The Ambush
In Jianzhu’s opinion, it was good to be home in Yokoya. No matter how many awkward questions the staff had about the team he’d left with. Where were Saiful and the others? What happened to them? Were they okay?
Dead in the line of duty. Daofei ambush. And no. By definition, no.
He owed Hei-Ran better answers though. Not only did the lie go a level deeper with her, he needed her input. After shutting the doors of his study on the faces of his troubled servants, he dumped his missed correspondence on his desk while she sat on the couch.
“The trail went cold in Taihua, and we lost a shirshu,” he said. He knifed a wax seal off a mail cylinder. “But that’s why we have the mated pair, isn’t it? Redundancy, the key to success.”
“Jianzhu,” Hei-Ran said. She seemed a little cold and withdrawn, sitting on his couch.
“Ba Sing Se is near Taihua.” The letter was from that brat Te. “I’ll bet they’re somewhere safe behind the walls. I’ll have to round up my contacts in all three rings.”
“Jianzhu!”
He looked up from the scroll.
“Stop,” she said. “It’s over.”
He looked at her carefully. There were several ways in which it could be over. It depended on what she knew. He waited for her to continue.
“I kept an eye on Hui’s movements while you were gone,” Hei-Ran said. “A little more than a week ago there was an explosion of activity coming from his offices. Letters, messengers, gold and silver being transferred.”
A little more than a week ago. That would have been Saiful’s message arriving in Hui’s hands. Hui’s understanding would be the partial truth, that the Avatar might have been taken by daofei. But he still thought Yun was the real deal. Hei-Ran knew the girl was the true Avatar but not the results of the tracking mission and the outlaw settlement in the mountains.
One had the latest news, the other more accurate news. He had to mind the asymmetry.
“Hui is acting on the information you gave him at the party,” Hei-Ran said. “He’s building a case with the other sages to take the Avatar away from you. If he’s made this much progress based solely on Yun having a falling-out with you, how do you think people will react to learning about Kyoshi?”
So far, that revelation had not gone well for anyone who’d heard it. “How do you think we should respond?”
Hei-Ran curled up on the couch, hugging her knees. She looked so young when she did that.
“I don’t want to respond,” she said. “I want to tell Hui and the sages the truth so they can help us extend the search. Jianzhu, I don’t care about the Avatar anymore. I want my daughter back.”
He was surprised at her lack of endurance. As far as she knew, her daughter and the Avatar weren’t in any particular danger. Of course, the reality was that they absolutely were, if they were in the hands of outlaws. But Hei-Ran didn’t know that.
Jianzhu sighed. Her daughter would never come back without the Avatar, the Avatar would never come back without ... what, exactly? The wheels spun in his head. This was exhausting.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jianzhu said. “Maybe it is over. This farce has gone on for too long.”
Hei-Ran looked up hopefully.
“You said Hui started his moves a week ago.” Jianzhu scratched the underside of his chin. There was a scab there from where Saiful’s blade had nicked him. “It’ll take him at least another two weeks to send missives and get responses from all the sages who matter in the Earth Kingdom. They’ll gather in Gaoling or Omashu and then summon me to answer for my mistakes; that’s another week. That’s plenty of time to ready a statement of the truth.”
He shrugged. “We may even find Kyoshi before then. The facts will come out immediately in that case. I’d lose the Avatar, but you’d be reunited with your daughter.”
Hei-Ran was heartened. She got up and placed a hand on Jianzhu’s unshaven cheek, stroking him gently with her thumb.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know what you’re sacrificing. Thank you.”
He leaned into her hand, pressing it briefly to his face, and smiled at her. “I have a lot of unopened mail to get through.”
The smile vanished as the door to his study closed. Alone, he picked up Te’s letter again. He’d been right not to give Hei-Ran the full story. He’d always been by himself in this game.
The message from the boy governor was written in a sloppy, rushed hand, devoid of the flourishes that normally came with high-level correspondence. The only authentication was the personal seal, which officials kept on their person at all times. It was as if Te had written it from somewhere other than his palace and while in great distress.
At first, Jianzhu had been against installing such a young governor from a family with a history of corruption, but had eventually found it useful, the way the impressionable child looked up to him. He could pretty much get Te to do anything, including reporting threats to the Earth Kingdom to him first before warning the other sages. Like now.
The scroll crumpled in Jianzhu’s hands as he read about Xu Ping An’s jailbreak. His veins threatened to burst from his flesh and skitter away.
Against every inclination, Jianzhu had kept the leader of the Yellow Necks alive as a favor to his Fire Nation allies so they could study how the man was capable of bending lightning. It was a skill so rare that some thought it a folktale or a secret that had been lost to the ages. Either way, it made Xu a valuable, dangerous specimen. And Te, who owned one of the most defensible prisons in the region, had managed to let him escape.
Jianzhu furiously scanned Te’s account of the events, fully expecting to keel over and die from anger. Instead, farther down the page, he found salvation.
There had also been an attempt on Te’s life, the letter went on, as if Te weren’t eminently replaceable. Two assassins had almost killed him but at the last minute decided to show mercy. An old man, whose description Jianzhu didn’t recognize, and a girl.
The tallest girl that Te had ever seen.
And unless panic had addled his mind, he’d seen her bend earth and air.
Jianzhu leaned back in his chair. He ignored the superfluous details that ended the letter, something about painted faces and how Te needed to end the cycle of grifting that his family had been so deeply ensconced in and could Master Jianzhu spare a few lessons in wiser governance and blah blah blah.
The Avatar was alive. Relief washed over him like ice water.
But what on earth was she doing? She had left Taihua and reached Te’s palace before the full moon, which meant moving at a reasonable pace. Her actions didn’t sound like those of a captive.
Jianzhu let the question go unanswered while he opened another letter. This one was from a prefectural captain in Yousheng, a territory that bordered Te’s. The lawman had captured a handful of daofei, scared witless, with an unbelievable story. Their leader, Xu Ping An, had been murdered by a spirit with glowing eyes, drenched in blood and white ashes, who had carried Xu into the sky before sucking the life-giving flame out of his body and consuming it for herself. The captain thought that the dreaded Xu Ping An had died years ago at Zhulu Pass. As the esteemed sage who’d defeated the loathsome daofei leader, did Jianzhu have any information that might shed light on the situation?
Glowing eyes, Jianzhu thought. He’d seen those eyes close-up before, and nearly lost his life. He made a quick mental map of Yousheng and found that the fleeing bandits could very well have seen the Avatar between Te’s palace and Zigan Village.
All right, then. Things were looking up. With some slight adjustments, he’d have the Avatar back under his roof. He didn’t understand what she was doing or why, but he didn’t care to. He had her location, and he had time.
It wasn’t until the next morning that he found he had run fresh out of the latter.
One thing he and Hei-Ran had gotten good at in their younger days was talking to each other through fake smiles and laughter. It came in handy when they had to maintain a front during gatherings of high-ranking officials while Kuruk dozed off the previous night’s revelries or made eyes at pretty delegates. Jianzhu stood in front of his gate, his feet wet with morning dew, and waved happily at the approaching caravan that was emblazoned with the Beifong flying boar.
“Did you know about this?” he said to Hei-Ran. He thought his teeth might crack from frustration.
“I swear I did not.” Hei-Ran was as angry at him as he was at her. “I thought you said we had weeks.”
It should have been that long. How the Earth Avatar was taught was solely up to his or her master. To revoke that bond required a conclave of Earth Kingdom sages. Gathering a sufficient number of them from across the continent should have taken as long as they’d discussed the day before, if not longer. And yet judging from the size of the caravan and the banners that flew from the tops of the coaches, Hui had pulled together enough heads seemingly overnight. He had to have been preparing this power grab since before the incident in Taihua.
He’d underestimated the chamberlain. Taken the man at face value instead of considering what depths lay beneath.
The lead coach pulled up to the gate of the manor and came to a stop. The boar on the doors split open to reveal Hui, who’d traveled alone.
“Chamberlain!” Jianzhu said with a boisterous smile. “What a delightful surprise!” Jianzhu wanted to reach out and throttle him in full view of the rest of the caravan. He might have been forgiven. Avatar business or no, showing up unannounced was as rude as it was in any other circumstance. “Is Lu Beifong with you?”
“Master Jianzhu,” Hui said grimly. “Headmistress. I wish I could say I was here under more pleasant circumstances. Lu Beifong will not be joining us.”
Jianzhu noticed Hui didn’t say whether or not he had the old man’s approval for this action. He watched the other sages step out of their coaches and tallied who had come. Herbalist Pan, from Taku, carrying his pet cat in his arms. General Saiyuk, the lord commander of Do Hwan Fortress, another political appointee like Te who was vastly underqualified to lead that stronghold. Sage Ryong of Pohuai—
Spirits above, Jianzhu thought. Had Hui simply scavenged the entire northwestern coast of the Earth Kingdom for allies?
It might have been the case. There was no one from Omashu or Gaoling or Ba Sing Se, where Jianzhu’s support was the strongest. Hui had handpicked the attendees of this surprise conclave, sages he could influence. Promises and vast sums of money must have flowed like water leading up to today.
Zhang Dakou was here too, Jianzhu noted dryly. No Zhang worth his salt would pass up an opportunity to humiliate a Gan Jin.
Their numbers were surprising. He hadn’t realized these many sages fell outside his sphere of influence. Perhaps about a fifth of the most important people in the Earth Kingdom had arrived on his doorstep with hostile intent.
“Well!” he said cheerfully, smacking his hands together. “Let’s get you all inside and refreshed.”
The staff was aflutter. They hadn’t had any warning that guests were coming. The dire nature of their short notice was made more apparent by Jianzhu entering the kitchen and personally overseeing the preparations. Nay, helping with them.
“Everyone, calm down,” he said reassuringly as he hoisted a massive kettle onto the stove himself. “You don’t have to pull out your finest work. It’s not your fault; there simply isn’t time.”
“But, Master, so many of your peers at once?” Auntie Mui said, near tears. “It’d be shameful to give lesser service! We have to—we have to line up a midday meal, and dinner, and, oh, there’s not nearly enough firewood!”
Jianzhu opened the kettle lid and peered inside to check the water level before turning around and laying his hands on the woman’s shoulders. “My dear,” he said, looking into her eye. “They’re here on business. I doubt you’ll have to feed many, or any of them. Concentrate on getting the tea ready. That’s all.”
Mui turned redder. “Of-of course, Master,” she stuttered. “It would be impossible to discuss important matters without tea.”
She bustled off to yell at the servants in charge of the tea selection. Jianzhu dusted his hands off carefully and gave a weary sigh.
Jianzhu entered the grand reception hall to a trying sight. The sages had seated themselves across three sides of the room, behind the rows of long tables, and Hui was in the middle where the master of the house would normally be. He was sitting in Jianzhu’s chair.
Hei-Ran was off to his left. She traded a wide-eyed glance with him. What are you going to do?
What Jianzhu was going to do was sit down, alone, behind the remaining table, and wait. He felt stares burning into him from all directions.
“Master Jianzhu,” Hui said. “Could you ask Master Kelsang and the Avatar to join us?”
The servants opened the door and entered with steaming trays of tea. Jianzhu milked the moment for all it was worth, waiting to answer until each sage had a cup placed before them. He made motions of thanks to the maid who gave him his, and took a sip, praising Auntie Mui’s choice of the blended oolong.
Only once the staff had left did he speak. “You know as well as I do I cannot. Master Kelsang and the Avatar are still on their spiritual journey.”
Hui smiled tightly, a motion that pulled his blocky face to the side. “Yes, their journey. The abbots of the Air Temples haven’t seen them once since you made that claim. Is it not strange that Master Kelsang hasn’t taken the boy to any of the temples, whether to visit the sacred sites or simply to resupply?”
“I don’t wish to speak ill of my friend, but he does have a rocky relationship with some of the more orthodox Air Temple leaders. And places holy to the Air Nomads exist around the world. They’re nomads.”
“And what holy places are in Taihua?” Hui snapped. “Perhaps the previously unknown settlement of daofei there?”
Jianzhu stayed calm. “Chamberlain, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that the Avatar’s last known whereabouts happened to be in a nest of criminals, traitors, and outlaws, and that he hasn’t been seen since! I’m saying that we have to assume the worst! That he and his companion are in mortal danger, if not dead already!”
There was the clank of a single dropped cup. Hei-Ran knew he’d tracked the Avatar to Taihua but not that the mountains had been crawling with danger. Nor had any of the letters he’d read last night mentioned a firebending girl. The fate of her daughter was unknown.
Hei-Ran looked at him like he’d stabbed her in the heart. That was the one gaze he couldn’t meet. He concentrated on Hui instead, on this usurping little badgerfrog who’d fancied himself a player of games. Strictly speaking, Hui didn’t have evidence in hand. But he could get it at his leisure. There was no hiding an entire town, nor the secret tunnels that supplied it.
“You have demonstrated unforgivable negligence at best and cost the Earth Kingdom its portion of the Avatar cycle at worst!” Hui said. And the people I’ve bribed to appear today will attest to that. “You are no longer fit to serve as the Avatar’s master!”
He’d chosen to use those words. Jianzhu snapped.
“And you are?” he shouted at Hui, leaping to his feet. “You who want that power and status for no reason other than it’s there!?”
Hui took the time to smell and sip his tea, knowing he’d won. “This gathering has not yet decided whom the Avatar, if still alive, should learn from,” he said smugly.
Jianzhu felt queasy. His forehead grew damp. “This gathering,” he sneered, swaying on his feet. “This isn’t a proper conclave of sages. You’ve identified my enemies among the leadership of the Earth Kingdom and brought them to my doorstep like a bandit gang!
“What has he promised you, huh?” he yelled at the assembled faces, nearly spinning in place. “Money? Power? For centuries men like Hui have carved up this nation and offered slices to anyone who’ll pay! I’m the one trying to make it stronger!”
They blinked slowly, coughed hard, didn’t respond.
Hui sniffed, his nose starting to run. “We meet the minimum number required to strip you of your duties. If you’re ... if you’re done grandstanding, we’ll take the vote.”
Jianzhu retched. His insides heaved in and out and his vision went blurry. “What is going on?” he shouted at Hui. “What did you do to me?”
“What do you mean?” Hui tried to stand but collapsed back in his chair. He put his hand to his nose in astonishment. It was covered in blood.
“What’s happening?” someone shouted. Sounds of vomiting filled the hall. A servant opened the door behind Jianzhu to see what the commotion was and screamed.
Jianzhu collapsed forward, his upper body slamming against the table. He couldn’t see Hei-Ran. But like the needle of a compass, his hand reached toward her as he blacked out.