Jade War

Yancey noticed Hilo’s interest and explained, “Cadets of the Navy Angels, the most elite special ops division in the ROE military. Only thirty percent of those recruits will make it through basic IBJCS training.” Yancey had to nearly shout to be heard over Euman’s stiff wind.

At Hilo’s questioning glance, Shae translated both the officer’s words and the unfamiliar acronym. Hilo had heard of the Integrated Bioenergetic Jade Combat System—the long and sterile term the Espenians used to describe their version of the jade disciplines, adopted and modified from what they knew of Kekonese methods—but he had not actually seen it before. Kehn muttered, in a low aside, “You’ve got to hand it to the Espenians. They know how to cook scraps into a meal.” A Green Bone skilled in Lightness could get over the wall unaided. From their auras, it seemed the Espenian soldiers wore only as much jade as a middling graduate of Kaul Du Academy, but IBJCS trained them to act together to amplify their collective effectiveness. Kekonese culture revered the prowess of the superior jade warrior, accorded respect to the victors of duels, celebrated the heroism of patriotic Green Bone rebels in times past—but the Espenians took jade and issued it as military equipment with unsentimental uniformity. Hilo’s mouth twitched in a grimace of distaste. He was certain it was no coincidence the Green Bone visitors had been escorted along this path and allowed to witness the demonstration on the training field. Whatever the Espenians wanted to talk about this afternoon, they were underscoring their message by situating it in the center of their military presence on Kekon and prefacing it with a reminder that they, too, could use jade.

They reached the main building and were shown into a large, if spartan, meeting room, containing office chairs around a gray table, and the flag of the Republic of Espenia hanging on one wall. Secretary Corris, whom Hilo recognized from media photos, was already in the room, engaged in a conversation with another man that Shae whispered quickly was Ambassador Gregor Mendoff. The secretary and ambassador broke off their discussion and came over to shake hands. Quire Corris was a typical broad-chested, blue-eyed Espenian man who Hilo thought looked almost the same as Mendoff, without the mustache. Like many Espenians, he spoke animatedly, barely pausing long enough for the translator standing at his elbow to finish relaying his words, but there was also a certain reserve in his manner, a calculating, mercenary quality in his frank gaze. It wasn’t that the Espenians were greedy, precisely, Hilo thought, but they always seemed to be holding back some human warmth, shrewdly considering how to make the deals to get what they wanted.

Chancellor Son and a handful of other members of the Royal Council were also present. “Kaul-jen,” said Son, saluting him. If Secretary Corris and the other Espenians were surprised at either the Pillar’s youth relative to the other men in the room, or the deference paid to him by the official head of government, they were careful not to show it.

Besides the leaders of No Peak, there was one other individual in the room wearing jade: General Ronu Yasugon, senior military advisor to the Royal Council, and perhaps the only person in Kekonese government who could be said to be an exception to the ironclad cultural and legal prohibition against jade in political office. This one violation was deemed acceptable because, like medicine, martial education, and religious penitence, joining the Kekonese military was one of the few ways for a Green Bone to honorably renounce clan oaths and pledge loyalty to another calling. Unlike those other professions, however, jade-wearing individuals could not go into military service straight after graduation; they were expected to spend at least one year as a Finger. The clans made certain that most of the young jade talent went first to them; after a certain period, less promising Fingers were subtly or not-so-subtly encouraged to serve their country in uniform. General Ronu was an exception; he’d left the Mountain as a junior Fist to begin a military career eighteen years ago, and he wore more jade than most officers—a watch with six stones set into the steel band. He saluted Hilo, and the Pillar touched his forehead in greeting. “General.”