Tingzhe bent and twisted, touching the heel of his palm to the packed dirt floor. He’d already finished his warm-up routine, but now that the drummers had begun to signal the end of the knife-throwing act he didn’t want to lose his buzz.
It was opening night. There was a whole new city to impress, and having to wait to get out there was pure torment! Tingzhe suspected that Ringmaster had put him second-to-last on purpose, to try to teach him some stupid patience lesson thing. Humph! Dumb ol’ man. One day, Tingzhe was gonna learn to manipulate people just as well as Ringmaster did. Until then all he could do was keep limber and wait his turn.
”Lookin’ good, kid.” One of the stage hands passed him by, pushing a large wooden crate. Few minded that Tingzhe did his pre-show practice right by the service entrance to the main tent. He was too small to get in the way.
”Thanks, Pho.” Tingzhe beamed, as though he’d just landed a triple handspring instead of finishing off a basic stretch. He straightened himself out carefully, feeling all the vertebrae of his spine align in harmony, before bounding over to vault up on top of the crate’s rim. “Hey, hey – are those for the new ending?”
He crouched on his toes and tilted his head to the side, in an unconscious impression of a hog-monkey. The boy refused to sit still for more than a moment.
”The fireworks? Yeah. You know how we drilled it out. Green and gold will play better here in Omashu than the reds we got back home.”
Tingzhe poked and prodded at the casings before leaping down to the ground again. Fireworks were pretty old news to a kid who saw them at the end of every workday, but even he was a little excited to see how the new ending turned out. The lights were too expensive for the troupe to use in rehearsal.
“Yeah, I know.” Tingzhe shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet, which only served to stoke his impatience. He could hear them on the other side of the cloth, stamping and clapping and stuffing their faces, gasping with tension or laughing their heads off right on the Ringmaster’s cues. “Green light makes me look kinda sickly, but that’s totally cool. Those guys who work pyro are gonna need all the help they can get to show up my routine.”
”Sure thing, kid,” Pho chuckled, continuing off on his way. “Whatever you say. Break a leg.”
Tingzhe waved goodbye to Pho before scampering over to the entranceway. The knife-thrower and his assistants were starting to troop off. He did not dodge when they ruffled his hair, since Mei Qi the make-up lady said he was cute when he was tousled.
The music slowed down. He heard the snack vendors call out their wares during the lull in performance. Every muscle in his body tensed. His heart beat in double time.
Then the din of the crowd was hushed by the sound of a gong, and Tingzhe heard his name called.
Finally - finally - he was up.
* * *
The ring smelled like mongoose-dragon musk, stale fire-flakes and old blasting powder. Fresh sand gave way beneath the thin cloth of his slippers. A cocoon of applause rose up around him. Gouts of fire and the crash of the orchestra drew one thousand eyes down to the boy in blinding white. His swagger grew relaxed, his grin broad and genuine.
Tingzhe Ma had taken the stage and all was right with the world.
He bowed for the ladies and gentlemen, waiting for lights at stage-right to fade and the entrance music to crescendo. Once he was sure he was in time with the background players, Tingzhe spread his arms and snapped his fingers, summoning up a shower of sparks, before uncoiling his whip from its place around his belt and cracking it in the air.
Nothing appeared. The music sank forlornly. Tingzhe put on an exaggerated pout, and stalked over to the animal entrance, where his partner waited to emerge.
He dared her to come out with a slash, a crack, a flip, and some mock combat moves. Finally the music picked up again, and Lu Lu – hundreds of pounds worth of fearsome adolescent moose-lion – came lumbering out into the ring.
Tingzhe staggered back comically. The crowd laughed, and Tingzhe felt like laughing with them. He was not afraid. This was his home. He’d fed Lu Lu pig-cow steaks just the night before, and showed her his super-secret back flip technique.
Lu Lu sniffed at the audience, so Tingzhe called down another shower of sparks as he flipped to his feet, keeping her getting confused by all the strangers. Another crack of the whip and she swiped at him with one great foreleg. He cart-wheeled over the strike the way they’d choreographed it weeks before. The orchestra struck up a fast-paced march. Everything was going according to plan.
Then the man appeared.
Tingzhe wasn't sure why someone in full make-up and costume was interrupting his performance, but he was pretty sure that it must be some new hire. The jerk was wearing the bulky cloaked ensemble that Ringmaster had designed for the new closing number.
What the heck! This was Tingzhe's Omashu debut! Grrrrr! This guy would hear from Ringmaster for messing up! Tingzhe grinned to hide his annoyance, pretending that the guy who'd just walke out was part of the performance. The show had to go on. When Lu Lu growled and turned her head towards the masked intruder, Tingzhe gamely cart-wheeled in front of the beast to play at protecting him. The crowd hooted and cheered.
Then the man threw a burning punch at Lu Lu, setting the moose-lion’s pelt aflame. Lu Lu roared in agony and charged into the stands.
A woman shrieked. The orchestra ceased playing. A volley of green-gold fireworks launched up above the stage. One thousand spectators got to their feet, handlers raced onto the stage, and somewhere in the background, the Ringmaster screamed for someone to summon the city guard.
Tingzhe noticed very few of those things, because the man had raced over to him, grabbed him up by the lapels, and pressed a knife to his throat. Tingzhe was fast, but not that fast. He’d felt too numb with fear to even raise his whip.
”Keep still, or you’ll regret it.” The Firebender hissed. Sharp steel bit into the tender flesh of TIngzhe’s neck.
He was breathing too heavily. Everything was up in smoke. Tingzhe couldn’t be crying, because boys didn’t cry, but he-
Was knocked out by a swift blow to the back of his head.
The Firebender scorched the sand below them with a series of intricate chopping motions and then set off a smoke-bomb, slipping off into the chaos with Tingzhe slung across his back. The Ringmaster tried in vain to regain control while his customers stampeded for the exits.
Once the dust settled, the guard arrived, and Lu Lu was sedated, all that remained of Tingzhe Ma was a single character written out in melted glass in the sands of the center ring.
AVATAR.
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