CHAPTER

34

Unreasonable

the twentieth year, second month

Our college student gets to pick first,” Hilo announced, brushing aside Jaya’s quick reach toward the plate of sticky fruit cakes that Wen placed in the center of the dining table. “Ru’s the one we’re celebrating tonight. Go on, son, take the one you want.”

Ru elbowed his sister out of the way and chose the peach cake. “Good choice,” Hilo said, putting an arm around Ru’s shoulders. “Always go for the best.” The teenager grinned blearily. His high school graduation ceremony had been yesterday, and he’d woken up around noon after a night of partying with his classmates. Tonight’s dinner had been a celebratory meal with all of Ru’s favorite foods—short ribs with red pepper sauce, shrimp cake, crispy fried green beans—and now the new graduate was too full to even finish his cake. Koko sat eagerly thumping his tail and eating morsels that Ru snuck him under the table.

After the upcoming New Year’s break, Ru would enter Jan Royal University. The campus was less than thirty minutes away by subway, but Ru had decided to live in student housing to get the full college experience. Hilo understood. At eighteen, the young man needed to break away from his parents. He was the only one of his siblings and cousins not to have lived at Kaul Du Academy. Nevertheless, the thought of his son moving out saddened Hilo. Ru was the most agreeable of his children. He didn’t have moods like Niko or a temper like Jaya. He got along with everyone and only ever ran into trouble as a result of jumping at ideas without entirely thinking them through, which was natural for a teenage boy. Occasionally he clashed with his mother, but only, Hilo thought, because Wen was too hard on him. Overall, he was a joy to have around; it would be too quiet without him.

“Ma, do you want dessert?” Wen asked her mother-in-law.

“No, give more to the kids. I’m going to watch television and go to bed.” Kaul Wan Ria rose creakily from her chair and Sulima helped her out of the room. Hilo’s mother was still in good health at age seventy-eight, but her hair was completely white and she seemed to be shrinking and softening, fading even further into the background that she had always occupied. His grandfather had aged into a leathery cobra spitting venom, but his mother was causing no one any trouble.

Wen asked Ru, “Have you thought any more about what you’re going to study?”

“Aunt Shae suggested a business degree,” Ru said. “She says that’ll open up a lot of job options in the Weather Man’s office and in our tributary companies.”

“Your aunt’s very smart and practical,” Wen pointed out.

“A lot of the course requirements in business look boring, though,” Ru said. “The social sciences seem a lot more interesting to me. Sociology, or public policy, maybe. It’s not that I don’t want to work in the clan,” he added quickly, “but I want to do something that helps people outside of the clan too—like other stone-eyes.”

Ru could be a bit too optimistic and unselfish for his own good, but Hilo said encouragingly, “I’m sure you’ll do well in politics or law or whatever you put your mind to. You’ve got time to figure it out, that’s what college is for. And your backup plan can be making it big as a movie star like Danny Sinjo, since you’ve got your mother’s good looks.”

Jaya burst out laughing, catching a spray of cake crumbs in her hand.

Wen shook her head, smiling. “Everyone knows who Ru looks like.”

“Da, come on,” Ru said.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Hilo said, teasing, but with an undercurrent of seriousness. “And don’t ever let any superstitious asses stand in your way. You’re my son. You’re a Kaul. If you’re not a Green Bone, it means you’re meant to do something else, something great.”

“Yeah, okay, Da,” Ru said, waving his father off, although everyone could see how much Hilo’s words made him glow. He prodded Niko. “Hey, maybe next year, we’ll be on campus together.”

Niko glanced at his brother, then back down at the napkin he was twisting into a knot. “I think you’re the college kid in this family, Ru.”

“What do you mean? You’re still going to go to Jan Royal after you’ve spent a year as a Fist, right?”

Jaya tried to catch Ru’s eye and cut him off with a warning hand motion, but it was too late. The conversation came to a sudden icy halt. Ru looked around, confused. He wasn’t well connected into the military side of the clan, and he’d been so busy with final exams and graduation that he hadn’t heard the news that the Horn had given out rank promotions and jade a week ago.

“I’m not going to be a Fist,” Niko said. “And I’m not going to college either.”

“Of course you are,” Hilo snapped. “Lott Jin says you’re doing fine, you carry your jade better than anyone else at your rank. You just need to put in the effort. By now, you should be taking more initiative, setting an example for junior Fingers. You can’t expect to become a Fist by doing the average amount.”

“A college education is important these days, of course,” Wen added, “but it can wait another year or two until you’ve earned more jade. Even if you’re a little behind on rank compared to where you expected to be, you can catch up if you put your mind to it.”

Niko remained mute, as was his habit when he was upset. When criticized or disciplined, Ru would cajole and argue; Jaya would storm off in tears. Niko would withdraw, as he was doing now, staring sullenly at the table with his jade aura pulled in like a black cloud. Hilo felt his temper rising. “Do you think everything should come easy to you just because you’re the Pillar’s son? That you don’t have to work as hard to prove yourself and can get away with disgraceful stunts, like that thing with the car?” Hilo caught himself; he’d already punished his nephew for that incident and had promised himself he wouldn’t continue to bring it up.

Instead, he said, in a calmer voice, “Did you know that when I first met Lott Jin, I wasn’t sure about him? It’s hard to believe now, but when he was young, he was badly behaved, he sulked and talked back. His father was a top Green Bone and he hated following after him. Fortunately, he found his own footing. He changed his attitude and worked harder than anyone. Now he’s the Horn of the clan. My point is that even if you didn’t have the best start, even if you made some mistakes, it’s not too late to turn things around. You just have to commit to doing it.”

Niko looked up. He’d been avoiding meeting his uncle’s eyes, but now he said, “I mean it. I’m not going to be a Fist, and I’m not going to college either. I got a job offer outside of the clan and I’m taking it.”

Complete silence fell over the dinner table. Even Jaya was too astonished to comment. Hilo blinked as if Niko had spoken in a foreign language. In disbelief, “You made this decision without telling anyone? Without discussing it with your own family? Instead, you spring it on all of us like this?”

“What was there to discuss?” Niko said. “I knew you wouldn’t agree.”

Hilo wanted to smack his nephew, but Wen put a hand on his arm and he forced himself to take a deep breath. “Despite what you seem to believe,” Hilo said slowly, “I’m not unreasonable, Niko. If you really wanted to work outside of No Peak you should’ve talked to me and your ma about it.”

Niko didn’t answer, but his jade aura boiled like a storm in a bottle. Niko had once been an easy child—calm and thoughtful, curious and quick to learn, caring for his younger siblings, not the type to act out. Hilo wondered unhappily where he’d gone wrong as a parent, how his capable nephew had turned into such an aimless and uncertain young man. Hilo mustered every remaining fragment of his paternal patience. “Growing up as a Kaul, maybe it’s only natural you’d get restless and want to explore and I haven’t been sensitive enough to that. A job outside of the clan could be good for you for a couple of years, give you some additional perspective. Your uncle Andy’s a doctor, after all. It’s not a decision you should make without talking to your parents, though. What’s the job, anyway?”

Niko dropped the crumpled napkin on his empty plate and pushed away from the table. “I’m joining Ganlu Solutions International.”

Wen drew in a small, sharp intake of breath, the only sound anyone made before Hilo’s arm shot out across the dinner table and seized his eldest child by the hair, yanking him bodily out of his chair. A plate crashed to the floor; everyone jumped in their seats. Hilo was on his feet. He shoved Niko away from him into the nearest dining room wall, knocking a framed family photograph to the ground.

“You signed up to work as a mercenary?” Hilo let out a guttural noise. “You’re going to tromp around in places you don’t belong, with thin-blooded, shine-addicted foreigners, whoring your jade abilities to the highest bidder?” He cuffed the side of Niko’s head and shoved him again, towering over him even though the young man was as tall as he was. His eyes and aura bulged as he shouted. “What kind of a Green Bone are you? What kind of a son?”

Ru jumped to his feet. Koko leapt up with him, barking. “Come on, Da,” Ru pleaded, trying to defend his brother. “He made a mistake, it was a whim.”

“It wasn’t a whim,” Niko growled, rubbing the sore patch of his scalp and squaring to face Hilo with his spine straight, shoulders back, and his hands curled into fists at his side. Cold defiance burned in his eyes. “Why do we have to pretend we’re different or better than anyone else who wears jade, even if they’re foreigners? Just because of race or genetics? I talked to some recruiters at GSI, and the work sounds interesting. They’re doing something that hasn’t been done before. All I’ve ever known is the clan, and the only thing I’m qualified to do is be a jade warrior. Why shouldn’t I explore what else is possible? I could travel the world while being paid for my jade abilities.”

Wen said, with a quaver in her voice, “This is what you do to your family, after your own brother’s graduation?”

Niko winced but didn’t drop his gaze. “I’m sorry, Ma,” he said. “I’m sorry, Ru. I wasn’t going to say anything about it tonight.”

Wen stood, her mouth in a straight line. “I have nothing to say to you until you come to your senses.” She turned her back and walked out of the dining room.

Jaya was the only one still in her chair. She whistled low. “Shit, you really did it this time, keke.” None of them wanted to face their father when he was angry, but their mother leaving the room was unheard of.

The tone of Hilo’s voice would’ve cowed any of his men. “Tomorrow morning you’re going to call Jim Sunto or whoever you’ve been talking to, and say that you acted without thinking. You’re not going to become a soldier-for-hire and disgrace yourself and all of us. You’re going to work directly under the Horn. You’re going to go to all of your scheduled training, and you’re going to make Fist by next year. If you do all that, then we’ll talk about finding you some new opportunity, inside or outside of the clan, because obviously you aren’t going to be Pillar.”

Niko’s face twitched before stiffening. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“Niko,” Ru hissed in distress, looking at him wide-eyed. “Don’t you think you’re taking this too far? You’ve made the point that you’re not happy. Da is giving you an out. Don’t you care what our parents think?”

Niko glanced at his younger brother with a sorrowful expression. “You’re eighteen, Ru. You have your own life and you’re going to college. You don’t need me around.” As he turned back to Hilo, his voice dropped and trembled with resentment, but he kept his chin raised and his jade aura smoldered with resolve. “As for what my parents think, I wouldn’t know what that is. My father was murdered in a clan war and never even knew I existed. You executed my mother as a traitor, and I have nothing of her, not even photos. What am I supposed to really believe about either of them?” Niko turned away for a second, swiping angrily at his face. “What do you think, Uncle? Do you think my parents would want this for me, or would they tell me to walk away while I still can?”

A spasm seized Hilo’s heart. He put out a hand; it closed hard on the back of a chair. For one gut-wrenching second, because of some slight thing in Niko’s posture or voice, or some subtle aspect of his jade aura, it seemed to Hilo as if the young man he thought of as his eldest son was gone, and his brother, Lan, stood in the dining room in Niko’s place. Lan, at his most resolutely principled, at one time the only man Hilo would obey. Then the moment was over, leaving behind only the piercing ache of confusion and regret.

“Your father knew what it meant to be a Green Bone.” Hilo’s voice was strained beyond his own recognition. “He would never walk away. He gave everything to lead the clan, including his life.”

“And because of that, I never met him. Why should I follow his example?” Niko’s face was blotchy with emotion. He wheeled away from the dining room and walked toward the front door.

“If you do this,” Hilo called to Niko’s back, “if you walk through that door and break your mother’s heart, don’t bother coming back.”

Jaya and Ru exchanged openmouthed looks of mounting alarm. “Da…” Jaya began. She fell silent.

For a moment, Niko hesitated, as if restrained by an invisible tether. He took the next step firmly, as if pulling himself out of quicksand. Then the next step, and the next. The door closed behind him, cutting him from sight, but for several drawn-out minutes, Hilo could Perceive the silent pain in his nephew’s turbulent aura as it receded from the house.

Jim Sunto was in his office, on a morning phone call with two human resources managers from the War Department, when a violent commotion broke out at the gates to GSI’s compound. At first he thought the noise was from a training exercise. Then he heard the guards screaming, “Stop! Stop or we’ll open fire!” and he didn’t even need his jade abilities to sense their alarm.

Sunto dropped the phone and raced out of his office, drawing his sidearm. Bursting out the front doors of the building, he took in the scene in an instant. The chain-link fence behind the security guard box was standing open; the rolling gate had been torn off its sliding mechanism and lay askew. Two men in GSI uniforms were lying on the ground—still moving, thank God—and four others were in an armed standoff, shouting, two of them with R5 rifles, the other two aiming Corta 9 mm pistols.

Kaul Hiloshudon, flanked by four of his Green Bone warriors, strode through the breached fence and advanced toward the building with the heedless implacability of a demon. The nearest GSI guard fired twice at Kaul’s chest. Sunto could’ve told the man he wasn’t going to hit a skilled Green Bone with a small-caliber weapon from a hundred meters away. With an irritated snarl, Kaul Deflected the rounds, and with a lethal rustle, his Fists drew their own weapons—Ankev 600 handguns and carbon steel moon blades.

“Hold fire!” Sunto roared at his men. He ran ahead of them, waving his arms. “Hold your fucking fire, Seer damnit!” Switching to Kekonese, he shouted at the intruders, “Kaul, for fuck’s sake, do you want a bloodbath? Tell your men to stand down!”

Kaul stopped and fixed Sunto with a terrifying glare. Jade gleamed across his collarbone, enough to equip a platoon. “You piss-drinking sack of shit. You recruited my own son!”

“I did nothing of the sort. He came up to me at one of our information sessions.” Moving slowly, Sunto holstered his Corta and held his hands open. “Lower your weapons,” he said in Espenian to the GSI guards.

“Sir—” one of them began.

“I said lower them!” Sunto had trained with No Peak’s top men and knew what they were capable of. If a gunfight broke out, the Green Bones would throw up a veritable hurricane of combined Deflection and close the gap, cutting down men with blades and knives in seconds. “Think about this,” he said to Kaul. “Do you want to be held responsible for an unprovoked deadly attack on an Espenian company and its employees? Call off your men. We’ll step into my office and talk about this like civilized human beings.”

In all the years that Sunto had known the clan leader, he’d never been sure if the stories he’d heard about Kaul Hilo were true. Now he thought they probably were. He recognized the Fists who accompanied the Pillar—Lott, Vin, Suyo, and Toyi. He’d spent time with all of them, had taught them and learned from them, but they would murder him and all his soldiers at a single word from Kaul. It was no wonder, Sunto thought with resentful abhorrence, that Kekonese people were stereotyped as savage.

Kaul’s eyes narrowed to slits. He turned over his shoulder. “Stay here,” he said to Lott. Sunto let out a silent breath as the tension eased, weapons reluctantly coming down on both sides. Ever since the two men had ended their friendship, Kaul had not once contacted the ex-Angel or been to the GSI training facilities on Euman Island, but now he strode past Sunto and into the building as if he owned the land it was built on.

Sunto followed. Inside, he pushed open the door to his office. Kaul went in but did not sit down. He gave the utilitarian furniture and boxy institutional surroundings a brief, contemptuous glance, clearly every bit as unimpressed as he expected to be. “I warned you to keep your business out of Kekon,” he said, with the cold disappointment of a man about to make good on a threat. “You didn’t listen.”

Sunto walked behind his desk, putting distance between them. “The only thing I’ve done is hold information sessions for prospective hires. That’s not unusual for any company.” He could’ve guessed even that would raise the ire of the clans, but he couldn’t afford to be timid about recruiting. The Operation Firebreak contract depended on GSI being able to field enough soldiers. “We’re interested in hiring ex-military personnel, or those with enough private training. We’ve made no effort to lure Green Bones from the clans, but we’ll talk with any interested and qualified applicants.”

“Whatever agreement you’ve made with Niko, break it,” Kaul demanded. “He won’t be wasting his jade working for your thin-blooded private army.”

“Thin-blooded,” Sunto intoned. “That’s what you’ve always thought about anyone who doesn’t answer to you or the parochial clan system, isn’t it? Well, thin-blooded or not, I’m not one of your underlings, Kaul. And GSI isn’t one of your tribute companies. Your son is an adult. I asked him several times if he was sure of his decision and he assured me he was. He’s already signed the contract and been paid the starting bonus.”

Kaul put his hands on Sunto’s desk and leaned forward across the space between them, lowering his voice. “Behind that Kekonese face, you have a dirty Espenian soul. You understand money, don’t you? I’ll pay you ten times whatever you’ve already paid him if you withdraw the offer.”

Sunto scowled. “Bribing a company executive to fire an employee is illegal.”

“Years ago, you told me you weren’t here to cause trouble, but now your soldiers protect the mining ships that steal Kekonese jade. So don’t bullshit me with moral superiority.” Kaul’s stare was as steady and chilling as his voice. “You knew that by hiring Niko, you would be reaching into No Peak and breaking my family. You did it anyway. Anyone else who tried to do that, I’d kill them. But out of respect for our old friendship, I’m giving you a choice. Take the money or don’t, but I’m asking you to solve this, as a personal favor to me. If that doesn’t move you at all, at least think selfishly about whether you really want me as an enemy.”

Sunto did not. He’d been born in Kekon and had spent the majority of the past fifteen years in the country. He understood how powerful the clans were and how ruthless their leaders could be. He certainly didn’t consider himself a prideful or reckless man who blindly tempted danger.

The hard reality, however, was that only three countries possessed jade-equipped and trained military personnel—the Republic of Espenia, Ygutan, and Kekon. Most of GSI’s employees were formerly ROE special forces, but he still needed more people. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been as easy as he’d hoped to hire current and former soldiers from the Golden Spider Company, some of whom he’d personally trained during his years working with General Ronu to reform the Kekonese military. Green Bones, even those not beholden to the clans, were leery of accepting employment with a foreign company, and strict attitudes about the acceptable jade professions persisted in Kekon.

Kaul Nikoyan coming to work for GSI could be the tipping point that influenced other Green Bones. What candidates like him lacked in institutional military experience, they more than made up for with sheer jade ability, and a surge of such recruits would boost GSI’s capabilities within a short time. The No Peak clan could not condemn or punish GSI or those who chose to take a job with the company, not if the Pillar’s own son had made the decision to join.

“I’m running an Espenian enterprise.” Sunto met Kaul’s gaze unflinchingly. “As far as I’m concerned, your son is an employee unless he decides to leave of his own free will.”

Kaul’s voice held no inflection. “I’m not sure you understand what you’re doing.”

Sunto did understand. All of GSI’s fortunes, his own personal reputation, and perhaps even the fate of the Truthbearing world rested on Operation Firebreak. Art Wyles was an insufferably smug oligarch, widely disliked, but he’d handed Sunto the biggest opportunity of his life and was vouching for him with the War Department, the Munitions Society, and all of Anorco’s shareholders, including, if rumors were to be believed, certain people in Port Massy whose disfavor Sunto did not want to court.

Sunto also knew that being an Espenian citizen and a former Navy Angel war veteran working for the ROE government afforded him a special protection. Kaul might still be reckless enough to try to assassinate him, but he couldn’t do so without risking extraordinary scrutiny and sanction, and even that would not bring down GSI. Wyles could hire someone else to run the company. All things considered, Sunto decided he would sooner take his chances against Kaul than disappoint his Espenian stakeholders, against whom he had no such advantages.

“I’d rather not be your enemy, Kaul,” he replied, remaining exactly where he was. “But I’m not afraid of you, either.”

The Pillar straightened. Sunto remembered the first time he’d met the man in the Seventh Discipline gym. He’d expected to end up in the hospital and been confused to find Kaul amiable, exuding casual arrogance and smiling more than Sunto would’ve expected from a man with such a reputation. There was none of that now. Sunto thought about the Corta pistol near his right hand.

“Maybe you’re right to feel as if you have nothing to fear,” Kaul said. “I can’t force a foreign company to do what I ask, and I know you’re not a man who’s easily cowed or killed. So in the short term, this decision may be good for you. But I won’t forget that you threw away our friendship and took my own son for your gain.” The jade energy coming off the Green Bone seemed too bright to be human, though he’d gone very still. “I promise you that sooner or later, I’ll answer that offense.”

“You should consider why your son would want to work for GSI instead of staying in your clan in the first place. The Green Bone clans are becoming obsolete. Even your own family can see it.” Sunto jerked his chin. “Now take your men and get off my property.”

For a frightening moment, the expression on Kaul’s face suggested he would resort to the blunt violence with which he’d arrived. Sunto reached in readiness for his own jade energy. Seconds passed, longer and infinitely more tense than the ones that used to stretch between them when they faced each other sparring on the lawn of the Kaul estate.

The fire in the Pillar’s eyes shrank behind black coals. “It’s obvious you’re not a father, Lieutenant.” Kaul turned toward the door. “Or you wouldn’t feel so invincible.”

Sunto followed at a wary distance and watched as the Pillar gathered his Green Bones with a gesture and walked back out through the broken security gate.