After their brief but heartwarming encounter with the young boy and his stuck wheelchair, Alec, Zuko, and Iroh continued their exploration of the bustling City. Stalls overflowed with ingenious contraptions, from self-stirring pots to wind-powered toys.
Iroh, ever the connoisseur of simple pleasures, quickly found a vendor selling candied nuts and sweet fruit tarts. He purchased a generous assortment, sharing them with Zuko and Alec.
The sugary treats provided a welcome burst of energy and a moment of lightheartedness amidst their serious quest. As they munched on the candies, they continued to observe the vibrant life of the city, their senses overwhelmed by the sheer volume of activity.
Their primary objective, however, remained firmly in their minds: to find any trace of the Avatar. Alec's theory about the Avatar being trapped and cold, possibly in one of the Water Tribes, still resonated, but they needed more information, more clues. And the most logical place to find such information, they reasoned, was from the person who knew this place best – the Mechanist.
As they navigated the crowded walkways, Zuko's keen ears picked up a fragment of conversation from a group of merchants haggling over a piece of machinery. "...the Mechanist, they say he knows everything about this place. If you want to find anything, he's the one to ask. He's a genius, but a bit reclusive."
Zuko's eyes lit up. This was it. The lead they needed. He nudged Alec and Iroh, relaying what he had overheard. "The Mechanist. He's the one we need to talk to. He must know something about the temple's secrets, about any hidden passages, anything that could lead us to the Avatar."
Iroh stroked his beard thoughtfully. "A man of great intellect, no doubt. Finding him would be most beneficial. But if he is as reclusive as they say, it might prove challenging."
And challenging it was. They spent the next few hours inquiring, asking anyone who would listen for directions to the Mechanist's workshop or home. But their efforts were met with vague answers, knowing smiles, or outright denials.
It was as if the Mechanist was a ghost, a legend whispered about but never seen. Some claimed he lived in the highest reaches of the temple, others that he had a secret workshop hidden deep within the mountain. No one seemed willing, or able, to provide a concrete address.
Frustration began to set in. Zuko's usual impatience simmered beneath his calm facade, and even Alec, with his seemingly endless well of patience, felt the weariness of the fruitless search. The sun began to dip below the mountain peaks, casting long, purple shadows across the city.
Finally, Alec, tired of the endless inquiries, decided to take a break. He found a quiet corner in an open-air restaurant, a simple establishment with wooden tables and benches, and slumped onto a seat. Zuko, equally exasperated, sat opposite him, while Iroh, ever serene, found a peaceful spot to enjoy his tea and observe the bustling market.
As Alec rested, his gaze drifted across the crowded square. His eyes, sharp and observant, caught sight of an elderly person, hunched and frail, begging near the entrance of the restaurant. There was something about the way the person held himself, a quiet dignity despite their tattered clothes, that drew Alec's attention. Their eyes, though clouded with age, held a surprising depth.
Without a second thought, Alec rose and walked over to the beggar. He knelt down, meeting the elderly person's gaze with his own, and quietly took out a few coins from his pouch. "Here," he said softly, extending his hand.
The beggar's gnarled hand reached out, surprisingly steady, and accepted the coins. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched their lips as their eyes, surprisingly bright, met Alec's.
Out of curiosity, and perhaps a touch of desperation, Alec decided to try his luck. "Excuse me," he began, his voice low so as not to draw attention. "I'm looking for someone. A mechanist. They say he's the most knowledgeable person here. Do you happen to know where I might find him?"
The beggar's eyes twinkled. They pointed a gnarled finger toward a less-traveled path leading away from the main market, a narrow, winding ascent that seemed to disappear into the higher reaches of the temple. "Follow that path," they rasped, their voice surprisingly clear despite its age. "It leads to the highest part of the temple. You'll find what you're looking for there."
Alec's eyes widened in surprise. He thanked the beggar profusely, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and disbelief. He had asked dozens of people, and this seemingly insignificant beggar held the answer. He turned to tell Zuko the good news, but when he looked back, the beggar was gone. Vanished. It was as if they had never been there at all.
Alec looked around, bewildered. He asked a few nearby vendors if they had seen the elderly beggar, but they all shook their heads, claiming no one had been there. A shiver ran down Alec's spine. Had he imagined it? Was the frustration getting to him? Or was this another one of those strange, almost magical occurrences that seemed to follow him?
He walked back to Zuko, his mind reeling. "I found him!" Alec exclaimed, his voice a little breathless. "The beggar, they told me where the Mechanist is!"
Zuko looked at him skeptically. "What beggar? I didn't see anyone."
"But... but they were just here!" Alec insisted, gesturing to the empty spot. "I gave them money, and they told me where to go!"
Zuko, despite his initial doubt, saw the genuine bewilderment in Alec's eyes. He knew Alec wasn't prone to flights of fancy.
"Alright," Zuko said, standing up. "Show me the path."
Alec, still a little shaken, led Zuko to the less-traveled path the beggar had indicated. It was narrower, steeper, and less maintained than the main thoroughfares. As they walked, Zuko's eyes scanned the ground, searching for any sign, any confirmation of Alec's strange encounter.
And then he saw them. Faint, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there: a series of small, wooden tire marks, pressed into the soft earth. They were the same kind of marks that the boy in the wheelchair had left. The same kind of marks that would be left by a small, self-propelled cart. The same kind of marks that would be left by a wheelchair.
Zuko stopped, a slow realization dawning on him. The boy they had helped earlier, the one with the jammed wheelchair... he was the Mechanist's son, Teo. And the beggar... the beggar was the Mechanist himself, testing them, perhaps, or simply observing.
It was a clever, subtle way to gauge their character, to see if they were worthy of his help, to see if they possessed the kindness and observation skills necessary to truly understand this unique community.
He looked at Alec, a newfound respect in his eyes. Alec's instincts, his kindness, his willingness to help those in need, had led them directly to their goal, in a way that hours of direct inquiry could not. The Mechanist hadn't hidden from them; he had simply presented himself in a way that only those with open hearts and observant minds would recognize.
"Wooden tire marks," Zuko murmured, pointing to the ground. "The boy... the wheelchair... He was the beggar."
Alec followed his gaze, and his own eyes widened as he understood. The pieces clicked into place. The missing beggar, the vague answers from the villagers, the subtle test. It all made sense. The Mechanist, a man of great intellect, was also a man of great wisdom, choosing to reveal himself only to those who demonstrated true compassion.
"He was testing us," Alec whispered, a faint smile touching his lips. "And we passed."