Jade Legacy (The Green Bone Saga, #3)

by Fonda Lee

line. “The Ayt Madashi that I know doesn’t take no for an answer, not from anyone. Those who do stand in her way”—Hilo opened his hands in self-indication as he stood in her foyer—“have to be ready to die. It’s why you’re the only one in the world who can help me right now. The gods have always had a sick sense of humor.”

She had to live. She would not leave Woon to raise Tia alone. She refused to fail her gentle daughter in the way that Green Bone parents too often failed their children, the way her father had failed her before she was

born, the way Lan had failed Niko, and Anden’s mother had failed him—by dying. Drowning in blood and jade.

“Kaul-jen,” said one of the strangers, inclining his chin and touching his forehead as he helped her into the back of a car. “Ayt Madashi sends her regards.”

Jade was her armor and her weapon, but it was not a part of her, the way it was with Hilo. She missed her abilities, but she was not empty, not any less of a person than she would’ve been if she’d lost an arm or a leg or an eye.

Jade had meaning because of the type of person one had to become to wear it. Jade was the visible proof that a person had dedicated their life to the discipline of wielding power, to the dangers and costs of being a Green Bone.

One last time, Bero thought. Bad luck to good, one last time. “Sure,” Bero said. “I understand.”

And he did understand, with an uncommon clarity that made him want to laugh himself to death and spit in the faces of the gods on his way to hell. It wasn’t a purposeful and powerful fortune that had always swept him along in its inexplicable currents, that trapped him in suffering yet in the oddest moments protected him. It was insignificance.

What he felt now was similar, although it happened invisibly and without a sound—a shattering disintegration that was silent, private, and complete. The one thing that kept him tethered to the awareness of the moment was Anden, standing in front of him.

Outside, it seemed as if the world had ceased moving. Hilo came around the sofa and walked past Anden toward the stairs. The Pillar placed a heavy hand on his cousin’s shoulder as he passed. “Thank you, Andy,” he managed to say, quietly. Then he went upstairs to wake his wife and to tell her that their son was dead.

Wen hated herself for letting sorrow make her resent even her own husband, especially since she could barely recognize Hilo. The warmth in his eyes, his lopsided boyish grin, his magnetic energy, like that of a star burning in the sky—all of it had been snuffed out

families. Even when we win, we suffer.

“We all make mistakes. Sometimes terrible mistakes we can barely live with. But we learn from them. And maybe…” His voice collapsed. “Maybe we can forgive each other.”

“It belonged to my father,” Niko said. “I earned it, piece by piece, by proving myself in the clan.”

“You didn’t,” Niko told him bluntly. “I never knew my father, but he was a good person, a respected Pillar, and one of the most powerful Green Bones anyone could name. That’s what I’ve been told all my life, and it’s what I choose to believe. The Mountain clan murdered him, but the truth of it is that a man like that can only be brought down by his own flaws, in the face of forces beyond anyone’s control. Not by someone like you.”

it. Clans and jade, murder and vengeance, burdens and feuds and failures passed down from father to brother to son—none of it was a myth to Niko at all, but part of his lived experience, inescapable but malleable truths that it had taken him a world of searching to accept.

“Aunt Shae,” he said at last, with quiet conviction, “while I was away from Kekon, I realized there are only two types of people in the world. It’s not Green Bones and non–Green Bones. It’s those who have power and those who don’t.”

Shae was filled with a nameless, foreboding fearfulness for her nephew. Niko was still young—too young, she thought, to be so clear-eyed and grim of character. Yet he’d already contemplated the legacy of the clan and the weight of leadership far more than Lan or Hilo or herself at his age. Shae and her brothers had grown up with the sentimental expectations that came from being the grandchildren of the Torch of Kekon, heirs to the clan following a generation of victory, peace, and national reconstruction. They had each, in their own way, been forced into their positions and done the best they could.

Shae thought, He is more like Ayt Mada than any of us. At least Niko has us. People who loved him, who reminded him to be human.

It didn’t matter how quickly No Peak grew or how strong its warriors and businesses were. It could not compete against such overwhelming weapons. Ayt Mada would finally destroy the Kaul family and take the No Peak clan. It might be quickly orchestrated, or it might simply be a slow, inexorable defeat. Either way, the outcome was not in question. It’s over, Shae thought. Ayt’s won. We’re finished.

“We always knew we’d have to face Ayt directly again, to finish what was started so long ago,” he said. “All these years of slow war between the clans have been about making ourselves strong enough. We became too big to swallow, too big to kill, so now Ayt has to gamble with everything she has. The thing about brilliant, elegant plans is that it doesn’t take much to fuck them up.”

“Don’t you remember we once sat out here all night before New Year’s Day, thinking we might both soon be dead? And here we are. So many good things have happened since then, and also so many terrible things that it’s hard to be afraid of anything anymore. Whatever’s going to happen will happen, so the most important thing is that we appreciate what we have and the people we care about.”

“How do we do it?” Hilo sighed deeply. “You of all people already know the answer to that, Shae. We don’t handle this world. We make it handle us.”

“No matter which part of the country you’re from, which clan you swear allegiance to, whether you wear jade or not, we are all Kekonese. We defend and avenge our own. You wrong any of us, you wrong us all. You seek to war with us, and we will return it a hundredfold.” Hilo was not one for speeches—that had always been Ayt’s strength—but the words that came to him now sprang to mind fully formed.

It was a sight Shae would always remember: the Pillar of the Mountain in profile, standing straight-backed and silent in the sunlight, arms crossed, her gaze unmoving and slightly off-center. A statue of an old warlord before her final battle.

A heavy apprehension gathered and settled in the pit of Shae’s stomach. Every time she’d confronted Ayt Mada in the past, the consequences had been dramatic and irrevocable, affecting both of their clans and their lives for years afterward. She’d come here counting on a pattern that seemed set by the gods.

“Of course she will kill me,” he said, with a dismissive wave at the camera. “There’s a saying in Shotarian: ‘Marry the devil, get the devil’s mother.’ It’s the deal you can’t escape. The jade business is the devil and Ayt Mada is its mother.”

When did we get old? Shae wondered. Some believed, with little scientific substantiation, that jade slowed aging, at least for a while, although no one would suggest the lifestyle of a Green Bone was conducive to longevity.

“I’m impressed you moved so many pieces so quickly.” Ayt poured her own tea and wrapped her long fingers around the cup. “The Six Hands Unity clan is ruined, and their hold over Lukang broken. Whatever powerful threat or bribe you worked on Iyilo, it made him sing beautifully for the press. I’m still working out how you made Sunto into your tool after that ridiculous spectacle on Euman Island, but I’m well aware that Kaul Hilo has a gift for turning even his bitterest enemies to his own purpose. The foreigner Wyles has been brought down and the sale of Anorco, which I spent years orchestrating, has been forced to a halt.” Ayt tapped the edge of her ceramic teacup and lifted it to her lips. She sipped and leaned back in her seat with a slow exhalation. “Any one of these, I could’ve anticipated and overcome, but all together, they were too destructive. I couldn’t have pulled it off better myself.”

The way to defeat a chess master was not with greater genius, but by forcing her to play a different game.

“You would’ve put yourself in control of Kekon’s destiny,” Shae replied. “That’s not the same thing. You’re one woman, Ayt-jen—not a god, no matter how brilliant you are, no matter how much jade you wear.” She looked Ayt squarely in the face without uncertainty, without fear or doubt. “Green Bones weren’t meant to be gods, not until the day of the Return, and so long as we try, that day will never come.”

Ayt closed her eyes, then opened them again. They glittered from within a nest of hard wrinkles. “Many years ago, Kaul Shae-jen, I sought you out. I wished to persuade you to join me, to chart a stronger course for our clans and the country. You refused. Ever since then, I have hated and admired you for that choice. Surely, you see the irony of this moment, as you sit here, trying to convince me to accept your vision instead of mine.”

“We’re old women now. We’ve tried to kill each other for so long and instead by some cruel luck we owe each other our lives. Maybe it’s time we stepped away and let the next generation try to do better than we did.”

obsessed

“Perhaps you were right, Kaul-jen, on that day in the Temple of Divine Return. The cruelest thing you ever did to me was not slit my throat.” The Pillar said, “Leave me. You’ve said and done enough.”

Even the biggest tigers grow old, Hilo had once said. But even the oldest tiger was still a tiger.

believe. An entire generation of No Peak Green Bones had grown up thinking of Ayt Mada and the Mountain clan in the same breath—as one constant, hateful threat.

I’ll abide by it happily, so long as I’ve avenged Lan and Kehn and all our Fists and Fingers that Ayt Mada put in the ground.” Hilo reached over to turn off the bedside lamp before settling down and pulling Wen close. “Shae’s right; our clans should put the blood feud in the past. The younger generation should start fresh with a real chance at peace. But our generation—we still have our debts to pay.”

Ayt Mada, always one step ahead, even now—publicly disgraced, unpopular, old and ousted from power—she was not yet defeated, not yet dead. Which meant that the bitch was still going to make a play, still going to find some way to get what she wanted, to bring down everyone who stood in her way. Wherever she was now, she was still a threat to No Peak, to the family.

Lan, are you watching? Hilo wondered, with a tight feeling in his chest. This was what his brother had wanted, so many years ago. No Peak strong enough to stand against any foe. True peace between the clans, as equals. Bullshit. Something was wrong. Hilo could sense it like a ghostly flickering in the periphery

Because of Hilo, Shae thought. Because old tigers understand each other.

“But she failed. She’s done. This was her last shot, and she got me, in the end. But she didn’t get us. That’s what’s important.”

“Is there anything you want me to say to Lan?” Shae bowed her head over him. “Please, don’t talk like this Hilo,” she whispered. “I can’t handle it. I can’t stand to think I’ll be the last one left.” “You’re not.”

Hours later, Wen emerged from the bedroom, dressed in white from head to toe. She said nothing, but went out into the garden where she had been married and sat under the cherry tree in the courtyard to mourn from the bottom of her soul.

All over Janloon and across Kekon, spirit guiding lamps went up to recognize the passing of Kaul Hiloshudon, a man as dramatic in death as he had been in life, let the gods recognize him. The televised public vigil and funeral were enormous.

“I miss him,” Niko whispered. “I loved him, and sometimes I think I hated him. I’m nothing like him and don’t want to be. Yet somehow all I want is to live up to him.” Anden understood

The mind cannot adjust quickly to a fundamental change in reality without breaking. If the moon vanished from the sky, people would not believe it; they would think it was a trick of light or clouds. Anden felt it would be a long time before he accepted the truth.

Seeing the two Pillars standing together, lines already stamped across their young features, Shae tilted her face toward the sun, closing her eyes for a moment against the burning tightness in her chest—sadness and pity jumbled with pride and hope. She wasn’t done yet; she had to help Niko as she’d promised she would—but with that final step, she could lay down the burden she and her brothers had carried across a canyon that had so often seemed impassable. Hilo. Lan, Shae whispered in her mind, can you see this, from wherever you are? We did it at last. We kept our clan. We made it stronger and passed it on. I miss you both.

“Far do your enemies flee, Kaul-jen, and may the gods shine favor on No Peak.”

speak. “Everything I’ve done, every great and terrible choice I’ve made over many years, every bit of normal human happiness I sacrificed from my own life, I did willingly and purposefully, to see this future. And I can see it now, finally—only not in the way I imagined, not with my clan, and not with me. Yet maybe by some terrible irony only the gods can understand, because of me.”

Love for the life pumping through his heart and veins, love for those dear to him—the ones who were gone and the ones who remained, and love also for his city, for Janloon—a place as fierce and honest, as messy and proud and enduring as its Green Bone warriors.