Jade War

Meanwhile, Kaul Hilo was nowhere to be seen or found because he was on the other side of the world. “Find the number of the hotel my brother is staying in,” Shae ordered her secretary as she strode back to her office. “Then get me on the phone with him, now.”

CHAPTER 21 Change of Plans

Hilo got off the long-distance call and said, “We need to go home.”

Tar, who was watching a ruckets game on the hotel television despite the fact that neither of them understood the rules of the sport, said, “Our flights are booked for Sixthday and we’re supposed to have dinner with the kid’s mom and her boyfriend tomorrow night. What do you want to do?”

Hilo picked up the remote control and changed the channel. The news was covering the Espenian entry into Oortoko. He couldn’t understand what the Stepenish commentators were saying, but they were referring to a large map of the East Amaric region, with Shotar, the Uwiwa Islands, and Kekon highlighted. Hilo mumbled a curse under his breath. Trust the Espenians to do things when they pleased, without informing or consulting anyone else.

Shae had made it clear that he needed to return to Janloon as soon as possible, but he was also determined not to leave Lybon until he’d hammered out an acceptable arrangement regarding his nephew’s future. He hated the prospect of explaining to Wen that he’d flown all the way to Stepenland at her urging, leaving her in her thirty-fourth week of pregnancy, and had nothing to show for it.

Also, he found himself thinking about Lan’s son a great deal, and feeling, on a deep and painful level, a kinship with the child that went even beyond blood relation. Like Niko, Hilo had lost his father when he was not even a year old. From all the stories he’d heard of Kaul Dushuron, Hilo had always imagined he would’ve gotten along with his father—certainly better than he’d gotten along with his grandfather. Niko would never know his father either. Perhaps it was because he was soon to become a parent himself that the thought caused Hilo to grieve for his elder brother in a way that he had not been able to two years ago, when war and vengeance and survival had been paramount in his mind. Over the past couple of days, he’d been unusually morose, unable to enjoy the picturesque novelty of Lybon.

Tar, sensing the Pillar’s mood if not the underlying reasons for it, tried with the earnestness of a worried child to lift his spirits, making fun of everything unexpected they encountered—from salty candy, to Stepenish hairdos, to the fact that supermarkets closed at dusk. While Hilo spent time dealing with clan issues on phone calls with Shae or Kehn, Tar went around the town and returned to offer up daily accomplishments he hoped would please his boss: He’d found a good restaurant and made a reservation for Fifthday; through the clan’s vast network, he’d made a few local connections that might be useful; he’d discreetly tailed Eyni’s boyfriend to an office building near the center of town and discovered where he worked and with whom.

“You want me to call the airline and see if we can get on an earlier flight?” Tar asked now.

Hilo pinched the bridge of his nose, then nodded. Lybon was seven hours ahead of Janloon; it was early evening and the streetlights outside of their hotel room had just come on. If they took a flight out tomorrow morning, they could be back home by the end of the day. “Change the flights,” he said. “Then we’ll go talk to those two. We’ll insist on having dinner tonight to figure everything out.”

When they got to the house, Hilo said, “Stay in the car this time. You’re too intimidating.” Tar made a noise of incredulous protest, but Hilo said, “You look and act like a Fist. Eyni’s never thought of me as anything but a goon, and having you standing around like a silent henchman won’t help things. I have to sweet talk those two into seeing reason.” He got out of the car and leaned back through the open window. “Wait here. I’ll be back out soon and we’ll go eat.”

Hilo paused when he got to the front door. He could Perceive Eyni moving about inside with considerable energy and haste, and in the back of the house, a small, quiet presence that could only be the slumbering child. The Stepenish man was not home; he must be working late. Suspicion formed in Hilo’s mind. In the few days he’d been in Lybon, he’d noticed that it seemed to be common for people to leave gates and doors open. Instead of ringing the bell, he turned the door knob. It was unlocked; he pushed open the door and stepped inside.