Tanku’s face flushed dark at the insult. Nevertheless, he seemed to reconsider his tone with Hilo. Pushing aside a cluster of empty drink glasses, he made space for himself at the table and sat down. Neither of the Maiks shifted over for him. Kehn scowled at the newcomer blearily. Tar was resting his head on the table, using his arm as a pillow. Tanku wrinkled his nose, and said to Hilo, “Look, Kaul, neither of us has a choice in the matter, so let’s not get off on the wrong foot with each other. I’ll treat your sister well. She’ll have money, a nice house, whatever she wants.”
“That’s exactly what I told her,” Hilo exclaimed with vigor. “And I also reassured her that you’re not nearly as stupid or ugly as people say you are. She still wasn’t happy, so I promised to talk to you in person to clear a few things up.” Hilo tossed back the hoji in his glass, then leaned forward and raised a finger, taking a long time to gather his thoughts. “First of all, I’m frankly relieved that she’s going to be your problem and not mine anymore. But if you ever hit her, I will kill you. Second, your pussy-hunting days are over. I don’t want my little sister catching some nasty disease from your wandering cock or being treated like another one of your whores. Third . . .” He squinted blearily at Tanku’s face, which was reddening with anger. “I can’t remember what the third thing was. Anyway, that’s all I have to say. Let’s have a toast to our impending brotherhood, you prick.” He stole Tar’s glass and poured a shot of hoji for Tanku and then himself, spilling half the pour over the rim onto the sticky table.
Tanku stood up. “You’re drunk out of your mind,” he said with disgust. “Get out, and come back with your ear in a box when you’re sober.” When no one at the table moved, Tanku seized Hilo by the upper arm and began to pull him out of his chair.
Hilo yanked his arm away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he shouted, his bloodshot eyes blazing, spittle flying from his mouth. “You Tankus used to be goatfucking southerners and now you think you’re at the level of us Kauls? You think you can push my grandda around and get what you want from us? You don’t deserve us.”
The roughly dozen other customers in the Black Goose had been eyeing the table with the Green Bones nervously, and now many of them took their drinks and food and moved to tables farther away from the confrontation. The bartender cleared his throat and said, “Tanku-jen, do you want me to call anyone?”
Tanku answered without turning around. “No, don’t bother.” He was taller and larger than Hilo, and now he loomed over the younger Fist like he was about to wrap his hands around his future brother-in-law’s throat. “I’d heard you were a reckless, arrogant bastard, but I didn’t expect you’d be so pathetic. I thought you’d be more like your brother, but you’re an idiot pup, and from what I hear, your little sister’s a whore who runs around with foreigners. I bet no other man will have her. It’s your family that doesn’t deserve ours. If not for your grandfather, you’d be less than trash.”
Hilo staggered to his feet. “Tanku Din, I offer you a clean blade.”
The Mountain Fist snorted in derision. “I don’t duel drunken boys.”
“Coward,” Hilo spat. “Piss drinker. Dog fucker. Take my clean blade or I’ll trash this building, you pussy.” He put his face right up to Tanku. “Knife or blade?”
He saw the inevitable decision being made. Tanku’s eyes went black with malice. The man’s thick jade aura was shrilling with eagerness to send this offensive young No Peak Fist to the hospital. “Blade,” he said. “Right now.”
It was not ideal. Hilo had hoped Tanku would issue the challenge to him, so he could choose the talon knife. Despite his reputation for being thin-skinned, Tanku had resisted the baiting better than Hilo had anticipated. Hilo grabbed his moon blade and kicked the Maiks’ chairs. “Come on,” he said. “I’m dueling.” He weaved his way out the back door and into the alley behind the Black Goose.
Tanku Din followed, drawing his own weapon. Only now that he was about to face the man in combat did it truly strike Hilo that there was a good chance he could end up dead or maimed, the jade torn from his body. Clean-bladed duels were unpredictable, and even if Tanku Din didn’t intend to kill him, he might be angry enough to do so in the heat of the moment. The Mountain Fist wore twice as much jade as Hilo: a row of studs in the cartilage of both ears and stacked bracelets on his wrists. Hilo could tell, simply from the way the man moved and the confident manner with which he held his moon blade, that he was an opponent to be feared.