battle.
"Upon the shore, war-drums roar their answer,
and rise up, the North Tribe, seizing their spears!
And yet my heart turns and twists in the wind:
Water or Fire, or the embrace of Death?"
Lady Zhaoji tore at her hair, turning and leaping in agony, flames beginning to lick at the sleeves of her robe. Without warning, fire burst from her hands, swirling around her, growing brighter and stronger and hungrier, turning on her as though they had broken free of her control. And still she danced, bringing it to her, embracing the torrent...
"Ah!" Chyou grabbed Mai's arm so hard Mai leapt out of her chair. Her aunt did not seem to notice, though, unable to tear her eyes away from the burning orb that had swallowed Lady Zhaoji.
'Guess it's more dramatic than a simple quick-change,' Mai thought. 'Now, which color is she going to go with?' Red for the Fire Nation, blue for the Water Tribe, or white for suicide? It was not too hard to guess...
The fire-orb burst open and the theater gasped: Lady Zhaoji's tunic was blue, but her sleeves and pants were red.
'Whaaaaaaaaaaa...?'
"My heart cries out, that my lord fall in battle
Aid me, South Wind, that I may end this war!" Sundari declared, the last fragments of the orb fading blue and red around her.
The theater lights flared and went dark. The clapping, when it finally began, was scattered, nearly overwhelmed by mutters questioning the unorthodox conclusion of the dance. But then the audience seemed to realize just what exactly they had witnessed, and the applause (and a couple of outright cheers) crescendoed. The stage lit up once more, crowded by all the students who had performed, excepting one. Only when the spectators shouted Sundari's name did she step forward, wearing the Zai Qian dragon-scale cloak. The response was tremendous; Mai stuffed her fingers in her ears. The performers bowed, left the stage... came back, bowed again, left... Sundari returned, bowed... raised a salute to the boxes and Mai stormed out into the hall, slamming the door behind her.
The noise went on for a good five minutes, giving her plenty of time to collect herself. 'That little...!' How blatant could she be? Using Aunt Chyou's concert to make a political statement, to make it look like she actually supported Zuko's efforts to achieve peace with the other nations! 'Opportunistic bitch!' It was such a transparent bid to get into Zuko's good graces! Even if he had not witnessed it for himself, news of the shameless exhibition, every melodramatic detail of it, would reach Zuko before the sun rose tomorrow. After all, Sundari had danced in front of the best of the best of the Fire Nation, nobles of all factions, including those who, for one reason or another, supported the Fire Lord. And, of course, being being the daughter of the commander of Palace Guard, Zuko's bodyguard, there was no way her father would not find some way to bring it to his attention!
'So clever!' Mai sucked in a deep breath of air, forcing herself to calm down.
'Don't lie to yourself; you were impressed. She's good, she's very good. What's more, she's pretty, and the audience responded to her exactly the way she wanted them to. Talk about an ideal Fire Lady...'
'SHUT UP!'
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder and Mai nearly leapt out of her skin. "Shall we return home?" Chyou asked, brushing her fingers over Mai's cheek. Any minute now, the hallway would be filled with nobles, chattering about the concert.
"No, Aunty," Mai forced herself to say, "you have to be congratulated by everyone, you can't just leave before..."
"Nonsense. I've had enough of society for one night. Let's go."
Mai could not find it in herself to argue.
"Tomorrow, when you see Grandmother Sharanya..."
Mai paused in the midst of wiping away the last trace of makeup and looked over at her aunt.
"Wear these." Chyou held up Mai's left gauntlet.
Surprised, Mai could only scoff, "Right. And I'll be sure to wear my battle holsters as well. They might come in handy for the coup."
Chyou touched the tip of one of the bolts. "Hm... it would be an interesting afternoon, if you were to attempt such a thing."
Mai went to bed, not entirely certain her aunt had been joking...
A/N: So. Very. Many of these. ^^;
The Record of Foregone Deeds: I based the idea of a "history" of the Fire Nation and it's royal family on the Japanese Kojiki (alt. Furokotofumi) (古事記) - Records of Ancient Matters. It's a fascinating read, written in the Nara period (early 8th century) to systematize the basis of Shinto beliefs and (more importantly) to legitimize the claim of the Emperor to the throne by affirming his descent from the line of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu (天照). Three cheers for political propaganda!
The Four Sacred Warriors: I based these characters on the four mythological creatures of the four main Chinese constellations, with an Avatar-verse twist:
1. Azure Dragon of the East (青龍) - Blue Dragon-Deer Sei Ru ("dragon-deer" is actually a kirin [麒麟], because unicorns are awesome.)
2. Vermilion Bird of the South (朱雀) - Scarlet Bird Que Zu (the Vermilion bird should no be confused with the Chinese phoenix [鳳凰], which is associated with the Empress)
3. White Tiger of the West (白虎) - White Lion-Dog Jishi Ku (While the name is a reference to the Chinese shishi [石獅子], I took the Beast name and characteristics from the Japanese komainu [狛犬])
4. Black Tortoise of the North (玄武) - Black Snake-Tortoise Xuan Wu (Although the name is translated "Black Tortoise," the most common representation of the Beast is a snake-tortoise chimera)
King Dragon Spirit Huánglóng: A reference both to my previous Avatar-fic project, Tales of the Spirit World: The Fall of the Blue Spirit and the Imperial Chinese dragon (黃龍), the Yellow Dragon of the Center.
Lament of Lady Zhaoji: The story in this song is inspired by the story of Lady Cai Wenji (蔡文姬), in particular her collected works, Eighteen songs of a Nomad Flute (胡笳十八拍) and the painting Cai Wenji Returns to Her Homeland (文姬歸漢圖). Also, "the South Land" is the ancient Water Tribe name for the Fire Nation islands, and the "Zhurong clan" is the house of the dynasty currently ruling the Fire Nation.