Avatar, The Last Airbender: The Rise of Kyoshi

by F. C. Yee

  He may have looked like a mummy held together by silk threads and spite, but his mind was aggressive as ever. “Headmistress, wonderful to see you, as always,” he squawked, acknowledging Hei-Ran as fast as he could before turning to Jianzhu. “What’s this about a loan for the Southern Water Tribe?”

  He didn’t ask about the Avatar. Nothing like a business transaction to get the old lizard crow tunneled in. Jianzhu had almost forgotten about the request he’d made to Beifong after the battle with the pirates. Work hadn’t stopped simply because the Avatar’s identity had been in doubt. He bowed deeply before answering.

  “Sifu, I made that request because the encounter with Tagaka brought up an issue of balance between the Four Nations,” he said. “The Southern Water Tribe could use assistance in developing a legitimate navy. Tagaka’s presence was stifling any movement in that direction. With more far-ranging deepwater ships, they could prosper from trade and protect themselves from their neighbors, much like their Northern cousins. The loan would be for the construction of such vessels.”

  “We are their neighbors, Master Jianzhu,” Hui said, materializing by Lu’s side. “Why would we want to give them any position of strength relative to the Earth Kingdom? Why, they might try to claim the contested Chuje Islands with such a fleet!”

  A familiar rage raised the hairs on the back of Jianzhu’s neck. Hui had no real stake in this matter, not even personal greed. There was no reason for him to want the Southern Water Tribe to remain poor and undeveloped and vulnerable.

  It was simply opposition for opposition’s sake. Somewhere down the line, Hui had decided to make his name by using Jianzhu as a ladder, and a straw man, and whatever other analogy applied. It was easier for Hui to gain political power and fame by tearing down Jianzhu’s work than doing his own.

  No matter how logical and beneficial Jianzhu’s actions were, Hui would undercut them. He pushed to end treaties that had taken years to develop, brushing them off as unnecessary when in truth he didn’t understand how they worked and didn’t care. He stoked petty rivalries he didn’t have to, toying with peace that Jianzhu had earned. Had Hui been around during the height of the Yellow Neck atrocities, he would have insisted on treating that madman Xu Ping An like a folk hero.

  It was times like these when Jianzhu found himself sorely missing the influence of Lu’s wife, Lady Wumei. She had been an intelligent and vivacious woman, beloved across the kingdom, and a source of wisdom in Lu’s ear. After her death, the old man had become more obstinate, and Hui’s bold destructiveness had accelerated.

  “I’ve spoken to the southern chieftains and they’re excited about the prospect,” Jianzhu said. “They’ve proposed a compact of mutual defense.”

  “It’s a good idea, Master Beifong,” Hei-Ran said, adding an outsider’s perspective. “Right now, the group most capable of projecting force over the Eastern Sea is ironically the Fire Navy. I’m sure the Earth Kingdom and Southern Water Tribe would prefer to command their own waters.”

  Lu didn’t look convinced. Jianzhu didn’t want this opportunity to slip away. “If it’s about the Chuje Islands, they’re worthless,” he said. “They serve no strategic purpose other than puffing up national pride—”

  He realized his mistake as soon as he said it. It wasn’t like him to blunder so.

  “Master Jianzhu!” Hui said with fake horror. “Surely there is no matter more important than the pride and love we have for our country! The Earth King has been vexed over those islands since his coronation. Surely you are not questioning His Majesty’s judgment!”

  Jianzhu would have liked nothing better than to maroon both the Earth King and Hui on one of those desolate atolls and see which idiot ate the other first. Before he could respond, Lu waved his hand.

  “Enough.” He heaved himself to a standing position. It was barely noticeable, given his hunch. “I side with the chamberlain. There will be no loan and no Southern Water Tribe navy unless I hear a convincing argument from the Avatar himself. I notice the boy is late. He can find me in the banquet hall with the other guests when he arrives.”

  Lu shuffled out of the receiving hall, the only noise the rasping of his slippers against the floor. Jianzhu couldn’t believe it.

  Just like that, the future had changed for the worse. The Southern Water Tribe would remain impoverished and outpaced by the rest of the world all because Hui wanted to win a debate at a party. The stupid, smug whims of one unworthy man had left fingerprints on history that weren’t likely to be erased.

  The Avatar could have made the difference, Jianzhu reminded himself. The thought stuck through him like a javelin.

  “Master Jianzhu, I apologize for making a counterargument,” Hui said. “But as you know, it’s my duty to Master Beifong to make sure both sides are considered in any important decision.”

  “Both sides” was a rhetorical weapon used by hypocrites and the ignorant. As far as Jianzhu was concerned, Hui was no better than a daofei, wantonly burning fields of grain because he enjoyed watching the smoke rise over the horizon.

  I would show you what I do to daofei.

  “Chamberlain, it’s quite all right,” Jianzhu said. “I always appreciate your voice in such matters.” He hesitated, adding a hitch of uncertainty to his body language, the trembling of a man who was hiding the strain of a great burden. “In fact, I need your wisdom more than ever right now. Can you join me and the headmistress to talk in private?”

  The upside to the sudden confession was watching Hui nearly collapse in surprise. The man grabbed the desk in his office for support and knocked over a bottle of ink. The black liquid dripped down the chamberlain’s sleeve like blood from a wound.

  “YOU LOST THE AVATAR!?” he shrieked.

  Jianzhu wasn’t worried about being overheard. He knew from a glance at the walls that Hui had built his plain, unadorned personal study for soundproofing. It was a safe room of secrets for a man who trafficked in them.

  The more dangerous element here was Hei-Ran. Jianzhu hadn’t told her he was going to tell Hui, because she would never have agreed to it. He risked driving her away, in this very moment.

  “It’s as I explained,” he said. “Yun and I had an argument about his bending progress. More than an argument, really. I said things to him I never should have said. It got out of hand and he ran away with Kelsang’s help. On a bison, the two of them could have gone anywhere in the world.”

  Hei-Ran’s face was remarkably still, but the slight temperature increase in the room betrayed her emotions. It added to the effect of Jianzhu’s ploy.

  Hui was still shocked, but the wheels in his mind were already beginning to turn, his chest heaving for dramatic effect more than a need for air. “I thought the monk was the equivalent of a decorative hermit living on your estate,” he said, not a good enough actor to keep out the sneer of disdain.

  He was a companion of Kuruk and my friend, you little toad. “He was, or so I thought. I didn’t realize he’d been plotting, waiting to seize the right moment. Our relationship had suffered over the years, but I could never have expected to this extent.”

  Jianzhu punched at the air, letting his real frustrations shine through. “It’s Yun I should have understood better. I don’t know if the damage can ever be repaired.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” Hui said, hoping with his entire heart it was truly that bad. “Children are volatile at that age.”

  “He—he swore upon his own Avatarhood that he would never accept me as his master again.” Jianzhu ran his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. “Chamberlain Hui, I am begging you for assistance here. The stability of our nation is paramount. If word gets out that Yun has gone rogue, then there’ll be chaos.”

  The crack that Hui had been hoping for turned out to be a gulf the size of the Great Divide. He hadn’t been prepared to strike this much gold. “Master Jianzhu, there are several prominent Earth Kingdom sages, including our benefactor, waiting for the Avatar in the grand hall,” he said, thrustin
g his hands at the walls.

  Jianzhu put on a mask he’d never worn before. Helplessness. He let his silence answer for him.

  Hui composed himself, wanting to reflect the new state of affairs. He was the man in charge now. He straightened his collar and clicked his heels together. Unfortunately for him, he also forgot about the ink on his sleeve, ruining the effect of tidiness.

  “Master Jianzhu, there’s no need to worry,” he said. “I’ll handle this.”

  In the end, Hui told Lu Beifong and the assembled sages the exact line that Jianzhu had used on his own household. Yun felt he’d been neglecting his spiritual studies. After much pleading, Jianzhu had given him leave to travel alone with Kelsang on a nomadic journey of self-discovery, avoiding such obvious destinations as the Air Temples or the Northern Oasis. Yun had been to those places. He needed to grow along his own path, untrammeled by expectations.

  It meant no contact from the Avatar for a while. The world would have to get along without one until further notice.

  Jianzhu could have said as much himself, but coming from Hui, the story was so much more effective. It was an open secret among the party guests that the chamberlain was waging political war against him. The only thing they would ever align on were basic, incontrovertible facts. Like the Avatar going on a vacation.

  The rest of the visit was spent on trivialities. Jianzhu weathered the severe annoyance and biting remarks of Lu Beifong, wondering how many more years he’d have to put up with groveling before his former sifu. The old man seemed like he would never kick the bucket while debtors owed him money, and nearly the entire Earth Kingdom banked with the House of the Flying Boar.

  Hei-Ran stood dull-eyed in the corner as men prodded for her thoughts on remarriage, in language they thought was subtle and flattering. Some of them, upon hearing her rebuff, immediately pivoted to inquiring about her daughter. Jianzhu never understood how she resisted the temptation to bend scorched holes into the ceiling when her element was always available.

  They left when the party became too much to bear, getting into a single carriage for the journey back. Hei-Ran’s admirers could have interpreted that a certain way. But the two of them simply needed to talk.

  “I know you’re angry at me,” Jianzhu said. He slumped back against his seat.

  “About what?” Hei-Ran snapped. “The fact that you revealed your biggest setback to your worst enemy? That you’re piling lies upon lies for no reason I can see? Why didn’t you tell Hui the excuse he gave to the crowd?”

  “Because vulnerability equals truth. The only statement of mine Hui would take at face value was one that left me exposed. Now my story’s set with the vast majority of the Earth Kingdom. I only have a single opponent to worry about.”

  She didn’t look very confident in his tactic. Firebenders thought in terms of positive jing, always staying on the offensive. “It’s getting a little difficult to keep track of the wind spewing out of your mouth at this point.”

  Imagine how hard it is for me. “All warfare is based on deception,” he said. “Isn’t that a Fire Nation quote?”

  Hei-Ran suddenly pulled her hairpin out of her tightly bundled style and hurled it against the wall of the coach. It clattered to the floor, the arms bent.

  For the first time today, Jianzhu was truly alarmed. For a Fire Nation native to treat her hair, her topknot, this way meant she felt she was losing her honor. He waited patiently for her to speak.

  “Jianzhu, I pushed that boy to the breaking point,” she said, her voice hoarse. “He might not have been a Firebender, and he might not have been the Avatar, but Yun was still my student. I had an obligation to him, and I failed.”

  Hearing his name all night must have been eating at her. The absent Avatar was still the toast of the party, his conquest of the pirates turning into legend through word of mouth.

  “We can still make this right,” Jianzhu said. “We simply need to find Kyoshi. Everything will be fine after that.”

  “If that’s the case, and I don’t think it is, you set ablaze the time we had left and scattered the ashes. As soon as that party is over, Hui is going to march straight to the other sages and tell them what you told him. He might not wait. It’ll be the conversation topic over dessert.”

  “It’ll be longer than that,” Jianzhu said. “He’s not going to waste an opportunity of this magnitude by hurrying. In fact, if he plays the information too quickly and carelessly, it’ll bite him in the end. He’s a man of self-preservation.”

  Hei-Ran tucked herself into the corner of the carriage, her bunched-up gown turning her into a shapeless mass. “I wish I could say the same about you these days.”

  To get the last word in, she aggressively went to sleep. Jianzhu noticed that people who were former military could doze off anywhere, anytime at the drop of a hat. After an hour of silence, he began to drift in and out of consciousness himself, shaken awake by the occasional road bump, his thoughts forming loose connections and ideas that he made no attempt to preserve.

  It wouldn’t do to plot too far out. Sometimes the best option was to sit quietly until the next step arrived in turn, like an Earthbender should. Neutral jing.

  When they arrived home in Yokoya, there was a very validating delivery waiting for them. Jianzhu didn’t bother waking up Hei-Ran and hopped out of the coach, invigorated by the sight.

  In the distance, by the stables, were two extremely large wooden boxes, each the size of a small hut, peppered with little holes. The sides of the crates had Danger! and Give Wide Berth painted on them in a slapdash manner. Surrounding them was a crew of underpaid university students warily brandishing long forked prods. They pointed their weapons inward at the boxes. Theft of the contents was not the primary concern.

  At the head of the group was a portly older gentleman in fine robes, wearing a helmet made of cork. He was geared for adventure in the habit of academics who had no idea how dirty and bloody true adventure could get.

  “Professor Shaw!” Jianzhu called out.

  The man waved back. Behind him, the boxes suddenly started rattling and jumping, scaring the handlers. A long, whiplike strand shot out of a hole punched in the side and lashed two of the nearest students across the face and neck before they could react. They screamed and collapsed to the ground in a heap like rag dolls.

  Professor Shaw looked at his downed interns and then gave Jianzhu a big grin and a thumbs-up.

  That must have meant the shirshus were in good health after their journey. Excellent. Jianzhu needed them in peak condition. The beasts’ impeccable sense of smell would let them track a target across a continent. Oceans, if the rumors were to be believed.

  He’d sent word out to his subordinates across the kingdom, the magistrates and prefects he’d spent years buying off, telling them to be on the lookout for two girls who’d escaped his estate. But it never hurt to have a backup plan that didn’t rely on the shifting loyalty and ballooning greed of men.

  One way or another, he was going to fulfill his promise to the Avatar. There would be no hiding for Kyoshi. Not in this world.

  THE TOWN

  The Taihua Mountains south of Ba Sing Se were treacherous beyond measure. They were said to have swallowed armies in the days of the city’s founding. Howling blizzards could freeze a traveler’s feet to the ground, snapping them off at the ankles. Once every decade or so, the winds would shift, carrying red dust from Si Wong to the peaks of Taihua, polluting the snow a fearsome bloody color, turning the mountains into daggers plunged through the heart of the world.

  Pengpeng sailed over the dangerous terrain, unbothered. From their vantage point Kyoshi and the others could see any weather sneaking up on them, and right now it was clear in every direction.

  “This is the life,” Lek said. He rolled over onto his side, reaching over the saddle, and patted her fur. “That’s a good girl. Who’s a good girl?”

  He’d been trying to get the bison to like him more than Kyoshi and Rangi at every available op
portunity. Kyoshi didn’t mind so much. It meant Lek took care of foraging and watering for Pengpeng. Like she had her own stablehand.

  “Oof, I’m glad you remembered to come back for me,” Lao Ge said. “There’s no way I could have made it here on my own.” The old man yawned and stretched, catching as much of the breeze between his arms as he could. “I have to remember not to wander off by myself for too long.”

  His comment made Kyoshi’s stomach constrict. The journal said that Lao Ge came back from his jaunts with blood on his hands. She wondered if her mother had sat this close to him as they traveled, afraid that she might be one of his victims in the future.

  “We’re way past the last charted outposts,” Rangi said from the driver’s seat. “Beyond that, the mountains haven’t been mapped.”

  “Yeah, an outlaw town isn’t going to be on a map,” Kirima said. “This is the exact flight path we used to take with Jesa. Keep going.”

  As they flew toward a line of jutting gray peaks, the mountains separated, gaining depth. The formation was less a ridge and more of a ring that obscured a crater from all sides. The depression held a small, shallow lake that Kyoshi thought was brown and polluted at first. But as they flew closer, she saw the water was as clear and pure as could be. She’d been looking straight through the lake to the dirt bottom.

  Next to the lake, built into the slope like a rice terrace, was an encampment slightly more handsome than the slums of Chameleon Bay. Longhouses had been constructed out of mountain lumber hauled from the forests down below. Several of them sat on makeshift piles, fighting a losing battle against erosion. Glinting with openly carried weapons, people filed in between the gaps and along the streets.