Chapter 26: Storm Clouds
With every step,
And every day,
A storm is brewing,
To cloud the way.
It was a small boat, but perhaps that was because anything compared to the Fire Nation battleship was small. Sokka peered over the metal edge and watched as they drew up beside them and the men manning the oars prepared to ascend.
Before he could take a closer look, a sudden splash of icy water hit him in the face. Sokka staggered back as three of the men waterbended themselves upwards. The last two waterbended together, one holding onto the other and bending them both upwards onto the ship. By the time Sokka had stopped spluttering and wiping the blurriness from his eyes, all of them had boarded.
One of the men stepped forwards. “Sokka of the Southern Water Tribes?”
“That’s me,” he rubbed his eyes one more time and stepped forwards as well. Only where the other Water Tribe warrior’s face was cold, his was smiling. “You guys must be Arnook’s greeting party. I didn’t think we were so close yet!”
The man shifted. “We’re not,” he admitted simply. His voice was deep and gravelly, and Sokka basked in the familiar tones caved by ice and arctic winds. And then his awareness cleared that little bit more, and he realised that four of the newcomers were heavily armed, and the tension between them and the Fire Nation crew at his back was so palpable he could jab it with a spear.
Wait. Only four...?
Sokka’s eyes widened. Five people had come on the small boat, but the last one stood at the back completely unarmed. And that wasn’t the only difference. Whoever it was was heavily cloaked, which when taken into account with her weaponless status, was fairly unusual. Not to mention they were significantly smaller than the bulky warriors. Smaller and slimmer and suspiciously like...
The cloaked figure lifted her head as she felt his scrutiny, and that was when Sokka’s world imploded.
“Yue?” he whispered reverently.
Suddenly, the world shrunk down to him and the white haired girl standing in front of him. He ignored the Fire Nation crew’s uneasiness at his back, the Water Tribe Warriors’ defensiveness at his front, and didn’t notice when Suki’s face went white behind him. He just walked forwards like a man in a dream, until she was standing right in front of him.
He blinked, and looked. Blinked and looked again. No, his eyes hadn’t deceived him. There was definitely a lock of ermine hair lying against the dark blue of her cloak, and he almost reached out to touch it when his mind finally caught up to him.
“Yue?” he asked again, thickly. And then, “No... no it can’t be...”
It was as if all the members on deck were frozen. The Fire Nation men kept darting nervous glances at each other, trying to debate whether to go into firebending stance or not. Sokka had explicitly made them remove their helmets the closer they’d gotten to the North Pole, warning them that even if they didn’t care about appearances and icicles in their throats, metal conducted cold as well as it conducted heat. As it was, the Water Tribe Warriors were still looking keenly at them, hands ready.
And yet, everyone was also looking as the girl raised her head and smiled sadly.
“No, I’m not Yue.”
Sokka felt vindicated, staggered, and devastated all at the same time. It was a crushing mixture of emotions, and the hand that had been half raised to touch divinity dropped again. He wet his lips in the dry wind.
“Then who are you?” he asked hoarsely, suddenly angry. “Why are you... why are you dressed up like her?”
Because she was. Now that he looked closely, her hair was done in exactly the same way, the cloak covering a dress that was nearly identical except for its inferior quality. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if she’d given him her reason, but luckily it was the man who spoke from behind him. Even then, Sokka couldn’t rip his eyes from her shadow long enough to turn and look at him.
Perhaps it was for the better, because then he would have seen Suki’s stricken face.
“Things have changed in the North since you left, Master Sokka,” the man said gruffly. “It’s become custom for the girls of sixteen to dye their hair white in her memory.”
There was a silence as Sokka digested that, as he tried to rationally fight against the waves and pictures assaulting him. It didn’t help that the girl was still looking at him, her blue eyes close, and yet so different from the ones which haunted him. He closed his eyes, felt the threat of a dam exploding and flooding his mind with memories, and opened them again.
“Sorry,” he managed to choke out. “My mistake.”
She seemed baffled, but before she could reply he turned back to face the leader. He steadied himself as he moved, an internal voice reminding him to take it one step at a time, to focus on one thing every moment. If he’d looked in the right direction, he would have also seen the carefully collected blankness that now wove around Suki’s features.
“Sorry about that,” he repeated, and then let himself physically change from boy to warrior. The waterbender blinked, and Sokka smiled bleakly to himself. And then he spoke. “Now, I’m assuming Chief Arnook didn’t send you just to update me on your latest cultural developments.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” the man sighed and fingered his dagger. Across from them, the firebenders shifted. “You’re right, Master Sokka. The Chief sent us here to ascertain whether the Fire Lord’s missives were... correct.”
And to assess our danger, and possibly to launch a mission to destroy us, Sokka thought. It wouldn’t have been too hard, either. The four male waterbenders in front of him looked pretty impressive, and he doubted they would have had too much trouble stopping, if not overturning the ship. His eyes flickered briefly to the weaponless girl. She was probably there to heal if anything went wrong. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised.
“They are,” Sokka said out loud. “The war was officially ended last week, remember?”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “A battleship?”
Sokka scratched his chin. “I think Z- the Fire Lord thought of it as a gift, actually,” he mused. “Don’t really know what he was thinking, but I guess you could think of it this way. By giving you this ship, the Fire Nation’s handed over the ability to determine the structural weaknesses in its navy. I’d say that’s one heck of a peace statement.”
The man blinked this time, but then his eyes shifted to the side. Sokka followed his gaze, saw the tenseness of the Firebenders, and finally realised he was standing in what was inches away from a battlefield.
He ignored the temptation to facepalm. “Sorry,” he muttered again, this time to no one in particular. And then, “Everyone stand down, all right? The war’s over. Nobody’s going to fight.”
It didn’t quite do the trick, but it was enough. At his vocalisation, the firebenders’ stiffness dropped a little, and some of the crew even went back to what they were supposed to be doing. By the same token, the waterbenders’ loosened their stance. Sokka sighed in relief, and turned back to the leader.
“Convinced?”
The man assessed him for a moment, and then nodded sharply. “You reason well, Master Sokka,” he said warily. He pressed his foot lightly down on the metal of the deck, as if it were a wild tiger-shark that might attack at any moment. “It’s good to know that the North Pole isn’t facing any... immediate threat.”
The choice of wording sobered him. Sokka pursed his lips and studied the other man’s gaze. “What’s been happening in the North Pole?”
The man cast another look to the side. Most of the crew had now dispersed, heading back to their duties. Only Suki stood there now, her stylised clothes clearly non-Fire Nation and her stance clearly non-Firebender. The leader seemed to relax a little further.
“I’ve heard a little about you, Master Sokka,” the man said, almost conspiratorially. “And what I’ve heard, I’ve liked. From Water Tribe to Water Tribe, things are a little shaky in the North Pole right now. Heck, I even saw the Fire Lord’s written declaration of peace myself, and I didn’t believe an inch of it until I got within eyesight of this ship and no fireball came at me.”
Sokka felt worry creep inside his bones. “Is that how everyone thinks?”
“Not everyone,” the man admitted. “But quite a few. I’m not sure if you remember many of the faces you saw when you came, but a lot of the warriors you fought with, especially the young ones, are calling for blood. They’re led by a noble called Hahn, and they’ve been lobbying Arnook furiously ever since we got the message from the Fire Lord.”
Not surprisingly, Sokka’s brain went into overdrive at the name. “Hahn?” he asked in disbelief. In fact, his disbelief was so great it bore repeating. “Hahn?”
“Yeah,” the man looked at him strangely. “He made it all the way back to shore. Survived somehow on some Fire Nation navy debris. Made him a hero in the eyes of a lot of us after the invasion.”
Hahn. Lobbyists. Nobles. Arnook. Blood. Sokka felt the beginnings of a headache throb behind his temple. Clearly, the situation was worse than he and Zuko had expected. But even so, Zuko was still counting on him to clean it up.
This was insanity. Sokka took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to assess all the possibilities and probabilities. So. Hahn was heading a powerful and influential group of warriors. They were badgering Arnook. They had to stop. He had to stop them. How...?
Suddenly, the throb of his incipient headache was joined by the throb of a new plan. “Has Arnook told anyone that I’m coming?” he asked abruptly. “Besides you, of course.”
The waterbender looked startled. “Well... uh... he said that a Water Tribe ambassador from the Fire Nation was coming. It was the only reason you weren’t flatly refused or attacked, to be honest.”
Sokka hmmed. A setback, but still... “But did he explain why there was a Water Tribe ambassador from the Fire Nation? Or who it was?”
“Well, he told us who to expect,” the man was clearly a little flabbergasted now. “I mean, seeing as we were the, ah, greeting party.”
Greeting party indeed, Sokka thought darkly, but the rest of his mind was already caught up in the formulations of a plan. He wasn’t sure how much further he could push now, without sounding suspicious. So instead he smiled, and clapped the warrior hard on the shoulder.
“Well, thanks for catching me up!” he said brightly. “It’s good to know what I’m walking into, right? What are you going to do now?”
The man eyed him carefully. “Well, our orders were to return to Arnook with our news, so...”
“Good, good,” Sokka slapped him again, just for effect. “And while you’re there, could you pass a message on for me?”
The man now looked wary again. Sokka noted idly that it was like they’d gone full circle, but he didn’t particularly mind. With a clumsy grace, he pulled the man’s ear down next to his mouth, whispered, and then let him go.
The waterbender’s eyes changed from startled, to suspicious, to just plain bemused. “Are you sure, Master Sokka?”
“Positive,” Sokka said, grinning madly now. “Now, be sure to deliver it for me, won’t you? As soon as possible?”
The man blinked. “Uh... yes Master Sokka. At once.”
The group of five inclined their heads as one, and then turned to the railings. In one smooth move, the water curled up again and carried them back towards their boat. Even as his plan grew wildly in his head, Sokka couldn’t help but gaze after the small cloaked figure, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes.
He was stirred only by the sound of footsteps, walking away. That was one thing he had to get used to on a metal ship. Unless one was very careful, it was impossible to sneak away on clanging metal. Sokka spun around, just in time to see Suki’s receding back.
There was one thing to be said about Sokka’s mind. sometimes it was unbearably slow. At others, it was unaccountably quick. And now, even as half of his brain whirred on the problem of peace, the other half summed up everything that had happened, everything that he had told her today, and then everything he had just done, and reeled in horror.
In an instant, he was beside her, hand reaching out to catch her arm. She stopped at the contact, but kept her eyes fixed on the far horizon. Inside him, Sokka felt his heart tremble.
“Honey?” Sokka asked softly. “Suki?”
The Kyoshi warrior looked away from him, her eyes hooded. “Not now, Sokka,” she told him quietly. “Not now, I need to... think.”
Sokka felt an immediate impulse to reach out and touch her cheek, to cradle it against his palm. To enfold her in a fierce hug and feel her skin press against his skin. Physical contact, any physical contact to prove to her as well as to him that it was going to be okay between them, that nothing had changed, that he hadn’t broken anything...
That he hadn’t doomed himself to any more self-inflicted pain...
But he didn’t. There was an iciness in his bones that seemed to have bled there the colder the water got around him. An iciness that had invaded his muscles and slowed his mind. An iciness that dulled the voice inside his head screaming at him.
And so he just stood there, carefully released her arm, and watched her walk away.
8 8 8
Shen Li’s mouth was a grim line as he stood, stiff and straight behind the Fire Lord’s throne. Inches in front of him, he could see Zuko’s impassive features backlit against the flicker of his flame. It was hot where he was standing, but not unbearably so. After all, one got used to the heat of a fire when one was in the Fire Nation.
And if one was in the right place for the right amount of time, one could get used to a different sort of heat as well.
“We cannot continue taking the refugees,” the Minister for Rural & Urban Development declared adamantly. His voice rung in the echoing hall. “We simply can’t handle it. The Fire Nation Capitol cannot handle it.”
“Not to mention the Fire Nation itself,” the Minister for Agriculture and Environment added. “The peasants are needed to farm the land. At the time, our city’s resource plans did not anticipate the return of some of our soldiers, let alone a steady stream of refugees. And we’re heading into mid-Autumn.”
There was a collective silence. And then...
“Are you saying we’re running out of food, Minister?” Zuko asked.
Shen Li found himself holding his breath, and then expelling it in relief when the man answered. “No,” he confessed. “But I am merely worried. It is something to factor in, my Lord.”
Shen Li watched their faces. It didn’t yield much, of course - these were not men who would work their way up only to lose it all on an expression. But there were some things that you didn’t need to hide, that were even expedient to show. There was an air of business around the room, the kind of business where one tried to prophesy exactly what doom would fall, and he noted that Zuko had escaped none of it. Behind his calm, stony mask, Shen Li could see the haggardness in his gaze, and felt it too in his own chest.
He was tired.
He wagered Zuko was tired too. While these old and ageing men read their subject-specific reports, delivered their portfolio-specific orders and spoke in Court, he and Zuko had to take everything into account. Including the possibility of mutiny within the ranks. And it wasn’t just that. After all, he’d played a balancing act all of his life in a dangerous environment. He was hardly new to that.
No. Shen Li was periodically haunted by a pale face with slanted eyes, and he was angry at himself. Angry that he’d gone out on such a limb, angry that he’d taken such a risk, and even more angry that he cared. He didn’t have the time for this now. There was too much at stake, too much to lose.
Even so, Mai and the connotations of her remained drifting in her mind. They’d both promised to serve Zuko. Together. He wondered she’d been thinking as she made that promise, whether they were similar thoughts to his. He wondered whether her promise had meant the same to her as it had to him. Because questions like that were important, he convinced himself. Far more important than any other, because he didn’t have the time for their confusion.
The Fire Nation didn’t have the time.
An over-familiar voice pulled him back into the throne room. “It is definitely something we must take into consideration, Fire Lord,” General Sheng commented, his strident voice unnaturally subdued. He pushed back his chair and stood, his face turned to Zuko. “And I am worried about more than that. The people are still on edge with our... new situation.”
His next sombre words rang out without a hint of politic. “Winter may only fuel the fire.”
Shen Li let his eyes rest on his father. He was speaking the shadowy, ambiguous truth, and they all knew it, and suddenly he felt more exhausted than before. He’d lost hours of sleep over paving the path to the secret army, had rested only briefly, and now there was another threat he hadn’t considered. Very quickly, in the nature of all threats no matter how insubstantial, his imagination entertained itself into images of larger troubles, of a cataclysm all the more destructive because it had come from the inside, and...
Don’t think like that. These things can be averted. It’ll be all right. You’ll finish what you started. You will.
“In that case, it becomes even more paramount that the refugees not be allowed to take shelter!” It was the Minister for Agriculture and Environment again. Shen Li narrowed his eyes at him. He was a decent man. As decent as one could be when they were among the most high-ranking nobles in the Fire Nation. But his time at his desk had obviously warped him to the point that he saw numbers instead of faces, and that was a worry. “They must return to their villages and keep the production, otherwise our country will fall to her knees.”
A number of Ministers began to stand up to speak at that point, but a single note of flame stopped them. Shen Li felt a strange kind of relief as Zuko finally spoke, his mask impassive beneath his ring of fire.
“What are you suggesting, Minister?” Zuko asked coolly. “That we send the refugees, send our people, back to razed farms and bandit raids under the threat of death?”
There was a silence, and then someone else spoke. “What choice do we have, Fire Lord?” he asked, and it was resignation, not insubordination in his voice. “We cannot keep paying the inns to keep them. We cannot keep relying on charity and goodwill when the city overflows.”
Hui stirred at the head of the table. “The barracks...”
“The barracks is nothing but a short term solution,” General Hang spoke, his voice cold and detached. Shen Li noticed with interest that his eyes were fixed firmly on Hui’s, and then with even more interest as the rest of the table shifted around them. Hui was respected for his position, and rightly so. For Hang to cut him off so abruptly was insulting at the very least, and Shen Li had thought that in these meetings, he usually reserved that for Zuko alone. “And one we should not be entertaining.”
That was it. It amazed Shen Li how easily they could erupt, such dignified old men. But erupt they did, and as he saw the hint of a smile on Hang’s face, he wondered whether he’d just orchestrated the whole thing.
“Hang! Do not disrespect the Chief Advisor so...”
“Well in that case, do you have anything else to suggest?”
“Perhaps with a few alterations, Hui speaks with wisdom...”
“Come now, surely the situation isn’t that dire...”
“It’s only beginning...”
“Why should we care? We have food enough in the palace’s private stocks...”
“Are you insane?”
“Enough.”
It was the first meeting Shen Li had attended since he returned, and he wondered that they all shut up immediately with the one quiet word and the gout of flame. Zuko hadn’t raised his voice once, and yet they quietened with the obedience one would expect in the face of a roar. Shen Li narrowed his eyes. What had changed while he was gone?
From his own special position, surveying both the floor in front of him and the Fire Lord’s face, he caught a flicker. And then his questions solidified in his throat and threatened to choke him as Zuko exchanged a meaningful glance with Hui, and the Chief Advisor nodded.
Before his mind could fully appreciate the ramifications, Zuko continued. “Gentlemen, I believe we have exhausted our resources on this today. It is a difficult problem we face, but it has not happened yet and so I don’t think we should push ourselves to solve it in the space of a few hours.”
He paused, and looked at each of them meaningfully. “I’d like everyone to send me their reports and statistics on this problem. We will meet again tomorrow after further evaluation. Meeting dismissed.”
And that was it. The men sat still for a moment, as if they too were surprised at the sudden end, and then they stood one by one and bowed. Shen Li didn’t watch them, though, he kept his eyes fixed on Zuko.
Yes, something had changed. Like the exhaustion weighing down behind the Fire Lord’s eyelids, and the grimness that set his mouth. Inside, Shen Li felt a small creep of dread as Zuko extinguished the flames, rose, and walked away without looking back.
“My Lord?” he asked, uncertainly.
Zuko paused, halfway down the room. “Oh, sorry,” he rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I forgot for a moment.”
Shen Li frowned with concern. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked. Things had been a little strained between them since he’d returned, and he mostly blamed himself. Himself, and his memory of a pale face with golden eyes. “I know there’s much, and...”
Zuko shook his head. “I just need to think for a while,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But if you like, you can carry on with your own investigations. That way when we put our heads together, there’ll be more we can mine.”
Shen Li felt a strange, warm glow at Zuko’s casualness, at his trust. It was more than incredible, when he thought about it. It was damn near miraculous. He’d never dreamed anything like this could happen from growing up in Ozai’s court. Ozai had kept his advisors at an arm’s length, and his servants even further. At this moment, he felt like neither advisor or servant, and he was amazed at how freeing that was.
“Right,” he finally managed to work his mouth. “Take care then.”
Zuko smiled briefly, but it was a little flat. He nodded in acknowledgement and stepped outside, the doors swinging behind him. Shen Li was left to collect his own thoughts in the vast throne hall.
Perhaps there was hope. He still remembered the feeling when Zuko had first shown his trust, and this second time was no less amazing. It was with a true, tiny, miniscule smile that he too made his way to the door, ready to head to the library...
Only to pause when he stepped out the door, and ran right into someone he didn’t particularly want to see.
“Chief Advisor Hui,” he acknowledged coldly, bowing his head to his elder. But as he tried to brush past him and keep going, the old man stopped him.
“A moment of your time, young man,” he said quietly, one lined palm held up to the air in front of him. “I believe we have some things to talk about.”
Wonderful. Wonderful. This was just what he needed. Shen Li felt every thread of warmth drain from him, felt the sudden lightness in his chest shrink. At its loss, he resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall and instead closed his eyes briefly. Truly, what had he expected? To be the Fire Lord’s Chief Bodyguard without getting his hands dirty? To walk amongst the men who ruled his country without playing politics?
He just wished he’d had a little more time before it started. Or rather, continued in a much more intense and external fashion. As it was, years of mental preparation and conditioning had readied him, and so he opened his eyes and spoke.
“Of course, Chief Advisor,” his bladed voice dulled to diplomacy. “Here? Or perhaps in the gardens? Your quarters, perhaps?”
There was a flicker in the old man’s eye, which quickly vanished. “As we walk in this wing will be fine.”
Shen Li narrowly resisted the urge to raise his eyebrow. There were ears everywhere, everybody knew that. Unless Hui wanted them to be heard...
He shrugged instead, murmured something that sounded vaguely like acquiescence, and shifted his body so that the old man could walk. Hui inclined his head graciously, and Shen Li fell into step at his shoulder. Ahead of them, the Palace wing seemed to stretch out indeterminably, all edges and corners blurred by the distance.
Hui did not speak again for a while. They reached the end of the passage and turned, gradually getting into more populated places. Ahead of them, a servant scurried here, a maid polished there, but Hui walked past them as if they didn’t exist. Shen Li was wondering whether this was all an exercise in patience or an excruciating mind game when the silence between them was finally broken.
“It’s been beautiful weather, hasn’t it?”
If his jaw wasn’t so firmly attached to his head, it might possibly have bounced away. Shen Li stared at Hui as if the old man had finally lost it, even as he knew with a grim certainty that Hui would never lose it. There was no end to a mind as sharp as his, and as fascinating as that was, Shen Li wouldn’t have willingly glanced into the man’s labyrinthine depths if someone had paid him to. He swallowed, mind backed up against the metaphorical corner at the unexpected swing.
“It’s been cloudy, Chief Advisor.”
Hui shrugged, his long robes shrugging and falling with him. “All the more glorious when Agni’s light peeks through. That’s something you young ones don’t understand sometimes. It takes knowing the darkness to understand how bright the sun is.”
Shen Li resisted the urge to twitch. It was even more difficult than resisting the urge to raise his eyebrow. His impeccable, blank-faced Court upbringing was beginning to strain under his own tiredness and mental stress, and the extra pressure wasn’t helping. He settled for voicing a non-committal grunt.
Hui continued on, oblivious. “Yes, it’s been fine weather indeed. Tell me, young man. When was the last time you took a day off? Just to enjoy the beauty of our country?”
Shen Li began to feel very, very wary. “I had a brief vacation only two days ago, Chief Advisor.”
“Good, good.” Hui smiled. “After all, one cannot work all the time. It muddies the head, distorts the situation, slows the mind.” A rueful look crossed his benign face, lightening the lines and brightening his eyes. “I only wish our own Fire Lord... ah, but I digress. His hard work is a tribute to his devotion.”
“That it is,” Shen Li echoed strangely, wondering where on earth this was going. He had a terrible feeling, like he was running like a gazelle-cheetah straight into a trap.
A feeling that was validated a moment later, when Hui’s eyes flicked from the path ahead of them to him. “But what about you, young man? Do you think your rest managed to clear your head, give you a little perspective?”
They turned yet another corner, and Shen Li realised that at the end of this one stood an entrance into the gardens. The distant irony didn’t escape him as he replied, as smoothly and sweetly as the truth. And all the while, at the back of his head, there seemed to sound a whisper that his father would be proud.
He pushed it violently away. “I think all vacations manage to do that,” he said, keeping his voice light. “I certainly came back refreshed.”
Hui sighed. “If only that were true,” he murmured. They took one last step, and entered the cool winds of the gardens. Above them, the sky was cloudy. “As it is, I think it a special occasion when one wakes up to realise that his vision of the world has shifted. That things have changed. Wouldn’t you agree?”
If he hadn’t felt on edge before, he definitely felt on edge now. In fact, he might as well have been falling over it. Shen Li felt a light sizzle start under his skin, almost a flush. “Indeed.”
Hui nodded. “Yes, a special occasion... I’d almost say it was like growing up all over again. Or perhaps it is growing up. One measure of it anyway, that defies mere measurements of years and dates.”
The grass bent underneath their shoes. Shen Li felt tiredness, frustration, and hurt throb through him dully.
Hui continued. “Because surely, the moment where you truly realise the extent of your playing field is a better indicator than age, isn’t it? I’d wager a thirteen year old who could see all the options in his future and weigh it up properly is more mature than a seventeen year old who persists in maintaining tunnel-vision. Or, another example could be...”
Shen Li felt his patience snap. “Do you have a point, Chief Advisor?” he queried testily. The sweat beading down the back of his neck made him uncomfortable. “Because I must admit, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Even as the words came out, he cursed himself for their sound. It was too much like a surrender, an admission for his liking, and the weakness of them opened him up for scrutiny. Shen Li physically felt it as Hui eyed him. Sized him up. Measured him. He felt the increments of himself empty inch by inch into that calculating, hungry gaze, and for a brief moment, his own guilt made the fact that he was being judged unsettle him far more than the person doing the judging.
“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” the Chief Advisor said at last. And now, there was something subtly different in his tone, something that made Shen Li’s pulse quicken and alarm bells ring in his mind. “And what’s more, I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Shen Li couldn’t help it. He felt dry, paper dry, and so he delicately wet his lips. Hui zeroed in on the movement like a wizened predator sensing his kill.
“There are two sides to every struggle, my young friend. And despite what you think, you cannot play them both.”
The guard captain jerked back, the silky words breaking the spell. Suddenly, the adrenaline that had been coiling up inside him invaded his bloodstream. “What I think?” he laughed hoarsely. “To the practice says the preacher, Hui. I’ve chosen my side.” Young eyes met old, glittering with defiance. “If there’s anyone here who could be trusted of treason, it’s...”
Hui’s strength, Shen Li decided grudgingly right there and then, was his preternatural calm. It aggravated him. It wasn’t right. But Hui was wearing his beatific expression like a monk wore his enlightenment when he spoke again, and for the life of him, Shen Li couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by it.
“Careful, young man,” the Chief Advisor linked arms under his robes, like a wise guru gently chiding a wayward disciple. “Once you breathe words to the air, you can never get them back.”
Something boiled within him and pushed his apprehension of Hui’s mystical calm away. Shen Li felt it bubble, felt it rise, and lifted his chin proudly. “How dare you question my honour, then?”
An impasse, an abyss. The gulf widened up between both of them, swallowing space as it went. For the first time in their entire conversation, Hui seemed frozen in shock. It was only a second, but the force of it was such that both of them felt it. Shen Li hid an inner, nasty smirk as the old man blinked, and then the serenity settled upon him once more.
The smirk faded to a cold shield once again, though, when Hui’s eyes took on their assessing glint once more. The guard captain stood rigidly tall and proud as those eyes swept over him, and when they returned to his face, he quirked his brow.
Hui paused at the sight. “Well, Chief Bodyguard,” he said quietly. “It seems I have underestimated you. I apologise.”
Inside, the smirk returned. Shen Li was immediately tempted to let it appear on his face, but he himself was too consummate a player to make such a mistake now. Instead, he nodded shortly, a gracious acceptance given the circumstances.
“Thank you, Chief Advisor,” he said formally, tasting every syllable on his tongue like they were honey. “Now, if we are finished I’m afraid I must beg to take my leave. Is there anything else?”
He was readying himself for a departing bow, readying himself to walk away from this whole mess, when Hui spoke.
“Actually, one last thing.”
He froze, and then turned the lack of movement into another stiff nod. “Yes?”
Hui smiled. “Give my regards to your mother.”
It was as if the world had stopped, like the creak of a second hand over the clockface. And then it was moving again, but everything was blurred, everything was too bright, everything was broken. Shen Li felt something ashen scrape at his throat, and wondered whether this was what firebenders felt in the moment before they belched flame.
He knew that if he could, if he did, the man in front of him would be gone. But instead, he gritted his teeth, bowed as low as he was able, and rose with all the elegance and finesse a lifetime at Court had drilled into him. And as he stood, he caught a flash of Hui’s eyes, felt his own gaze bore back in return, and knew one thing.
There was no going back from here.
8 8 8
Aang woke, oddly awake for such little sleep. In fact, it was as if he’d skipped the entire process of waking up all together. His eyes were wide open and he felt alertness running through his veins, along with a sense of uneasiness he couldn’t shake.
It wasn’t a state that was foreign to him. They’d spent most of the last year as fugitives, after all, and when you were running away from the most powerful Nation in the world, it definitely helped to have a sixth sense for danger. Still, it took him all of a moment to remember where he was, and he frowned. What could possibly be sneaking up on them now, after the war, and in the ruins of the Eastern Air Temple?
He rolled over and assessed the situation. Beside him, Toph still slumbered, but as he shifted she stirred as well. He was up and eyeing the land beyond the bison saddle for shadows when she spoke.
“Twinkletoes?” she muttered sleepily. “What’s going on?”
Aang lifted his face to the sky. It was still night, or at the very least, really early in the morning. For some reason, the sight made something strange and unsettling leapt in his chest. Time. Time...
“Hey,” her voice grew sharper. “Aang?”
He started, and the coil of uneasiness inside him reared it’s head. “Something’s wrong,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t describe it.”
That woke her up instantly too. With the ease of an old veteran, Toph slid forwards beside him. She was about to bend herself to the earth when Aang stopped her.
“No,” he wrinkled his brow. “It’s not... whatever it is, I don’t think it’s something you can feel.”
She hmmphed. “Thought you said you couldn’t describe it.”
The furrows in his forehead grew deeper. “I can’t,” he muttered, staring at the sky again. The stars seemed to stare right back at him from their great distance, their shreds of white fire burning bright in his eyes.
And it was the sight of them that triggered something.
In a flash, Aang was ready. He gripped his staff in one hand, and he manoeuvred his way to the back of the saddle for a quick run-off. Toph started at the suddenness of it all.
“What are you doing?” she hissed softly. “Dammit, Twinkles, give me an answer.”
Aang merely stared at the sky... and the top of the mountain silhouetted against it. “Wait here with Appa and Momo, Toph. I need to get to the Temple.”
