Jade War

CHAPTER 8 Family Matters

Kaul Maik Wen rushed to find her husband in their bedroom, packing up a few belongings for his trip. “Hilo,” she gasped. She hadn’t meant to sound alarmed, but he must’ve Perceived her agitation because he dropped his wallet and talon knife on the bedspread and took her by the arms. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Wen said. To tell the truth, she felt exhausted most of the time and had barely kept her breakfast down this morning, but that wasn’t why she’d come running up the stairs. The square envelope and the papers clutched in her hand shook as she held them out to Hilo. “I found this among the papers that you asked me to box up from the study.”

Hilo and Shae had left Lan’s bedroom and his study untouched for so long that upon moving into the main house, Wen had taken it upon herself to deal with the situation. She’d liked Lan a great deal and mourned that she would never know him as a brother-in-law, but the dead no longer had any needs. Better to take care of those who were still living. Wen had moved the furniture out of the bedroom and repainted it; she planned to turn it into a nursery. As part of her encouragement that Hilo change the study to his liking, she’d placed Lan’s belongings and papers into boxes and moved them out. At first Hilo had resisted. “Just leave it; I’m not going to use that room anyway,” he told her. Eventually, he’d seen the necessity and, being more than happy to let her handle it, had asked her to at least sort through the boxes and hang on to anything important before storing or discarding the rest. This morning, she’d been doing just that when she’d found the unopened envelope.

It was addressed to Lan, postmarked two weeks prior to his death. The return address was a postal box in Lybon, Stepenland. Wen handed her husband two pieces of folded paper, dense with handwriting, and a photograph of a six-month-old baby.

“What is this?” Hilo asked.

“Your nephew,” Wen said. “Eyni was pregnant when she left Kekon.” Wen pointed to the top of the letter, drawing his attention to the writing: I can’t think of any other way to tell you this: He’s yours. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I wasn’t sure who the father was. It was obvious after he was born—he has your nose, your eyes, even your expressions… that Kaul look. You know what I mean. His name is Nikolas, and he’s a beautiful, healthy baby.

Wen watched Hilo’s eyes travel in disbelief down the rest of the letter. She’d already read through it and knew how it ended. I know this is a shock. I’m not sure what to do now. Even though things didn’t work out between us, I still want Niko to know his biological father. Maybe we should talk about me returning to Kekon. I wouldn’t blame you if you don’t want anything more to do with me, but I’ve never stopped caring about you. Please write back.

Hilo put down the letter and studied the photo. “I don’t really see the resemblance she’s talking about,” he said at last.

Wen snatched the picture from him. “You’re blind,” she exclaimed. True, the baby in the photo looked much as all babies did—round-faced, wide-eyed, sweet and soft—but he was so obviously Kaul Lan’s son that Wen wanted to splutter indignantly at her husband. “You have to write back to Eyni.”

Hilo made a face and sat down on the edge of the bed. No one in the family had been in touch with Lan’s ex-wife since she’d left. Surely, though, she must’ve heard of his death. “She’s not going to want to hear from me,” he said. “Eyni and I never got along very well. What am I supposed to say to her now?”

Wen crouched down next to her husband’s legs and stared insistently up into his face. She knew that Hilo had never been fond of his brother’s wife, but what did that matter? His personal feelings about Eyni weren’t nearly as important as doing what was right for this young child. As soon as Wen had laid eyes on the photo of Nikolas, she’d felt her heart melting. “Tell her she can come back to Janloon,” Wen said. “She’s willing to return, but she needs the Pillar’s permission.”

“She’d want to bring that foreigner back with her, the one she cheated on Lan with,” Hilo said, with an edge in his voice.

“Even so, I’m sure Lan would’ve set aside the issue of honor and allowed them to return if it meant bringing his son back to Kekon.” Wen shoved the letter and the photo back onto Hilo’s lap. “Write back to Eyni and tell her that we discovered her letter just now. Tell her that she’s forgiven and that she’s welcome to come home and raise her son in Janloon, where he can know his family. Niko must be two years old by now. It’s not right for him to be living so far away, growing up in a jadeless culture and surrounded by foreigners.”

Hilo rubbed a hand over his eyes, but he nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I won’t ever be able to think of Eyni as my sister, but I’d put up with her and that man-whore she ran off with, for the sake of the kid.” He folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope but kept looking at the photograph. Wen could see him trying to internalize the idea of this baby being his nephew, who he hadn’t even known existed. “Maybe you should be the one to write to Eyni,” he suggested.

Wen saw right away that it was a better idea. “Of course,” she agreed, standing up. “She’ll be more likely to welcome the assurances of another woman. I’ll write back to her today and ask her to come visit, so we can meet the baby.”

She could see Hilo warming to the idea now; it was like watching clouds in the sky break apart beneath sunlight. He smiled in that boyish, lopsided way that Wen knew she could never adequately capture on camera or in a drawing, though she had tried. Hilo handed the letter back to her but tucked the photograph into his shirt pocket. “When you write to Eyni, let her know that I’m willing to put the past behind us. When she returns to Janloon, she’ll have the clan’s assistance. We’ll help her get a house, a job, whatever she needs. She’ll believe it more coming from you than me. And of course, I’d treat Lan’s son like my own.”

Wen put her arms around Hilo’s neck and gave him a grateful kiss. Her husband could be shortsighted and stubborn; sometimes he hung on to strict principles or personal grudges that clouded his better judgment, but he possessed the most valuable quality in any person, especially a clan leader, which was the ability to put others first, no matter the prevailing opinion or the personal cost.

Hilo wrapped an arm around her waist and placed the flat of his hand against her abdomen. “When can we tell people? After the old man’s funeral and everything else that’s been going on lately, we need some good news around here.”

“Let’s do it as soon as you get back,” Wen said. She was struck by a sudden pang of fear that her words might’ve tempted misfortune to befall his trip. She tightened her grip around Hilo’s neck and confessed, “I’m worried. I think your sister’s right; it’s not worth it for you to go to that place.”

“I’ll have Tar with me,” Hilo said lightly.

“So I’ll have to worry about both of you.”

Hilo gave her waist a reassuring squeeze. “The Mountain wants me dead. I’m in danger every day right here in Janloon. Why should you be especially anxious about this?”

Wen said, “Ayt is proposing a truce because she can’t afford to kill you right now. If she did, it would plunge the city into further violence at a time when she doesn’t have the public support or strength in warriors to handle it. You’re safer here.”

“I see you’ve been talking to Shae,” Hilo said, with a touch of amusement and irritation. “The two of you have obviously thought things through, but you should trust that I have too.” Hilo stood up and finished packing a change of clothes and toiletries into a travel bag. “This crook Zapunyo relies on being inconspicuous. He pays off the government and the police of the Uwiwa Islands in order to be able to run his jade smuggling ring. If he wanted to get rid of me, do you think he’d go to the trouble of luring me onto his turf to do it there? An Uwiwan criminal murdering a Kekonese citizen, the Pillar of a Green Bone clan, would be international news. He’d lose his impunity; both countries’ governments would hunt him down. He’s not going to risk everything he’s built for that.”

Wen didn’t argue, but she couldn’t shake her apprehension as she watched Hilo stow his wallet and passport. She was accustomed to being left behind; as a child, she’d stood outside the entrance of Kaul Dushuron Academy, watching her brothers walk ahead where she could never go. She’d seen them grow into powerful men, earning jade and scars and respect in the clan that had once shunned them.

She’d come by her own victories. When she was fourteen years old, her brothers brought home a friend. This was a rare event; the Maiks received few visitors. Kaul Hilo was sixteen, the same age as Tar, and already people in the clan were saying he was the fiercest of the Torch’s grandchildren, that he was sure to one day become the Horn. On that evening and many others to come, Hilo ate dinner cheerfully at their meager table in Paw-Paw instead of his family’s grand house in Palace Hill. He was respectful to their mother and teased Kehn and Tar as if they were his own brothers. When Wen’s mother snapped her fingers at Wen to refill their guest’s teacup, she shyly hurried to do so. Most people avoided looking at or speaking to Wen for longer than necessary; they tugged their earlobes to ward off the stone-eye’s bad luck. Hilo turned to thank her, and paused. His eyes rested on her face for a prolonged moment, then he smiled and returned to the meal and to conversation with her brothers.

Wen finished pouring tea and sat back down, hands in her lap, eyes on her own plate. Her face felt as if it were on fire with a feverish certainty she’d never had in her life. That’s the boy I’m going to marry.

She had a great deal to be thankful for now, she knew that. Even being a stone-eye no longer troubled her, as it allowed her to do useful things to help the Weather Man in the war against No Peak’s enemies. And hopefully there would be more joy in her life, soon. Yet the familiar feeling of being left behind—a queasy and helpless resentment lodged deep in the pit of her stomach—it never stopped being hard to take. “Don’t underestimate this man,” Wen whispered. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Hilo picked up his sheathed talon knife and strapped it to his waist. “I promise.” He looked at his watch, picked up his bag, and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “I’m going to be a father. I know that changes things.”