“He pushed me,” Niko protested. “He’s always taking my stuff!”
“Be quiet and listen to your uncle Tar,” Wen admonished, filling water bottles.
Tar leveled a stern finger in Niko’s face. “He’s your little brother. You’ve got to be nice to him, because when you grow up, the two of you have to stick together, understand? You have to look out for each other. That way people know if they ever give trouble to one of you, they’re sure to get trouble back from the other.” Niko stared down at his plate, sulking. Tar said, “You don’t think it’s true? The men who murdered your da when you were just a baby, one of them thought he got away with it, but your uncle went after him and found him. You know what he did to that bad man?”
“He killed him.” Niko had heard this story already.
Tar picked up a trio of grapes and held them in front of the boy’s face. “He put jade stones in his mouth and buried him alive.” He popped the grapes into Niko’s mouth and clamped his hand over the boy’s mouth, giving him a teasing shake before letting him go and ruffling his hair affectionately. “That’s why no one messes with your uncles. So stick together; I don’t want to see you two annoying your ma, fighting over some stupid thing, you ought to act better than that.”
“Finish your breakfast and then we’re going to the park,” Wen reminded them.
Kehn offered to drive them—he had no plans besides meeting to train a few of his newer Fists, before spending a relaxed afternoon with Lina, who was pregnant and on bedrest—but Wen had promised the boys that they would take the bus. The park was only ten minutes away, just down the hill in the solidly No Peak–controlled Green Plain district. Wen regularly ran into the wives and children of other high-rank Green Bones at the playground and water park and there was never any safety concern. Kyanla had taken the day off to visit her aging mother in an Abukei tribal village outside of Janloon, so Wen carried the day bag and wrestled with the baby carriage herself. The task would be less aggravating if Jaya, at six months old, was not the fussiest of all Wen’s children. She would not stand to be put down in the carriage for even five minutes. Hilo joked that she would grow up to be even greener than her brothers, but Wen responded irritably that the ridiculous superstition existed only to prevent desperately frustrated mothers from smothering their most unmanageable children.
Wen put a blanket down in a shady spot on the lawn near the play structure and let the boys run off to play while she watched the baby try to crawl toward the grass. Jaya would be her last child; she’d given Hilo a son (two sons, really) and a daughter. Kehn and Lina were married and expecting a child as well. Wen was still working on Tar, but the family’s future was more secure than before. The baby was still too young—certainly Hilo would say so—but now that the guesthouse was renovated, Kaul Wan Ria could move back to Janloon and help care for the children so Wen could return to work, both as a designer and in any other capacity the Weather Man could find for her. Over the past few years, she’d continued to meet informers at the Celestial Radiance on a reduced schedule, but felt there was more she could do. She paid close attention to the clan issues that her husband and brothers talked about, and even when they’d moved on to other topics, she kept thinking about what she’d heard. She almost never forgot the face or name of a person she had met so she knew almost everyone of importance in the clan. She continued taking classes in interior design and Espenian, she perused the reports from the Weather Man’s office that Shae brought over to the house for Hilo, and she read the newspaper every day, even when she was exhausted from dealing with the children and it was the last thing she did before going to sleep.
She did all this because often, as she lay next to Hilo in bed at night, he would share with her some problem he was dealing with or some question in his mind, and in that moment, she would know to say, “You should tell Kehn to assign the job to Lott Jin; he’s coming up on promotion to Fist this year, isn’t he?” or “You’re already going to meet with the mayor next week; why not bring those two Lantern Men with you, and you can raise the issue with everyone in the room?” Hilo would consider her words and say, “That’s what I was thinking too” or “I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s a good idea, love,” and then he would wrap his arms around her, give her a kiss, and with his mind cleared, he would fall asleep in seconds.
Wen always felt the greatest sense of accomplishment in those few minutes before she followed her husband into sleep. At those times, she knew she’d been a true help to the family and the clan. All her life, she’d harbored a powerful resentment: If she hadn’t been born with the deficiency of jade immunity, she might’ve gone to the Academy and become a Green Bone. But now she thought, if she’d been born a different person, she might not have ended up meeting and marrying Kaul Hilo and having children with him, so perhaps it was all meant to be.
Wen had prepared a picnic of cold noodle salad, pickled cucumber, fried nuts, and stuffed buns. When she called the boys back for lunch, they predictably ate only a little of it before running off again. Wen packed up the remaining food, then nursed and changed Jaya. She saw the white Duchesse Priza pull up to the curb beside the park, and for a hopeful second she thought that Hilo’s schedule had miraculously cleared and he had come in person to join them. Then she saw her brother at the wheel and deduced that the Pillar was still busy and had asked Kehn to go in his place to pick them up. Wen called the boys back from where they were running around on the playground and told them it was time to go. She put Jaya in the carriage and pushed it toward the car with one hand, carrying Ru on her hip with the other. Kehn opened the door to get out and meet them.
The Duchesse exploded in a ball of fire.
One second it was there; in the next, Wen was stumbling backward, a scream strangling in her throat. Out of instinct, she seized Niko and yanked him close to her, turning her back to shield him and Ru from the heat of the inferno, which she could feel against her skin even from fifty meters away. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw that the windows and doors of the Pillar’s distinctive white sedan were gone. Twisted pieces of metal littered the street; flames and smoke poured from the openings of the wreckage. Parents ran for their children, screaming.
“Niko, hold on to the side of Jaya’s baby carriage and don’t let go,” she ordered her oldest child. “We’re going to cross the street, now, quickly; stay with Mama and don’t look back.” Wen pushed the carriage in the opposite direction of the burning car, still holding on to Ru and making sure Niko did as she said. All three of the kids were crying with fear. All around her people were running; some running away from the scene of the explosion, some running toward it. There was shouting and distant sirens; none of it registered for Wen. Her brother was dead, she knew that. She and her children were still in danger. She walked with single-minded purpose, concentrating on maneuvering the wheels of Jaya’s carriage over the lawn, until they reached the street on the other side. Her hands were coated with sweat, but she was astounded by how calm she felt. They crossed the intersection at the corner, and Wen went up to the first storefront with a white lantern hanging in its window. It was a boutique men’s clothing shop; tailored suits, vests, and felt hats adorned the mannequins standing in the display window. Two salespeople were standing by the door, peering out at the smoke and commotion.