by Fonda Lee
Tonight, though, he found it harder than usual to forget his worries. There had been no further communication between the clans for over two months, but Lan knew that Ayt could read his actions clearly enough. He’d declined the Mountain’s proposal to join forces in producing SN1, he’d set Chancellor Son to proposing KJA reforms, and instead of removing Hilo, he’d allowed his brother to bolster clan presence along all territorial borders. He believed he’d acted correctly in each case, but Lan knew he was walking a perilous line, particularly with the latter decision.
Just last week, there’d been a spate of motorcycle gang violence between Coinwash and Fishtown—enough to garner a short mention in the news, which was saying something, as both neighborhoods were such crowded, destitute slums that a few killings there would normally never merit attention. Green Bones were not directly involved, so neither clan could claim offense, but everyone knew the Horns on both sides of the border not only kept the criminal class in line but manipulated it as well. Lan worried that it would take only one Green Bone or Lantern Man being caught or implicated in a violent incident for it to escalate to something that openly involved the clans themselves.
Lan knew his brother well. Subtlety was not in Hilo’s nature. He respected clan hierarchy too much to ever disobey the Pillar on important matters, but he had complete day-to-day authority over the clan’s activities on the streets, and his personal code was to leave no doubt that he would go further than his enemies if wronged. A look would be returned with a word, a word with a blow, a blow with a beating, a beating with an execution. Perhaps it would be better to have a Horn that was more prudent and restrained, who wouldn’t raise overflowing tensions even further.
However, alienating his brother might be the worst possible decision. There was no one who could, or would, step in to fill Hilo’s role. The Fists of No Peak, and by extension the Fingers, weren’t just loyal to the clan, or to the office of the Horn—they were loyal to Kaul Hilo. It disturbed Lan far more than he cared to admit that, if forced to choose between him and Hilo, many of the Green Bone warriors in the clan might side with his younger brother. By demanding that he replace his Horn as a condition for future negotiation, Ayt was asking him to knowingly weaken and sow dissent within his own clan. She was placing him in a dilemma that held all the makings of a trap.
“You look as if you could use a massage.” Yunni had finished playing her song and come to sit beside him. Lan had barely noticed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I seem distracted.”
“You have a lot on your mind,” she said kindly. He appreciated her patient acceptance; it was something Eyni had not been willing to give. He ran a hand down her long, sleek hair and brought some of it to his face, enjoying the feel and smell of it as she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it over his shoulders.
“Wait,” he said. He stood up and went to the dresser in the corner of the room. In the mirror, under the dim red lighting, he saw himself, bare-chested, and wondered if he really could live up to being the person he appeared to be—a strong, assured man, a hard-bodied Green Bone warrior, a leader adorned in jade. A man like his father.
Lan took off his jade-studded belt and the cuffs on his forearms, leaving on only the beads he wore on a chain around his neck. He shut his belt and cuffs in the safe below the dresser and turned the combination lock. Yunni claimed she was half Abukei, nearly a stone-eye, but he removed most of his jade out of consideration for her anyway, just to be safe.
In truth, after the initial disorienting few minutes of withdrawal, he found it strangely relaxing to be without all his jade. His surroundings became a little foggy and soft around the edges. With his senses dimmed, he felt as if he was making love in a dark room, in a pleasant dream perhaps, and could just let himself act without seeing too clearly, without thinking too much. He felt more detached, more serene. He wondered if this made him unusual among Green Bones. Hilo, after all, studded jade into his body so it could never be removed. Shae had gone too far in the other direction. Lan wondered how she could stand it, being jadeless.
That was another thing troubling him tonight. Last month, Shae had gone to the mines as he’d asked and phoned from Pula to tell him that Gont Asch was ordering equipment purchases at the mines. Neither of them knew what to make of it; did it mean Gont was usurping Ree Tura’s authority? Three weeks had passed before she’d phoned him again. It was as Lan had feared. “I’ve gone through the numbers over and over, and it looks as though the equipment purchases Gont approved aren’t being reflected in the KJA’s financial statements,” Shae told him. “The Mountain has been getting involved in the mines directly without consulting the board of the KJA.” Shae said she was going to the Kekon Treasury to examine its records. She’d get back to him soon.
He’d been highly reluctant to pull Shae into the clan business, but now he knew it had been worthwhile. Shae had verified his mounting suspicions that Ayt Mada had been a step ahead of his meeting with Chancellor Son and had already begun to try to wrest greater control over the country’s jade supply. In addition, Lan was now convinced he could not rely on Doru. There was no excuse for the Weather Man to not be aware of such information, or to keep it from him. If he confronted the old advisor, he was sure Doru would deny any subterfuge or negligence, give him some reasonable explanation, and go to Kaul Sen for support. No, he needed solid evidence to justify not just removing the man from his post but from the inner circle. Woon would have to be ready to take over immediately and completely, with no transition.
That was another reason he couldn’t demote Hilo—the clan couldn’t be without a veteran Weather Man and a Horn at the same time. So many problems.
Yunni led him to the bed, undressed him completely, and guided him down onto his stomach. He closed his eyes as she rubbed his back with scented oil. “You’re tense,” she said soothingly, working her thumbs into the muscles of his neck. “Perhaps from carrying so much jade.” The pillow under Lan’s face hid the twist of his lips. The charm girls here knew a few things about Green Bones and how to flatter them. Even the ones who wore the most jade were insecure about their power.
Everyone’s tolerance was different, though. Lan carried a considerable amount of jade by the standards of any respectable Green Bone, but he felt no desire to press his limits. Beyond a certain point, additional jade made him feel off-kilter, wired, moody. The problem was, although the role of Pillar was about far more than how much green a man displayed, people were superficial. According to old timers, the great Kaul Du had carried more jade than any other warrior in his day. When his son’s rival, a woman Pillar, showed off conspicuously more green, it was talked about. It was whispered as if it was a personal failing.
Yunni massaged down to his waist. She spread warm oil on her hands and forearms and slid them up and down his body. She reached and stroked between his legs. He wasn’t sure at what point her dress came off, but he felt her bare breasts rubbing against his back, her long hair trailing against his skin as she glided herself up and down slowly and sensually against him.
When she turned him over and straddled him upside down, her bare stomach and crotch over his face, every troubled thought finally exited Lan’s mind. He lifted his head to drink in her odor as she worked her elegant harpist’s hands over his chest, stomach, pelvis, and inner thighs. He was truly impressed by how many skills she possessed. For a few seconds, he thought of Eyni and missed her bitterly, but the emotion was fleeting, made dull by familiarity. His arousal flagged only briefly, returning once Yunni’s hands and mouth began their masterful and exciting ministrations, and when he felt close to climax, he asked her to lie down. Yunni moaned and sighed, and whispered, “Ah, yes, this is what I want,” grabbing his hips as he took her. He came faster than he’d expected, then sagged, everything leaving him as he rolled off her and sank into the soft mattress.
Yunni brought a warm, moist towel and rubbed his face and neck and chest. “You can stay as long as you like,” she cooed. He knew
that was not true, but out of all the lies he had to deal with, Yunni’s were the most innocuous and easy to swallow. He was pleased that she seemed to enjoy their time together. Even if it was a skillful artifice, he appreciated it. Out of habit, he closed one hand over his jade beads as the room dissolved and he began to drift off.
There was a knock at the door. Lan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly; no one ever interrupted him here. Yunni frowned in disapproval and sat up, reaching for a robe to cover herself. She started to get up and go to the door, but Lan stopped her.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Kaul-jen,” came Mrs. Sugo’s voice, sounding high and apprehensive through the door. “Please forgive me for disturbing you. I would normally never … but there is someone from the clan here for you. It’s very urgent.”
Lan pushed off the bed and put on his pants. “Stay here,” he said to Yunni, then went to the safe and tried the combination twice before the lock popped open. He put on his belt and jade cuffs, then clutched the edge of the dresser with both hands as the energy surge hit him, flooding into his system. Everything swam, then sharpened; noise and vision and feeling blasted into his skull. He breathed deeply through the adjustment, then straightened. He glanced at himself in the mirror again—shirtless, but with every pebble of jade in place. He walked to the door and opened it.
Mrs. Sugo backed out of his way, white-faced. Behind her stood Maik Kehn, breathing hard, enraged, his tan jacket splattered with blood that was not his own. “The Mountain did it,” he gasped. “They whispered Hilo’s name.”
FIRST INTERLUDE
Heaven and Earth
Long ago in Heaven, according to Deitist teachings, the great extended family of gods lived in dazzling palaces of jade. Like any large family, the gods had their share of quarrels, but for the most part they went about their immortal lives happily, although once they had children and those children had children, residential space in Heaven grew too tight for comfort. So the gods constructed a second home, which they modeled after the first and called Earth.
Earth was, at first, in every way as beautiful as Heaven, with vast seas, high mountains, lush forests, and countless wondrous plants and animals. Unfortunately, the numerous children of the gods, having grown up spoiled, fell to squabbling over Earth even before it was completed. Several wanted the same ocean, others bickered over who would take the highest mountain range or the biggest continent.
At last, the fighting grew so constant and unbearable that the god parents grew enraged. “We built a perfect home for you, and this is how you repay us—by spoiling it with pettiness, greed, and jealousy, turning brother against brother, sister against sister. Have Earth, then, but suffer for it, as you’ll have nothing else from us.” And the parents stripped their children of their divine powers, made them small and weak and naked, and exiled them from Heaven.
Yatto, the Father of All, blasted to shards the first and only half-constructed jade palace on Earth, and buried under it a mountainous island.
The gods, though, being parents, could not resist keeping an eye on their struggling, estranged children. Some, like Thana the Moon, or Poya, the goddess of agriculture, took pity on their descendants and hovered close, helping to light their way at night, or ensuring they had food to eat. Others, like Yofo, the typhoon god, or Sagi the Pestilence, refused to give up their grudges, and unless placated, would descend on occasion to remind humanity of its long-standing offenses.
All earthly conflict, so the Deitist philosophers say, stems from the original offense of the children against their parents and of siblings against one another. All human progress and virtuous striving is likewise an attempt to achieve familial forgiveness and a return to the spiritually and physically divine state, which lies latent but distantly remembered.
CHAPTER
18
The Whispered Name
A frantic call had come earlier in the evening from Mr. Pak, who, along with his wife, had run a grocery in the Armpit for twelve years.
“I have to go,” Hilo said to Wen after he hung up the phone.
He was frustrated because she refused to move out of her cramped apartment in Paw-Paw and live with him in the Horn’s residence on the Kaul estate unless they were married. “I have to ask Lan properly, and then we’ll plan the wedding, and it’ll take months,” he’d argued. “Things are getting worse between the clans. I visit here too often; it’s not safe for you.”
Wen’s apartment building was only a street over from Coinwash, which had seen a recent surge in violent crime. Even within No Peak territory, Hilo was not willing to take any chances with Wen’s safety. He would not put it past the Mountain to circumvent aisho and engineer some unfortunate accident if they knew they could further provoke him. “If you won’t be reasonable, I’ll have to post Fingers to watch over you, which means Fingers that I won’t have elsewhere. The house is secure. Bigger, too. You could fix it up, you’re good at that. You’d like it.”
Wen folded her arms and gazed at him with immovability. “I’m not going to give your family any additional reasons to look down on me. We’ll live together when we’re married, and not before. In the meantime, I have a gun, and I know how to use it. I won’t be a burden. I can take care of myself.”
“A gun.” Hilo gave an ugly laugh. “Is that supposed to reassure me? My enemies are Green Bones. You’re a stone-eye.”
“Thank you for the reminder,” she said coolly.
On the street outside, Kehn honked the horn of the Duchesse and Hilo growled. “We’ll talk about this later.”
When he arrived at the grocer’s with the Maiks, he found Mr. Pak sitting on the sidewalk with his head in his hands and Mrs. Pak crying as she swept up broken glass inside. Two young men with jade studs in their eyebrows had smashed the windows, broken the neon sign over the door, and knocked over several shelves of merchandise as punishment for the couple’s failure to pay tribute to the Mountain clan. Hilo scowled as he surveyed the wreckage, his mood worsening. Nothing was stolen, but incidents like these were costing No Peak dearly, not just in money to take care of the damages, but in goodwill from the Lantern Men in the district.
“I can’t pay tribute to two clans,” Mr. Pak moaned.
“We’ll take care of it,” said Hilo. “It won’t happen again.”
Later, there was some question as to whether the Paks had been turned by the Mountain and were in on the plot. When Mr. Pak learned of what happened, he cut off his own ear to proclaim his innocence and threw himself on the mercy of Kaul Lan. The couple’s home and store were searched and they were cleared of suspicion, but two months later, the Paks shut down their store and moved out of the Armpit for good.
On that night, however, Hilo had his Fingers ask questions until he learned that the two men who’d vandalized the grocery were Yen Io and Chon Daal, and they could be found at an all-night arcade on a busy commercial strip of the Armpit. For smaller transgressions, Hilo would have sent one of his Fists and a couple of Fingers, but he was sick and tired of Lan’s restraint and the bullshit situation in the Armpit. People needed to know No Peak was strong here and would not be trifled with. Vibrant, noisy, colorful, and seedy, the Armpit was one of Janloon’s most valuable districts. By day it attracted tourists and shoppers; after dark, both stockbrokers and dockworkers mingled in its streets, entertaining themselves with the myriad of restaurants, gambling dens, bars, strip clubs, and theaters. No Peak could not afford to lose ground here. Hilo decided it was necessary that he handle this offense personally. The Pillar had ordered him not to take lives, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make a public statement.
They parked in a pay lot down the street from the Super Joy arcade. Kehn was suffering from a sinus headache and was blowing his nose into a soggy handkerchief. The elder Maik brother had had his cheekbone fractured in his teens and ever since then had a difficult time on days when the pollution and humidity in Janloon were high.
“Stay in the car,” Hilo told him
. “Tar and I won’t be long.”
Kehn agreed readily, turning on the radio and lighting a smoke as Hilo and Tar got out and walked down the sidewalk toward the Super Joy. Kehn being left behind in the car was what saved the Horn’s life. As Hilo and Tar crossed the street, two men raced up on motorcycles. As they roared past the Duchesse, Kehn understood in an instant what was happening. He shouted out in warning and laid hard on the Duchesse’s horn. It was not the blare of noise, however, but the surge of Kehn’s visceral alarm that reached Hilo first, a fraction of a second before he Perceived the murderous intent of the assassins as they opened fire with handguns.
One bullet tore the shoulder of Hilo’s jacket and another whined past his ear as he fell to a crouch and threw up a wall of Deflection that veered the shots to either side around him. They punched into car doors and the walls of nearby buildings. Screams erupted as people ran from the scene, pushing and shoving each other to get away. The salvo of gunfire was just an opening, meant to stun. Both the attackers leapt, Light, from the backs of their motorcycles, as Yen Io and Chon Daal appeared from the parked car where they had been lying in ambush.
Hilo rose, talon knife in a fighting grip. Jade energy surged alongside adrenaline. The two men flew straight at him, moon blades cutting down in vicious arcs. Hilo slid aside and slammed his crossed wrists into one man’s upraised arm, cleaving into it with his talon knife. Redirecting the momentum of his opponent’s moon blade, he pivoted out of the way and sent the man stumbling forward as he jerked the talon knife across the elbow, severing tendons.