Jade legacy, p.29
Jade Legacy, page 29
One of them did. In a room crowded full of Green Bone auras, it went unnoticed until the last second. Hilo spun around as he reached the doors; Ayt Mada had begun to rise from her seat. “You’re lying. What are you really—” and from behind Ayt, the secretary who had begun to refill the Pillar’s water glass dropped the jug, spilling water all over the table and Koben Yiro’s papers, and in the same motion thrust a knife concealed under her sleeve into the side of Ayt Madashi’s neck.
Ayt sensed the attack, but too late. Under ordinary circumstances, no one could imagine an assassin getting close enough to cut the throat of a Green Bone like Ayt Mada. It was only because the Mountain Pillar’s attention was entirely focused on Kaul Hilo’s suspicious behavior that the young woman succeeded. In the moment of collective silent shock that hit the room, everyone heard the secretary’s words, a cry of high-pitched fear and triumph. “Look at me, Ayt Madashi, you butcher, you bitch. Do you know who I am? Ven Emashan, daughter of Ven Sando, sister of Ven Haku, the girl whose family—”
Ayt Mada’s hand latched around the girl’s throat in a grip of crushing Strength. With an almost inhuman cry, she spun and smashed the back of the young woman’s head into the edge of the heavy table with so much force that the thick, polished black wood cracked along with the girl’s skull. Blazing with explosive jade energy, Ayt hurled the limp body into the nearest window. It hit the glass with a sickening, meaty thud, creating a spiderweb’s pattern of cracks before dropping like a heavy sack to the carpet.
From the corners of the room, the watching penitents raised their faces upward and chanted in unison, “Heaven has seen! Heaven has seen! Heaven has seen!” in a chilling chorus that made everyone in the room quail, tugging on earlobes with the horrible knowledge that Ven Ema had eternally damned her soul and the souls of her entire family for spilling blood in sight of the gods.
Ayt fell to her knees, her hands clamped around the wound in her neck, red streams pouring between her fingers around the protruding blade. Koben Yiro lurched to his feet in panic. “Ayt-jen!” He ran toward her, then stopped and spun around to face the stunned, staring faces of all the people in the room. “The Pillar’s been wounded. Get help!”
The Weather Man of Six Hands Unity took half a dozen steps toward the hall before coming to a hesitant halt. Hilo was standing in front of the closed door. He had not moved; he was as shocked as anyone else by the sight of Ayt Mada on her knees, fatally wounded, her eyes wide with disbelief and pain. Ayt’s mouth worked for air. Blood continued to seep out from under her tightly clamped hand, spreading a rich stain down her cream-colored cardigan. Hilo stared at her, then slowly raised his eyes to the others in the room, sweeping a coolly assessing gaze over the meeting’s attendees. Without a word, he took two deliberate steps to block the exit.
A chilling realization fell across everyone assembled. If they did nothing, Ayt Mada would die. Hilo did not have to lift a finger to make it happen; he simply had to prevent anyone from leaving. Several of the people in the room did not wear jade. Among the other Green Bones present, none were as heavily jaded as Kaul Hilo or would individually be a match for him in martial ability. A few of them together could overcome him, but they were unlikely to be able to do so quickly. Woon was out in the hallway and could be at Hilo’s side in an instant.
The Pillar of the Stone Cup clan sat back down in his chair and folded his arms, making it clear that he would not move against No Peak. The leaders of the Jo Sun clan and the Black Tail clan followed suit. The Mountain’s tributary clan leaders looked to each uncertainly. They had all sworn oaths of allegiance to Ayt Mada, but with the woman bleeding out on the ground and Kaul Hilo standing in their way, was it worth risking their own lives to save her?
Koben Yiro took a threatening step toward Hilo, bellowing, “Someone do something, before it’s too late!”
Hilo settled his predatory gaze on the man. “It’s already too late, Koben-jen,” he said in a dangerous whisper. “Out with the old, in with the new.”
Koben Yiro swallowed. If Ayt Mada died, he would be personally saddled with the shame of having failed his Pillar. On the other hand, his nephew was the heir. His family would rise to lead the Mountain.
Three heartbeats of morbid stalemate blanketed the room. Ayt tried to speak, but although she opened her mouth, no words emerged. Hilo saw the realization dawning on her bloodless face. She was dying, surrounded by people, and none of them would help her, not even those allies who had pledged her their loyalty. Kaul Hiloshudon would stand in front of the door, triumphant, doing nothing, watching her die, and everyone else in the room would stand by quietly and do the same. She had been the strongest of them all, the most cunning, the most feared, but she was without true friends in this room. Hilo saw this horrible understanding in her eyes, and as eager as he was for Ayt to die, in that instant, he felt pity for her, too.
Rage and defiance lit Ayt Mada’s jade aura, roiling it like magma. With a burst of superhuman effort, she pushed herself to her feet and ran—not for the door where Hilo stood in her way, but toward the window. She leapt Light over the body of Ven Ema and threw herself at the damaged glass, hitting it with her shoulder, shattering it with all her Strength.
With a snarl of disbelief, Hilo ran forward to see Ayt tumble three stories to the sidewalk below. Injured as she was, she managed to cling to her grip on Lightness and Steel. She crashed off the top of a parked van, denting the metal roof, rolled off, and landed on the concrete amid a shower of glass shards, eliciting shocked shouts and screams from people nearby. Ayt rose, staggered and fell, rose again, and began to run, stumbling, down the street.
“Fuck the gods,” Hilo breathed in astonishment. He gathered himself to leap Lightly down after her—thinking only of giving chase and making sure she still died. Then his eyes landed on the van below. It was parked in a loading zone but there was no one inside. Ayt’s Steeled body had warped the roof and caused one of the doors to buckle so it was cracked partway open.
Hilo remembered the note he’d received, the warning that he’d been trying to understand before the attack on Ayt had made him forget the immediacy of some other danger. He took several steps backward and then the van below the window detonated in an explosion that demolished the ground floor of the building and engulfed the side of the structure in an expanding fireball that traveled faster than the screams of the people it swallowed. Hilo had time only to register disbelief, to think of his wife and children, before the force of the blast reached him and the third-floor boardroom collapsed, bringing hundreds of kilograms of concrete rubble down on him.
CHAPTER
26
Nekolva
The address that Ema had given to Bero belonged to the end unit of an old rowhouse in the north part of the Docks not yet gentrified by waterfront condominium buildings, shops, and tourist attractions. Bero had grown up not far from here. When he was a child, the rows of industrial brown living quarters had been populated by dockhands and cannery workers. These days it seemed to be filled with Uwiwan and Oortokon immigrants who worked the city’s low-wage factory and service sector jobs. Bero double-checked the slip of paper and approached the door cautiously, glancing up and down the street. The neighboring unit appeared to be unoccupied; the windows were still taped up against last year’s typhoon season, and the yellow eviction notice on the door was so faded it was not legible. A tarp-covered eight-meter-long motorboat was moored in the water right across from the rowhouse.
Bero tried the door. It was locked. He jiggled the knob, trying to judge how hard it would be to break in, when the door jerked open. The shape of Vastik eya Molovni, with his thick arms and curly burnt-orange hair, stood in the dim entryway like a demon. Bero jumped back from the foreigner’s terrifying glare.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Molovni exclaimed.
“She told me to come here,” Bero blurted. He hadn’t expected to find Molovni here. It was only half past two in the afternoon. Wasn’t the Ygutanian supposed to be carrying out his great plan? Weren’t the Espenians supposed to be stopping him? “She told me,” he repeated. “Ema. She said you’d get us out of town. She gave me this address.”
Molovni’s disbelieving stare and the twitch of his heavy jaw made Bero suspect that the man was debating whether to close the door on him or kill him. Deciding, apparently, that neither option—Bero free or Bero as a dead body—was an acceptable liability, he swore under his breath in Ygut, seized Bero by the front of his shirt, and pulled him into the narrow apartment, shutting the door behind them.
“Have you told anyone else?” Molovni demanded, pushing the slighter man against the wall with enough force that Bero lost any doubt the nekolva agent, though he wore no jade, possessed enough Strength to put Bero through the side of the building if he wished. “Anyone at all? Any of those other clanless fools?” The man spoke in a fast growl, his thick accent distorting the words so that Bero didn’t immediately understand what he was saying. Molovni drew an Ankev pistol. “Have you?”
“No!” Bero sputtered. “I haven’t told anyone.”
Molovni’s brutal face leaned in, close and menacing. Bero was still not sure if Molovni possessed any sense of Perception, but apparently satisfied that Bero was telling the truth, the Ygutanian released him and stowed the Ankev in his waistband. “You can’t come,” Molovni said, scowling at Bero as if he were a stray dog in the garbage. “No matter what the girl told you. There’s no room for anyone else.”
“That’s bullshit,” Bero exclaimed. “You’ve got a boat, don’t you? You can’t fit one extra person?”
“You are an idiot,” said Molovni. “I’m not talking about the boat. Where do you think we’re to go? There’s a ship waiting on the other side of Gosha Island to take us to Ygutan under asylum. The men on that ship, they will only take the people I’ve told them to expect. You? They will shoot you.” Somewhere in the distance, an ambulance siren started up. Another one followed. The Ygutanian locked and bolted the door behind Bero. “Find your own way out of the city, if you’re trying to run from the clans. Or hide in the apartment next door, I don’t care. But now that you’re here, you can’t leave. Not until I’m far away from this fucking island.” He turned away from Bero and began to ascend the narrow stairs.
Bero stood stupefied for a minute. Then he followed after Molovni. The curtains on the second-floor windows were all drawn shut; only a few slivers of light filtered in between the cracks. The room was as spartan as a cell. Bero made out the shapes of a single bed, a dresser, a desk and chair. There was nothing on the walls, no visible personal belongings besides a few papers on the desk, and a radio.
Molovni was adjusting the antenna and fiddling with the dial of the radio. Classical music skipped to jiggy remix, then to static, then to the KNB news radio station.
Bero said, “Where’s Ema?”
The Ygutanian didn’t look up. “She’s not coming.”
“Not coming?” Bero exclaimed. “Where is she? Isn’t she supposed to be meeting up with you?” If the Espenians had been watching Ema, where had she led them, if not to the nekolva agent and his plan?
Molovni held up a finger to silence Bero and turned up the volume on the radio. Kekon National Broadcasting news anchor Toh Kita was delivering a special report: A massive explosion had occurred in the Financial District of Janloon, collapsing the headquarters of the Kekon Jade Alliance during a board meeting. Dozens of government and clan representatives were suspected to be among the dead and injured. Police, emergency workers, and Green Bones of both the major clans were on-site. Toh Kita somberly promised listeners that he would share information as it became available.
“It’s done.” Molovni checked his watch. “If Guriho and Otonyo escape, they’ll be here soon.”
“You weren’t even there?” Bero felt as if his understanding of the situation was coming apart. “The others did everything and you hid in here, doing nothing? What kind of Ygutanian spy are you?”
The foreigner wheeled on Bero with a glower of contempt. “I did nothing? I spent eight years in this fucking jade-infested city to make this happen. Who arranged everything for the clanless? Money, guns, information, explosives, political asylum—you think any of these are easy to get?” Molovni snorted. He began to pack items from his desk into a black satchel. “The revolution has to come from within, but it would’ve gotten nowhere if it weren’t for me. If it weren’t for nekolva.”
Bero thought of his Espenian handlers and grumbled, “But why didn’t they stop it?”
He realized his slip in an instant, but it was too late. Molovni turned back toward him slowly, placing the satchel down on the desk. His small eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who are you talking about?”
Bero fumbled for a convincing lie, but Molovni was stalking toward him, his craggy face clouding with suspicion. If he did have a sense of Perception, then he could sense Bero’s pulse racing. “What have you done, you useless creature?” he growled. “Who are you working for?”
Bero did not get a chance to answer. The windows shattered inward at the same time the door was smashed from its hinges. The small confines of the room erupted in a storm of splintering wood, flying glass, and violent movement. Bero’s shock lasted for a whole second. Then he dove into a corner of the room as half a dozen masked men in military tactical gear burst into Molovni’s apartment.
Molovni whirled with his Ankev drawn, firing at the nearest black-clad intruder. The bullet slammed into the man’s body armor, throwing him against the wall. Molovni got off one more round before another masked man shot him in the back with twin needle-tipped electrical wires that stabbed through his clothes and into his skin. Molovni went as rigid as a wooden plank and toppled to the floor, jerking, making choked, guttural noises as electricity poured into his body. His eyes were furious and panicked, his mouth frozen open in rictus. Three men rushed in on the downed Ygutanian like wolves.
Even with his muscles spasming uncontrollably, Molovni managed to grasp for his jade abilities. He unleashed a powerful blast of Deflection that ripped through the apartment in a concentric wave. The intruders staggered back and blown shards of wood and glass debris pelted Bero’s arms as he threw them over his head. The wires were yanked free of Molovni’s back. The Ygutanian rolled to his feet in an instant and seized his fallen Ankev. Bero glimpsed the manic fear on the man’s face as he turned the gun toward his own head.
A booted foot connected with Molovni’s arm, sending the weapon flying out of his hand and skittering under the sofa.
Bero had known that Molovni was nekolva, and he’d heard of Espenian special operatives who wore jade, but he had never seen men who were not Green Bones move so quickly or brutally before. In a desperate final bid to escape through the shattered second-story window, Molovni flew Light across the length of his apartment. He nearly made it, but was seized out of the air and borne to the ground by the combined Strength of three soldiers. Molovni was pinned like a thrashing bull. He screamed profanities in Ygut, spittle flecking the corners of his mouth as his wrists were yanked behind his back and secured with tight plastic bindings. His ankles were zip-tied together as well, and a black canvas bag was pulled over his head. One of the masked men drew a syringe from a pocket on his tactical vest and jabbed it into Molovni’s thigh, depressing the plunger. A few seconds later, the man’s struggles grew uncoordinated and feeble, then ceased entirely. Two burly soldiers lifted the unconscious Ygutanian between them like a heavy carpet and carried him from the apartment and out of sight.
Bero hadn’t moved from his spot in the corner of the room. The masked men in black ignored him as they began to tear apart Molovni’s apartment. They pulled open drawers and dumped all the contents into yellow evidence sacks. They knocked on the walls and floor for hidden compartments, looked under and behind the furniture, and even took the garbage can. They paid special attention to the man’s desk; Bero saw them place his satchel of papers, an answering machine, and a small stack of unopened mail in a special box. The bottles in the bathroom medicine cabinet were examined, photographed, and likewise gathered and carried out. The few words that the soldiers exchanged with each other were in Espenian.
Galo and Berglund walked into the room, dressed in dark civilian clothes, but armed and officious. Berglund looked around at the dismantled apartment with satisfaction and began to speak to one of the soldiers. The man who had been shot in the chest, who would be dead had he not been wearing an armored vest, managed to get to his feet with the combined support of two comrades and was helped from the scene. Bero didn’t realize that the radio on the table was still playing until one of the Espenian operatives turned it off, unplugged it, and carried it away along with the rest of Vastik eya Molovni’s belongings.
Galo walked over to Bero in the corner and shook his head with unsurprised disappointment. “You should’ve told us everything, Catfish. You didn’t need to be in here.” He offered Bero a hand up.
Bero stared at the hand without taking it. “You… followed me here?” he shouted.
Galo said, “Did you think we wouldn’t have you under surveillance? It’s a damned good thing we did. As undependable of an asset as you are, thanks to you, we have one of the nekolva in our custody, along with evidence that he was involved in inciting revolution on behalf of the Ygutanian government.” Galo surveyed the nearly empty wrecked room with the pleased expression of a leopard licking clean bones. “We might finally crack open the secrets of the Ygutanian military program.”
