Read Online The Fifth Season by Kerry B. Collison - Free Book Online

Sukabumi. Colonel Purwadira had held this post for nigh on three years, quietly accumulating wealth and power, his wife and children clear beneficiaries of his success.
    Hani’s mother had become actively involved with the local women’s association, much of her time engaged in raising funds for charities which, unfortunately, received but a fraction of the donations extracted from the wealthy, Chinese donors. The Purwadira family were respected citizens, the children’s futures guaranteed. Ibu Purwadira had recently acquired a new Honda Accord and, although she could not drive, she managed to spend a great deal of her time in her prized possession, driven around by one of her husband’s soldiers. Life had become kind to the Purwadira family and it appeared that it might even get better.
    The Indonesian economy had grown at an incredible speed, and although some said it may be slowing down, middle-class Indonesians’ pockets were still full. Local shops were crowded to capacity, shop-win-dows displayed the finest clothes, parabolic satellite dishes covered the already congested rooftops, and most homes now boasted video-recorders, refrigerators and, in some, even washing machines. It seemed that it would go on forever.
    As school was taught from Monday to Saturday, Hani looked forward to her one day off from study. Usually, after their morning prayers, her mother would permit the children to go to the movies with friends, or attend the Sunday soccer matches but, on this day, she had insisted they remain at home to honor their father’s wishes. He had something he wanted to discuss. Hani knew this had to be important; the other occasions he had insisted they gather in such fashion had always resulted in announcements relating to his career. Having completed her prayers, Hani gathered her rug, removed her shawl, and placed these neatly away before wandering out to stand on their three-bedroom home’s porch.
    While waiting for her father to return from the Mosque with her brother, Hani lowered herself cautiously into the hanging rattan chair, bolted to the ceiling by the servants, just days before. That day, she had tried the swinging seat within minutes of arriving home from school but, to her dismay, had lost her balance and spilled onto the hard, concrete paving under the watchful eyes of her friend, Budi. Recalling the incident, Hani’s hand went to one elbow, finding the crusty wound with her fingers.
    She had been annoyed with her friend, fighting back tears as he helped her regain her feet, but Hani knew she could not remain angry with Budi for very long, except for that one time, when he brought a Chinese girl along to a mutual friend’s party.
    Hani had avoided Budi for an entire week after that, not understanding how he could even consider doing such a thing. The girl looked gangly and wore no makeup, her hair was far too long and, in Hani’s opinion, she displayed very little breeding, flashing those gold bangles for everyone to see! Although a number of ethnic Chinese attended her high school, most kept to themselves. Not that this bothered Hani in any way as they had so little in common. She had overheard many of her parents’ conversations through the years, learning from their convictions, and adopting their distaste for their fellow citizens. She knew that her father often met with the local Chinese business community. What Hani did not know, was that most of the fine ornaments, and other expensive acquisitions which lay around their house, had been gifts from those soliciting the colonel’s favors. Even her mother’s Honda Accord had derived from her husband’s commissions, received from grateful Chinese traders for the police supply contract he had channeled their way.
    As she waited for her father to return, a group of teenagers rolled past on their bicycles and waved, amongst them, Budi. He called out but his voice was drowned by a passing bus, and