Jade War

Yes, Shae thought. Even you. Ayt had not come by her victory unscathed. She’d been beleaguered by fractiousness within her clan—fractiousness abetted by No Peak at every turn. She’d sold the Mountain’s largest company to foreign interests, made allies of the criminal barukan, broken aisho by murdering Chancellor Son, and stained her hands with the blood of her own Green Bones yet again. She’d been forced to recognize the claim of an unproven twelve-year-old boy and elevate the undistinguished Koben family into a position of power she had never intended to share. Shae suspected that for all of Ayt’s smugness over her renewed position of strength over No Peak, she had not wanted to do any of these things.

Shae felt, in that moment, a curious empathy for her mortal enemy. What Ayt had said to her was correct: No one was untouchable. She felt the other woman’s aura pressing against her like an expanding solid surface. She remembered the critical moment in their duel when their energies had grappled, neither able to overcome the other, and the sense of elation she’d felt when she’d succeeded, for an instant, to bring her rival to a standstill. She’d done so again. Ayt would not be threatening her if she did not on some level, even with all her considerable victories, fear the fact that the Kaul family was still alive. Damaged, yes—but alive, and growing, with its own allies, resources, and implacable vengefulness. As surely as the division between East and West Oortoko would fester like an infected scar, the history of violence between No Peak and the Mountain meant that in the end, one of them was bound to prevail, perhaps by the finality of the blade, perhaps by other means.

Shae bent at the waist and touched her forehead to the ground in front of the cushion. “Yatto, Father of All,” she said, “I beg you recognize all the Green Bones who came before us, especially my grandfather Kaul Seningtun and his comrade Ayt Yugontin, and all the jade warriors who’ve fought for Kekon while striving to be true to aisho and the Divine Virtues.”

Shae straightened and said to her enemy, “Everything you say is true. We have more at stake now, and it’s in everyone’s best interests for our clans to keep the peace. But we will never be at peace. You’ll pursue your ruthless agenda—and my clan will pursue ours. Make no mistake: We’re still at war, in a different way.” She stood up, feeling the stiffness in her back unclench. “I have to pick up my nephews from swim class. If you’ll excuse me, Ayt-jen, my family needs me.”

CHAPTER 63 Home at Last

When Anden landed in Janloon International Airport, a car and driver were waiting for him. Crossing the Way Away Bridge into morning traffic, Anden stared at the skyline of the city he’d left three and a half years ago. The view was deeply familiar yet different; there were buildings that had been there as long as he could remember and new ones that he did not recognize. Construction cranes balanced like orange storks along the waterfront, stretching their arms toward Summer Harbor. Anden rolled down the window and breathed in the heat and smell of Janloon, letting the urban music of car horns and shouted Kekonese wash over him. The car carried him past the dense tenements of Coinwash and Fishtown, the condo buildings and upscale shops of North Sotto, the urban parks and trendy eateries between Green Plain and Yoyoyi, the manicured estate fronts of Palace Hill. He saw trees broken from recent typhoon damage, newspaper stands proclaiming the end of the Oortokon War, red Autumn Festival lamps and grass streamers adorning eaves and street posts. Green and white paper lanterns hung from storefront windows in their respective districts.

A nameless and profound ache gathered in Anden’s chest. Janloon was warm and dangerous, it throbbed with life and hot-blooded movement, it knew that it was special, that there was no other place like it in the world. Other places deceived; in other places, people hid their jade, they exchanged money under the table, and they killed in the dark. Janloon wore its savagery on its sleeve; it was a proud Fist among nations, it did not hide what it was. Janloon was honest.

When he arrived at the Kaul house, Anden took his suitcase out of the trunk, careful not to jar his splinted fingers. Two men were walking down the driveway on their way out, perhaps having concluded a meeting with the Pillar. It had been so long since Anden had seen jade worn openly that his eyes were drawn to the green around their wrists and necks even before he recognized their faces. Juen Nu and Lott Jin paused when they saw him. “Emery Anden,” Lott said after a moment. “Welcome back.”