Chapter Text
There seemed to be no end to the rain in Caldera in springtime. Agni’s piss, some of the more vulgar men Iroh had served with had called it, on account of the warmth. Yet after more than two weeks without a break in the weather Iroh had half a mind to go out and get pissed on anyway, and damn all the mud. Anything to ease his restlessness. He stalked across his study to the rain-splattered window again and pressed his forehead against the glass. If only he could break through it and fly off. But no. Iroh would do his duty. He always had. And for this afternoon, that meant staying put.
He forced himself to take a few long, slow breaths before walking over to one of the tall shelves to pull out a book out at random, desperate for any distraction. He flipped to more or less the center and started to read.
There is an old woman
Who sits by the river
Filling her cup with tears.
So long was the drought
She cannot see the water
After the uncommon rains.
Iroh closed the book with a snap. He had no heart for poetry today, especially about rain. Instead he walked to the desk and picked up the stack of papers he’d set on top of a thick leather-bound ledger. But the contents of the lists and figures hadn’t changed from the last time he’d read them a quarter of an hour before, no more than they had the dozen or so times before that. Iroh had already done all the preparation that could possibly be done. The only thing left to do now was wait. Iroh glanced at his pocket watch, grimaced, and resumed his frustrated pacing.
Fifteen minutes later he finally spied movement out of the corner of his eye. Iroh hurried to the window to see a lone carriage attached to a handsome matched set of chestnut dragon moose pulling up to the main entrance of the manor. Shortly after there was a knock on the door of his study.
“Come in.” Iroh didn’t turn.
“Sir,” said a voice. “Commander Bumi has arrived.”
“Thank you,” Iroh replied. “Tell my mother I’ll join them shortly.” As the study door closed behind him he went back to his desk and carefully gathered up the papers and ledger that represented weeks of careful untangling of various accounts previously managed by the now-defunct securities firm of Zoltan, Viper & Shin. The results were far more grim than he could have ever imagined. Iroh massaged the bridge of his nose against a looming headache, then squared his shoulders and marched to the door. There was no point in further delay. It was time to tell his mother and brothers that they were nearly out of money.
***
The whole family that was still living at the estate gathered in the west tea room to celebrate Bumi’s arrival. Though retired from the United Forces now, the old commander’s coming still retained something of the sense of occasion his long absences had once merited. Yet the presence of Iroh’s mother’s oldest friend this afternoon was hardly a random chance. Twelve years as an officer himself had taught Iroh well enough when to call for reinforcements. A message of austerity coming from Bumi would carry far more weight than the counsel of a youngest son alone no matter how much preparation he’d done.
“And that’s how I rode the elephant koi all the way into port,” Bumi finished. “I even said thank you. You know, it never hurts to be polite, regardless of the species.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t politely decide to snack on you,” said Izumi with a wry smile. “I’m surprised and delighted that you’ve lived as long as you have, Commander.”
“Sixty one years and counting,” he said proudly, “and hale as a bull komodo rhino.”
“And round as one in the middle these days,” muttered Kazai. Iroh’s oldest brother lounged back on his cushion and nibbled the last of the pink higashi, a bored expression on his handsome face. As alike to Iroh in looks as he was opposite in personality, he’d never had his brother’s interest in Commander Bumi’s wild adventures unless they involved treasure or the seduction of women.
“I heard that,” Bumi growled good-naturedly. He patted his stomach and smiled. “A healthy appetite is a sign of a life well-lived, my boy.”
“Yes, but I can eat a good dinner in town without anyone trying to eat me back in return,” said Matsu. He reached across his Iroh’s plate to add a third lump of sugar to his tea. “I’ll never understand why anyone joins the navy or whatnot. If you and my little brother like danger so much, just sit next to old lady Kehoso at her next private party. She’d have you and Iroh married off to two of her fourteen hairy granddaughters before you’ve finished the soup.”
“And it would be a highly credible match,” Izumi said sharply. Her golden eyes narrowed behind her thin spectacles. “The Kehosos are one of the Fire Nation’s oldest and most respected families. All three of my sons could do far worse, believe me.”
Iroh dropped his eyes to his cooling tea, a sudden burning in the back of his throat. The pinnacle of success in his mother’s opinion had always been the words Fire Nation and oldest and respected strung together in a single sentence. All the wit and brilliance and strength of character in the world could never garner credit if those first conditions hadn’t also been met. He shook his head, pushing away the sudden memory of laughter like musical bells and sparkling sea green eyes that threatened to invade his mind. Instead he concentrated and pushed a little fire into his palms to heat up the tea he no longer wanted. Soon it was steaming again, and all thoughts of sparkling eyes properly banished. It did no good to dwell on memories.
Commander Bumi waited until the last of the porcelain and second best lacquerware had been cleared to bring up the business Iroh had shared with him. Even he understood not to give the staff a reason to gossip. In matters of money and position one could never be too careful. Especially in Caldera.
“A few cuts here and there for a while and it should be alright, I think,” he said, once he’d stated the facts. Iroh’s ledger and lists lay spread out on the table in front of him as if they’d been his own. Bumi, to his credit, played the part well. He and Iroh’s mother had been friends since childhood, as had their parents before, and despite his joviality the old man cared nearly as much for the honor of their family as Izumi herself. “I took the liberty of tossing out some ideas,” he added. He patted Iroh’s papers and gave him a wink. “Take a look.”
“That’s quite the liberty, indeed,” Izumi said, but she appeared more concerned than affronted. She sat stiffly, straight-backed and severe, her gray hair swept back in a perfect half knot that hadn’t changed in forty years. “Bumi, how do you even know all this?”
“Iroh brought it to my attention—”
“Iroh?” Kazai interjected. “What does Iroh know about anything?” Iroh’s fists clenched under the table, but he said nothing. He’d expected as much. Kazai had always dismissed his quiet nature and more solitary interests as proof of his overall uselessness. What good was a man who preferred a book to a ball, especially if he had a fine uniform and medals to wear? The fact that Iroh had more or less retired from society only seemed to preclude him from having any other sort of skills, even accounting.
“ —and we drew up the plans together,” Bumi finished, ignoring Kazai entirely. He gave Izumi a reassuring nod. “As a favor for an old friend.”
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you say,” said Izumi with a frown. “Iroh can be a bit dramatic.” Her lips disappeared into a thin line as she adjusted her glasses and reached for the papers. “And he could have come to his mother first. I may be a woman, but I’m not helpless.”
Iroh again said nothing. “Helpless” was not a word he’d have used to describe his mother, either. Despite what might seem an obvious match with the commander she had never remarried after his father left, and ever since the death of Iroh’s grandfather a few years before had run both family and household with an iron will. But the very stubborn determination that made her a successful matriarch had left her open to the influence of her older children who, in Iroh’s opinion having rather more pride than honor, encouraged her natural desire to maintain the family’s historical place among the cream of Calderan society. Bumi had his own prejudices as well—a fact Iroh also knew only too well—but he was at least much less likely to be swayed by Kazai and Matsu's love of an extravagant party.
“I’m afraid it’s exactly that bad,” the commander replied soberly. “And it’s not Iroh being dramatic. I went over it all with my own accountant as well. That firm bamboozled you to the hilt with bad investments. You know me, Izumi. I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think it was important. Your debts are considerable. You’ve got to cut back.”
Kazai snatched the papers from his mother and began to read. His expression darkened. “Impossible!” he muttered. “One carriage? Shutter the summer house? No dinners, no ice, half the servants—” Abruptly he tossed the lists across the table to Mastu. “We may as well go around to everyone we know and declare ourselves paupers, Mother,” he said. “I won’t do it.”
“It’s all very reasonable—” Iroh ventured.
“Not everyone wants to sleep in a barracks with the peasants and mosquito rats,” snapped Kazai, cutting him off. “Some of us in this family still have standards. If we’re that short, sell that ridiculous library of yours upstairs. I’m sure some poor family is wanting for kindling.”
Iroh clenched his jaw as he bit back a bitter retort. In peacetime his studies were often his only solace. He’d sooner sell his own teeth than part with his books. Which his brother of course knew. Kazai was far from dumb. If Iroh took the bait he’d seem petty for refusing to cut back on his own (comparatively modest) expenses.
Izumi, however, didn’t seem to notice. She didn’t look up from scanning the papers in front of her. “These are rather extreme,” she mused. “My son is right, Bumi. If we did all this we wouldn’t be fit to be seen. There could be no guests, of course, and we could be very little in company ourselves. We could hardly go anywhere at all without being able to return the courtesy.”
“No guests?” Mastu finally picked up one of the lists. Carriages and servants he could do without, but he seemingly drew the line at curtailing his ability to host.
“Well, there might be another way,” said Bumi. Iroh’s head snapped up. They hadn’t discussed any other options beyond his own written recommendations. Now wasn’t the time to ad lib.
“What other way?” Izumi rested her hand on the ledger. “If all of this is true, we’re practically ruined until gold prices recover. What choice do I have?”
“There’s always what the Beifongs did. You could sell up.”
Iroh’s pulse sped up. What?
Izumi scowled. “I have no desire to live in the wilderness.”
“Oh, it’s not the wilderness!” boomed Bumi. “More like the land of opportunity. Wide open spaces. Gold and platinum spilling right out of the hills. And if you settled near the Beifongs and my brother you’d have Tai close by, too. We have a nice little community.”
Iroh’s mother pursed her lips. “No,” she said finally. “I’m no farmer, Bumi. I miss my daughter as much as any mother, but I won’t be surrounded by stinking hippo cows and fire-breathing chickens.”
“Sky bison and flying boar,” said Iroh. Nobody listened.
“What about a smaller city, then?” Bumi pressed. “Even modest living here would put you in style in a boom town like Gaipan or Omashu. You could rent the estate here in Caldera and live like a queen on the profits.”
“And Omashu would still be close to Tai and that Beifong husband,” said Matsu. “It’s only a few days off. We could get a big place and have dinners and card parties every night and it would hardly cost us anything.” His amber eyes lit up at the prospect.
“We’d be exotic, too,” Kazai added. “People would be tripping over one another for invitations to a family like ours. And I’m bored of everyone in Caldera anyway.”
“Wait,” said Iroh, truly alarmed now. “Mother, you can’t be considering this. We can’t leave. Our family has lived in Caldera for centuries. This is our home. Really, a little moderation isn’t that much to ask.”
“If we’ve been in Caldera for centuries then I’m sure someone will pay top dollar for the estate,” said Kazai brusquely. “They’d be lucky to have it with our name attached. Besides, it’s only temporary. Have a little fun for once in your life, Iroh.”
“It’s not about fun!” Iroh exclaimed. This was not at all where this conversation was supposed to go. “We have a role in the community, Kaz. We can’t rent our home out to strangers. We’d do ourselves far more credit by being an example to everyone else than we would by fleeing in the middle of the night like a bunch of debtors avoiding a trial.”
“But we are debtors,” grumbled Matsu, “or near enough.” He shoved Iroh’s unwanted measures back to the middle of the table as if they were dung and crossed his meaty arms. “If we stay it’ll be as good as prison anyway because we won’t be allowed to go anywhere or do anything. The only example we’ll be making is what it’s like to live like a bunch of Air Acolytes. I’m for Omashu.”
“And think of the scandal otherwise,” said Kazai. “Riding around in a hired coach like we’re nobody.” He gave his mother a meaningful look. “Grandfather would never have stood for it.”
“That settles it, then,” said Izumi. Iroh’s heart sank. “I’m for Omashu as well. I’d rather give up the estate and spend a season or two out east than let the vampire wolf bats see us in reduced circumstances here.” She turned to Bumi. “I don’t suppose you know anyone respectable from out of town in need of a place to live?”
Commander Bumi shook his head. “I’ll put out the word discreetly though.”
“What about Lin?” she asked. “Could she be convinced to stop faffing about Republic City and finally move somewhere more civilized?”
“Lin Beifong?” chuckled Matsu. “I heard one of her old salon regulars just died in prison. That big industry guy who went in for treason. What was his name? It was in the paper.”
Iroh stiffened. The air around him suddenly felt thick and hot. “Sato,” he said softly. “His name was Hiroshi Sato.”
“It’s no laughing matter, Matsu,” Izumi chided. “It would do her well to be in better company instead of out in the colonies all the time surrounded by ladder climbers and criminals.”
Abruptly Iroh stood and walked to the window. There had been a time years ago when Lin Beifong’s vibrant company had been the improbable means of securing his every happiness, and the name Hiroshi Sato had meant more to him than any other, save one. He didn’t trust the look on his face to hear it all spoken of so casually now, as if the imprisonment of the man who was to be his father-in-law had been no more than a yellow press novelty instead of the end of everything of which Iroh had once dreamt. The newspaper hadn’t mentioned Hiroshi’s surviving family by name; Sato, or any other.
“Did I say something?” he heard his mother whisper.
“You remember,” said Bumi, his voice so low Iroh could barely hear it. “Future Industrial Railroad. His daughter.”
“Oh. Well. A shady business, the whole thing. There’s no need for Lin to consort with people like that any more than him.”
Iroh gripped the windowsill hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Then he turned and sat back at the table. “I’m fine,” he said. “I only wanted to see if it was still raining.”