Shadow of the Dragon King 10-2 Original Draft

[ljwrites]

This is the original draft of Chapter 10-2 of Shadow of the Dragon King. My beta amyraine raised some issues with it, particularly a last bit when she felt Yenzi's reaction came out of nowhere. I decided to rewrite it from Yenzi's point of view, and while the rewrite took months with all the other stuff I had going on at the time, I felt the results were worth it. It was certainly an education in the importance of point of view. The new version posted to FanFiction.net is here. The original, external PoV version is below.

Shadow of the Dragon King
 
Chapter 10: Flames in the Night - 2 of 4, First Draft

When the the anxious parents arrived at camp, they found the boys in a dry area under a rock outcropping, wrapped up in blankets and warming themselves by a fire as they joked and bragged about their recent adventure. In an emotional reunion in which they were alternately darling little boys and misbehaving young men in trouble, the children were hugged, lectured, cried over, and in Zhimao’s case, given a cuff on the ear.

“Welcome.” The townsfolk looked up at that voice, which was unassuming yet had the unmistakable ring of command. The boy who had just come in from the rain nodded to them all, his impeccable warrior’s ponytail fluttering in the heat wave from the fire.

“I am Prince Zuko, son of Firelord Ozai.” He came closer into the circle of firelight. Flush in his early teenage growth, he wore his new height and girth well. The deep brown tunic he wore accentuated the broadening of shoulders and chest, and the clings and folds of his red shirt and tough brown pants hinted at lean but strong muscle. Though his clothes were practical rather than ornate, the glitter of gold thread along the collar of his tunic and the rich sheen of the silk sash hinted at a kind of restrained splendor.

“Sit by my fire and eat with me,” he said formally, invoking the ancient words of invitation, of hospitality and protection. In an earlier age he would have asked them to eat of his kill; usually he would have asked them to eat at his table, except there were no real tables here. He came to a stop before them, the firelight illuminating his tired and boyish face that was nevertheless calm, his golden eyes sparkling with quiet eagerness. “I only wish I could provide better accommodations.”

“Your Majes- your Highness, not at all. You honor us.” Ti Shou, the sturdy, no-nonsense craftsman, stammered as he put his large hands together and bowed low. The others followed his example, minus the stammer as they had fallen into awed silence. “It’s just that... we’d hate to impose...”

"I insist,” Zuko said warmly, coming closer and placing a hand on the man’s arm. Ti Shou all but squeaked at the contact, and Shiri next to him stifled a laugh. “I couldn’t let you make your way back to the city tonight in this weather.” The prince’s nostrils flared as he took a sniff at an odor from one of the tents outside. The townsfolk caught the scent as well, and several stomachs rumbled. “My cook is also preparing a meal of muttonpork stew and baked fish.”

After a persuasive argument like that, it was simply not possible to refuse so courteous an invitation. Attendants and guards approached with towels, but Shiri surprised them by emitting a burst of pleasant heat that dried her almost instantly. Yenzi tried the same with her father, though she ended up setting sparks to his clothes in a few places. Zuko laughed and chatted with them before he left them to their preparations.

“Is that the same kid who fell to pieces while we dressed him and cleaned him up?” Khoujin muttered from the edge of the shelter where he stood with Sa Ye. He pitched his voice higher, mimicking Zuko. “ ‘The parents are coming! What if they blame me for their sons going missing? What will they think? D’you think they’ll liiiike me?’ ”

“Oh, hush.” Sa Ye hit his arm. “He wasn’t that bad.” She reconsidered. “Close, though.”

“Do you think I made a good impression?” They both jumped when Zuko all but barged into their faces, speaking in a frantic whisper. “They’re not angry at me, right?”

Khoujin and Sa Ye looked at each other, each silently warning the other not to laugh. “I think you did fine,” Khoujin said solemnly.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to make me feel bett-”

“Let’s... get you some rest before dinner.” Sa Ye put a hand on Zuko’s shoulder and steered him toward his tent, Khoujin opening an umbrella over them all as they left the outcropping. “I think you could do with a little relaxing.”

---

Everyone agreed it had been an excellent dinner, with delectable cooking and good company. Having given due compliments to the cook and his assistants, their stomachs contentedly digesting the food, Prince Zuko and his guests looked to each other with a wary sort of curiosity. They had exchanged introductions and pleasantries over dinner, and the work of actual conversation remained between the end of the meal and the time they retired for the night.

The rain pattered on the shelter of waxed canvas stretched on wooden poles, and a cheery fire crackled in their midst. Zuko and his guests made small talk as they watched the three formerly missing boys run around the edge of the shelter from “the tiger-wolf”—in this case, an off-duty Khoujin. Zuko’s spare clothes were a bit too big for the boys, the folded cuffs flapping and getting muddy as they laughed and ran. Zhimao bent a small bolt of flame at the pursuing Khoujin, which he ducked; Shun, standing guard with a long-suffering look on his face, cocked his head to the side so it whistled past his ear.

Zhimao’s bravery in standing to face his foe cost him dearly; Khoujin ran headlong to sling him, laughing and struggling, across his broad shoulders. Then he chased after Taki and caught the boy up around the waist to carry like a delightedly shrieking parcel against his side. Casting strange shadows in the firelight with too many squirming limbs and three heads, the tiger-wolf now turned on his last victim.

Wisely, Lijin turned and ran from the victorious beast straight to his mother, who wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to the top of his head. Khoujin plopped Taki down next to his parents and Zhimao in a heap next to his uncle and aunt, then went to join Sa Ye where she was arranging sliced fruits for dessert. He growled and demanded the ravening predator’s due, so she fed him a slice of orange. Unsated, he also stole a citrus-fresh kiss before she pushed him away, blushing.

“So, Lijin.” Ti Shou reached out to pat his son’s back with a large, calloused hand. “How’s it feel to see an actual prince like you wanted?”

Lijin looked up to see the friendly gazes on him and leaned against Shiri until he was half hiding behind her, his one visible eye crinkling in a shy smile. He gave a quick mumble that might have been “I don’t know” before he buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. Shiri laughed and wrapped an arm around him, rocking them both from side to side where she sat.

“I’m sorry about all this,” said Zuko, his eyes downcast and his hands clutching at each other in his lap. “The boys should never have been in danger in the first place.”

The adults were quick to reassure Zuko that they didn’t blame him at all. Yenzi, who had been looking on thoughtfully, spoke up during a lull in the conversation, her calm voice cutting across the rain and the noises of the camp.

“Why didn’t you come into the city? If you had, no one would have come to search for you out here.”

Zuko looked at her with wide eyes, opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and looked helplessly over at Master Lu, who answered smoothly. “We thought it wise to keep our location quiet, for security reasons.” Zuko relaxed, and gave a small smile.

“I suppose there’s some who aren’t too happy about what you did on that island,” Jiang the old carpenter picked a lemon-lime slice from the plate Sa Ye passed around and chewed slowly. “What was the place? Taminlan?”

“Tamalan,” Shiri corrected, smiling and nodding at Sa Ye as she took a slice of grapefruit.

“These names are always changing,” grumbled Jiang. “Anyhow, I reckon you’ve got some people scared.” He grinned with lemon-lime juice on his lips and wispy beard.

“Scared?” Zuko’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why would anyone be afraid of me?”

The townsfolk looked to each other, and then at Jiang, who shrugged and sighed. “Ah well, suppose a man should finish what he started. If I were to make a guess,” he went on, sucking the stickiness from his fingers, “I think your Lord Zhen tried what he did because he was feeling the squeeze himself.”

“Squeezed... by who?” Zuko looked mystified. “It’s not as though he was paying taxes.”

“Unlike us,” Zhimao’s uncle muttered.

“By competition,” Jiang said impatiently. “It’s all those vast lands we’re taking in the colonies, worked by, well, slaves from all I hear. Prisoners, real desperate peasants. All these dirt cheap grains, from a dirt people.” He laughed a little at his own joke, but without much heart in it. Shun glanced over at him without expression from where he stood guard at the edge of the firelight.

“Petty lords like Zhen, they can’t keep up with the way the market’s flooded.” Ti Shou took up the explanation, quietly intent as he leaned into the conversation. “The best they can do is try to consolidate the lands they already have, to turn them to more profitable uses, grazing, coffee, cottonsilk... except sometimes,” he picked at an orange rind with his teeth, “people get in the way.”

“Long-term tenants.” Zuko said, his eyes widening. Sa Ye looked up as she collected the plates.

“They’re not big on change, these country folk.” Ti Shou threw the orange rind into the fire, where it sent up a brief sweet smell before it shriveled away in the flames. “They mostly farm to eat, not to sell. They take up land that could make their lords so much money, and pay taxes in food crops that aren’t worth anything compared to the cheap crops from the colonies.”

“So they’re just thrown off the lands they’ve lived on for generations?” Zuko’s voice rose. Khoujin nodded emphatically from where he sat behind the guests.

“It happened to my folks.” Ti Shou shrugged. “My old man was a blacksmith so he had it better than most, but it was still hard. Very hard.”

“That’s what Lord Zhen was trying to do.” Zuko’s whisper carried in the brief silence, broken only by the crackling of the flames. “To push the village out. But why would my father allow...” he snapped his mouth shut as if to bite back the words, and Master Lu looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Pressure control,” Ti Shou said immediately. “Think what would happen if the petty lords had to keep to the law, and couldn’t shunt off their losses from the war. They’d balk at the idea of continuing the war.”

“And that,” said Jiang, “could threaten the whole war effort.”

Those words hung in the air for a few moments while Zuko shook his head slowly, trying to absorb it all. He looked down at his hands, which were clenched into fists in his lap.

“I just wanted to help,” he said at last. “They needed me. That was all.” There was silence for a few moments.

“Uh...” Khoujin cleared his throat self-consciously, and addressed himself to Ti Shou. “What becomes of those folk?” he asked. “The ones who get kicked off the land.”

“They live hand to mouth for the most part,” Ti Shou answered. “They don’t have the skills to live in the city.” He sighed. “I’ve seen how they live—it’s not easy for them.”

“That’s why so many of them flock to the recruitment offices,” said Shiri. “They go die across the sea because there’s no other way to live.” Her arm tightened around her dozing son, and she looked across at Yenzi. “All those young people.” Yenzi crossed her arms, looking thoughtful.

“And all the while these great lords, the Zhaos and the Koes grow fatter and fatter, rich as kings in the colonies—and as powerful.” Ti Shou tossed a twig into the campfire, the flames reflected in his heavy gaze.

“We’re the greatest civilization in history.” Zuko looked around at the townsfolk, almost pleading. “We have a duty to share our achievements and our way of life.” No one quite met his gaze, and Master Lu looked stonily down at the ground.

“It may be as you say, Prince Zuko,” Jiang said at last. “And maybe the world’ll come to see it that way. But well, you were there at Tamalan.” He met Zuko’s eyes. “When Lord Zhen sent in his guards, did those country folk give up and see it his way?”

Zuko swallowed and looked away. His gaze fell on Khoujin and Sa Ye, holding hands as they sat together, and on the boys curled up in slumber. Zuko’s throat worked, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if in pain before he composed himself.

“Forgive me.” He turned to the townsfolk. “I have kept you too long from your rest. The guards and staff will show you to your tents for the night, if you wish to retire to one.”

He stood, and his guests stood with him. They exchanged nods and bows, which was effectively the end of the evening. Zuko went through the motions of courtesy, but it was as if a curtain had closed behind his eyes and his guests were nervous and deferential with him. He strode out of the shelter, not waiting for Khoujin to finish opening an umbrella to cover him. Khoujin scrambled after him with it.

Back at the canvas shelter, the adults argued in whispers about what they should or should not have said, and who did or did not start the ill-fated conversation. Yenzi, sitting off to one side, watched Zuko disappear into his tent.

“Brat,” she muttered under her breath.