Hilo sighed in exasperation—possibly with her for redirecting the conversation, possibly at the fact that as Pillar he was being constantly petitioned by various groups and had never ceased to find it tedious. “All right, as a favor to your… friend,” he said. “Sometime in the new year, when things aren’t as busy.” Wen was due to give birth in a month. Niko came back with a fistful of colorful pebbles; Hilo made a show of admiring them, then picked the boy up to bring him indoors for lunch. “Andy’s doing well,” he said to Shae over his shoulder. “He wasn’t happy about staying, but he understands.”
Shae watched her brother’s back recede toward the house. She called after him. “Would you really have done it? If Ayt had killed me in the duel, would you have broken aisho and gone back to war with a dirty blade?”
“Ayt thought I would.” Hilo’s aura was smooth as a river. “That’s what’s important.”
Chancellor Son was warming up at the target range of the Three Springs Leisure Club when Shae joined him that afternoon. “Kaul-jen,” he exclaimed, with a relaxed and cheerful air. “A lovely day, isn’t it?” The chancellor was three months away from the end of what had been a grueling six-year term in office and he was obviously looking forward to having more time for his family business, his grandchildren, and the game of chasso.
Chasso is a cross-country game that involves walking through a sprawling and manicured parkland, stopping at regular intervals to shoot fake birds (tufted rubber balls launched from hidden machines) with crossbow darts fired from specialized bows. Although chasso began as a foreign gentleman’s game with origins in hunting and archery, in the past decade it caught on as a popular pastime for wealthy Kekonese. Janloon’s most well-heeled politicians and businessmen regularly conducted business over games at the recently built Three Springs Leisure Club, located thirty minutes south of Janloon.
Shae personally found the game uninteresting in the extreme, but she understood why it appealed to someone like Son Tomarho. Devoting so much land to private recreation on an island where space was at a premium meant exorbitant, status-enhancing membership fees; the sport required reflexes, good aim, and expensive equipment but low physical fitness; and aging Kekonese men still liked to pretend they were capable warriors. She also suspected that Son enjoyed beating her at the game, as jade abilities were of minimal advantage.
Shae waited until after they’d spent the first two flushes in social chat and were hiking up a low hill against the wind to the third flush point before she decided to broach the topic she’d come to discuss. “No one deserves a break from the pressures of Wisdom Hall more than you, Chancellor Son, but it’ll be a loss for the No Peak clan to no longer have such a dependable friend in the chancellor’s office next year.” The Royal Council had voted in Guim En, the current Minister of Home Concerns, as Son’s successor. Guim was viewed as an experienced, fiscally responsible statesman with a populist streak. He was also a long-standing member of the Mountain clan.
“Guim is a reasonable man,” Son said unconcernedly, planting himself at the vantage marker and lifting the chasso bow to his ample shoulder. Son raised his left arm to signal his readiness to the machine operator below. One after another, half a dozen chasso balls flew into the air from behind a row of shrubs. Son fired in rapid sequence and grunted in satisfaction as three impaled balls thudded to the lawn below.
“This is a difficult time for the country and for No Peak,” Shae said. “The clans have held to peace, but only because the world around us hasn’t. Can we count on Guim En to continue to pressure the Uwiwa Islands over smuggling? Will he keep holding the Mountain accountable to the KJA? Will he oppose the Oortokon Conflict Refugee Act when it’s time for the Royal Council to vote?”
Son stepped aside and Shae took his place at the vantage marker. The chasso balls flew; Shae pinned two of them using the rented bow from the leisure club shop. She grimaced, tempted to cheat by Deflecting her opponent’s darts at the next flush. As they hiked down to collect their points, Son said, in a considerably more somber voice, “Kaul-jen, I was there in the room during the visit from the Espenian secretary, and I’m well aware of the foreigners’ security concerns. But the Refugee Act addresses a humanitarian issue. No Peak will seem heartless to oppose it.” He wiped his brow and bent his large frame to pick up his downed chasso balls, which he handed to the young chasskeeper who tailed them at a respectful distance, carrying equipment and water and keeping score. “Compassion is one of the four Divine Virtues, after all.”
Shae didn’t disagree with Son’s sentiments. Nevertheless, she said to Son, “In a perfect world, people would act in accordance with the Divine Virtues all the time, and then I suppose the Return would be in sight. But the world is far from perfect, and we both know there are trade-offs to be made.”
Son turned around and jabbed one of the chasso darts into the air. “The Espenians are asking us to turn away homeless widows and orphans because they’re afraid some of them might be Ygutanian spies. Should we compromise our morals on account of foreign pressure?” Son’s words were indignant but his tone was resigned, and his objections were more rhetorical bluster than true disagreement. He knew as well as Shae did that No Peak was in a difficult position. The military challenges in Oortoko had made the Espenians paranoid and controlling. To their continued displeasure, the Kekonese Royal Council held firm in refusing to contribute soldiers or additional jade to the Oortokon War effort. Yet all the while, Shae had steered the clan toward business expansion and trade deals with Espenia and was opening a branch of the Weather Man’s office in Port Massy. Now that Hilo had established clan ties with the Green Bones in Espenia, and knowing that the Mountain was seeking its own foreign opportunities, Shae was all the more certain that No Peak needed every bit of political influence it could hang on to, at home and abroad. It needed the continued favor of Adamont Capita. As did the whole country, for a fact, if it wished to maintain its rapid economic growth. The Son family’s own textile business was benefiting handsomely from reduced tariffs.
“You’ve held Kekon’s highest political office during clan war within our country, and now foreign war surrounding it,” Shae pointed out to the chancellor. “You know all about pressure—and when to compromise.”
Son shook his head. “These are issues for my successor to deal with now, Kaul-jen.” They descended a well-landscaped pebble path into a small woodland. The afternoon was cooling fast; it wouldn’t be long before the autumn chill and the dimming light drove them back indoors.
“You’re not an old man yet, Chancellor Son. Look at how you’re outlasting me on the chasso course.” Shae paused in the middle of the path and faced the man. “On behalf of the Pillar, I must ask you for one more act of friendship to No Peak. Don’t retire after the end of your term. Keep your seat in the Royal Council. You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy yourself later, but stay in government for another year or two, and continue to do the good work this country needs of you.” She paused meaningfully. “The clan would be grateful to you, and your family.”
As a former Lantern Man, Chancellor Son knew that the clan’s gratitude was not something lightly given and almost certainly meant a significant monetary reward to him and his relatives. If he remained in the Royal Council, Son would continue to act as No Peak’s most senior politician in Wisdom Hall and would vote in line with the clan’s interests. In the event of a tie, his status as chancellor emeritus gave him the same privilege as the sitting chancellor—to cast an additional, tie-breaking vote—which would potentially negate Guim’s deciding power.