Jade War

Hilo’s vision wavered. He sank to his knees on the kitchen floor, still holding Eyni as if in a lover’s embrace. The energy blowback of her death crashed over him and then washed out, leaving him momentarily dazed and rattled. He’d cut the inside of his lip on his teeth where her head had smacked into his mouth, and the sharp tang of blood on his tongue along with the droning sound of the telephone dial tone near his ear brought him back to himself. He reached up and set the telephone receiver back into its cradle. Standing up, he lifted Eyni and carried her to the sofa. He laid her down lengthwise on the cushions, then stood back, wiping sweat from his brow with the cuff of his sleeve.

She didn’t look pained or awkward in death, just soft and limp, and he arranged her arms across her stomach so she looked even more natural. Hilo walked back into the kitchen and took a long drink of water directly from the kitchen faucet. Then he stood with his hands leaning against the counter and stared for a long minute at the body of the woman on the sofa. She hadn’t suffered or struggled at all, had not even seen death coming, which only showed that she was still an ignorant and haughty person at heart, to not understand her own position clearly and anticipate what Green Bones were capable of—what he was capable of—when grievously pushed and insulted. He’d gone to every length to meet her more than halfway, offered every reasonable allowance, kept his temper so firmly in check—all to no avail.

Hilo had never liked Eyni and always thought Lan was wrong to let her and her lover walk away with no consequence in the first place, but looking at her now, he felt sad. He knew Lan would not have wanted her killed, even for the sake of his own son.

“Maaaa,” came the cry again, from the room down the hall. Hilo followed the sound; he stepped over the child gate blocking the way and went into the nursery where he found Niko standing up, holding on to the slats of the crib. He was calling out in an impatient but not tearful way, and when Hilo came into the room, he stopped making noise and stared up at his uncle with wide eyes and an open mouth. Hilo lifted the child out of the crib and set him on the ground. The boy sat down, picked up a toy car and began pushing it along the carpet. Hilo crouched down next to him. “Car,” Niko said in Kekonese, then sang a nursery song in Stepenish and looked to Hilo for approval. Hilo smiled and held out his hand. “Come with me, Nikoyan.” The name came to him at once, a perfect Kekonese name. He led the boy out of the nursery and into the living room, opening and closing the child gate for him to pass through. Niko went to Eyni. “Ma ma ma,” he said.

“Your ma is sleeping,” Hilo said gently. He placed the supplies Eyni had been carrying into the smaller suitcase along with the child’s other packed belongings, then shut and latched it. He searched inside the open purse and found Niko’s birth certificate tucked inside Eyni’s passport; when he unfolded it, he saw that the field for the father’s name had been left blank. He refolded the certificate and tucked it into his jacket pocket. He knelt down and pointed to the toy car in Niko’s hand. “Would you like to go for a car ride?”

The boy’s expression brightened. He stopped trying to rouse his mother and held out his arms to be picked up. Hilo kissed the child on the top of the head, then scooped him up in one arm and picked up the suitcase with the other. He carried Niko out of the house and to the car where Tar was still waiting. Hilo threw the suitcase into the rear seat, then got in the front passenger side, holding the two-year-old in his lap. “Niko-se,” he said, “this is your uncle Tar.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Niko,” Tar said, ruffling the toddler’s hair. “You’re a good-looking boy.” If the Pillarman was surprised to see Hilo emerge alone from the house with the child, it showed only as a shift of alertness in his jade aura, a beat of hesitation as he looked at the Pillar questioningly.

Hilo said, “We need to call the airline to transfer your plane ticket to Niko. And I need to find a typewriter to fill in his birth certificate, so he can board the plane with me. You’ll have to stay behind to deal with the boyfriend. Be quick and careful about it. He’s not so bad; he shouldn’t suffer at all.”

Tar nodded, then handed the car keys to Hilo. “You’d better put the kid in the back seat and take the car back to the hotel. I’ll wait here. See you in a few days.”

* * *

Six weeks later, Wen gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Hilo brought his nephew into the room where Wen was resting. Kaul Rulinshin, three hours old, lay on his mother’s breast. Bouquets of chrysanthemums and yellow heaven’s breath flowers—symbolizing joy and good health—had been sent by the clan faithful and crowded every available surface in the room.