"It sounds plausible," Azula said with a sly smile, "but there's one flaw in your theory, Herald."
"And what's that?"
"If she wiped out the entire night watch, why didn't she free the others? There should've been dozens of waterbenders imprisoned there—if not a hundred, then certainly several dozen. And if she really managed to contact the Northerners, why didn't she escape to them instead of staying here?"
"I have several theories. It's possible she'd already lost her mind. After all, we're talking about years and years in solitary confinement with barely any water, living on the very edge of dying from thirst... Conditions like that can shake even the strongest mind. And even if they don't..." I shrugged. "We're talking about the Southern Tribe. The same people who scream about family while collectively sailing off to become pirates, dressing it up as 'revenge,' 'a war for freedom,' and other pretty names, all while leaving their women, children, and elders to fend for themselves.
"So what kind of concern for imprisoned comrades would you expect from someone raised in that society? Simply slipping away quietly wouldn't suit a Southerner. Launching a personal vendetta while ignoring everything else, on the other hand? That would be entirely in character."
"And yet you're going out of your way to help the Northerners..."
"They're more civilized and more reasonable people. If they'd been anything like the Southerners, our 'invitation' of their children wouldn't have accomplished a thing. In that case, Zhao's plan would've been the most logical solution to the problem."
"Interesting." The princess drained her mug and reached for the teapot. "I just can't figure you out, Chan."
"Your Highness?"
"Never mind. Just thinking aloud." She lowered her gaze to her tea again, studying me over the rim of the cup with an inquisitive squint.
I got the message.
It was best not to continue the conversation in that direction...
***
The following morning we met our mercenary.
What could I say?
A mountain of muscle. Brutality practically oozed from him. So did his aversion to conversation. As a professional, however, he was beyond reproach. He charged handsomely for his services, but he was worth every coin.
Over the entire time I'd known him, Spirits, I'd heard maybe twenty words from him in total, including his name—or rather, his nickname: Combustion Man. Add to that the price for a month's work playing the role of the Fire Herald and the princess's second bodyguard, plus his confirmation once I'd accepted the terms of the contract. (Bargain with him? Why? The state was footing the bill anyway.)
As it turned out, firebending wasn't the only thing this guy knew. He also had a decent grasp of chi control. Most likely self-taught, or trained by some back-alley master, but within his field, he was genuinely good.
Just think about it: the man had steel prosthetics in place of an arm and a leg, yet he'd adapted to them so completely that they not only caused him no inconvenience whatsoever, but functioned in combat as though they were real limbs.
For some reason, Darth Vader came to mind. Then again, it wasn't hard to see why—he'd also gone around handing out "kindness and happiness" despite being short a couple of arms and legs.
Azula was impressed by our new friend as well, although she tried not to show it. Remote explosions with the destructive power of a couple of barrels of blasting jelly tend to leave an impression on people, along with the inevitable question of how one might defend against something like that. I should know.
The same thought had clearly taken root in the princess's mind. I could tell simply by how abruptly her plans for the next few days had changed. Up until then, she'd made no secret of her intention to continue observing me "in my natural habitat"—in other words, accompanying me on inspections of the orphanages. Suddenly, however, pressing business had materialized at the palace, a determined glint had appeared in her eyes...
All in all, Combustion Man had made an excellent first impression.
Fortunately, the inspection itself revealed no problems. There was plenty of room in the residential facilities. The accommodations themselves were in surprisingly good condition, the educational program was varied, and the propaganda... Well, the propaganda operated on an almost supernatural level, somewhere between Big Brother Is Watching You and Long live the Ki... Fire Lord Ozai!
As for the Fire Herald—represented by a silent giant who looked at everyone as though they were merely undiscovered enemies of the state—the administration was prepared to throw open every door, window, and ventilation grate without hesitation.
The young man accompanying the Herald, meanwhile, enjoyed the goodwill of the staff—mostly the younger maids, cooks, and assorted women anywhere from fifteen to forty—which allowed me to collect plenty of gossip and get a look at how those institutions really operated behind the scenes.
And, as it happened, things behind those scenes were remarkably well run.
The only real drawback—and even that was debatable—was the discipline. It was far stricter than one would expect at an ordinary boarding school, bordering instead on a military academy. Then again, considering the temperaments of both firebenders and children—and just imagine combining those two—it was probably better this way than having to explain to some enraged parent why their precious little darling had accidentally been roasted alive during a game.
We returned from our enlightening little tour a couple of days later, just in time for a messenger hawk carrying Piandao's "secret weapon" to arrive. The moment I had a chance to examine it properly, a grin of eager anticipation crept onto my face all by itself and stubbornly refused to leave. My mood, meanwhile, shot somewhere into the stratosphere.
Only the palace servants flinched nervously at every little sound. Being anywhere near the princess was already hazardous to one's self-esteem, health, and life. Now that her male counterpart had appeared—possessing, for all practical purposes, the same authority and power—their lives had become even more "interesting."
(End of Chapter)
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