For a brief moment in time, Ozai had assumed Hama to be a unique kind of monster for her displayed skill in human misery. He should have known better. One look around the room not only finds him disabused of that naive notion but leaves no doubts as to who her teachers had been.
Is it better or worse that the soldiers here act only on their superiors' orders rather than active vendettas?
The answer eludes him, but it was a pointless question anyway. Regardless of who has perpetrated the greater wrong, people under his authority have suffered.
The Fire Lord forces himself to walk through the doorway and face the results of his nation's actions.
----------------------------------------
Kallik watches as the new arrivals enter. The two men must be important, because Warden Masaki personally holds the door open for them.
They make for an odd pair, a living study in opposites highlighted by their underlying similarities.
The first to step into the cellblock is clad in the typical deep reds and black of the Fire Nation, complete with pointed shoulders and shoes. His black hair is collected up in the nation's standard fan-like topknot and decorated with a golden, five-pronged flame. Is this the Fire Lord, then? Despite his fine clothes, Kallik discovers that he is underwhelmed by this stranger. The guards always speak of their lord as if he were a god among men and Kallik had built up a few expectations over the decades. This man appears to be little different from any other firebender that Kallik has encountered. The most noteworthy feature about the man is his golden eyes, which catch the light of the torches oddly and almost appear to glow.
The second man moves with an eerie grace and soon stands shoulder to shoulder with the first. He is dressed as finely as his companion and of a similar height, but what captures Kallik's attention is his dark skin and pale blue eyes. Does he belong to one of their tribes? What is he doing here? Why does he walk free while surrounded by soldiers? Whatever the case may be, he stands out starkly from his surroundings. The man is dressed entirely in white, styled in looser draping shapes compared to the precise, harsh lines favored by the Fire Nation, and bare feet peek past the long, wide hems of his pant legs as he walks. His hair and beard are as white as his clothes with the longer locks that frame his face neatly threaded through round, luminescent beads.
"Benders of the Southern Water Tribes," says the man with the golden flame in his topknot, "I am Fire Lord Ozai." That is one question among many answered, at least. "Herald of Agni," he continues, because the Fire Nation loves creating endless titles, "and Nephew of Tui."
That causes a stir. His fellow prisoners bristle at the claim, guards shift uncomfortably, and the man dressed in white looks away with one hand poorly concealing a smile.
Across from him, Nuniq sneers, "Keh, liar." Thankfully, the other man has enough sense to keep his voice low and none of the guards appear to have heard the muttered accusation directed at their nation's sovereign.
"I realize you have little reason to trust me," Fire Lord Ozai says with barely a pause to acknowledge the tension in the room, "but I mean to end the war between our peoples, and one of the first steps I am taking to mend the relationship between our nations is to return you to your homes. I know this will not be enough, but I hope you will allow it to be a start."
And then the Fire Lord bows.
If that was not enough of a shock, Kallik realizes it is not the high, pointed sign of the flame he offers to complement the action. Instead... Kallik is almost certain the Fire Lord is bowing over the sign of the wave.
It's wrong of course. The Southern Tribes collectively use and recognize the sign of the moon when dealing with any outsider to their home tribe. The sign of the wave is used by their northern cousins. Still, the differences might be easily overlooked by foreigners, and he can only assume this is a genuine attempt at respect.
Respect is a good indicator of a man's character, but better still is his reaction to correction. What happens next will inform the tribes to what degree this Fire Lord should be trusted.
Kallik dearly hopes a few more of his expectations will be proven wrong.
"If I may, Fire Lord," Kallik says, raising his voice to be heard but mindful to keep the tone respectful. There's no need to make the test too aggressive a provocation. He's only looking to gain an initial measure of this Fire Lord, after all. "It is the Northern Water Tribe that bows over the sign of the wave. We use the sign of the moon."
If the room had been tense before, the frost in the air could not be cleared with a torch now.
A flush steals over the monarch's pale cheeks and his eyes lock onto Kallik as the perpetrator of his embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize... I don't know the sign of the moon," the Fire Lord admits. The man's long sleeves fall to cover his hands as he straightens.
The man in white laughs softly. "Like this, young Fire Lord," he says. The possible tribesman begins by folding his hands into the sign of the wave. "Rotate the fist ninety degrees, just the same as it would be for the sign of the flame," he narrates along with his demonstration, "The left hand's fingers should be kept together. Anchor the heel of the hand under the small finger of the fist. Cup the left hand over the fist's fingers to approximate the shape of my crescent phase."
The Fire Lord takes direction well and soon forms a passable sign of the moon, but Kallik is a bit stuck on the man in white's odd phrasing. His 'crescent phase'? Who is this man?
"My apologies," Fire Lord Ozai says, bowing over the correct sign this time, "I'll be sure to remember in the future."
The words could have been ominous, considering who had spoken them, but the humility with which they are offered renders them promising instead. Azulon's son seems to be a different sort altogether from his father.
The Fire Lord rises from the second bow he has given to the war prisoners and meets Kallik's gaze again.
Kallik bows his head, the most he can offer in return with his current restraints, and says, "Your consideration honors us." It's not the typical phrasing the tribes would utter amongst themselves for such a sentiment, but the words should translate well to Fire Nation ears.
The Fire Lord turns his attention to Warden Masaki. "Release them. Let them bring the news to the other cellblocks themselves. Send guards with them as an escort and to release the other prisoners as they go. Have the cooks prepare meals that are easy to keep down. Small portions, but served many times a day until the waterbenders regain their strength." There is a brief pause, possibly hesitation, and then the Fire Lord commands, "Start with broths."
Broth? To be sipped unshackled? It seems he is not the only one presenting a test of trustworthiness tonight. How many waterbenders does the prison still hold? Will they all be punished if some of the warriors choose vengeance over the promise of freedom?
Masaki looks nearly ill as he bows and says, "Yes, Fire Lord."
Kallik could almost sympathize with their latest warden. He and his allies are the ones set to be newly armed and his nerves are buzzing like the summer mosquito-bee swarms at just the thought.
The unknown tribesman clears his throat. "I would relish the opportunity to free some of the Southern Seas' waterbenders myself," he says, "This block, at least, if it meets your approval, Fire Lord."
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Kallik isn't sure why, but the implied request causes warden and Fire Lord alike to freeze. Masaki appears ready to pass out.
The Fire Lord drops his voice from the clear projection of a man used to giving speeches and commands to a speaking voice that cannot quite be called hushed. With the room silent aside from the forced air, his voice still carries to most of the ears present. "What exactly do you intend to do?" he asks cautiously, as if he is decidedly not the most powerful man in the room despite having the permission of his authority entreated. "I know I said I'd free them, Tui --" The stranger claims to be the Moon Spirit? Is he crazy? "-- but I also don't have anywhere else prepared to house them tonight -- probably not for several nights -- and it will be months before the weather will allow us to send any ships south."
"Just the outer locks, then," the mad heretic bargains, "as a show of good faith. Would you believe yourself to be anything other than a prisoner as long as locks remained on your door?"
Fire Lord Ozai's eyes flicker across cages and shackles as much as they do prisoners before he sighs and says, "Do as you will."
The man in white laughs lightly and clasps the Fire Lord's shoulder. "Worry not, Nephew, I will keep the mess to a minimum, and the steel can always be reforged to a new life."
Fire Lord Ozai squints oddly at his companion and supposed uncle. "Was that purposeful, or..."
The heretic chuckles as he walks further down the hall. "You might recall that there was a certain young warrior that I was once quite fond of," he says in answer.
The Fire Lord tips his face down and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Purposeful. Very, very purposeful," he decides.
No further explanation is offered and the next moment ensures that Kallik forgets every one of his half-formed questions about the exchange.
The heretic spins toward Aput's cage, hands close together before being thrown wide in what might be some foreign bending form. Neither water nor fire are summoned by the move but everyone flinches at the deafening screech of the steel as it shears apart, pulled by an undeniable force in opposing directions. A sweep of two arms leaves the torn metal to orbit the head of the very-much-so-not-human being dressed in white. A second later, the being spins and dances with all the grace of a master waterbender to his next target.
The most terrifying thing, however, is not the impossible metalbending. No, what scares Kallik far more is how his chi is tugged toward the white-robed stranger with every lock torn asunder.
The being in white is no heretic.
For reasons and timing unknown, Tui has come tonight to free them.
Have other great spirits returned?
What does this mean for mortal men?
How is one meant to greet the spirits, again?
Kallik struggles to remember boyhood lessons and hopes fervently that the spirits will be merciful to a people that had believed them dead.
----------------------------------------
The guards all flinch with every new shriek of shearing metal. Ozai can't blame them. The sound makes a military whistle seem pleasant by comparison. At least Tui seems to be having a good time, under his growing crown of destruction. Considering what the consequences had been the last time a patron spirit of the Water Tribes had turned their attention on a target made of Fire Nation steel, Ozai is more than happy to let Tui rend as many locks as the spirit pleases.
Of course, the waterbenders seem as wary of Tui as the guards are. He might have to find a way to suggest Tui behave a bit less obviously spirit-like around people who don't spend their vacations traveling with the Avatar. Not that he has the first clue how he's supposed to say that tactfully.
"Try to relax, Warden," he says, eyes still tracking the twirling spirit.
Another lock, another round of flinching from guards and prisoners alike. The sound really is awful.
"Forgive me, my lord," Masaki says, voice reduced to a croak, "This is a bit... overwhelming."
It would be for the uninitiated, he muses. He's been chasing spirit tales since he was thirteen, and living in one since turning sixteen. Granted, he used to have time to breathe between encounters with Aang, be it as foe or friend, and the chaos the young Avatar was constantly surrounded by.
"One thing at a time," he advises, "Trying to think about it all at once can be too much, so breathe and focus on one or two things you can make progress on. After the storm in your mind clears, you can reorient yourself and focus on the big picture again."
"A storm of the mind? I can't say I've heard that one before, but it's an accurate descriptor," Masaki says. The warden waves a few of the guards closer.
Ozai's brow furrows. Who had he first heard that turn of phrase from? It's an old memory, clouded by age and relative unimportance, for all that a piece of it has stuck with him through the years. He knows Aang had used the phrase on occasion, but the Avatar hardly belongs in his early childhood memories of the palace.
"Start unshackling the prisoners behind Moon Spirit Tui," Warden Masaki directs.
"Yes, sir!" the guards chorus, some voices shakier than others, before moving to obey the command.
"The cells will have to suffice in the short term, but we'll need to provide better housing for them until we can return them to the South," Ozai muses aloud. If Masaki happens to latch on to it as his one thing to focus on, so much the better for them both.
"I'll have a few guards begin scouting the island at daybreak for suitable building sites," Masaki says, "I doubt the waterbenders will prefer to remain inside the compound if given a choice."
"That's not a bad idea. Tents would be fastest."
"I hear most of the tribes use tents in the South, anyway, for months at a time if not year-round. Perhaps the familiarity will be a comfort."
Ozai hums in half-agreement. "They're different from ours and not so uniform as you might imagine. There's a lot of variance by tribe in the size and shape of their tents. Most of them use hides as coverings rather than canvas."
Masaki doesn't answer.
Ozai glances over at the warden to find him staring.
"Is something wrong, Warden Masaki?"
The man turns butter-beet red and offers a hasty bow. "Forgive me, your majesty! I hadn't expected you to be well versed in Water Tribe subcultures. They haven't been of political interest in decades."
Ozai looks away as he feels a flush of his own take over his face. He's grateful that nearly every eye in the room is locked on Tui at the moment.
"I do know something about the Southern Water Tribes, if clearly not everything," he says. In retrospect, he probably should have realized that Katara, having trained under a Northern Water Tribe bending master, had in turn taught him a Northern-style of bow. He wishes Hakoda or one of the other Southern warriors had mentioned it to him at some point, though. This has not been how he would have preferred to find out he was mimicking a culture literally a world away from the one he had meant to honor. At the last second, the Fire Lord remembers to tack on, "You may rise."
After a moment's hesitation, Masaki asks, "What kind of tents should we requisition for them?"
Ozai shrugs. "Barrack tents will be the most practical, initially, but get a few of each type. If they decide they'd rather have a different style than the barracks or some other lodging entirely, we'll do our best to accommodate them. Send the requisition request directly to my office and note it as urgent. I'll ensure it gets approved swiftly."
"Yes, Fire Lord. And..." Masaki lowers his voice, "What should be done with the returned prisoner?"
Ozai grimaces. At least Warden Masaki has the discretion to ask such a question while Tui is distracted and simultaneously creating an effective distraction for everyone else. But then, the warden had obviously been concerned with such from the beginning.
"You can't keep her in that padded cell, can you?" he asks.
"A maximum of three-hundred-sixty degrees at a time," the prison warden confirms, "For long-term use with a single prisoner, it is recommended one-hundred-eighty in and one-hundred-eighty out. Greater isolation has led to... disturbing results in the past."
Well, that sounds ominous. "You'll have to elaborate on that."
"The reports mention prisoners either going feral or quiet. Most recovered, but recovery time got longer for each prisoner with repeated exposure."
He was right. That's nothing short of nightmarish.
Ozai takes a steadying breath and says, "Please tell me we haven't been driving waterbenders insane for the last century."
"No, my lord. The reports are from the first five years of Kitaika's operation. These days a strict policy is enforced across all prisons against extended isolation and robbing inmates of their minds. But that leaves me with few options as to how to contain the blood witch."
"Right," Ozai sighs. "...Bloodbending is only possible under a full moon, and the full moon is usually only three nights of a given month. You said the isolation cells can be used safely in half-day cycles?"
"Mostly. There can be some minor effects, depending upon the individual prisoner, but they don't deteriorate so far as to be mindless, at least."
Great. It will have to do. Masaki is the prison warden and has likely been stewing over this exact problem from the moment he realized who Hama is. If he can't think of a better solution, then there is little chance that Ozai will come up with something in the time he has before he needs to return to Caldera.
"No more than seven nights per month, warden," he decides, "That gives you two nights on either side of the full moon for margin if you misjudge it. She'll have to be let out during the days, but she'll be nothing more than a strong waterbender so long as Agni is shining."
"'Let out'?" Masaki wonders, "Do you not mean, 'moved to a standard cell,' my lord?"
"Tui asked for mercy," Ozai answers, not particularly happy himself with the thought of Hama wandering more free than not, "and he clearly expects Hama to be returned South with the rest of the waterbenders. Hama will be treated the same as any other waterbender except as precautions around her bloodbending are required."
"I --" Masaki rasps, "That is not possible, my lord. The blood witch -- Hama cannot be allowed to mingle with the other waterbenders."
Ozai turns to face Warden Masaki fully. "Explain."
"They'll kill her."