Jade War

A heartbeat passed. Another. The pain of the stomach wound was unbearable; she wanted to slump to the ground in the damp grass and curl feebly around her injury, but she held herself still. With her eyes closed, she Perceived Ayt’s flicker of hesitation; the blade paused in its descent. Less than ten meters away, Hilo’s jade aura roared like a monster in a pit, its reckless, savage intent unmistakable. Shae opened her eyes and looked into Ayt’s maddened face, the left side of it smeared with blood, and then past the other woman’s shoulder. Two large cars were blocking off the two-lane road up to the Garrison House & Gardens. Another two had pulled up along the curb behind Ayt’s silver Stravaconi. A dozen No Peak Fists were coming out of the vehicles. The watching civilians were looking fearfully from Ayt to Shae to Hilo, to the surrounding soldiers of both clans, whose hands had gone for the hilts of their weapons.

Despite the agony in her torso and the clamor of her own panicked heartbeat, Shae met her opponent’s eyes and saw the fearsome expression shift into bitter understanding as Ayt too Perceived the arrival of Hilo’s warriors, the sudden dangerous shift in the air. Even now, facing death, Shae was desperately playing what cards remained to her. With the attention of the entire country on them, she had fought bravely and well, in true Kekonese fashion defended her reputation and that of her clan, and ultimately conceded the duel to the better warrior. There had been a moment of opportunity for Ayt to take Shae’s life fairly in battle—but that moment was lost. Clean-bladed dueling was an honorable tradition; striking down an opponent who’d surrendered was not.

Killing Shae now, as she knelt injured and disarmed, would show the Pillar of the Mountain to be merciless and bloodthirsty, would publicly confirm that she was who Hilo had been reminding everyone she was—the woman who’d seized power by having her own brother murdered in his sleep. The sort of person who would behead a defeated opponent on her knees might do anything, might break aisho in other ways, might even harm a child. Ayt’s image as the patriotic warrior stateswoman, which she had been carefully cultivating for over two years as she rebuilt the reputation of her clan, would be ruined. And Hilo would seize the justification he needed—if he needed any at all—to turn the scene into a bloodbath.

Shae’s blood soaking into the dry dirt raised a pungent metallic smell that stung her nostrils. With shaking fingers, she fumbled for the clasp of her jade choker and broke it. The twin strings fell from her neck, sliding from her skin as easily as blood from a vein. She held it out to Ayt, her arms shaking even from the small effort. She could Perceive the uncertainty, the frantic calculation, behind the burning gaze the other woman fixed on her. Ayt was furiously debating whether to eliminate an enemy now or preserve the moral high ground, and she could not be certain whether Kaul Hilo would go so far as to break the pact of clean blades, not to mention the truce between the Mountain and No Peak, and send them all careening back into clan war. Ayt’s eyes narrowed. Shae’s mind rang with the crowded Perception of all the people watching and waiting with growing alarm and held breath.

Ayt lowered her blade. She reached out and seized Shae’s jade in her fist. When she spoke, she raised her voice so all those nearby could hear. “You’ve acted disgracefully in the past, Kaul Shaelinsan. Nevertheless, it would be a waste to kill a fellow Green Bone at a time when Kekon needs every one of us.” The Pillar of the Mountain wiped the length of both sides of her moon blade against the thigh of one silk pant leg. “My blade is clean.”

Noisy exclamations of relief and appreciation erupted from the sidelines. The collective fever pitch of tension from the auras of the waiting Green Bones settled back to a wary hum. Ayt leaned in, close enough to speak to Shae alone. Shae stared at her jade in Ayt’s grip with curious horror, as if it were a part of her own body—a severed hand, her heart, her entrails—that the other woman was holding between them. The left side of Ayt’s head was grisly where part of the ear was missing, but she paid it no heed. “I promised you before, you foolish girl, that you would live to see your clan in ruins,” Ayt whispered. “It would be dishonest for me to kill you until then.” She turned calmly and walked into the posse of congratulatory Mountain fighters.