Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

An Unlikely Alliance

Zuko's ship came around the headland at midday, and Xanadu rose out of the haze like a wound that had learned how to become a city.

Crimson walls. War banners. The Iron Dragon and her many sisters hulking in the harbor as if they had always belonged there. The camp at the fortress's feet had grown since the last time any of them had seen it. What had been a war camp was now an occupation.

Sokka let out a long breath. "With all due respect, Fire Lord," he said, "this is suicide!"

Zuko did not look away from the walls. "We have to try."

Katara's hands were already tight on the rail. "Then we do it carefully. No speeches. No sudden movements. We assume the worst until they prove otherwise."

Iroh stood a little apart, watching the men on the docks. "Many of them were soldiers once. Some even served under me. A familiar face may soothe what a crown will only inflame."

The ship docked.

The Nomads were waiting as if they had been told the hour.

They came down the stone in a loose, armed tide: swords, maces, bows already in hand. No one bowed. No one made room. The standoff settled in at once, tight as a drawn string. Faces in the crowd found Zuko and did not bother hiding what they thought of him.

"Wait," one warrior shouted, loud enough for the whole dock to hear. "Isn't that the Fire Lord that ran from Bin-Er?"

Laughter rolled through the men, ugly and delighted.

Zuko let it die on its own. He kept his voice level.

"We are here to speak with Khan Rokkun," he said. "I came to negotiate. Not to fight."

The line of Nomads shifted. Then it parted.

Oghuz came through it like a gate that had decided to walk. He was a head taller than most of the men around him, bear-shouldered, wolf-pelt at his back, the kind of second-in-command who did not need a title to be understood. He looked at Zuko, then at Aang, then at the rest of them as if measuring meat.

"Follow me," he said. "One wrong move, and I feed you to my wolves."

Iroh inclined his head. "I will remain with the ship."

Oghuz did not argue. He turned and led the others into the fortress.

They walked through the camp in silence: tents, rhinos, forges, the sour smell of too many victories packed too close. The inner hall was cooler, torchlit, stripped of ceremony except for the two seats at the far end. Rokkun occupied the larger one as if it had grown there for him. Azula sat beside him on a smaller throne, back straight, hands folded too tightly in her lap.

Rokkun did not rise.

He looked almost unsurprised.

"Well," he said, easy as a man greeting late dinner guests. "Look who found the front door. Oghuz. Leave us."

Oghuz hesitated just long enough to make the point, then dismissed the guards with a jerk of his chin.

The doors shut. The hall shrank.

Rokkun smiled that lazy, predatory smile.

"Have you come to surrender your crown, Zuko? Or just to beg?"

Zuko stopped at the base of the dais. "I came for peace. People are dying every day. This conflict between us has to end."

Azula had not spoken.

Up close, she did not look like the sharpened princess the stories still used. Her hair was slightly unkempt. The paint at her eyes had been rubbed thin. It looked as if she had been crying and then decided the world was not allowed to see it.

Zuko's voice changed before he could stop it. "Azula. Are you all right?"

Her gaze cut to him, bright and raw. "Don't," she said. "You don't get to ask me that."

Rokkun reached over and stroked her hand, thumb moving once across her knuckles.

"Forgive my wife," he said. "The disappearance of our children has taken a toll." His smile did not reach his eyes. "Earth Kingdom soldiers raided the camps a few nights ago and took our sons."

Sokka leaned toward Suki and whispered something under his breath. Suki did not answer. She did not have to.

Zuko stared at them.

"I didn't realize you and Azula were—"

Rokkun cut him off, almost gently.

"You shouldn't be surprised."

"I guess I'm not," Zuko said, and shrugged as if the knowledge had always been waiting for him. "What I don't understand is why Xuo would break the truce after he'd already lost so much."

Rokkun leaned back in the makeshift throne. "Xuo was desperate. And a coward. But he didn't act alone." His eyes moved over them, unhurried. "We have reason to believe he was assisted from one of our own."

The hall tightened around that.

Zuko nodded once. "I understand wanting revenge. I do. But more violence will not bring your sons back. We have to find a way to work together. Heal what's already been torn open."

Rokkun was quiet long enough that Azula looked at him.

Then he exhaled through his nose, almost amused. "I'm open to the idea. Until my sons are found, though, I am not concerned with war or peace. Only with them."

"Then let us help," Zuko said. "The Avatar and I standing with you can be a sign of good faith. Proof that this isn't another trick."

Rokkun considered him. Really considered him, the way he had not on the docks.

"Do we have terms?" Zuko asked.

Rokkun's mouth curved. "We do."

A breath went out of the group at once, small and shared.

Rokkun rose from the throne but did not come down the steps. "I suspect one of my lieutenants, Taijuk. He was conveniently absent the night of the raid and was seen riding out of Xanadu yesterday morning. But I need proof. I will not accuse one of my own on sentiment."

"Where do we start?" Aang asked.

Azula answered before Rokkun could. Her voice was hoarse, but precise. "There are caverns underneath the stronghold. The soldiers came from there."

Rokkun nodded. "We begin at dawn. Tonight, we feast. To honor the truce. And our...esteemed guests." The last words were dry enough to cut. "I expect you to be present."

They turned toward the doors.

"One more thing," Rokkun said.

They stopped.

He looked at Zuko first, then Aang, then the rest of them in turn. "While these terms stand, you will not leave Xanadu. You will not be treated as captives. You will eat. You will sleep. You will walk my halls. But you will do it under Nomad eyes. Wander past the gates, and the truce ends."

No one argued.

There was nothing to argue with that had not already been decided.