Jade War

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.”