Later, Mayumi and the coachman sipped tea in the main dining hall. Unlike Aunt Ayi and the newly hired Ya Huan, their presence is incongruous for such an occasion. An armed warrior and a caretaker of ostrich horses hardly fit the auspicious image expected at a meeting arranging a marriage alliance.
As they waited, a question lingered in Mayumi's mind, delicate enough to avoid asking Han Fei or Shan directly. Perhaps the coachman could illuminate the matter.
"Say," she began, lowering her voice. "Do you know why the museum director determines Shan's future? Shouldn't that role belong to his parents?"
Her curiosity stemmed not from the courtship itself but from Shan's apparent lack of kin. No uncles, no distant cousins. It is uncommon for a man to occupy a siheyuan alone. What had become of his family?
"I don't know, I just drive the carriage," the man replied bluntly. "But if you want my opinion, if Shan even has parents, why wouldn't they decide his marriage? There are plenty of orphans in the Lower Ring orphanages. Digging too deeply into this, we could both lose our jobs."
Her questions remained unanswered, though it seemed clear that Shan's relatives are either absent or irrelevant, and that Han Fei would assume the parental role. Before further pondering, another figure drew her attention. The silk merchant Qiao Zhiyong from earlier, who is accompanied by a man clad brown fur deel.
As they passed, Mayumi noticed a few familiar faces among the newly arrived patrons. Three men sat at a lone table, attired in brown garments and conspicuously unarmed. Even their signature composite bows are absent. Despite their attempts to blend into Ba Sing Se's more refined culture, those accustomed to the steppes still stood out.
"The wine is not bad here!" Ganbaatar said, draining a jar in one go.
The larger brute beside him, usually seen wielding a mace, grimaced at the display. He then fought Ganbaatar over the wine jars. Their boisterous behavior drew glances from patrons. The staff hesitated, fearful to intervene.
The smallest of the trio instead ordered tea. His injuries had healed considerably, also suggesting the afflicted members of their people had recovered. The illness, apparently spread only through corpses to water, posed no threat to Ba Sing Se, as the city is protected by its vast barriers and separate river systems.
"We must not cause trouble, the Khan's wrath spares no one," the nomad said, lifting a cup of tea to his lips.
"Don't be so dramatic, Khenbish," Ganbaatar replied, swirling the wine in his own jar and taking another sip. "We are not here to dwell permanently. And you, aren't you getting a little too comfortable? Sipping on hot leaf juice seems far too sedentary for us sons of the endless steppe."
Khenbish ignored the irony that, while most men of the grasslands prized fermented milk, nearly every soul across the four nations harbored a fondness for wine brewed from wheat or barley. A few, in moments of indulgence, even sought out the rare pleasure of fine tea. Addiction respects no custom, no matter the culture.
"Tea is more than mere hot leaf juice, old friends," Mayumi interjected, arriving with a newly boiled kettle and a jar of sorghum wine bought from the establishment's counter. She poured their cups with deliberate care. "My father always said it nourishes the body as much as it refreshes the spirit."
The nomads exchanged bewildered glances.
"W-who are you?" Ganbaatar asked bluntly, hands hovering near where the hilt of his scimitar is supposed to be. Nomads forged in constant conflict instinctively readied themselves for threat.
Sensing the confusion her attire had sown, Mayumi offered a careful introduction, subtly hinting at her new alias. It is an allusion that Khenbish, sharper than the rest, immediately caught on.
Soon, the four shared a quiet repast. Even the Kheshig captain, notoriously stubborn and resistant to novelty, consented to sample the tea at Mayumi brought to the table alongside the wine. As conversation flowed, the nomads discussed the latest developments among their people. Temporarily allowed to settle in the uninhabited parts of the unexpectedly vast Agrarian Zone, they had begun trading under the supervision of a city official with an Upper Ring merchant, whose wares included the coveted silks of Ba Sing Se. While the Kheshig placed little value on delicate fabrics, recognizing their comfort as superfluous, the merchants' silk remained a precious commodity both rare and lucrative. The wool of Sky Bisons, equally rare, could serve as a perfect barter for Upper Ring folks who no doubt relish exotic goods.
"Not sure if the last buyer deceived us, but personally, I prefer selling to a wealthier merchant who can offer silk in return," Khenbish explained. Unlike his brethren, he grasped the economic potential of trading this paramount fabric elsewhere. Though the Kheshig have little practical use for Ba Sing Se silk, people in other Earth Kingdom states would kill to obtain such luxuries. "The best part? We might even keep some for ourselves. Perhaps a tailor could craft some garments for our children."
Ganbaatar scoffed, draining his wine. "And raise them delicate? You'll need a sterner hand in parenting, my friend."
Khenbish offered no protest, even a degree of affirmation. Yet he understood the broader opportunity. In a realm constantly torn by petty wars, the most profitable trades moved unobstructed by marauding armies. Since the Kheshig already dealt in spices and wool, why not add Ba Sing Se's exclusive silk to their inventory? A secure and reliable supply would naturally yield wealth in silver and gold.
"By the way, where is Jargal?" Mayumi asked. "Isn't he usually with you all?"
The nomads shook their heads in disappointment, sighing.
"That boy dug his own hole," Ganbaatar said, voice dripping with exasperation. "He was courting a waitress in some Lower Ring eatery and went overboard with roast ducks. Even a single plate costs a fortune!"
Khenbish clarified. "The Khan made him wash dishes to cover the bill. The proprietor, a kind elderly lady, allowed him to work temporarily to replace the former dishwasher."
Mayumi's thoughts drifted to Grandma Jin, who had recently enabled her to devote herself fully to her new duties. Since serving as a swordswoman is not compatible with working at the eatery.
Khenbish heaved a troubled sigh. "Although I cannot help be troubled with his recent developments."
"How so?" Mayumi asked.
"Well... Jargal now believes it his destiny to open a hot pot restaurant."
A stunned silence followed, as Mayumi processed the absurdity. She dabbed sweat from her brow with a handkerchief. None could forget the grotesque culinary fiasco in which the hunter Jargal had accidentally included cabbage slugs in the soup.
"Hot pot?" she repeated, incredulous. "Of all dishes, he chooses hot pot?" The nomads nodded in shared disbelief. "Ba Sing Se's regulations are strict. If he's caught repeating that mistake—"
"Jargal wouldn't even need the slugs to poison anyone," Ganbaatar groaned. "If he opens that restaurant, patrons may want to bring coffins tailored to their own size."
Anyone can cook, anyone should be allowed to prepare food without being judged based on who they are. But if there is one person that shouldn't be allowed near the cooking pot, it would be the hunter named Jargal.
"Let the boy daydream, he'll outgrow it in time. By the way, shouldn't you be with your sister?" Ganbaatar asked. "You got a new job, perhaps?"
Since the Kheshig are not permanent residents of Ba Sing Se, their lives unfolded at the margins of the city, detached from the ceaseless flow of gossip that trickled from the Upper Ring. Local intrigues and courtly whispers reached them slowly, filtered through distance and unfamiliarity.
"I'm am working for a scholar who is tutoring my sister," Mayumi replied briefly. "Earthbending for her has proven... challenging."
The nomads exchanged glances. Like farmers, herders rarely double as calligraphers or instructors of the arts, and the concept of a scholar imparting bending knowledge seemed foreign to them.
"As long as she learns, that is what matters," Ganbaatar said, lifting a cup of tea and sipping absentmindedly. He barely noticed the flavor. "Yet… why seek someone unable to bend? Young Batu is taught by people just like him, and his progress is swift."
"It is not impossible," Khenbish proposed. "Non-benders can in fact instruct the bending arts. Some of the finest tutors remarkably have taught royalty across the seas."
Ganbaatar's brow furrowed in confusion, though the explanation held a certain truth.
The remark lingered in Mayumi's mind, nudging her toward reflection. She had long considered the potential flaw in her arrangement. Shan's status as an Earthbender had never been explicitly confirmed, yet his lessons adhered closely to the forms she recognized. The White Scholar's understanding of foundational Earthbending techniques was impressive and even guided Satchiko into proper stances, though the element itself resisted. Progress is still slow, but at least her sister's literacy had improved.
Still, there are other concerns. One does not simply enlist the tutorage of a Zhuangyuan scholar and remain ungrateful. Countless noble households in the Upper Ring would eagerly spend vast coffers for Shan's tutelage. To employ his talents outside aristocratic circles is a subtle affront to the city's powerful families.
The doors to the meeting room swung open. Judging by the exchange she glimpsed, Han Fei and Te Laoye had reached a tentative accord.
"I must take my leave, it has been a great delight seeing you all again," Mayumi said, rising and bowing to the nomads.
But a sudden recollection arrested her steps.
The Kheshigs are now within the city's walls, where the very individuals who sought their destruction might lurk. The Dai Li's so-called seditionists could strike unseen, a blade cast from shadow offered little warning. Though the local acolyte leader had been apprehended, countless others could remain concealed in the labyrinthine alleys of the Lower Ring.
A dilemma pressed upon her. Silence offered safety, shielding her from the Dai Li's scrutiny. Yet secrecy would betray those who had aided her. A decision had to be made.
She inhaled deeply, surveying the three men in their deels. Her expression hardened. "Did you bring any bison on your way here?"
They shook their heads. Instructions from government officials demanded minimal visibility, avoiding any markers of identity.
"Not sure what all the fuss is," Ganbaatar said, resting his legs upon the table. "But these sedentary folk relish their rules. We're not the only nomads inside the walls, apparently the Ashina have camped near one of the Agrarian Zone rivers as well. Still, walking here was no small effort."
Mayumi allowed herself a faint relief. "Fortune guide you all," she said.
With that, she departed, just as the White Scholar emerged from the private audience to discuss the arranged marriage with the Te family delegation.
"How was the tea, my friend?" Khenbish asked lightly.
"Don't start," Ganbaatar sighed, realizing once more he had swallowed the wrong brew.