"Uh..." The younger generation exchanged bewildered glances. Even blind Toph crawled out of her improvised hideout and copied the gesture along with everyone else.
"Hey, the funny old guy's right!" the little blind girl was the first to recover, nearly causing Iroh to commit the unthinkable—spill his tea in surprise. "That scoundrel's way too crafty for some stupid plague to get him!"
"Toph, it's not nice to call the Fire Herald a scoundrel!" Ty Lee couldn't help jumping into the conversation.
"Fine then..." the earthbender conceded magnanimously. "The Great Scoundrel."
She snatched a teacup off the table, watching with obvious satisfaction as the acrobat gasped wordlessly, unable to decide whether she was more outraged or astonished.
"Mai, could you pass me one of those pastries, please?"
"Here."
"I honestly don't even know what to call all this anymore," the princess declared to no one in particular, sounding utterly resigned.
"A cookie?" Young Beifong had never been one to show much respect for other people's authority.
"Yes, thank you," Azula replied with perfect composure, taking the offered treat from the serving plate.
After all, making both Ty Lee and Mai stare at her with identical expressions of astonishment wasn't the worst way to lift her spirits in this madhouse…
***
That Same Evening. Chan.
Those damn idiots!
How in the world did they come up with something like this?
They'd decided to fake an epidemic using miniature octopuses(well, technically purple pentapuses, but that's beside the point). We were this close to collectively opening a brick factory over that little stunt!
And the goal? To get people out of the city!
I couldn't begin to fathom what twisted path the mastermind behind this brilliant idea's thought process had taken to conclude that an outbreak of a deadly disease would somehow persuade us to open the quarantine cordons.
How did we figure it out?
Oh, that part was easy.
There was an attempted breakout at the city gates, which Blast crushed before it could get anywhere. Even so, it left behind a couple dozen bodies. Bruised, some with broken bones... but very much alive.
Following my instructions, Blast ordered the "bodies" dragged away.
Using boat hooks—that is, long spears with steel hooks mounted beneath the tips.
The moment the "infected" caught sight of such wonderfully "humane" tools in the hands of men wrapped head to toe in dark cloth, who also happened to reek of sulfur, vinegar, and garlic from a mile away, they made miraculous recoveries and bolted so fast healthy people would've envied them.
Not all of them got away, though.
It's hard to run with a broken leg.
Those unlucky stragglers confessed that there had never been an epidemic at all. The marks on their arms, faces, and necks had been left by the little cephalopods. They also happily identified the genius behind the whole scheme, who just happened to be lying nearby with a magnificent lump on his forehead.
Blast merely shrugged, ordered every captive to receive fifteen blows across the soles of the feet with a stick (yes, even the ones with broken legs. The mercenary, after getting the scare of his life, hadn't appreciated the locals' little joke and had decided to play one of his own), then sent them limping back toward the residential districts with a well-placed kick.
As for the "mastermind," Blast decided to hand him over to headquarters.
Though they kept him under observation for five hours first, waiting for the "pentapox" marks to disappear. You know... just in case.
So here I was, sitting with Azula, Toph, Suki, Ty Lee, Iroh, Zuko, and Mai, sipping tea while reading the report on the "epidemic" and trying to talk Azula—who had read it as well—out of staging a local St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre.
The princess hadn't shown it, but she'd been frightened too. Very frightened. And she was absolutely determined to make someone pay for that fright; she just hadn't decided who deserved it yet.
Then, as if on cue, another problem landed in our laps. Mai's esteemed father, along with the entire palace guard for good measure, had managed to make complete fools of themselves once again by losing track of his own son.
The baby had simply vanished from his room.
Naturally, neither the nanny assigned to him nor the guards had seen or heard a thing. Yet everyone immediately blamed King Bumi's disciples—those pesky saboteurs. Which, to be fair, wasn't an unreasonable assumption. Children don't normally disappear from heavily guarded palaces all by themselves. Someone had to have helped him disappear.
The strange part was that whoever had done it hadn't bothered killing the governor while they were at it. The baby's room wasn't exactly far from his parents' chambers. If someone had managed to slip past all the guards in broad daylight, take the child, and leave without anyone noticing, then that same "someone" could have slaughtered half the palace during the night if they'd wanted to.
At least, that was Zuko's authoritative assessment—or, more accurately, an exasperated outburst along the lines of, What the hell is wrong with this place?!—which everyone else silently agreed with.
So there we were, enjoying this wonderfully cozy atmosphere and our positively delightful mood, when the guards dragged in a tightly bound young man with the unmistakable appearance and clothing of someone from the polar regions.
The hairstyle and the face left no room for doubt.
Standing before me was Sokka.
The only people who could have kidnapped the baby were the "rebels," and this particular fellow ought to know where they were hiding now—or at least where they'd been until very recently. The tunnels beneath Omashu were extensive, and the information we'd beaten out of the captured dirt-diggers had long since become hopelessly outdated. Besides, tangling with earthbenders underground…
Let's just say it was best avoided unless absolutely necessary.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, putting on a show of boundless delight at the sight of our prisoner as I got to my feet and headed toward him, discreetly signaling my companions not to interfere. "You're exactly the person we needed!"
Judging by his expression, he didn't care for that opening in the slightest.
"You see," I said confidentially, draping an arm around his shoulders and gently turning him toward the company gathered around the table, "we were just having a debate about the animals that live at the South Pole. I maintain there's a creature down there called a walrus-beaver, while my lovely companions"—I swept my hand grandly over the dazzling assembly, from Suki and Azula all the way to Toph and Mai—"insist no such animal exists. Since you're the resident expert, perhaps you could settle the matter for us?"
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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