Jade War Read online

  Eiten’s wife clutched their sleeping child tight and bent her head, biting her lips. Her husband did not look at her or the baby; his eyes remained on Hilo, who Perceived a strange and poignant insistence in the hum of the man’s jade aura. “Yes,” Hilo said. “As I promised.”

  Eiten nodded. His aura relaxed and settled; he looked over at his slumbering daughter and his face softened in obvious adoration. “You were right, Hilo-jen; I have things to live for now and don’t wish to die anymore.” But it had been important, Hilo understood, for the man to know that the option had been there, that the decision had truly been his, and that the Pillar’s word could always be counted on. Eiten looked back at him. “Still, I don’t want to spend the rest of my days idle and dependent. I used to be a first-rank Fist of No Peak. I realize that I’m not of any use to you anymore, but if you’ll hear me, I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”

  “Ask for whatever you need,” Hilo said. “I’ll happily grant it if I can.”

  “My father-in-law makes hoji. His distillery is small, but it produces some of the best liquor in the country, and he sells it to upscale stores and restaurants. He wants to expand into a bigger location, but he’s getting old and needs a partner to run the company. I realize this would be a small thing to the clan, but I ask for the Weather Man’s office to offer patronage for me to take over my wife’s family’s business. My body may not be whole, but my mind is, and I think I could find satisfaction in growing the company, as a Lantern Man of the clan.”

  Hilo turned to the man’s wife with a smile. “What do you think of this idea, Mrs. Eiten? Does your husband have what it takes to be a world-class hoji maker?”

  “We’ve both helped my father with the distillery for years, and he’s always wished we would take it over at some point,” said Eiten’s wife, speaking quietly but confidently. “But my husband was a Fist, devoted to you and the clan, so of course that came first. I’m grateful he’s alive at all—thanks only to you, Kaul-jen—and I feel in my heart that this is our second chance. He would do well at it, and once our daughter is older, I would help too, of course.”

  “You said you needed a new location,” Hilo said, speaking again to Eiten. “The entire lower level of the Double Double is being renovated and expanded. We could make space for your distillery, and there’s an ample cellar. Would that do? You’d supply hoji to all the betting houses on Poor Man’s Road.”

  Eiten’s eyes widened. “Hilo-jen, that’s far more than we could expect…”

  “I need someone I trust in that part of the Armpit district,” Hilo went on. “There’s always the risk that the Mountain will try to take back what we won from them last year. The Horn sees to it that the area is always protected, but I’d feel better if I had a trustworthy Green Bone inside the premises, keeping his eyes open and one ear to the ground. Could you make your fine hoji and still serve the clan, Eiten-jen?”

  Eiten swallowed thickly and nodded. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master. Thank you, Hilo-jen. I will always be one of your warriors, in any way you ask of me.”

  Hilo grinned and stood up; the others stood with him. The motion woke the baby, who rooted for her mother’s breast and began wailing at a piercing volume that made Hilo wince, then laugh. “Go on; you need to feed your little demon. We can sort out the details later.”

  “Gather your father-in-law’s past five years of financial records and send them to the Weather Man’s office along with the details of the patronage request,” Shae said. “Then we can move it along quicker.”

  Eiten and his wife reiterated their gratitude. The brown monkey drank the last bit of peach soda in its master’s bottle and scampered close behind his heels as the family departed.

  Seeing Eiten doing as well as could reasonably be hoped for, and being able to fulfill his request, improved Hilo’s mood considerably. The next two meetings were straightforward. The minor Black Tail clan had sent a representative to deliver condolences in the form of money and flowers, and to express Black Tail’s unwavering and continued friendship. (“He’s likely heading over to Ayt Mada right now to say the exact same thing,” Shae said after the man left.) Then came a business associate of their grandfather’s, wanting to write a hagiographic biography of the Torch of Kekon, with the Pillar’s permission and the clan’s final approval, of course. Hilo was pleased with their progress and looking at his watch when Mrs. Teije was shown into the room.

  Immediately, he had a feeling that he would not enjoy this conversation. Behind him, he felt a subtle shift in Shae’s aura that suggested she felt the same way. “Aunt Teije,” Hilo said, kissing the woman on one dry cheek, “it’s been such a long time.” Not nearly long enough, he thought, glad that the woman wore no jade and couldn’t Perceive any of his true sentiments.

  “Auntie,” Shae said, also faking a warm welcome. Mrs. Teije was sixty years old and the wife of their father’s cousin. Kaul Sen had had only one older sister who survived until adulthood; she married a man named Teije Jan and had four children by him. The Teijes were related to the Kauls and outnumbered them; this fact alone should have made them one of the most powerful families on Kekon, but no Teije had ever achieved anything noteworthy or held a position of real leadership in the clan. Only a handful of them had graduated from the Academy as Green Bones; to Hilo’s recollection, two had made it as far as being junior Fists. The rest of the Teijes were an assortment of minor Lantern Men and jadeless civilians—some with an education and respectable jobs, some not, almost all of them having advanced further than they might otherwise have on account of their connection to the name Kaul.

  “The gods play favorites,” Hilo’s grandfather had once said at the dinner table. “They took from one side of our family to give to the other. So be kind to your cousins; if the Teijes had more brains or thicker blood, who knows where we’d be?”

  Mrs. Teije was a plump woman with short, coarse hair and a tight-lipped expression that suggested she was constantly trying to swallow something unpleasant in her mouth. In a wheezy voice, she said, “Kaul-jen, Kaul-jen, may the gods shine favor on you. You are my only hope,” and sank into one of the chairs, dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

  “What’s the matter, Auntie?” Hilo asked.

  “It’s my good-for-nothing son, Runo,” Mrs. Teije said. “He’s gotten himself into some trouble in the Uwiwa Islands. Only the gods know what he was doing in that sinful place to begin with, but because of some terrible mistake, he was arrested and thrown into prison.”

  Hilo suppressed a sigh and composed his face into a reassuring expression. “Aunt Teije, no wonder you’re so upset, but if it’s a mistake as you say, I’m sure it can be resolved, and we can pay to have Runo released. How much is the bail amount?”

  “Ah,” said the woman, looking embarrassed, “the bail has already been paid and he was released two weeks ago.” When Hilo looked confused, she continued in a rush, “We didn’t pay it; our family was collecting the money, but before we could do so, we heard that the bail had been posted by a wealthy stranger and Runo released to his custody.”

  “Who’s the stranger?” Hilo asked.

  “His name is Zapunyo,” said Mrs. Teije. “They say he is a bad man, a smuggler. A jade smuggler.” She looked as if she would spit, if she wasn’t in the Kauls’ nicely carpeted study. “My son is being kept as a ‘guest’ of this man, who will not release him. We have tried to negotiate, to offer money, but this Zapunyo says he will only talk to the Pillar of the clan.”

  Aunt Teije left her chair and knelt in front of Hilo, grasping him by the hands. “Please, Kaul-jen, you must get Runo back. He has a troublesome, wayward heart, but he is a good boy. My husband refused to come to you—curse his stubbornness! ‘If we ask the Kauls to help us with our own matters, they’ll always look down on us,’ he says, but I don’t care. I know that you’re as big-hearted and caring as your grandfather—let the gods recognize him.”

  Hilo winced inwardly at the comparison b
ut patted the woman’s clutching hand. He did not look at Shae, but he could feel her aura prickling warily as she watched the exchange. He considered Mrs. Teije’s plaintive face for a long minute before making up his mind. “Don’t worry, Auntie. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure Runo is freed and returned to you. What would the No Peak clan be without the Teije family? I’ll go to the Uwiwa Islands myself to speak to Zapunyo.”

  Mrs. Teije let out a sob and touched her clasped hands to her forehead over and over. Hilo raised her to her feet and showed her out, rubbing her bowed back with his hand. Then he closed the door and turned around to face his sister, who had not moved from her spot in the chair near his. Shae didn’t look pleased. “You shouldn’t have raised her hopes like that.”

  Hilo dropped into a seat across from her and slid down low into it, legs outstretched. “What was I supposed to do? Send her away thinking we’d let that Uwiwan crook take her son without consequence? He’s a member of the family after all, a Green Bone.”

  Shae squinted. “You’re not seriously going to risk your own life for Teije Runo.” Runo had been three years ahead of Hilo and Shae at the Academy; he’d been good at singing, relayball, maintaining a revolving list of girlfriends, and not much else. He’d graduated with a single jade stone and earned another during his two years as a Finger before deciding to travel and see the world while seeking his fortune. According to clan gossip, as a Green Bone for hire, Teije had guarded mining and oil-drilling projects in war-torn parts of the world and spent time as a personal bodyguard to some rich oligarch in Marcucuo. Hilo had not seen the man for years and had no desire to; he had no respect for any person who used his jade abilities for personal gain and gave nothing back to the clan to whom he owed his green.

  “I couldn’t care less about Runo myself,” Hilo said, “but you know this isn’t about him at all. Clan war has been good for the jade smuggling business, and that scavenger Zapunyo has gotten fat and bold in the past couple of years. With the news out of Shotar these days, he’s got even more reason to think the black market’s going up.” A separatist conflict had broken out in Shotar between the country’s government and a pro-Ygutanian insurgency in the easternmost province of Oortoko. The major world powers were likely to get involved and escalate the armed crisis—which meant greater demand for jade, from both legitimate and illegitimate military forces around the world.

  “Hilo,” Shae said seriously, “Zapunyo is trying to force a meeting under his terms, in his country, where he has the corrupt government and the police on his payroll. You’d be walking into certain danger if you went there. It’s not worth it, not for the sake of that useless ass Teije Runo.”

  “But he’s our family’s useless ass,” Hilo said, standing and stretching. A muscle in his shoulder twinged, and he rolled it out with a grimace. The outward marks of the vicious beating he’d taken at the hands of Gont Asch and his men more than a year ago had long since faded, but his body still insisted on offering unwelcome reminders. “How does it look, to have an Uwiwan holding a Kekonese Green Bone hostage, one of our own blood relations? Zapunyo knows we won’t stand for it. This is his way of getting my attention.”

  “Send Kehn or Tar to deal with him.”

  Hilo shook his head. It was the Weather Man’s job to counsel the Pillar with a shrewd and logical weighing of costs and benefits, so Shae was only doing her job in advising caution, but she had never been on the military side of the clan and so there were things she didn’t appreciate. Hilo had not established his personal reputation by remaining behind and sending others to handle important matters; he was not about to lapse now, not when he was relying on his notoriety as the former Horn to carry him as a wartime Pillar. “I need to talk to Zapunyo myself,” Hilo insisted. “A misunderstanding between friends is okay. A misunderstanding between enemies isn’t.”

  Shae seemed about to argue further, but at that moment, Tar knocked on the door and opened it just far enough to stick his head through and say, “It’s getting dark, and this thing in the courtyard’s wrapping up. What do you think, Hilo-jen? You still want to talk to Anden?”

  A change came over Hilo; his mouth turned down and his shoulders stiffened, as if a weight had fallen onto them. “I’ll talk to him,” he said quietly. He looked at Shae. “Alone.”

  Tar departed. Shae got to her feet. “I’m the one who convinced you to speak to Anden in the first place. You wouldn’t listen to me for months, wouldn’t even say his name, and now you want me out of the room.” She fixed her brother with an indignant and suspicious glare. “You’re going to try to threaten or cajole him back into the clan, back into wearing jade. I know you, Hilo.”

  “I want to talk to him alone, Shae.” Hilo’s voice was hard now. “What happened that day was between us. We should have the chance to talk about it properly.”

  The Weather Man regarded him for a long moment, her aura bristling. Then she walked past him to the door, exited wordlessly, and left the Pillar alone in his brother’s empty study.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Exile

  Emery Anden sat on the bench under the cherry tree in the courtyard of the Kaul estate, nursing a bottle of lime soda and avoiding eye contact with the other funeral reception guests. The long tables laden with food were adorned with garlands of white heart blossom flowers, and a harpist installed in the garden strummed melodiously sentimental and uplifting music. The courtyard was crowded, but the ongoing murmur of conversation remained respectfully muted. The only thing that marred the tasteful event was the temporary blue plastic fencing on one side of the courtyard that cordoned off the construction site where the Weather Man’s residence was being stripped down to its frame and renovated.

  Anden could not claim to have been close to Kaul Sen, but the man had been his adopted grandfather and had given him everything: made him a part of the Kaul family and sent him to be educated at Kaul Dushuron Academy in the same manner as the Torch’s own grandchildren. Ever since he was a child, Anden had assumed he would one day repay the patriarch by becoming a first-rank Green Bone of the No Peak clan. Now Grandda was dead, and Anden’s debt to him would remain unpaid.

  The late-afternoon shadows thickened and the crowd thinned and still Anden waited. He got up to get another soda from the beverage table and was aware of all the shoulders and chins that turned, all the interested and unkind eyes that followed him. Most of the upper echelon of No Peak was here. They knew who Anden was and what he had done last year: helped to save the clan from destruction, then on the day of his graduation, refused to wear jade and been publicly disowned by the Pillar.

  With a jolt, he recognized a few of his classmates from the Academy—Lott, Heike, and Ton—standing together near their families. They were speaking to each other and casting glances in his direction. An echo of old feeling, numb with disuse, stirred in Anden’s chest. Lott Jin was leaning casually against a table. He had not lost his slouchy, restlessly idle manner, but he appeared to have been working out over the past year; his shoulders were broader, filling out his gray suit jacket, and he’d cut his hair so that it no longer hung in front of his hooded eyes.

  Anden averted his gaze, heat climbing into his face. There were times now, after living in Marenia for over a year, that he enjoyed his day-to-day life and could push away the memory of his disgrace. Being back in Janloon, in this house and among the clan again, dragged him back to the days and weeks after his exile and reminded him of everything he’d given up.

  Anden returned to his seat on the bench by the tree. To his horror, Ton crossed the courtyard. Lott and Heike stayed behind, watching but not approaching. “Anden,” Ton said, touching his forehead in informal greeting. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. I’m glad to see you looking well.”

  Anden reluctantly raised his eyes to his former classmate’s face. “It’s good to see you, Ton-jen,” he said. Ton nodded and fiddled with the two jade rings on his left hand in nervous habit. He was a Finger in the clan now, a
nswering to the Horn and his Fists, patrolling and defending No Peak territory, maintaining the clan’s tenuous advantage over the Mountain. Ton looked as if he was fishing for something else to say to break the awkwardness, but Maik Tar appeared and bent to speak quietly to Anden. “He’s ready to see you.”

  Anden got up, set his empty soda bottle on the bench, and followed the Pillarman into the house. At the entrance to the study, he paused, wanting another second to prepare himself, but Tar pushed the door open and Anden had no choice but to step inside. Tar closed the door behind him, shutting out the background sounds of the people still mingling outside.

  The Pillar was sitting in the largest of the leather armchairs. Kaul Hilo seemed both the same and different from the last time Anden had seen him. He still possessed a youthful appearance, still exuded the casually insolent charisma that Anden had seen manifest as generous warmth with his friends and fearsome menace with his enemies. But the mantle of Pillar left no man unchanged; there was a stiffness to Hilo’s eyes and mouth now, a grimmer, more controlled aspect to his manner that Anden had seen little evidence of before.

  Anden looked for Shae, but she was not in the room. She was the only member of the clan that Anden had been in regular contact with over the past year. He’d hoped that she would be here. Anden swallowed. He brought his clasped hands up to his forehead and tilted into a formal salute. “Kaul-jen,” he said. “I’m sorry for the loss of your grandfather.”

  There was a time not long ago when Hilo would’ve risen and embraced his cousin warmly, kissed him on the cheek, and smiling, led him to the nearest chair. “Andy,” Hilo would’ve scolded, “don’t act like that; take the pole out of your ass and come sit down.”