Donovans 02 - Jade Island

that was one of Wen’s favorite objects.
    Lianne gave a sidelong glance to the north side of the vault, where Wen kept his collection of Neolithic blades. As much as she needed to reassure herself that she had been mistaken, that the precious blade was still in the Tang vault, she had no excuse to go to the fourth cabinet from the right, open the fifth drawer from the top, and look inside.
    While she helped Wen to the chair, Daniel carried a box into the vault and set it on a worktable. Five other boxes appeared rapidly, brought by servants who left as silently as they had come.
    Daniel didn’t leave.
    A single look at his handsome, hard face told Lianne that he didn’t plan to step out of the vault as long as she was inside. Searching out the truth of the Neolithic blade—and the jade shroud—would have to wait. With a soundless curse, she reached for the first box and carefully began opening it. It held the Burmese jade jewelry she had worn last night. The pieces belonged in one of the cabinets whose drawers were thin, shallow, and plushly lined.
    “Let Daniel replace the jade,” Wen said, motioning abruptly to Lianne. “Bring to me…the Tang camel. It has been too long since I last held my old friend in my palm.”
    She glanced quickly at Daniel. He was ignoring her, unpacking another box of jade as though he was alone in the vault.
    And then he looked at her. The emotion in his eyes was so violent that Lianne stepped back before she could stop herself.
    “Girl,” Wen said in a raspy voice, “did you not hear me?”
    “Yes, Uncle. I will bring the camel.”
    Feeling Daniel’s contempt every step of the way, wondering what she had done to earn it, Lianne crossed to the east side of the vault. Drawers went from floor to ceiling. She ignored the stepladder, stood on tiptoe, and reached up to open the drawer that held Wen’s most prized Tang dynasty pieces. The depth and breadth of the camel collection was unparalleled, even in China.
    The drawer opened on silent, oiled runners. Daniel might have happily stuck a jade dagger in her back, but Lianne had to admit that he was taking good care of the vault. Unable to see into the drawer because of its height, she patted around on the silk bottom of the drawer, where she expected to find the jade camel. She found several, but none of them felt exactly right to the touch.
    “Have you had the camel out since I last brought it to you?” Lianne asked.
    “Were you not listening?” Wen demanded. “It has not been in my hands since you placed it there many weeks ago.”
    Daniel stopped unpacking and stared at Lianne. Though he was tall enough to reach the drawer much more easily than she could, he didn’t offer to help. He simply watched while she dragged the stepladder over, climbed up three steps, and looked inside the drawer.
    An exquisite array of palm-sized sculptures nestled in the padded silk lining of the drawer. Each camel was in a reclining position, curled around itself, with the long, supple neck turned back and the head resting on the body. The jade ranged in color from cream to pale yellow-green to spinach green to mink brown, often in the same sculpture. The artists had used the natural color variation in the jades to suggest movement and vitality. The animals had been so skillfully carved that light moved over them as though they were relaxed, breathing slowly.
    “There it is,” Lianne said. “Someone must have shut the drawer too quickly and sent the camel sliding.”
    “Bring it, bring it,” Wen said.
    “Just the one?”
    “Can you not hear my words?” Wen muttered.
    “It is hard to choose among such wonderful pieces,” she said wistfully, running her fingertips over another camel.
    This one was carved from a piece of creamy jade that had tiny brown veins running through it. The jade itself had the prized quality of luminous translucence, yet it somehow managed to evoke the dusty monotone of the interior deserts of China where camels carried the dreams of men on their backs.
    Lianne eased her fingertip beneath one of the camel’s creamy, curled legs. Tang sculptures were carved in the round, meant to be held more than viewed. If memory served her—and it always did—on this sculpture the separation of the camel’s toes had been carved carefully, deftly. The result was faint nubs where the bottoms of thefeet were, as though they had been worn almost smooth from weary miles packing trade goods along the fabled Silk Road.
    Smiling