The Warrior's Gambit (Zutara)

XIII

Aang watched the robe saleswoman from his spot at the cafe with careful scrutinizing attention.

"Sir, your honor, would you like more tea?"

Aang startled, glancing up at the very nervous owner who was offering out more from the tea cup. Aang wordlessly accepted, nodding his thanks. The man left, stumbling over reverent thank-yous, retreating back.

Yesterday, Aang had worn his military uniforms for his recon work. It had been his intention to be invisible, to be forgettable. Fire Nation military were as common as mouseflies here, and even one with light gray eyes was easily forgotten once out of sight. Today, however, he was wearing his family robes. It had been Kyoshi who had pointed out that flaunting his fake ancestors would allow him prestige and encourage people to listen to him.

As it was, as soon as he'd stepped into the tea shop, the owner had been falling over himself to offer Aang any table and tea on the house. He'd taken up a spot out on the patio, in perfect view of the woman of his watch as she sold her robes to passersby.

He'd gathered that she was the owner, but still worked the shop herself. She had scant workers, and it seemed to be mostly tourists who stopped in, the locals avoided her shop tactfully. She was marked by some invisible taboo, something that was known but not talked about at this point in time.

Her figure was lithe, and when she stepped, there was a spring to it. Her shoulders were small. Her eyes, not quite grey, but somewhere between a murky blue and true slate color all indicated to Aang that some of her ancestors had to be airbenders. He doubted she herself was an airbender, but it was somewhere in her family.

He hadn't had proper time to research Ember Island and the census reports. As it was, this town was very changed year to year. It was built up for the tourists, and the actual people who lived here were probably few. It was also a hot spot for all types of high-ranking Fire Nationers. Chances are that someone wouldn't have come here unless you didn't know about your airbending ancestry until it was too late.

When the owner came back over a second time, Aang motioned him down.

"That woman there?" he asked, pointing, "What do you know of her?"

The man poured Aang's green tea, frowning. "Lady Tuan? What does the Royal Family care of her?"

"What do you know of her?" Aang repeated, recalling how Kasata had told him to be aloof and cold, someone imposing.

"She's hardly anyone, m'lord," the man said carefully, "And, if I may...a disgrace to the town."

"Oh?"

"She's vocal, sir," the man said distastefully. "Or, she was. She had a son, you see, and he was always a little off. He vanished a year or two ago. Since then, she's always had opinions, and will tell anyone them. Mostly about the soldiers that come through here...which we are always pleased to have, of course," the man said quickly.

"I take it she doesn't?"

"In more words or less," the man said shortly.

Aang sipped his tea, nodding.

"The Royal Family thanks you for your generosity," he said, dropping a handful of gold coins in the man's hand.

Then, he strode across the walkway.

"Lady Tuan?" Aang said in an even tone, "May I have a word?"

"Lord Kuzon." The woman bowed immediately, as did everyone else in the general vicinity. "I am humbled you would choose to visit this small store, I am-"

"Lady," Aang said, resting a hand on her shoulder, "If there is perhaps somewhere we could talk?"

"Yes, let me just...I will...come in," she said. She was middle-aged, wrinkles creasing her face, hints of silver shining in her dark hair. She brought Aang to the back storeroom, filled with bolts of fabric and thread yarn. She hustled around, clearing off tables.