Here we are again, hopefully fast enough to suit you all! Enjoy, and review :)
Chapter 23
The Gilded Life
"Takaneishigatu? I don't know her. Why would she send you here?" the old woman said glibly, and Katara stared, open-mouthed at someone who was so obviously enjoying the exchange. She knew that the old lady knew who had sent her- she'd said 'the librarian Tanaguso… uh, -sowanishi' the first time and watched her eyes light up with mirth and malice. This was just a waste of time, for Tui's sake, she'd tried to remember the damn name four times so far, and was nearing desperation.
"Look, the librarian sent me, I don't remember her name but it was really long and she was really short and I'm in a really big rush, so either take my gold and her recommendation or I'll go elsewhere," Katara said quickly, pulling a handful of coins out of her pocket- and then it was in the old woman's talons, then gone, hidden in some secret pocket. The woman smirked and patted her cheek condescendingly.
"Taka-san is my sister, and for some reason she always sends me the most hopeless women ever, really, sometimes without the means to pay. But you're fine, dear." The woman, who barely came up to her chin, suddenly grasped her arm and steered her inside the parlor. Katara braced herself for more ridiculousness such as on Ember Island, but to her relief, she was the only woman in the shop, and the only attendants were younger girls who smiled and greeted her by offering her a robe.
Her hands were buffed, nails trimmed and shined with emery paper and oil. She spent an entire hour in a milk bath to soften and lighten her skin, wrinkling her nose in distaste when one of the girls put a more potent mixture onto her face, wiping it off and giving her a mirror to see the gentle reflection. They gave her back her robe, and spent a few embarrassing minutes removing her body hair. Sumi-san tutted at her bruises and applied a cooling salve that felt amazing, but did little to lessen the vibrantly colored splotches. One of the girls poured Katara a cup of tea, and the warm drink wakened her and cleared her head.
Sumi-san grabbed one of her hands and inspected her palm, rubbing the heel of her hand for a moment. "You've got bruises and scars on every inch of you, but the hands of a woman. Which are you, dear? Warrior or wife?" She coughed a laugh out, and Katara smiled politely, looking down at her hands. She'd never really noticed it before, but she really did have healer's hands. Mother's hands, maybe.
She was undressed again and showered, her entire body scrubbed with a porous rock and smoothed over with crème. "Where are all these scars and calluses from? You're Water Tribe, I can tell, but I wasn't aware they were so… primitive as to send their women into combat." The dig was obvious, and she smothered a mental image of the old windbag sutured to her wall by a wave of ice. She could do better.
"Oh, they don't," Katara said with a cheery smile, "I was a prisoner at the Boiling Rock and had a habit of picking fights with the older women who asked too many questions." The woman paused in scrubbing her heel and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Katara wiggled her toes and shrugged innocently. "Don't worry. They rehabilitated me."
The visit went quickly after that.
She stepped out into the early afternoon sun wincing, her head aching from how hard they'd had to be with her hair. Inches of dead hair had been cut off and they had thinned it considerably, finding an embarrassing amount of twigs and dirt in her tangles despite the former baths. It had been so matted that it was a wonder she hadn't had to cut it all off. When they had finished restoring it, the woman, Sumi-san, had swept half her hair into an intricate topknot, and had braided small sections, pinning and draping them delicately, weighing some down with pristine white beads. The rest cascaded down her spine in silky waves, ending at the small of her back. An ivory bone hair-pick held the top knot in place, and a silvery-blue dragon wound his way around the end, carved to stand out from the slender pole.
Katara had dark kohl smudged along the base of her lashes on both her top eyelid and bottom, and it shocked her how much it changed her face. Her eyes seemed brighter, more luminous, and Sumi-san had stilled the touch of one of the younger assistants as she'd gone to brush rose powder on her cheeks. "She doesn't need more," she'd explained, then stood back with a critical eye. Katara had stood and turned in a slow circle at her command, and as a last touch, a small white crescent moon was painted on her shoulder, just to the left of her neck, and brushed with powder to make it stay.
Then, Sumi-san had told her, "Go to the dress shop two doors down and find Migumi. Tell her Sumi and Taka want her to use number forty-five, no exceptions or we'll have words over Sunday dinner," and sent her on her way with half the gold shoved back into her hands.
Katara knocked, then entered, and immediately sneezed, her eyes watering. Someone had scented the room with a delicious mix of orange blossom, lavender, and a sweet, enticing scent she couldn't place, and under normal conditions she'd be hooked. However, it was so overwhelmingly done that she feared the air quality- she could taste it.
"Don't you people know how to knock? Do you not have doors where you're from? Agni's thumb, the company we keep these days. On with you, I've no scraps for you." Katara drew herself up to her full height as the tiny grumbling woman emerged from behind the front desk, her eyes flashing.
"The Water Tribe isn't a tribe of beggars, and even if we were, I would rather die than-" she spat, but the woman's head snapped up, and piercing golden eyes met hers for a brief moment before the woman started cackling.
"Ah, Water Tribe, water- never mind, dear, it's those mud slingers I worry about- their woven linen is barely usable for animal blankets, much less their so-called finery- bah!" She snorted, then hopped off her stool, grabbed Katara in a way she'd become very familiar with, and carted her into the back rooms of her store. She was immediately hit by a wall of red and gold, with clashing oranges and yellows setting the walls afire and glittering beads flashing in the light. "Come on, let Migumi lead the way, pretty."
Katara was positioned in front of a huge mirror, facing her own nonplussed expression as Migumi dragged a stool over and climbed on top of it."Let me have a look at you," she demanded, and yanked Katara down into a crouch, to eye level. She was starting to feel trapped, and brought her hands up in a placating gesture.
"Look, I'm sure- well, pretty sure, at least, that you know what you're doing, but Sumi-san and Taka-san say 'number forty-five, no exceptions'." Migumi didn't look convinced, and Katara added, "Or you'll have words over Sunday dinner." The seamstress stilled, cocked her head slightly to the left and nodded, satisfied.
"I can see it," she commended, and then turned and walked away. Katara sat on the ground, unsure if she should follow, but the woman was back within the minute, a box the length of Katara's arm balanced on her head and her arms full of clasps, ties, and other things she couldn't stomach at the moment. It all looked so complicated- she considered running, but that perfume was making her already aching head pound, and she doubted she'd make it. These women seemed fearless.
"Take your clothes off and stand still," she ordered. Katara obliged, used to shucking her layers off by then. Migumi circled her for a moment, then knelt and opened the box, folding away sheets of paper and then lifting out something made of blue-grey fabric with a silvery sheen to it. Katara smiled when she saw it, her newly shaped fingernails shining as she trailed her hands over the glossy robe. "No one's ever worn this, because no one's ever seen it. I made it and stitched everything on it from a batch of cheap silk- cheap because of the color, not the quality, dear- and to this day, not one person's been worthy of it. The stitching is unparalleled- pity it's not a prettier color, or this would have sold for a high price."
She slung the robe around Katara, pulling at it until the collar sloped down and grazed her shoulder bones, showing off the moon at the joint of her shoulder and neck. The buttons at the front went straight down her chest, and there was a considerable inch of space between the buttons and the cords that fastened to them in which Katara's dark skin was visible, which tapered to a slim point just between her breasts. The robe was slit up to her hips on either side, and Migumi helped her into a white skirt which peeped through and gave the impression of whitecaps breaking along the waves. Embroidered from her heart, where a magnificent, shadowy head nestled upon her breast, to the hem of her skirt, where scaly talons and a fiery tail curled about her ankles, was an ancient dragon done in silver-grey thread, which shone with a muted light when the sun caught it through the window. The entire thing smoldered, rather than burned, and the sleeves billowed out and tapered in silk ribbon the same color as the dragon. She realized the legendary creature on her dress was identical to the one on her hair piece.
Katara gazed at the woman in the mirror, and for a moment, she imagined that she was royal in the way Zuko and Ursa were- regal without trying, power at their fingertips but the full weight of their decisions and their country resting heavily on their shoulders. She knew she could have done it, would have gladly done it. The Fire Nation would have been lucky to ally themselves with the Water Tribe, and though she held a special place in her heart for the ways of her childhood, she knew the Southern Tribe had to be growing, changing, modernizing. In another life, she just might have been Fire Lady, but those times had passed. Now, the only way she could get invited anywhere was to spring a trap.
She smiled at the thought, and Migumi grinned and nodded. "I can see it," she repeated, "You've got the right to wear this tonight. It seems to fit you well- I only need to pin it in a few places." She did just that, tucking a few pins into the back of the robe and lifting it to shape to Katara's waist and hips. With a few quick pulls, the fabric straightened into uniform ruffles, and the pins were hidden. "Perfect. What's this for?" she asked, and Katara hesitated.
"I'm going to a ball," she started, and the old woman nodded knowledgably and brushed a strand of Katara's hair off her shoulders.
"Lord Tenji's ball, no doubt. Everyone's been in a hurry today to prepare for it; normally he gives a week's notice. No one turns down an invitation though, so all of the Upper Ring has been in a dither today." Katara took in the information silently, wondering at the oddity of the situation. She knew it was suspicious- he suddenly has a ball for no reason, the day she gets back from a mission that was supposed to kill her and her daughter, and he invited her to come along? He had to be planning something.
"Thank you very much- this is all the gold I have left," Katara said, and Migumi eyed it.
"That's not near enough." She said it so shortly that Katara didn't know what to say at first. She was about to offer to work in the shop for a few days when the woman reached up, pinched her cheek and said, "Did Sumi-san give you hell about Takaguratawaniashita's name?" Katara nodded, her brow furrowed. Migumi shrugged, then smiled and said, "They've done it to practically everyone they've met since childhood. At least she didn't ask you to spell it out. Consider this a favor for all the trouble they've caused." Still, she clapped her wizened hands together happily when the waterbender dropped a few gold pieces on the desk anyways.
Katara thanked her again and went outside with a bundle of clothes under her arm, then went into a nearby alley and began to reorganize the knives she'd hidden. She came back out onto the street fully armed, realizing with a start that she didn't know where Lord Tenji's home was- the House of the Golden Lotus had to be in the Upper Ring, and she was halfway through the business district. The sun was already beginning to near the horizon, and the invitation had said arrive at eight. She began walking up the hill, towards the barrier between the Upper and Lower Rings. It was a tall, fearsome red wall with gilded globes atop the posts, and though there was no gate, the entry to the Upper Ring was so obviously selective that it was clearly invitation only.
The wall was still in sight when she stopped off in a small courtyard to check a sun dial. It was just after seven, and she could feel her strength begin to wane. Katara glanced around, saw a tea cart and walked over, smiling at the young man who was pushing it. He smiled back in a friendly way, bowing slightly when she approached. "What sort of teas are you selling?" she asked, and he took the lids off several canisters set into the cart's surface.
"This one is jasmine, good for relaxing thought and stimulation of the senses. The spice chai is a special blend, used to awaken you and loosen up your muscles and joints. The other is chamomile, good for if you're about to go to bed." Katara inhaled the fragrant mixture of spices, and something smelled familiar. She thought back to the tea from the salon, and knew she wanted one like it.
"Do you ever deliver tea into shops along these streets?" she asked, and he," nodded proudly.
"My father and I grow everything ourselves, and we sell dry tea leaves to some of the stores. Why, have you a specific flavor in mind?" She described the warm, spicy drink she'd had at Sumi-san's parlor, and he scratched the stubble on his chin, thinking. "Sounds like spice chai to me. Would you like that?" She agreed, and he poured tea, cream and sugar together in a cracked wooden cup and offered it to her. She exchanged a bronze coin for the cup and sipped it, acknowledging the familiar flavor with a content sigh.
He tipped his hat to her and began to roll his cart away, but Katara held her hand out and he stopped. "Do you know where I can find the House of the Golden Lotus?" she asked, and he shook his head with a wry smile.
"No, but I can help you hire someone to take you there, miss. I figured you were dressed up like that for some reason, though for all I know you dress grandly every day- beg pardon miss," he added respectfully, and Katara started, just now taking in the way he lowered his eyes and thinking what she must look like to him. She was poorer than he was, his clothes faultlessly clean and mended by a caring needle, her own daily costume ragged. She'd never been good at sewing, though Gran Gran had stressed it. Damn her younger self for not paying better attention. Still, it was good to know her disguise as a well-behaved society miss was sound.
She agreed to the help and thanked the vender, who then led her to a busier street with the lamps lit, and whistled until a younger boy led a rickshaw over. They bartered for a moment and Katara paid, then gave the tea man back his wooden bowl, along with a hefty tip. He grinned and thanked her by bowing, and gently helped her into the rickshaw, settling a fur over her lap to ward off the chill.
She stroked the fur to calm herself all throughout the bumpy ride up into the Upper Ring. The sun was over the horizon, and the warm breeze fanned over her face, strong enough to stir strands of her hair, but not enough to actually make her cold. She supposed these firebenders were too used to their own climate- she bet that the majority of them hadn't even seen snow before. Katara adjusted the knife tucked into a sheath on her thigh and repositioned her robe, then swept under her eyes to make sure her make-up wasn't running. Oh, the things a woman has to think of when going to a ball, she thought wryly.
"Here we are, miss, the House of the Golden Lotus," the rickshaw driver panted as he came to a stop, and Katara's jaw dropped. She'd seen this house many times when she'd lived in her ambassador's residence, and had admired it every time she passed on her walks. The front yard was a garden with small, twisted trees with red leaves and mossy rocks surrounding a pool. Colorful flowers crowded the edge of the pond, and a small waterfall trickled delicately from between a few bamboo shoots. Stairs led the way up to the front of the house, the double doors thrown open and people already milling about the covered verandah, leaning up against thick red pillars and wandering inside for more small glasses of whatever it was they were drinking. She knew these were the finest of Caldera, but the adults who flitted around, dressed so ridiculously in huge shoulder spikes and shimmering trains, looked like children playing dress up.
Katara stepped down from the rickshaw and straightened up, pulling an image of Ursa from her mind and copying the posture. She smiled at the driver and tipped him, then ascended the staircase. Some people looked over at her, and most continued to stare as she passed, their mouths dropping open, fans hastily snapping open so women could flutter their eyelashes at her prettily even as they poisoned her name with their lips. Her hands started shaking, and she could feel eyes turn to her as an ominous murmur started up all around her. Katara walked with her head held high into the foyer, where gold and red assaulted her eyes and the rug she stepped on at the entrance probably cost more than her entire apartment did for a year. Unfriendly gazes had her hackles up, and she was beginning to reconsider the intelligence of her plan. She made a beeline for the buffet table, not knowing what else to do.
"They all look rather stunned that you've showed up, don't you think?" she heard, and a man came up beside her on the right and refilled his glass from a punch bowl. He was dressed in a lovely orange traditional style robe, with fire lilies embroidered all around the base, loose petals thinning out as they drifted up the fabric. It was fastened by a dark blue sash around the middle, and all looked tremendously expensive. His eyes were bright and expressive, his hair peppered with grey and oiled back.
At her silence, he inclined his head and continued, "and to do so in such a fashion- late, unannounced, and dressed in the most exquisite of costumes- my dear Katara, you overshadow all those around you, and in that shadow, your lessers turn practically green with envy." As he'd spoken, Katara had watched the other people eye them apprehensively, and she'd drawn herself up to her full height, eyes narrowed coolly.
"Lord Tenji, I presume," she answered, and he nodded, a small smile still playing around the corners of his mouth. "You're an odd man," she mused aloud, her hands clenching into fists, "to invite the prey to come and dine with you when she has the means to become the predator with a single flick of her wrist." He agreed silently, then sipped his drink and put it down with precise, gentle movements.
"And what willing prey would I be, to be devoured by a hunter as beautiful as you," he complimented her. "However, my guests might be startled by an execution, so I must ask you to refrain for the moment." She barked out a laugh, shifting her weight restlessly.
"I'll refrain, but not because you're requesting it. It seems that you're not surprised I survived your attack, and you don't look too upset to see me. I can only assume you've called me here to spring a trap, and as such, that means I have a limited amount of time to get answers from you."
He sighed with the air of a lovesick teen and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Then ask, my dear," he said simply, and patted her hand before tugging her arm through his and leading her around the room in a steady walk. She glided next to him, organizing her thoughts, then spoke.
"Why did you invite me to this?" she asked. He gestured to the people around them, raising his eyebrows.
"This is a gathering of those who I respect and cherish. You are here to talk, laugh, drink and be merry." He stated it as if it was obvious, and the smile on his face told her he was the type to hide every answer within a maddening comment.
"So you respect me?" she asked, and he nodded once, very decisively. "Why?" she demanded, and he hushed her as a woman glanced over, her mouth drawn.
"Quietly, or people will suspect we're having a lover's tiff," he admonished her, then said, "I respect you because of the love you have for your daughter, and indeed all the people in this nation."
"Not all of them," she muttered, but he sailed on as if he hadn't heard her.
"You used to fascinate me, did you know that? The waterbender who survived, befriended kings and avatars and Agni knows who else. I followed the rise of Avatar Aang closely, and it seems that one person set all his doing into motion. One person kept him going when he was gone from himself. One person- one woman- trailed him to the ends of the earth and back, and that woman is you, Katara." He chuckled at her wrinkled nose. "Don't look so surprised, my dear. You used to walk about the Upper Ring as if you owned it, and rumor has it that you might've, if Lord Zuko had lived. I saw you from my porch, and was enamored at first sight."
"It's a little late to be confessing your love to me, Tenji," she said coldly, "you tried to have me killed remember?"
"Yes, I did, but let me-"
"You stole my daughter- an innocent little girl- and I went through hell to get her back safely. You destroy my home, my security, and you want me to listen to you explain yourself?" she asked incredulously, and he squeezed her wrist insistently.
"Lower your voice, madam, Lady Kitsunaka is in danger of straining her neck to look at you without looking at you," he murmured, then went on before she could cut in, "but let me say plainly that I have no explanation, and that in and of itself should be enough to answer all your questions."
"What does that even mean?" she asked in a furious whisper.
"It means, Lady Katara, that there are some things beyond my control, and that I did everything possible to preserve you and your daughter." She stared at him, open-mouthed, but gone was the collected, hospitable gentleman who greeted her, and in his place was a weary old man frantically looking over his shoulder. She watched his face melt into a mask of detached sympathy, and he turned his golden eyes on her. "Did you not think the captors rather… amateur? Did they not keep Lani asleep and treat her well? Those were my express orders, to not harm her- I don't like violence, especially when children are involved. You don't understand Caldera, my dear, but this city is exactly like the volcano which houses it- dormant and docile at first glance, a roiling hotbed of guilt and gilded lies at a closer look."
She opened her mouth to respond, but there was a sudden wave of disturbance in the room, and their conversation was cut short by the arrival of another late guest.
Katara felt Tenji's grip on her hand tighten, then slacken, and her own body felt suddenly weak and vulnerable. She understood all at once what he was saying, and the librarian's voice drifted through her mind like smoke following a fire.
"Tenji is a very important bastard with very powerful backings… a marionette on silver-leafed string…"
The puppet master- the true danger- had arrived, the Fire Lord's five-pronged flame ornament flashing amid coal-black hair, familiar golden eyes glinting just as hard, just as deceptively beautiful. She surveyed the room regally, then strode over to where they stood. Katara gazed into her eyes and lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to bow as Tenji did.
"Well, well, well," Azula breathed, staring hungrily at Katara's face, her mouth twitching up into her trademark smirk. "Aren't you enjoying the scene we've set for you, Katara?"
Aaaaaand the devil woman returns. What lies in store for Katara? Find out soon! Review in the meantime :)