The gesture, reckless in its simplicity, seemed only to sharpen the desperation hanging over the garden. It surprised Han Fei as well. Whatever degree of reckless resolve he had anticipated, apparently he had not expected quite this much.
"You do not want to at least wait until I finish explain the details?" he asked.
Satchiko merely regarded him with the same unwavering expression she had worn since the beginning of the meeting and lowered her gaze to the wine. In its clear surface, there is the distorted reflection of her painted face, the red and white pigments appearing almost ghostly beneath the pavilion roof's muted light. For a fleeting moment, she lamented the missed opportunity to wear that golden headdress forged specifically for her.
A small sigh escaped her.
"This whole journey, my sister has been the one shielding me from trouble," she recounted. Gratitude and shame conjured together, remembering how often Mayumi had dragged her out of the consequences of one youthful impulse after another. "I am still not entirely certain how you people of the great cities conduct yourselves. But I would prefer it if you let my sister go completely after I drink this wine."
Han Fei appears to be silent. Whether he was genuinely considering the proposal or merely cultivating the appearance of contemplation, neither Mayumi nor the agents standing nearby could say with confidence. But the older sibling herself has no patience for either possibility.
"No!" the older Kyoshi Warrior protested fiercely, her hands struggling against the earthen cuff and even chastised Satchiko for yet again engaging in some reckless interpretation of selfless heroism.
Satchiko did not dare look.
"I suppose your suggestion is not entirely unreasonable," Han Fei eventually said back to Satchiko. "The Inquisitor may consider planting a permanent mole among the retinue of a newly appointed Zhuangyuan a prudent investment. But admittedly, there is little reason for your sister to remain in Ba Sing Se once you have completed your Earthbending mastery anyway." His tone carried something dangerously close to approval. "Although I confess I have little desire to incur the wrath of your people. Least of all that mother of yours, if my sources are accurate regarding what she is capable of. Nevertheless, the laws of this city will still be enforced judiciously."
"Not a single one of our sisters will forgive you after this," Mayumi growled. The sound was low enough to make even the two Dai Li agents standing next to her shifted slightly.
Han Fei merely exhaled. He did not bother defending the reputation of Ba Sing Se's secret police, nor did he waste time explaining that his foremost duty was that of a publicly visible statesman rather than an actual Dai Li agent. The distinction would hardly have mattered, as the agency's reputation had already been dragged so thoroughly through the mud by its history of treason, political intrigue, and spectacular failures that even the prospect of earning the wrath of Avatar Kyoshi herself possessed little novelty.
Besides, Han Fei had permitted the older Kyoshi Warrior her threats. He merely reminded Mayumi that actually carrying out an assassination against an official of Ba Sing Se was another matter entirely. To do so would not merely invite retaliation, it would amount to courting death itself. Thus, once again returning to the same tedious principle of enforcing the penal code
"I am not enjoying this at all," Han Fei admitted in a rare show of complete honesty. He took a measured sip of tea, savoring it with the weary composure of a man attempting to endure an unpleasant obligation. His eyes wandered briefly toward another Dai Li agent nearby, one whose appearance differed little to the others within the garden. It's as though the director is seeking some small measure of sympathetic understanding. "The disdain of sages, kinsmen, and dispossessed nobles was by no means light, but this is certainly different."
What bit deepest was the prospect of losing a potential new adherent to the much-reviled school of thought, a philosophy that had already fought tooth and nail to establish itself across an entire continent dominated by the venerable teachings of the Earth Sages. If the news were to spread, as it inevitably might should Mayumi survive and feel no compulsion to keep silent, would the White Scholar himself ever be able to find another student? It is not entirely impossible. Somewhere, another young candidate might possess the temperament to embrace the austere principles of just law and uncompromising impartiality. Yet such a discovery would hardly be guaranteed. For Shan, the loss of a promising pupil would be more than a personal disappointment. It would be another ill omen for a doctrine already struggling to carve out a place in a world that had little appetite for its severity.
"Before I go, I have some more requests," Satchiko said, much to Mayumi's continuous heartache. "Give me a brush and some paper. At least let me write a few letters." A few seconds of thought brought several other necessities to mind. "Some food too," she said to the nearest Dai Li agent, who was preparing to leave. "Do you have any Elephant Koi meat?"
The last question was so mundane that it seemed almost absurd amid the solemnity. Yet Satchiko was entirely sincere. The condemned teenager had considered having someone dictate her final words to friends and family, but the thought had never sat comfortably with her. If these truly were to be her final letters, then she wanted her own hand upon the page.
Besides, she had only recently become somewhat literate and sufficiently capable with a brush to write more than the simplest scribbles. The names of people on Kyoshi Island were sometimes rendered differently from the formal script used throughout the Earth Kingdom, and she did not want some well-meaning scribe to transform her final words into something that no longer sounded like her.
Han Fei obliged and did not believe Satchiko was attempting to stall. After all, who is coming to save either of them?
Eventually, a Dai Li agent returned with the requested paper, brush and ink, allowing Satchiko to finally write down the final wills. All addressing to parents, sibling, and friends scattered across her village. The parchment slowly filled with memories, apologies, gratitude, and words of affection expressed in all the imperfect forms available. Her handwriting remained young and somewhat uneven, and fought valiantly to make it graceful, adding flourishes where her skill permitted and carefully retracing characters whenever she feared they looked particularly ugly.
Eloquence had never been among her gifts. Still, there was something strangely beautiful in the effort. Among the final instructions were requests concerning her funeral rites. And perfectly in character, requesting an annual offering of Elephant Koi meat.
"What should I write to Kazuki?" Satchiko murmured to herself. Her thoughts wandered to her old friend, the unfortunate one who seemed destined to lose every practice duel. She glanced at her sister, still thoroughly demoralized by everything that had transpired, and felt the familiar weight of guilt settle once more within her chest. She swallowed it down alongside sadness. There was little use burdening a farewell with either.
The final letter, when she finally finished it, ended with a few words of encouragement. Eventually, the food arrived.
Satchiko had never imagined that a northern city such as Ba Sing Se would have Elephant Koi readily available, much less that anyone would slaughter one of its few living specimens for the sake of a condemned prisoner awaiting an unfortunate, albeit supposedly dignified death by poison. She would have been perfectly content with carp. Even salmon would have sufficed.
"The chef made this," the nameless Dai Li announced, sounding faintly incredulous that such words should fall from his lips in the course of his reviled duty. "Red bean buns."
The bamboo steamer's lid was opened. Nestled are two buns fashioned in the unmistakable shape of two separate Elephant Koi, their soft bodies filled with sweet red bean paste. It was exactly the sort of simple extravagance one might expect from the Earth Kingdom's ancient capital, a city where political grandeur and culinary perfection could apparently coexist even at the edge of an execution.
Resemblance to the fish was almost absurdly precise. Berry paste had been used to recreate the fishes' orange coloring while the flour's natural whiteness adorned their bodies. Small sesame seeds served as their eyes. Whoever had prepared the meal had evidently taken the trouble to reproduce fish's movement, akin to the ones that currently swam in languid circles within the pond below.
"Close enough," Satchiko said after carefully sampling the pastry. It was unexpectedly sweet upon biting down one of the fake fish's head. She took another greedy bite before glancing toward her sister. "Big sis, you want one?"
No answer came. The restrained swordswoman remained motionless, her face turned toward the pavement below. Her posture betrayed neither appetite nor interest. Perhaps she had simply reached the point where food seemed too insignificant to acknowledge.
Satchiko studied her for a moment. Whether she truly wished to see that mortified face hidden beneath long strands of brown hair was another question entirely, one she had no desire to examine too closely.
After wiping the crumbs from her mouth, Han Fei waited uncomfortably as Satchiko's hand drifted toward the cup of wine. Departure, after all, demanded some measure of courtesy. It would have been rude not to offer a final word to the one person who had spent so much effort trying to keep her out of trouble.
"Sorry for the trouble, sister."
Satchiko lifted the porcelain cup. Perhaps she thought there was some comfort in keeping the final act mundane. If the motions remained ordinary enough, then the mind might be persuaded to believe that this was merely another day.
Right as the gilded rim of the porcelain cup touched her lips, something flew across the pond's bridge and arrived right underneath the pavilion. It struck Satchiko squarely in the forehead, deliberately at that specific spot too.
Satchiko recoiled, dropping the cup. Whatever had been thrown possessed enough force to make her stagger, and for one startled instant she could do nothing but stare, utterly bewildered along with almost everyone present.
The first one who spotted the object was Mayumi herself, even through the disheveled strands of brown hair obscuring her vision. It tumbled to the pavilion's wooden floor. A lone paper fan. White, elegant, and unmistakably expensive for anyone besides its maker. Its frame had been decorated with delicate paintings of Earth Kingdom mountains and rivers, accompanied by flowing lines of calligraphy of the sort that might have commanded a considerable price among merchants and the wealthier households of the Upper Ring. Her pair of blue eyes instantly shot up from the pavement, quickly beaming at the sole bridge that extends across the pond. As expected, that same figure who stood unbothered in the middle of a heavy rain still wears his pale-colored robe.
Whatever ties the newcomer might have enjoyed with their director, every sentry present, save for Zhu Di, instantly abandoned their ceremonial stillness. Earthen gloves unfurled from beneath their enormous sleeves. Those who had nothing to bend merely raised their bare hands, cunningly summoned materials from elevated earth deliberately hidden right beneath the pond's deep-colored surface. Chunks of stone and packed soil flew out the water like obedient beasts, swiftly taking the shape of hardened gloves around their wielder's hands.
The Dai Li stationed at the bridge's abutment stepped forward to the newcomer. Two earthen hands rose before him, their fingers sharpened into crude but unmistakably lethal points.
"White Scholar," he called. "What is your intention?"