Fonda Lee - Jade War

Wen finished pouring tea and sat back down, hands in her lap, eyes on her own plate. Her face felt as if it were on fire with a feverish certainty she’d never had in her life. That’s the boy I’m going to marry.

She had a great deal to be thankful for now, she knew that. Even being a stone-eye no longer troubled her, as it allowed her to do useful things to help the Weather Man in the war against No Peak’s enemies. And hopefully there would be more joy in her life, soon. Yet the familiar feeling of being left behind—a queasy and helpless resentment lodged deep in the pit of her stomach—it never stopped being hard to take. “Don’t underestimate this man,” Wen whispered. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Hilo picked up his sheathed talon knife and strapped it to his waist. “I promise.” He looked at his watch, picked up his bag, and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’m going to be a father. I know that changes things.”

It took just under two hours for the ten-seater turboprop plane to fly from Kekon to Tialuhiya, the largest of the thirteen Uwiwa Islands. It had been wet and overcast in Janloon when Hilo left; he stepped out of the airplane into tropical heat and blinding sunlight. Waiting for them next to the tarmac were two white rental cars with drivers, which Hilo had asked Tar to arrange, alongside a welcome party of ten armed men, which he had not, but was unsurprised to see.

Tar and his man Doun descended first; they flanked Hilo as he stepped off the plane’s folding stairs. One of the ten strangers came forward to meet them. He was tall and his features did not look Uwiwan, but he was so tanned it was hard to tell. A thick gold chain with five green stones hung around his neck. “Kaul Hiloshudon, welcome to Tialuhiya,” he said in passable Kekonese. “Pas Zapunyo has sent us to meet you and ensure that you’re conducted safely to his personal residence, where it will be his pleasure to host you.”

Hilo looked the man up and down, then drew his eyes over the others arrayed behind him. They were all dressed similarly, in khaki pants and silk shirts, dark sunglasses, and green gemstones set into heavy necklaces, chunky rings, and metal bracelets. Hilo’s lips fought down a smirk. “We’ll drive in our own cars,” he said. “You can escort us.”

In addition to Maik Tar and Doun, Hilo had brought with him three of Kehn’s men: the clan’s First Fist, Juen, and two Fingers, Vin and Lott. Hilo had been deliberate in his choices. Juen was one of No Peak’s best warriors, whose fighting skill could be counted on if anything went wrong, but he was also No Peak’s most operational man in Janloon. Hilo wanted the chance to speak with him on the plane, to keep abreast of what was happening on the ground and how Kehn was performing as Horn. Vin had been a Finger for two and half years and was on the cusp of being promoted to Fist. Hilo had heard that he was one of the most talented Green Bones in No Peak when it came to Perception. Lott was only a junior Finger who’d graduated from the Academy last year, but he was the son of a top No Peak Fist who’d been murdered by the Mountain at the height of the clan war. Hilo had taken a personal interest in Lott; he would use this trip to get a better sense of the young man’s potential.

Hilo got into one of the rental cars with Tar and Lott; he sent Juen, Doun, and Vin ahead in the other. Zapunyo’s men climbed into their three identical silver sedans; one vehicle led the way, the other two brought up the rear. The conspicuous convoy traveled for thirty minutes, first down a long, flat highway with sugarcane, tea, and fruit plantations stretching off to both sides in the shimmering heat, then up a winding, pitted road, into hills dotted with goats, roadside craft stands, and sun-withered laborers in broad straw hats. Several of the workers flashed crooked-toothed smiles and waved at the cars, then continued staring after them as they passed. The Uwiwans, Hilo thought, had the cunning look of a race that knew they were dependent on the might and wealth of outsiders and hated themselves for it. They could be the friendliest sort of people during the day, then steal your wallet and cut your throat in the middle of the night.

Here and there, Hilo saw faded road signs written in Shotarian. Even the newer signs in Uwiwan were full of Shotarian loanwords, in the same way most Uwiwans had singular Shotarian or Shotarian-influenced names. Like Kekon, the Uwiwa Islands had been occupied by the Empire of Shotar prior to the Many Nations War. Unlike Kekon, there was not a pebble of jade in the entire archipelago, and no Green Bone clans to wage a long rebellion against the foreigners. Uwiwan opposition had been swiftly crushed and Shotarian rule ironclad for seventy years. After its defeat in the Many Nations War, Shotar was forced to relinquish the Uwiwa Islands to its people, but independence had yielded mixed results at best. Now the impoverished country was internationally known for cash crops, beautiful tourist beaches, and jade smuggling.

“Kaul-jen,” Lott spoke up as they drove. “Who are those men who work for Zapunyo?”

“They’re barukan,” Hilo answered. “Shotarian gangsters.”

“So much bluffer’s jade on that lot, it’s like they raided a costume shop,” Tar scoffed.

“Don’t get cocky,” Hilo said sharply. “Where we’re going, there’ll be several of them for every one of us. Just because of their tacky looks, you think they’re not dangerous?” He was still displeased with Tar, for his recent carelessness and failure to find Lan’s killer and recover the family’s stolen jade. The Pillarman fell into a silent sulk, his aura scratchy.

The wheels churned a long plume of dust as the cars turned onto a gravel road that crested a ridge and sloped into a shallow valley between two hills. The convoy circled a man-made lake surrounded by a garden of broad-leafed greenery and stone Uwiwan idols set among plantings of tropical flowers. At the end of the road on the far side of the lake sprawled a red two-story plantation mansion in the old Shotarian colonial style: large square windows below a gabled clay roof, a wide front balcony supported by stone pillars, single-story wings fanning out on either side of the central structure. The cars pulled up in front of the entrance.

Hilo had noticed the lookout towers with rifle-carrying sentries along the approach to the estate, and he counted many more guards around the house, in addition to the escorts who’d met them at the airport. As he got out of the car, he saw electronic locks on all the doors as well as security cameras and motion sensors discreetly tucked into every crevice of the traditional architecture. Zapunyo’s residence was a lavish fortress. The lead barukan who’d spoken to them earlier went ahead of the group and held open the door. Hilo motioned Vin to walk next to him as they took the front steps into the house. “How many?” he asked in a low aside.

“Twenty-two people in and around the house, Hilo-jen,” Vin whispered. “Fourteen of them with jade, but… not nearly as much as they’re pretending to show off.”

Hilo nodded in satisfaction at having his own assessment confirmed. “Stay alert,” he said, and Vin nodded. The Finger’s sense of Perception was indeed excellent; most of the gemstones conspicuously worn by Zapunyo’s barukan bodyguards were inert, decorative nephrite— bluffer’s jade as the Kekonese called it. When he’d met the tanned leader, Hilo had noticed that only one of the five green stones on the man’s necklace was true jade. However, to anyone who was not a Green Bone and could not discern the incongruity in jade aura—which would be nearly all Uwiwans—the barukan looked as intimidating and dangerous as the best warriors on Kekon. Though there was not a Fist in No Peak who would wear his jade in such a clumsy manner, on dangling chains and bracelets, impractical for actual combat.