Jade War

Rohn drove through the center of Port Massy, intentionally taking a longer route to give the visitors a chance to see some of the cityscape. Hilo remained silent for much of the ride, but several times, he nudged Maik Tar and remarked on this or that interesting sight: the world-famous Mast Building, the garish orange buses, a familiar brand name on a billboard. Anden wanted to tell his cousin a thousand things; he felt a strange compulsion to act as a tour guide and point out tidbits that he hadn’t known when he’d first arrived in Port Massy but had subsequently learned and that the Pillar might appreciate—but he was tentative, no longer sure how familiar to act with his cousin, whether his comments would be welcomed or scorned.

Anden turned partway around in his seat and remarked, “That’s Port Massy College, Hilo-jen. Those arches are the entrance to the campus.” As they entered Southtrap, he said, “The place I live is about three blocks that way. If you have time, maybe you could meet the Hians—they’re the couple who’ve been hosting me.” Hilo did not answer, but when the car came to a stop in front of the Dauks’ home a few minutes later, he leaned forward and gave Anden a pat on the shoulder before opening the door and getting out. Anden stayed put for a second, feeling foolish. He’d lived in Port Massy for nearly two years, he’d done well in his studies, could speak and read Espenian, had a part-time job that paid a reasonable wage. He had friends and a home of sorts. Yet in the presence of Kaul Hilo, he felt like an anxious boy again. He hadn’t realized until now how much he still craved his cousin’s approval and forgiveness. It must’ve been obvious not only to Hilo but to everyone in the car. Anden got out and followed the other men.

Dauk Losun and Dauk Sana greeted the visitors at the front door. Cory was there too, home from Watersguard University for the two-week-long Harvest’Eves break. Fortunately, after fruitless months of surveillance, the police appeared to have given up on staking out the Dauks’ home, or perhaps they too were taking a holiday break. The Dauks had gone to some effort to make their modest home look presentable to an important visitor. The counters and the banister gleamed from polish; new, brighter lights had been put in over the kitchen; a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table scented the air pleasantly. Dauk Losun was more formal than usual; instead of his typical sweater, he was wearing a gray shirt and a red tie with a gold clip, and he was not quite his normal unassuming self. He greeted Kaul Hilo with a respectful salute, saying how pleased he was to meet the Pillar of the great No Peak clan in person and inquiring as to his flight. From behind his father’s shoulder, Cory flashed Anden a quick smile, which Anden barely acknowledged with one of his own before averting his gaze. He’d spent months impatient to see Cory again, but right now he was too unbalanced by his cousin’s presence and the strangeness of different parts of his life coming together under one roof.

Hilo quickly put his hosts at ease by smiling his lopsided smile, complimenting them on aspects of their house, and joking about the food served on Kekon Air. As they entered the dining room, Anden saw his cousin’s gaze fall on the statues and vases carved from bluffer’s jade. A smirk tugged at the corner of Hilo’s mouth, imperceptible to anyone but Anden; it was gone in an instant. When Dauk Losun brought out a bottle of fine hoji and opened it to serve in advance of dinner, Hilo told them about one of his Fists who’d been maimed in a battle and lost his arms but now ran one of the best hoji distilleries in Janloon. Was Dauk a hoji connoisseur? Hilo would be pleased to send him a case. Maik and Rohn stood silently near their bosses, watching the exchange and each other with respect and subtle caution.

Dauk Sana, wearing a high-collared, matronly green dress, brought out dish after dish of food to the dinner table, apologizing for the meagerness of the meal even though it was obvious that she’d been slaving in the kitchen all day to cook a dozen dishes. Hilo said that his own mother could not have done so well, which made Dauk Sana beam with pleasure. “I had plans to make one other seafood dish and a sweet cake, and I would have, if my daughters had been here to help, but one lives far away, another is home with a sick child, and the third is traveling for some sort of industry conference.” She sighed and said, “At least Coru was good enough to lend a hand in the kitchen this afternoon.” She doled more food onto her son’s plate with obvious affection. “The youngest child is usually the most helpful.”