Ayt Ato’s gaze drifted past Lott and fell on Niko. “Kaul-jen.” Ayt Ato’s aura was at odds with his physical confidence—tight and wary, like a cloak worn over the shoulders.
“Ayt-jen,” Niko said.
It was the first time the two of them had stood before each other and exchanged so much as a word. An odd hesitation stretched across the moment. Niko became acutely aware of the other jade auras around him, the pressure of them against his Perception. He thought he ought to do or say something subtle but powerful in that instant to show himself an equal to this rival he’d never met or asked for. Perhaps doing so would be easier if he could muster some personal hate for the man instead of merely a vague resentment toward his existence. Instead, all Niko could think of was how obvious it was that he was the younger, less heavily jaded Green Bone, not as well dressed, and merely a subordinate Finger, not a leader with his own warriors.
Ayt Ato broke the awkwardness by introducing the other Mountain Green Bones who’d come up behind him. “This is Koben Ashi,” he said, indicating the taller one, son of the late Koben Yiro. “And Sando Kin.” Another of his cousins, by marriage of his mother’s sister.
Lott made perfunctory introductions on the No Peak side, then confirmed the details of the mission and officially asked for permission to enter Mountain territory. Ayt Ato granted it. He glanced at Niko. “Should we get going, then?”
The Mountain Green Bones got back onto their motorcycles and escorted the Lumezza into the Stump. Lott glanced over at Niko as he drove, perhaps sensing the agitation in his aura. “I didn’t know it would be Ayt Ato and the Kobens,” said the First Fist.
“It doesn’t matter,” Niko said, too quickly.
Lott frowned, though not without sympathy. “You’re right; it doesn’t. So don’t let it get to you. We’re all on the same side tonight.”
Niko decided this was his uncle’s fault. Not the encounter with Ayt Ato, but the fact that he was in this situation at all. The Pillar had ordered Juen and Lott to give him more opportunities to earn green and prove himself. Niko fingered his pistol and talon knife, then the jade beads around his throat. He hated surprises that forced him to react quickly. He liked to think about things by himself, sometimes for a long while, before making decisions.
The address on Banya Street belonged to a pool hall, sandwiched between a barbershop and an adult video store. The name Tialuhiya Nights blinked in red neon over darkened windows. “Get ready,” Lott said.
Lott roared his sports car up to the front entrance while Ayt Ato and his cousins swerved their bikes into the narrow alley behind the rear doors. Immediately, two sentries posted on the sidewalk bolted into the pool hall like rabbits into a warren. The instant the No Peak men were out of the car, a volley of gunfire erupted from the front of the building, shattering the street-facing windows and sending bystanders screaming and running for cover.
Niko fell to a crouch and launched an instinctive rising Deflection. It overlapped with Kenjo’s wave and the interference sent up a vertical blast of force that hurled bullets upward and tore clothes off the lines that stretched between balconies in the narrow confines of the avenue. A stray shot shattered one of the Lumezza’s rear taillights.
“Sons of dogfucking bitches.” Lott Jin unleashed a massive Deflection that swept through the broken front windows, sending glass flying back into the pool hall in a maelstrom. Both of the visible shooters inside were knocked staggering. The First Fist strode across the sidewalk, whipping throwing knives one after the other, half a dozen of them, until the sheath strapped to the small of his back was empty.
Niko and the other Fingers rushed through the ruined front entry on Lott’s heels. One gunman was already dead, a knife protruding from his throat and another from his left eye socket. The other was lying on the ground, gurgling, hands clamped around the slim blade in his chest. Kenjo nudged his head over with a toe to get a closer look at his face, then put a bullet between his eyes. Neither of the men were the arms dealers from the photos.
A dozen people were huddled against the walls or under the pool tables, including the bartender and two staff members. Their thick, sour fear crowded Niko’s sense of Perception and heightened his racing adrenaline, but no spikes of murderous intent shot through the thick haze. Sim shouted, “Everyone stay where you are! Don’t get in the way and you won’t be hurt.”
Kenjo tilted his head. “In the back.”
“Niko, take the lead,” Lott ordered.