by Fonda Lee
Any answer was progress; Shae didn’t press further. After leaving her cousin broken-spirited but calm on the beach behind her mother’s cottage, she’d spoken to Wen, who had spoken to Kehn, who had quietly sent two reliable guards to Marenia.
Mr. Une came up to their table, half-bowed in a mincing shuffle. The left side of his head was bandaged with a thick wad of gauze. He carried a small black wooden box, and his face was tight with a forced smile that did little to mask his extreme nervousness. “Kaul-jens,” he asked, “is everything to your satisfaction?”
Hilo set aside his downcast manner and offered the restaurateur an expectant smile. “Mr. Une, you know how happy I am to be back in one of my favorite spots.”
The owner of the Twice Lucky flushed and bent at the waist as he set the small black box on the table in front of Hilo, as if humbly presenting him with a special dish from the kitchen, except that the unopened box contained Mr. Une’s left ear. A plea for the Pillar’s mercy, for having turned to the Mountain. “I hope to continue serving you, Kaul-jen,” he said, his voice trembling a little. He dabbed his brow as he bent to Shae and Kaul Sen as well, including them in his appeal.
Hilo put his hand on the box and gently set it aside. Mr. Une sagged visibly in relief; touching the box was a sign of the Pillar’s acceptance. Hilo said, soberly, “All’s forgiven, my friend. Sometimes even the most loyal and devoted men make mistakes when they’re forced to make decisions under terrible circumstances.”
“Yes, Kaul-jen,” Mr. Une agreed wholeheartedly, clasping his hands to his head and touching his forehead repeatedly as he backed away. “Very true, indeed.”
Shae noticed her grandfather’s head beginning to droop. “Kyanla,” she said, “take Grandfather home. Hilo and I will be along later.”
Kyanla dabbed Kaul Sen’s mouth with a napkin and moved him back from the table. People fell silent for a moment as the wheelchair passed through the dining room. Some raised their clasped hands in respectful salute to the old Torch. When Kaul Sen and his nurse had gone, several people rose one at a time from their seats and came to where Hilo and Shae sat.
“Kaul-jens, we live near the Twice Lucky and it’s our favorite place to eat, but we never came here while those dogs held it,” said Mr. Ake, father of two Fingers. “We’re so relieved there’s peace in the neighborhood again.”
A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kino, whom Shae recognized as Luckbringers in her office, slipped an envelope under her plate. “To assist Mr. Une with his tribute this month,” they explained. “We know the clan will help him with the damages to the windows and the carpet.”
A palpable current of relief was growing in the dining room, where the ceiling fans spun through the muggy air blown in over the harbor where Kehn and his men patrolled. The patrons of the Twice Lucky had seen the restaurant owner’s bandaged head, and they saw now the box sitting next to Hilo on the table, and were comforted that the Pillar was merciful and had renewed his endorsement. With the solidified confidence of the clan’s Lantern Men, and the jade income from the Espenians, Shae allowed herself a stir of grim optimism. Perhaps Ayt’s ruthless vision—one clan over Janloon—would come to pass, but not, Shae vowed, in the way the Pillar of the Mountain envisioned.
Hilo accepted all the respect paying with something approaching his usual relaxed good humor. Presently, he said, “Please go enjoy your food. My sister and I have business to discuss,” and the impromptu line of clan loyalists dispersed and returned to their tables. The Pillar and his Weather Man were left alone to finish their meals and to speak on clan matters.
EPILOGUE
Always Opportunity
There’d been a man at the gravesite when Bero first went, a young man who stayed there a long time, but the second time Bero snuck into the cemetery with Mudt, it was at night and the eerie hillside was empty. He found the right place easily enough. Due to space considerations, most Kekonese were cremated and their ashes entombed. Not many families were afforded full burial plots and large marble monuments.
Kaul Lanshinwan had been laid to rest near his war hero father. Bouquets of spring flowers, bowls of bright, waxed fruit, and sticks of burnt-down incense in small cups of sand had been left at the foot of the headstone by the clan faithful. Below the name and dates carved into the marble, there were only two simple lines:
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER.
PILLAR OF HIS CLAN.
With a violent motion, Mudt spat on the grave and made to kick over the items on the ground. Bero yanked him back and hissed, “Don’t be an idiot. You want them to start guarding this place?” The boy pulled away from Bero’s grasp but stopped trying to do damage. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced around the moonlit cemetery with sullen unease. Grave-robbing was, after all, punishable by death.
Bero crouched down and ran his hands along the base of the monument. He pressed his palms to the grassy earth and brought his cheek so close to the ground he could smell the pungent odor of the moist dirt beneath the growing turf. Several feet below him lay the body of the man he’d killed, and Bero was certain that buried with him was jade. Jade that belonged by right to Bero. Now that he had the entire stash of shine safely stored away and the clan war had ebbed so Janloon was almost, it seemed for now, back to normal, he could think on how to make his luck again.
There was always opportunity in this city.
Acknowledgments
From its inception, Jade City was such an ambitious passion project that I occasionally despaired of being able to do it justice. I hoped against all odds that my abilities were up to the task of bringing to life on the page what was so clear in my imagination. If I have succeeded with the book you hold in your hands, it is in no small part because of the support I had along the way.
After reading a draft of this novel, my agent, Jim McCarthy, not only pressed me to keep going, but also gave me such insightful and useful feedback that I wrote back to him, “You are so damn right about everything. I hope I can pull this off.” We did. Thanks again, Jim.
I could not ask for Jade City to have a better champion than Sarah Guan at Orbit. I knew I was in good hands when I discovered that Sarah not only “got” the book immediately but also could go down the delightful rat hole of dream casting the characters with me. I’m extremely fortunate to have such a piercingly keen editor guiding and sharpening my work.
Thanks as well to Tim Holman and Anne Clarke for bringing this series into the Orbit family; to my UK editor, Jenni Hill, for shepherding Jade City across the pond and elsewhere; Alex Lencicki, Ellen Wright, and Laura Fitzgerald for raising a storm of marketing and publicity; Lauren Panepinto and Lisa Marie Pompilio for making the book look fantastic; Gleni Bartels for paying attention to every production detail; and Kelley Frodel for her copyeditor’s eagle eye. Tim Paul took my crude sketches of Kekon and Janloon and turned them into beautiful maps. I have no doubt left out others who deserve to be mentioned; thank you all.
There is no substitute for reliable beta readers. Curtis Chen, Vanessa MacLellan, Carolyn O’Doherty, and Sonja Thomas gave me the brain explosion required to revise this book into what it was meant to be. To my Viable Paradise XVIII classmates: Thanks for all the support and commiseration on Slack, and an extra shout-out to those who read and critiqued the opening chapters of the manuscript in its early days: Amanda Helms, Annaka Kalton, Renee Melton, Benjamin C. Kinney, Steve Rodgers, Shveta Thakrar, and especially Jesse Stewart, who told me in no uncertain terms on several occasions to finish this book.
I am thankful to Elizabeth Bear, Tina Connolly, Kate Elliot, Mary Robinette Kowal, Ken Liu, Scott Lynch, and Fran Wilde for various instances of advice and support. My writer friends who gather for lunch, meet up at cons, or stay in touch online: You continue to inspire and motivate me. It’s still a thrill to see my books on bookstore shelves, and I’m particularly obliged to Powell’s in Portland and University Bookstore in Seattle for hosting my launches.
Jade City is very much a merger of Western and
Eastern story influences; I credit my father for introducing me to both. I don’t remember when exactly I became a lifelong fan of gangster sagas or kung fu films, but I’m sure he played a part in it. Continued gratitude must be extended to my husband, Nathan, who willingly and perilously agrees to be either a hard critic or a sympathetic ear whenever I need him to be. Finally, this book is dedicated to my brother, Arden, the best sibling I could ask for. We get along much better than Hilo and Shae.
And my deepest appreciation to you, my readers.
BY FONDA LEE
THE GREEN BONE SAGA
Jade City
Exo
Zeroboxer
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