Chapter 22: Clear as Water
Clear as water,
Clear as mud,
On ripples broken,
By spilt blood.
Shen Li’s map was unmistakeably rough - written by people who knew exactly what they were doing and were only grudgingly sketching down a reminder in the off-chance they forgot. But to Katara’s eyes, used to Sokka’s meanderings and lines livened by imagination, each scribble was as straight as an arrow pointing towards their target. Mai had to remind herself not to be impressed as she clung to the basilisk reins, her eyes slitted and ready for any obstacles while the waterbender dictated from behind.
“Erm... well, it says to head north-west here. So let’s go.”
Mai briefly stole a glance at the sheet held out in front of her, and then raised her head and tugged the basilisk into position. The brief look she’d had had only revealed once again the indecipherable mess of rough scribbles. It could barely be called a drawing, let alone a map. And she was fairly sure that she could have wrestled with it for half an hour and not been able to get anything remotely resembling a direction such as north-west.
At least the other girl was handy for something.
They kept moving, both of them quiet as the basilisk clawed the dirt beneath them. The curve in the river faded from view as they moved deeper into the forest, and Mai absentmindedly wondered whether that made the waterbender uncomfortable. She herself could fight without her knives and needles, but even then it was a little disconcerting, like opening a door with a different hand. She hadn’t seen much evidence that the other girl could do without her waterbending either - Ty Lee’s quick hands had shown that enough. She thinned her lips. She hoped that where they were going, Katara was still useful. That she wouldn’t get hurt again. Mai didn’t need to turn her head to see how pale the girl still was, and the whiteness made her uncomfortable. It just didn’t belong there, blossomed over tanned skin. It didn’t seem right. And neither did the weakness.
“Stop.”
The word was whispered close to her ear, and Mai started out of instinct, pulling the reins sharply back. The waterbender’s hand was pressing down lightly on her shoulder, her breath skimming past her skin. Mai hissed, feeling the need for quiet pressing down on her like a tonne of bricks. “What is it?”
The hand left her shoulder and pointed to the right. Mai’s eyes followed. There, just ahead of them, there was a small, unnaturally perfect open space littered with the rich remnants of charred wood. At the end of the glade encircling the remnants of what must have been a violent clearing of the forest, the base of one of the Weiji mountains rose. About four meters from the ground, a ledge jutted out over the large fissure of a cave in the rock. Around them, the woods were still. Unnaturally still.
Carefully, she turned her head. But Katara looked straight past her, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
“We’re here.”
8 8 8
Pauzon creaked as he walked back to the inn, feeling his age melt down from his skin and sticky his bones. Sweet Lady, it hurt to move. Only three hours ago, he’d still been on the road, pushing his body through the last stretch of what had been a journey five times more arduous than his wizened body could take. And now...
The old farmer sighed. Now he was in his nation’s capitol, the gem of the Fire Nation, and he wished he could be home again.
Pauzon shifted his weight, grunted at the ache in his knees, and turned left. At least my memory hasn’t deserted me, he thought wryly. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his uncanny sense of direction, he knew that he would have long ago gotten lost in the bustle and busyness of the market streets. Of course, if it hadn’t been for his stubbornness, suspicion, and pride, he wouldn’t have had to remember. Pauzon felt another bone creak and began to distinctly regret turning down the Fire Lord’s offer of an escort back. After all, if he’d accepted, then he wouldn’t have had to walk or even think as he dozed off in a small palanquin.
Then again, if he’d accepted, he would have accepted something from the traitor Prince. And despite his surprise at the way the boy had carried himself, had acted... he was not ready to take such a decisive step yet.
Not even to avoid this. Pauzon’s lips thinned beneath his beard as he stood straighter, tried to look a little more imposing and unapproachable as the wide streets paved with stones and hawker shops gave way to twining roads and alleys that snaked towards the outer edge of the city. It was a sharp contrast to the gaudy displays of affluence he’d seen in the palace and noble district. Here, the very air seemed darker, and the houses leaned against each other warily for support. A born and bred countryman, he knew he should have felt more comfortable as the throng of people thinned out around him to just one or two passers-by, but instead he felt more on edge. There was something a little off as he got further away from the palace. No one felt the need for forced smiles in this corner, and so his eyes flicked across faces filled with uncertainty and distrust. Pauzon quickened his pace as much as he could, but he knew he had no chance of escaping the almost oppressive belligerence that seemed to douse the place. The people here were itching, clawing, and he wasn’t sure how to respond.
It didn’t matter - they did it for him. Pauzon drew himself up startled when a stranger brushed passed him heavily. For a second, there eyes met hard, and then the man stopped and stepped to the side like a circling shark.
“You. You’re with the refugees, aren’t you?”
There was a thinly veiled hostility in that voice, and the old farmer paused before answering. “Yes. Why?”
The curt reply seemed to take the man aback for a moment, and then he was back on the offensive. “Where and for who do our country brothers stand?” he demanded abruptly.
There would have been a time where such a bizarrely worded question would have gone over his head. But that time had changed. Pauzon narrowed his gaze and stared hard at the other man for a moment. Whatever he said, the hard lines of aggression that defined the other’s jaw and cheeks might lead to a nasty end. And yet, if he delayed for too much longer...
Pauzon set his shoulders. “We stand for the Fire Nation, brother,” he said neutrally. “And you?”
For a moment, he wondered whether even his carefully worded reply has been the wrong choice. The man’s face twisted up almost comically, and then he let loose a laugh that sounded more like a bark and clapped the old farmer on the back. Pauzon felt his bones protest under the blow and winced.
“Good man! So do we, brother. So do we,” the corners of his mouth lifted up in a hate-filled grin. “The traitor prince will never know what hit him when the time comes.”
Pauzon was too world-weary and conflicted himself to be startled. “We?” he asked mildly.
The man gestured expansively in a crescent. “All of us. Or at least, most of us,” he snorted contemptuously. “There are those who put too much in the divine ascendancy, royal blood, and pretty words. But the rest of us have kept our heads. No true Fire Nation man or woman can stand having an honourless traitor on the throne.”
The old farmer creased his brow. Despite his own feelings as to traitors, his own traditionalist belief in bloodlines and his meeting with a young, blue-eyed girl left him wavering on the question of outright rebellion. Not to mention that he was getting too old for this. They’d just spent most of the last week fleeing one conflict. He didn’t want to run into another. “There is a plan, then?” he asked carefully. “Will the crown be taken by force?”
For the first time, the stranger’s face fell. “Ach, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell these days. Sure there are your drunken ramblings in the taverns. But if there’s any real plan, they’ve kept it under wraps.” A thought seemed to occur to him, and he brightened. “Still, that doesn’t mean the traitor prince is safe. All it takes is a wrong move, a slip-up.... if it’s big enough, important enough, then the entire city’ll be up in arms. We’re a time-bomb right now, brother. A sitting time-bomb. If you wanted in on the action, it’s a good time to be in the capitol now.”
Pauzon felt his heart descend down to his stomach. “I see.”
He was rewarded by another clap on the shoulder. “Good man. It’s good to see that underneath it all, us city and country folk are still true Fire Nation. Heh. Gives me hope, it does.”
Pauzon nodded once, and then they turned away, each going in the opposite direction, one with a little more bounce in his step, the other feeling tired and shaken. Now that he thought about it, the city did seem on edge. He’d put it down to himself feeling uncomfortable at first - it had been thirty-seven years since he’d last set foot in the city after all. But now...
Pauzon sighed again, and rounded the last corner to the inn they’d been shown to. It was a sad affair - a little broken down, a little apologetic, a little old. If he’d been forced to, he would have grudgingly admitted that it had at least seen better days than Nioka’s establishment, and yet it had none of the country air or warmth seeped into its wooden bones. In Pauzon’s mind, the latter was far more important, and so he looked at the larger, newer building with such distaste that he was oblivious to the graffiti scattering the walls of the alley, decrying the youth he’d met with less than an hour ago.
The inn door opened to a medium-sized reception area, a drably carpeted place that nonetheless seemed warmer than the stony street he’d just left. Pauzon breathed, inhaling the faint fragrance of old incense and smoke, and stepped in. Besides the main table the innkeepers waited behind, there was a small shrine to Agni in the corner of the room. He imagined that it would have been almost peaceful if it hadn’t been for the thirteen refugees who hadn’t been settled in yet.
Pauzon joined the line with another sigh, quickly followed by an impressive yawn, and then looked around. To the right of the reception area, opposite the shrine, he saw a larger room where more of his fellow villagers milled around. A small boy with an exquisite topknot crouched on his haunches in front of a toddler, solemnly making faces. His mother stood to the side conversing with some of the other village women, but when she met the old farmer’s eyes she quickly excused herself and made her way over.
“Pauzon! What took you so long?”
“It’s a long walk, Nioka. Not to mention I had to wait a little while to get an audience with the Court. Is everything all right here?”
She nodded in the affirmative, took his arm, and drew him out of the line. “I’ve signed you in already. There’s quite a few rooms here, but I thought you might be more comfortable if you stayed with us. Lee and I can look after you easier then.”
For the first time in three hours, Pauzon smiled warmly. “Aye, thanks Nioka. You’re a good woman.”
The village innkeeper chuckled. “I’m a curious woman,” she replied bluntly as they made their way slowly up the stairs. “What happened? Did you get to see the Fire Lord? What’s he like?”
Pauzon felt trouble clutch at his chest, and he knew that it overshadowed his face when Nioka’s look of anticipation turned to apprehension. “Hmm, hmm. Well, truth be told, it wasn’t like what I expected. At all.”
Even through his own worry, he almost chuckled as Nioka bit her questions back impatiently. Deciding to spare her, he elaborated. “For one, as soon as I walked into the hall the Fire Lord offered me a seat and some water. I hate to say it, but that was the best water I’ve ever drank, I was so thirsty. It was... surprising, to say the least. There he was, a little bit of a youth on that great big throne with the fire surrounding him. And he offered me a drink.”
“Hmmph,” Nioka pursed her lips. “That just shows he still has some manners.” Her look turned reflective as her imagination took over and the ramifications of the event sank in. “Then again, I would’ve thought it rare that the royal types deigned to notice or even care about us commoners’ needs. And they do say that manners make the man.”
Pauzon snorted. “I’m not willing to judge that quite yet. But I have to say, compared to the court he was... different.”
“How?”
The shadowed lines on the old farmer’s face deepened. “None of them, at least not the ones who were talking, believed me about the Lady. About the Painted Spirit. In fact, three of them almost outright called me a liar.”
Nioka sucked in her breath sharply through her teeth. “A liar?! Who were they? I’ll show them liar - we all will! We all saw her clear as day, and then when Lee recognised her, well, I... wait. Did you tell them she was the Avatar’s Waterbender? The Lady?”
Pauzon frowned. “Not all of them. Not after they accused me like that. It didn’t seem right, somehow. No, I told the Lord himself.”
Nioka seemed to consider this, and then sighed. “Well, at least someone knows,” she shook her head. “Who would have thought? I was so happy when I heard the prince was at least keeping his father’s old Ministers and Advisors - I thought they’d be our last chance at keeping the Fire Nation safe and great.”
“So did I,” Pauzon’s frown grew deeper. “But I’m afraid that if I’m not ready to judge the young Lord, I’m at least ready to make some conclusions about his Ministers. I’m worried, Nioka. I’ve heard some uncomfortable news about the city’s stability. The Court needs someone level-headed and willing to listen right now. Someone who can speak up for the people, not just for the Ministers’ pockets and egos.”
Nioka nodded, clicking her tongue in agreement. “Someone to speak up for us too,” she added. “We’re just the first, Pauzon, you know that. Every survivor from every village from the West side of the Weiji Province to the East will soon be flooding this city, and things may get hairy. We need someone too.”
Pauzon inclined his head in acknowledgement, but said nothing, and the silent question hung between them. But who? After all, it’d have to be someone special. Not just any villager or refugee - such commoners would never be allowed inside the inner workings of the Court. No. Pauzon’s brow furrowed as he thought. Someone different. Someone new. Someone who was on the outside enough to be able to look in, but who also had enough of a foothold in the hierarchy to wield real power.
Ah, but what was he thinking? There was no such person like that. The old farmer shook his head, sighed, and walked the last few paces to the old door that opened up to their room. But even as consciously, he gave up the searching, somewhere within him a ghostly thought formed, and then coalesced into an image.
Strangely enough, the face had blue eyes.
8 8 8
Zuko’s face was completely and utterly blank as he walked into his study. Across from him, sunbeams arced lazily through the window, sending shafts of gold across his stacked desk. He settled down in his chair without really feeling it beneath him, and scanned his table without seeing. There was a new scroll there, one he didn’t recognise, and it took him a minute or so to pick it up and begin to work on the seal.
Blindly, Zuko’s fingers scrabbled at the melted wax, managing to scrape off the image of an unfolded white lotus before he managed to unseal it. The task jerked his mind back to the present and to his body. Blinking, he put the scroll down and took a deep breath.
I am Zuko.
It was amazing how much power the simple affirmation had. He breathed again, feeling his pulse slow.
I am Fire Lord Zuko.
That thought wasn’t as calming, but it and the weight of the responsibility also felt right. Zuko breathed again.
I am Fire Lord Zuko, sitting in my study.
At long last, his skin felt a little less clammy, his heartbeat more regular. For a moment, he felt the urge to let his eyes slide shut, to let calm wash over him...
And somewhere in my country, Katara is fighting a one-woman battle against an army of Firebenders.
And his eyes snapped open again, his blood pressure shot up, and he pounded his open palm down with such force that he was surprised nothing set alight. What he did manage to do, however, was upset several stacks of paperwork and send his newest scroll flying off the table. Zuko muttered a curse as items from his desk clanged to the floor obnoxiously, the sound only overlaid by the light fluttering of the paper as it descended through the air. The drag of paper against wind gave him just enough time to snatch it back, and it unfurled in his grip like a request.
Blinking, Zuko tried to focus on the characters. When a few seconds went by before the blur dissipated, he muttered another curse and squeezed his eyes shut. No. He’d made this decision a long time ago. He was not going to get distracted by external worries when he was dealing with the state. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day for him to waste. Gritting his teeth, he focused again on the scroll with determination, and was rewarded with Iroh’s strokes swimming finally into focus.
To Zuko,
I hope this letter finds you well, because I’m afraid I have some news. I won’t be returning to the Fire Nation as soon as I’d hoped.
Zuko’s heart sunk into his stomach. He’d had a feeling this would happen. Perhaps it was just the way that little seemed to be going right lately. Or perhaps that ‘more upbeat attitude’ Aang had talked about had vanished along with his friends.
He felt so alone.
The Avatar and young Miss Bei Fong have taken a short trip to the Eastern Air Temple. I have given them three days, which means I will likely be seeing you in about a fortnight.
A fortnight. It sounded short, but now that it was actually there in numerical terms, Zuko was surprised at how long it felt and was. Agni, a day was a year in the world of politics - the amount of change could be both healing and catastrophic. A day was a year, and so two weeks...
Be well, nephew. And enjoy the calming tea.
- Iroh
Zuko settled the paper on his desk, brought the two new sachets of tea up to his nose, and inhaled. The fragrance itself was cleansing, familiar, and for a moment he fel that if he only closed his eyes his uncle would be there beside him, ready with his hearty chuckle and obscure words of wisdom.
But of course, that wasn’t going to happen. Zuko carefully put the sachets down and reached for the cold teapot by the side of his desk. He’d just started to screw the lid off, however, when there was a quick knock at the door.
It was frightening how he knew who it was. Just by the knock. They hadn’t yet decided on a prearranged signal, but somehow Zuko just knew. He leapt to his feet instantly and opened the door.
“Shen Li!”
The instant he saw him, the lethargy flew. Finally, something he could do properly. Something important, for his country. Something real. Zuko almost smiled as he stepped aside and let the guard captain in, closing the door behind him with anticipation. Less than a second passed after the lock clicked, he strode forwards excitedly. “Well, what happened?”
Shen Li blinked at him with tired eyes, and inclined his head. “My Lord,” he said belatedly, like he was waking out of a stupor. Zuko started as he finally noticed the bruised eyes, the slightly swaying legs, and the sheer exhaustion on the man’s face. Quickly, he swung his chair underneath Shen Li’s buckling legs, and the guard captain sank into it gratefully and wet his lips.
Almost automatically, Zuko reached for an empty cup and the teapot. Shen Li downed the cold tea with a gulp, not even caring that the leaves followed the water on the way down. The drink seemed to shake him, and for the first time since he’d come in, he focused on Zuko’s face.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Zuko said dismissively, walking around to lean against his desk and face the other youth. Now that Shen Li’s more immediate needs had been tended to, he could get some answers. “Do you have news? How did the mission go? And...” for the first time, the semi-emptiness of the room struck him. “Where’s Mai?”
Shen Li put up a tired hand. “Slow down, Fire Lord,” he smiled weakly, and Zuko was not so excited that he didn’t notice the dullness in the other’s eyes. Instantly, elation turned into worry. Another thing he had missed, and its ramifications struck him. What could have gone wrong?
“Shen Li,” he asked cautiously, “ Are you all right?”
The guard captain stiffened, and then with a barely discernible effort, turned the dullness into neutrality. “Sorry, my Lord. I’m just tired. And wondering where to start.”
Zuko folded his arms loosely across his chest, gravity now colouring his mood. There was no smile, not even a trace of it on the other’s lips, and given his time with the other youth, that fact was disturbing. He quelled down the instant urge to panic. “The beginning is always good.”
The corner of Shen Li’s mouth lifted in a listless smile. For some reason, that scared Zuko more than if he’d just remained sober. “That it is,” the guard captain agreed, and then breathed deeply. “All right then.”
And so he told him. Told everything of objective importance to a captive, silent audience until he reached the part where Mai fell. And Zuko sucked in a heady breath. “What?!”
Shen Li put up his hand again. “It’s all right, Fire Lord. She’s alive. Just let me keep going.”
Zuko worked his jaw convulsively, ready to open it again and demand instant answers. But as he did, his eyes brushed past Shen Li’s darkened ones again, and he subsided. She’s alive, he repeated to himself. Alive, and it only took a few seconds for him to nod again to Shen Li to continue.
And he did, and the Fire Lord listened; a sinking feeling slowly drawing all the hope away from his gut. So. They’d been right. Instinctively, he took a quick glance at the map on the floor, the blood-coloured soldiers still clumped together in the West of the island.
Agni.
“... then we pulled Lady Katara out of the river and went back to their...”
Zuko didn’t know how far his mind had drifted into images of rebel soldiers coloured with blood, but then the name brought him rushing back to reality. “Katara! You found with Katara?”
Shen Li looked up at him, faintly surprised. “Well, I found Lady Katara with Lady Mai after she’d been hurt at one of the village attacks. It wasn’t mortal though. It probably would have been, if she hadn’t healed herself, but as it is, she only suffered blood loss. I left her with Lady Mai, safe. I expect she will be fine...”
Shen Li’s words kept going - neutral and evenly paced like a soldier’s report. But to Zuko, it felt like every syllable was an empty echo in his ears. Katara. Hurt. Mortal. Blood loss. His hands flew down to the desk to support him as he stared at the guard captain in horror. As if that look were enough to change everything, Shen Li stopped and regarded him back blankly, not a twitch on his face.
“Fire Lord, it’s fine. I left her in Lady Mai’s... with Lady Mai. She’s stable.”
Zuko’s nails unconsciously dug into the wood. His voice came out in a whisper. “Stable?”
Shen Li eyed him strangely. “Better than stable,” the guard captain amended finally. “Nothing a few days of rest and some good food won’t fix.”
“Agni.”
Neither said anything for a while, Zuko in particular sinking into troubled thought as he breathed, as he pushed away the panic that had assaulted him and focused on digesting the other information. His own soldiers... soldiers who attacked Katara... he blinked, shook his head angrily and tried to focus again. His own soldiers, and... earthbenders.
He looked up abruptly into Shen Li’s haunted eyes. “That can’t be it,” he said quietly. “There must be something more. What else happened?”
The guard captain sucked in a breath, and Zuko belatedly remembered the blankness that had been in his eyes. “Let it go, Zuko.”
Zuko frowned. “Shen Li, if it’s something important, I have to know. Any information about this all could be useful now. I...” he held back the words that rose first in his mind, surprise and suspicion swirling inside him. “I need to know.”
Shen Li shook his head. “It’s not important.” At Zuko’s look, he fell back further. “Look, I promise it’s not important. It’s got nothing to do with the mission. You don’t have to worry about it, my Lord.”
Potentially empty words, but the truth in Shen Li’s face convinced him. At that, the suspicion vanished to be replaced by a faint, unjustified sense of hurt and Zuko’s frown deepened. After all, it wasn’t as if he had bared his heart or private life to the guard captain before. Still...
Maybe it was because he was lonely. Maybe it was because he too was tired. Maybe it was even that he was trying very hard to stay sane, to find some sort of balance in the process of tired court rituals and empty traditions holding him back from the changes he needed to make. But Zuko cast aside his normal reservations and went the extra step further.
Using the gentlest voice he could muster, he leaned forwards. “What’s wrong, Shen Li?”
It was the furthest he’d ever gone. Ever reached. Zuko had always been more a reactive type when it had come to people; always waited warily for another to make the first move so that he could gauge where they were coming from. Except for Katara, of course - he’d actively tried to court her good favour after everything - that was the least she deserved after his betrayal. But this was a whole other game.
A game he felt crashing around him when the look on Shen Li’s face twisted. “Please, Zuko.”
At that the Fire Lord stopped still. It was only two words, but it stood between them and it was enough at that moment to highlight the warning. A warning that would stand until the other let it fall.
Zuko released a breath, as if he’d been branded, and nodded stiffly in both compassion and apology. Shen Li returned it with a silent gratitude. And with as little words, Zuko gestured towards the exit, Shen Li stood up slowly, bowed formally, opened the door and walked through.
And Zuko did not see, but the guard captain did not stop once he shut the door. He was tired, but he walked stiffly and quickly away from the Fire Lord’s study as though it might burn him. Along the blood-red corridors he moved, until finally his step slowed and he paused.
To an untrained eye, he was alone in the corridor. The Fire Palace was vast, and had as many servants, nobles, and courtiers as flies. And yet, at this moment, there was a great stillness where he stood, as if for a stolen second, the place were empty.
And then his mouth lifted up in mirthless smile, and he stared hard at the crimson hangings.
“Hello, father.”
8 8 8
There was no one there.
That was the first thing that struck them as they snuck around the edges, as they skirted ever closer to the yawning gap that was the cavern mouth. Every time a rabbit-mole breathed in the near vicinity, they had to bite their lips to keep from jumping. But there was no one there.
Odd. Bizarre. Frightening. There should have at least been a sentry, at least something. It was a military operation, after all - that much had been made clear by their previous encounters. Instead, there was nothing, no one, and finally Katara grew impatient from her nerves and stepped out into the open before Mai could stop her.
For a second, their breath caught in time as something snapped. Katara whirled with her water outstretched, prepared to pluck the expected arrows out of the air. But instead, a rabbit-mole bolted out of the bushes and away, and the two girls were left again, with nothing.
Katara turned to the trees. “Mai! What’s going on?”
The noblewoman stepped out irately. “How should I know?” she snapped. “All I know is that that was possibly the stupidest thing I have ever seen someone do. I thought you said we were going to do this stealthily!”
Katara put her hands on her hips. “Well maybe, but to be stealthy you need someone to be there to be stealthy around in the first place!” she waved her arm at the cave. “No one’s home!”
Mai drew back and pursed her lips. “Or maybe no-one’s just out front,” she said. “Keep your voice down and we’ll go in. Stealthily.”
The look Katara shot back at her wasn’t worth mentioning. The two girls glared at each other for a bit, and then almost naturally fell into formation. Katara took the lead, a small ball of water playing in her hands, and Mai stepped behind with an eye on their backs. And then they took a shared deep breath and entered.
The caves were painfully dark inside, each step devoid of vision. Katara found herself wishing that Zuko was there. It was funny, how he’d only been with them for the last few weeks, and yet she’d gotten so used to his ability to light up the dark that she now took it for granted.
Well, that was something that was certainly going to change. Katara found herself glancing desperately around for a stick, a branch - for anything that they could remotely cobble together into a torch, and then found herself staring into Mai’s slitted eyes. She stepped back a bit, startled, before realising that the noblewoman’s golden gaze wasn’t directed at her. Instead, Mai seemed to be concentrating on something in the dimness, a small object in her hand. Katara frowned as she tried to discern its shape. She hadn’t made time yet to have a look at the new supplies that Shen Li had left with them. But then it didn’t matter anymore, as a small glow of light appeared in the darkness and their way was finally lit.
Well, partially, anyway.
Katara’s first thought from the way the unsteady torch in Mai’s hand flickered with such a small radius was that the walls drank brightness. But then, as their eyes slowly adjusted, she realised that the cave was just spectacularly massive. Behind the deceptively medium-sized opening, the system expanded rapidly. The first cavern they were in now stretched far beyond the flickerings of their light, and as they spun around with it, saw the passages branching off, Katara felt a small prickling of fear.
“Mai,” she whispered quietly. “Mai, what if we get lost?”
The Fire Nation girl’s lips tightened. She marched over to the wall of the cavern and began moving along it, perusing it and the floor intently whenever she reached another passage into deeper darkness. Curious, Katara hitched up her flagging strength and followed.
“What are you doing?”
“We’ve been attacked by mostly by firebenders,” she explained crisply, leaning down to examine the rock at her feet closer. “And chances are that if we get lost, they would have gotten lost at the beginning too. That is, if they decided not to use the standard Fire Nation military system of marking in dangerous terrain.”
Katara raised an eyebrow. “Standard Fire Nation military system of marking?”
The light bobbed down, and then Mai nodded at the floor in triumph. Bending closer, Katara saw a set of characters scorched into the rock itself. ‘Prison’.
“Oh,” the waterbender grinned. “How convenient.”
Mai said nothing, only standing straight as she turned to move into the passage indicated. Katara followed close behind, her eyes on that speck of light in Mai’s hands as they went deeper and deeper into the caves. Soon, she couldn’t tell how far they’d gone - the blackness seemed to have devoured time, just as it devoured the edges of their torch. And so she couldn’t say how long it was before they stumbled across their goal.
“Oh La!” Katara rushed forwards as the light fell upon the row of shackles. The five occupants sat against the wall, their hands and ankles useless, and she turned immediately to the first one in concern. In the flicker of the torch, their skin seemed gray. “La, are you all right?”
But before Katara could say anything else, or the prisoner could reply, Mai pushed her aside and crouched down.
“Are you Zuko’s scouts?” she asked bluntly, her hand held high to illuminate the man’s face. He nodded frantically in the dim light, the effect sending distorted shadows bouncing across the wall.
“Yes! Yes...” he gulped for air. “Yes, we were sent here by Fire Lord Zuko. Agni... I thought we’d never be found.”
Katara glared at the back of Mai’s head, and nudged the noblewoman aside again. “We’ll, you’re among friends now,” she said kindly, reaching forth to study his restraints. “What’s your name?”
She didn’t notice, because she was looking at his chains. But Mai saw, and wondered whether her sight was playing tricks on her when the man’s eyes bulged for a second, and then settled down to a look of eerie calmness.
“My name is Ling,” he said, smiling. “These are my friends, and we have urgent news to report to the Fire Lord.”
Katara nodded absentmindedly, and shifted away to look for the keys. Mai snorted and stood up, unnerved by the change. “Well, it’s good to know this all wasn’t a total waste,” she muttered. “But there’s one problem. We’ve only got one basilisk, and there’s five of you.”
Katara’s voice floated back in the darkness. “Oh, that’s easy. We can walk back, and they can...”
“No,” Mai cut her off abruptly, her eyes narrowed as she glanced down at the scouts. None of the others had moved, except to follow Ling’s example, and so the torch at her shoulder only illuminated their bodies. “I have my own report to make to the Fire Lord, and you’ve only just healed.”
She waited for the response, her senses tingling and her mind testing. Across from her, she could feel Katara tense, scowl, but then relax as the logic of it caved in. But in front of her, the scouts seemed as inscrutable as ever.
Finally one spoke. And although she couldn’t see it now that the light had moved, he was still smiling.
“Just get us out of here,” Ling said in that same, calm voice. “And we’ll handle the rest.”
