“Afte
r a certain point it becomes a matter of strategy over spirits,” Hei-Ran said. She stared at the pond, rolling her cane between her fingers. “In times of upheaval, every lesser clan wants to ally themselves with the eventual winners. If the Saowon continue to wax in power and reputation, then at some point they’ll have enough supporters to openly rebel against the throne.”
“Chaejin works the courts while his mother Huazo consolidates wealth and power throughout the islands,” Zoryu said. “In the meantime, I lack the political and military resources to check them. The standing Fire Army is an elite force, but it is small. To win in pitched battle against a clan as large as the Saowon, I’d need the rest of the noble houses committed in lockstep behind me, and that wouldn’t happen without an extremely just cause.”
He puffed his cheeks in frustration. “This is what I get for not wanting to spill the blood of my countrymen. I have borne the insults of Chaejin as best I could so as not to accelerate us toward civil war. I’ve traded away my image in bits and pieces, trying to delay the inevitable. But in the eyes of my people, I don’t know how much more honor I have left to lose.”
Kyoshi pondered the trap the Fire Lord lay in. Jianzhu had once complained to her that the Earth Kingdom was too big to govern properly. But its size meant it could suffer grievous injuries in one quarter and not feel them in the other. The Earth Kingdom’s nature was to persist, muddling through floods, famines, bandit uprisings, and incompetent governors.
The Fire Nation, on the other hand, was of the right size to be transformed and consumed by its disasters. Kyoshi might not have been an expert in court politics, but she was well-versed in the motions of violence and suffering. She could see the sky-bison’s view of war spreading across the map of the islands, and she understood how vicious a close-quarters fight for power could get.
Zoryu seemed fairly shrewd to Kyoshi, and decent enough at heart. It was just . . . for being one of the most powerful people in the world, he was remarkably powerless. He’d been handed a title by virtue of his birth, and a map to his life where every route led clearly to a dark, terrible destination.
She could sympathize.
“We need to engineer a response,” Hei-Ran said. “Chaejin went too far tonight. There’s plenty of time left in the evening to show him and the rest of the guests where the line is.”
She spun around to march back to the party, but the sudden motion left her wobbling. Atuat grabbed her before she fell. “You need to rest,” the doctor said gently. “You’re done for the night. I’ll take you inside.”
Hei-Ran shook her head and gripped her cane tighter. “The children can’t be left alone. Look what happened already.”
Atuat’s presence seemed to explode in size. Gone was the unserious, diminutive woman, and in her stead rose an implacable spirit of the north itself. “That’s funny,” she declared. “I thought I heard one of my patients back-talking me on a health matter just now. It must have been the wind.”
Hei-Ran glowered at her friend, but like a master Water-bender, Atuat calmly rode the storm until it petered out. Finally, Hei-Ran sighed in surrender. “Fine.”
“Monk,” Atuat said. “Help me help her back, will you?”
Jinpa, acclimated to taking orders from people he just met, gently grasped Hei-Ran by the arm. He and the doctor led her back to the palace.
“Forget trying to rebuke Chaejin for now then,” Hei-Ran called over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything until we can come up with a plan. Stick with neutral jing.”
Kyoshi watched them leave, fascinated. Someone had managed to cow the headmistress, the woman whom both Rangi and Fire Lord Zoryu feared. By this logic, Sifu Atuat must have answered only to the Moon and Ocean spirits themselves.
“Looks like the ‘children’ are on their own,” Zoryu said, rubbing his eyes.
Kyoshi looked around. The sudden departure of Hei-Ran and Atuat had put into stark contrast the relative youth of their remaining group. Most of the nobles attending the party tonight were the same age as Rangi’s mother, or older.
“I suppose we have to go back,” Zoryu said. “Though I’d personally rather spend the rest of the evening reading or playing Pai Sho. Do you play, Avatar?”
“I am asked that often.” She couldn’t keep the note of tetchiness out of her voice. Across the Four Nations, people equated skill at the game with wisdom. It made her feel like her lack of skill at it was a character flaw. “The answer is no.”
Zoryu winced. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I became acquainted with your predecessor over the game.”
She had to take a moment to understand he was talking about Yun, not Kuruk. “You do realize Yun wasn’t the Avatar before me, technically speaking?”
The corners of Zoryu’s mouth turned in opposite directions. “The Fire Sages would censure me for saying this, but in a certain way, he was Avatar enough. Master Yun burnished my image at court and pulled more diplomatic strings for me than any of my ministers. And he made me forget my station, in a good way.”
“He had a talent for that,” Rangi said. Her eyes were lost somewhere among the reflections in the pond.
“His visits to the palace were the only time I didn’t feel like I was so alone,” Zoryu said. “But I understand he was your friend before he was mine. My condolences to you both. The world is poorer without him.”
Such a basic sentiment, and yet so rare. Kyoshi could count on one hand the sages in the Earth Kingdom who grieved for Yun the person, instead of distancing themselves from Yun the mistake. “Thank you,” she said, her throat drying out a little. “Maybe one day I can be as much of a help to you as he was.”
“I mean, given how gravely you’ve insulted me tonight, there’s nowhere to go but up,” Zoryu said with a glare she realized was meant to be a wink. He and Yun even had similar senses of humor. Kyoshi relaxed for the first time tonight. By no one’s standards but hers, she and the Fire Lord had gotten off to a good start.
The smile vanished from her face when she considered how to break the news to Zoryu that the Earth Kingdom’s preferred version of events was a lie. She looked at Rangi, who bit her lip.
Yun being alive was too much to drop on Zoryu tonight, Kyoshi decided. Perhaps once they found more leads. There was no point in telling the Fire Lord that their friend had been swallowed up by the mainland, forgotten, until they could do something about it.