Jade War

“Not for long, Shae-se. That is why you’re here, isn’t it? To hand out the clan’s justice.” Doru eased his feet into the hot water and sighed. “It’s cold up here at night, much colder than in the city, even though it’s not very far away. I remember this kind of cold, but I used to be a younger man, so it didn’t bother me as much.” A nostalgic softness came into Doru’s eyes. “During the war, the main camp of the One Mountain Society was perhaps… ah, eight kilometers south of here.” He gestured vaguely off into the distance. “It was over difficult terrain, though, and the road from Janloon wasn’t nicely paved the way it is now. The village of Opia was our waypoint. Shae-se, there are no greater patriots on the island of Kekon than these simple country people. They hid us from Shotarian soldiers, they tended our wounds, they hiked food and supplies into our camp. They were the first Lantern Men, truly—more so than all the company executives these days, the ones who used to send me gifts of fancy pens and bottles of hoji.”

“And they hid you away even now,” Shae said. She glanced around the small kitchen and sitting area. There was only one bedroom attached to it, with a single narrow bed. Beyond the grimy lone window, the sky was growing dark.

Doru shrugged. “Only as long as they were able. I knew the Mountain would eventually sell me back to No Peak. I cooperated with them for years, using my position as Weather Man and the influence I had with Kaul Sen and Lan—let the gods recognize them—only in the hopes of achieving a peaceful solution for us all. Once I was out of No Peak and peace was no longer a possibility—what further use was I to anyone? I’m very grateful, however, that you were the one to come for me and not that brute Maik Tar.”

Shae stared at the man who’d been her grandfather’s closest friend and advisor, who’d been a fixture in her family since before she’d been born. Yun Doru seemed even more fragile and shrunken than the last time she’d seen him jade-stripped and captive in his own house over a year ago. His hair was thin and nearly white, his eye sockets were recessed deeply in his long face, and his skin was an unhealthy pallor dappled with deep shadows in the light of the single bulb.

“I’m dying, you see,” Doru said with utter indifference. The moment the words were out of his mouth, Shae knew it was true; she could Perceive it now in the sickly limpness of his jade aura. “Cancer of the liver. In the late stages, I’m told.” The former Weather Man smiled wanly. “I hope you didn’t bargain much in exchange for my life. It’s worth very little, and now that Kaul Sen has joined our comrades in the afterlife, I’ll be relieved to finally follow after him. You’ve come to do an old warrior a mercy. I would ask, though, that we have a few minutes to speak alone.”

Shae hesitated, then said to Woon and Hami, “Wait outside.”

“Shae-jen,” Woon protested, but Shae gave him a strong look to show she meant it. “Wait outside, like I said. I’ll handle this.”

Hami said to Doru, with pity and disgust, “You’re getting better than you deserve.”

The two men stepped out the door. Shae and Doru were alone. Doru took his feet out of the bath and dried them with the towel the girl had left. The window had fogged from the steam, and Shae could smell the herbal scented salts. “I want you to know,” Doru said, “that I had every intention of keeping my promise to you. I would’ve willingly remained a jadeless prisoner in my own home to keep company with Kaul Sen in his final days.” Doru’s lips trembled, and Shae felt the pulse of grief in his enfeebled aura. “He was a great man, the greatest Green Bone of our generation, and a dear friend—let the gods recognize him. I broke my word to you only because he insisted I do so, and I have never disobeyed him in anything.”

Doru slid his bare feet into slippers, and with painful creakiness, he stood and walked to a battered yellow armchair, tying his bathrobe around his waist. He looked so frail in that moment that Shae had to quell a strange urge to go help him. “What did you give to the Mountain when you went to them?” she asked.

“Nothing, Shae-se—though not from lack of trying.” Doru lowered himself gingerly into the armchair, wincing at some unseen pain. “I went to Ayt Mada when the Mountain seemed poised to win the war because I hoped to bargain for your safety. I volunteered my knowledge of No Peak’s businesses and offered to aid in the financial and operational merger after the Mountain was victorious—on the condition that you be spared from harm. I asked the same for Anden, because I knew you would want it. Ayt refused. After the way you angered her, she had no intention of letting you live.