Woon didn’t react to her change in tone; they’d worked together closely for too many long, late hours over the past year for her to maintain the same professional demeanor with him as she did with Hami or anyone else in the office tower on Ship Street. The Weather Man’s Shadow looked down at his folded hands, then cleared his throat. “I can only say what I think Lan-jen would’ve done. He would’ve called Mr. Enke into his office and, out of consideration for his status in the clan, given him a chance to match the lower bid. If the Lantern Man couldn’t do so, then he would explain that regretfully he had to give the contract to the other developer, but he’d ask what the clan could offer to help his business become more competitive.”
Shae stared gloomily out the rain-splattered windows. She’d spent the past six weeks grieving her grandfather and almost, for a short while, forgotten how much she missed Lan.
Woon leaned forward in his seat, elbows on knees. “The clan is a big, old ship—powerful but difficult to steer, Shae-jen. I know you want to make changes and improvements, but you should do so carefully. In times of uncertainty, people look for reassurance that they can count on things being done in the way they’ve come to expect. They’ll talk about how you wronged the Enke family. They’re still talking about how you wronged Kowi Don.”
“I won’t run the office on cronyism the way Doru did,” Shae replied, with some heat. “Kowi Don wasn’t qualified to be hired as a Luckbringer just because he’s the son of a councilman.”
Woon inclined his chin. “You’re sitting in that chair because you’re a Kaul.”
He said it simply, with no rancor at all, but Shae winced at the truth. She was well aware that she still had a long way to go to prove herself on Ship Street. The clan had barely escaped destruction last year, and even though the street war had settled into something of a stalemate, the Mountain was larger and remained in a stronger financial position. No Peak was dominant in some sectors, such as real estate and construction, but the boom in housing and infrastructure development that had occurred in the decades after the Many Nations War had slowed; meanwhile, several of the industries where the Mountain held a greater share, such as manufacturing, retail, and transportation, continued their healthy growth. No Peak had to expand operations more aggressively if it hoped to prevail in the long run, and every action Shae took as Weather Man might improve or worsen the clan’s position relative to its enemies. Her voice and shoulders fell. “We need every advantage we can get, no matter how slight,” she insisted. “That’s driving all my decisions, even if some of them upset people.”
“Trust is also an advantage,” Woon said.
“You don’t believe the clan trusts me?”
“You’re extremely hardworking and smart, Shae-jen, anyone can see that,” Woon said, with surprising vehemence for someone normally so soft-spoken. “And you’re a Kaul. So the clan trusts you on those levels. But Lantern Men are loyal to the clan because of what it can do for them, and lately, you’ve been shutting doors instead of opening them.”
Shae sat silently for long moment. Thick clouds laden with spring rain hung over Janloon; from a distance the sky and the sea were the same indistinguishable shade of flat gray-blue. “I’m grateful I have you, Papi-jen.” She meant it. If Lan had not been killed, Woon would’ve been the one sitting in this office as Weather Man, yet he’d devoted himself tirelessly to being the Weather Man’s Shadow, her chief of staff, never expressing bitterness or complaint. Woon was not unusually cunning or clever, he did not have a forceful personality, but like Lan, he seemed made of such a steadfast and dependable fiber that Shae understood why he’d been her brother’s longtime friend and aide. She put a hand on his arm. “It’s been a long day. Go home; no need to wait for me.”
Woon stood, dislodging her hand from his arm, and she Perceived his jade aura pulse with some sudden, stifled emotion. “I have work to do as well,” he said. “Take the time you need, Kaul-jen; I’ll drive you home as usual afterward.” The former Pillarman had left Lan alone on the evening of his murder. He had not gone home early in all his time as her Shadow.
When Woon had gone, Shae went through paperwork at her desk for another couple of hours. Her reflection emerged in the darkening windowpanes as the lights of downtown Janloon came on, transforming the skyscrapers into luminous columns. The phone rang, and she picked up the receiver. “Kaul-jen,” said the slightly nasal voice of Ree Turahuo on the other end, “I’m glad I caught you still at the office. I was hoping we might have a frank discussion between Weather Men.”
Shae put down the report she’d been reading; the phone cord stretched as she pushed her chair back from the table. “Ree-jen,” she said, her voice calm and dispassionate. “What would you like to discuss?”
“Next month, the board of the Kekon Jade Alliance is scheduled to finally reconvene and hold a shareholder vote on whether to recommence national jade mining operations,” Ree said. “How do No Peak and its allies among the minor clans intend to vote?”
Shae said, “The Pillar is considering all the factors. He hasn’t yet made a decision.”
“Come now, Kaul-jen,” said Ree, his voice sharpening, “don’t play games. We all know that your brother leans on your counsel in all these matters. You’re the one making the decision. Do you plan to prolong this needless suspension, or return the country to normal?”
“The mines can begin operations again once all possible measures have been taken to prevent another abuse of power on the part of the Mountain clan,” Shae said. “I haven’t fully determined to my satisfaction if the Royal Council’s reforms are sufficient.” She smiled to herself, wishing she could see or Perceive the other Weather Man’s reaction. A national scandal had resulted when financial discrepancies she’d discovered in the KJA’s records nearly two years ago had revealed that the Mountain had been secretly taking jade above quota behind the backs of the government and the other Green Bone clans. Ayt publicly maintained that negligence and operational issues were to blame, but few people believed that line, even within her own clan. The Royal Council had passed legislation instituting ownership restrictions to prevent the Kekon Jade Alliance from falling under single clan control, mandated annual independent audits, formed an oversight committee, and taken a number of other measures intended to safeguard the country’s jade supply and ensure its transparent management. Meanwhile, for the past eighteen months, the mines of Kekon had sat idle. No new jade flowed into the national coffers; official exports had stopped; thousands of Abukei mine workers had gone on government assistance.
Ree said tightly, “If the vote does not go through, the matter will go back to the Royal Council for gods-only-know how long. We’ll lose out on the upcoming dry season and this terrible disruption to the country’s economy will last another year. Is that what you want?”
“I want the Mountain to be held accountable for its transgressions.” The longer the mining suspension lasted, the longer the public would be reminded of the Mountain’s crimes.
A pause. Ree’s voice changed, took on a shrewd quality. “You will eventually run out of jade to sell to the Espenians. How much can you really afford to empty No Peak’s stores?” In the momentary silence that followed, Shae could picture Ree’s smug expression. “Yes, of course we know you’ve been selling your own reserves, and that’s why the foreigners haven’t yet made a bigger stink. I imagine the Royal Council and the people of Kekon would be interested to know that No Peak is bolstering its finances by selling jade directly to the Republic of Espenia.”
“I imagine our official allies the Espenians would be interested to know about the Mountain’s secret contracts to sell jade to their enemies, the Ygutanians,” Shae replied coolly. “Especially if Espenian soldiers are deployed to fight in Shotar against rebels who’re trained and supported by Ygutan. They’re hardly going to be pleased to see Kekonese jade worn by soldiers on the other side of the battlefield.”
“This is pointless sparring, Kaul-jen,” Ree snapped. “You may believe that it is to No Peak’s advantage to continue dragging out the KJA scandal, but consider our mutual dilemma. The constriction on the jade supply has done nothing but encourage smugglers and raise the rate of violent crime. The people have had enough of bloodshed and economic disruption; they’re worried that the crisis in Oortoko will turn into a war between foreign powers and spread through the region. They expect Green Bones to defend Kekon if that happens—do you think they feel confident we’re doing that, Kaul-jen?”
Shae did not answer.
“We’re not Fists, you and I, who see the world only in black and red,” Ree said. “Neither is my Pillar, though I certainly can’t speak for yours. Ayt-jen proposes a meeting between our clans. One with all the proper assurances.”