Chan. About Twelve Hours Later.
I took another sip of the invigorating brew.
It wasn't coffee, or even chicory, but this sour-bitter concoction worked almost an order of magnitude better. The taste, admittedly, wasn't for everyone, but I wasn't in a position to be picky. Staying awake for two straight days wasn't the limit for a well-trained body, yet I could already feel my attention beginning to wander and my reflexes slowing ever so slightly. With a damned "cheater" like the Avatar waiting somewhere out there, even a fraction of a second could prove decisive.
I'd hate to miss the opportunity to end this whole affair with the Avatar here and now.
I could always sleep later.
My thoughts were interrupted by an urgent report from the prison.
Bumi was dead.
The physicians had determined the cause of death to be a myocardial infarction. Naturally, they called it something else here, but the principle was the same.
"Hmm..." Azula shot me a mildly suspicious glance.
"Hm?" I raised an eyebrow. Good thing Toph was catching up on sleep after all the construction work. She wouldn't have ratted me out, but afterward I'd have had some explaining to do.
"Don't you find it rather suspicious? A dangerous prisoner dies barely a day after you paid him a visit." So she knew about my, as she'd put it, "visit." Not that it was surprising—I hadn't exactly been trying to hide it.
"I'm flattered that you think I'm responsible for every noteworthy event in the area, but I'm not some Great Spirit capable of bending probability with a thought. Considering the conditions he was being kept in and his age, the real surprise is that he lasted as long as he did."
"Perhaps," she said slowly, though doubt still lingered in her voice. "Even so, I have the feeling you're not telling me everything. But let's leave that aside."
That surprised me. Normally, the princess would've tried to squeeze every last piece of information out of whoever she was talking to.
Sleep deprivation?
She was drinking the same stimulant I was. I wasn't the only one who'd spent the last two days running myself ragged.
"What's far more interesting," she continued, "is what we can gain from it." Ah. Now that was a smile I knew all too well
"You want to undermine the Avatar's morale by telling him his old friend is dead?"
"Not by telling him he's dead."
A loose strand of hair had slipped free from the left side of her hairstyle and fallen across her eye, forcing her to pause. Shooting the offending strand an irritated glare, she brushed it neatly back into place with a practiced motion before continuing.
"That's too simple. You strike where it hurts the most. The death of a friend may make him sad. It may make him angry. But what if that friend dies because of him?"
"King Bumi hears about the plague in his city... and his heart gives out?" I immediately caught on to her idea. "Brutal. Though, come to think of it, it could very well be true..."
Except we'd never discussed the epidemic. Then again, maybe we had. Or maybe we hadn't. But this wasn't about establishing the truth, was it?
"Do you object?" she asked, sounding faintly surprised.
"No. Why would I?" I leaned back in my chair. "It's an excellent idea. It could also create a serious rift between Aang's group and Bumi's followers. The only concern is making sure he doesn't enter the Avatar State in an emotional outburst. If that happens, we'll all have a very bad day."
"That's the problem." Azula thoughtfully traced a finger around the handle of her teacup. "Is it worth taking that risk?"
"Good question."
Another sip.
"But I'd rather we tell him—and tell him in a way that makes him drown in guilt—than let some well-meaning fool do it and stir up an entirely different set of feelings."
"But why should we care how he feels if we're planning to end his 'adventures' here?" the princess asked, arching an eyebrow.
"And what if we fail?" I countered. "A child consumed by the desire for revenge, with enough power to wipe out a respectable-sized army, is an extremely unpleasant prospect. Even the theoretical possibility of that outcome calls for certain precautions."
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't." She sighed softly. "Should we send someone expendable to deliver the news?"
"No. Too dangerous." I shook my head.
If it were as simple as dispatching a messenger...
"We'll declare a period of mourning instead. Bumi may have been a mad old man and our prisoner, but he was still a crowned monarch. His death is a perfectly respectable reason to declare an official period of mourning throughout the city. It'll also make us look good."
"Really?" Any trace of venomous skepticism in Azula's voice had been dulled only by exhaustion. "More likely they'll start shouting about hypocritical murderers... I know I would," she admitted after a moment's thought.
"Well..." I shrugged. "Either way, we don't lose anything by trying. And who knows? Maybe someone will actually be won over."
"Fair enough." She nodded, taking another sip from her cup. "So how exactly do you intend to conduct this mourning?"
(End of Chapter)
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