He curled himself around Wen and wrapped his arms around her gently bulging belly. If he concentrated, he could Perceive the tiny life inside her—a faint, rapid drumming, like the heartbeat of a mouse nestled under his wife’s familiar energy. It delighted and aroused him, to think of Wen growing his child in her body. He began to fondle her, gently but a little impatiently, cupping her swelling breasts, rolling the dark nipples under his thumbs, running his hand along the curve of her hip and over her buttocks and between her legs. He pressed the heat of his erection between her thighs. Wen rolled over and smiled sleepily at him, squirming closer. He pulled her nightgown over her head, turned her onto her side, and made love to her, perhaps a little more carefully than he ordinarily would, because of the baby, even though she said there was nothing to worry about.
Afterward, as he lay on his back, considerably more relaxed, Wen said, “Maybe Tar’s right and Espenia’s not likely to invade Kekon directly, but people are nervous. For years, we’ve been happily taking foreign money to build the country, but now for the first time the average person is realizing what it means for foreigners to have what’s always belonged to us.” She propped herself on her elbows next to him. “They’re starting to wonder if our decisions have put us in danger. Maybe by trading our jade, we’ve lost our souls or angered the gods. When people are scared, they make bad decisions.”
Hilo shifted onto his side to face her, puzzled. “Why do you always do this? When we were all talking after dinner yesterday, you stayed quiet and didn’t say anything. Later, we’re lying in bed, and you want to talk clan business. If you have things to say, why not say them at the time?”
Wen looked away and rested her chin on her folded forearms; to Hilo’s surprise, she looked a little hurt by his question. “It wasn’t my place; I’m not a Green Bone.”
“You’re not like my ma, either, leaving as soon as the talk starts. You’re not a Green Bone, but you’re my wife. Everyone here is family; you should just talk if you want.”
Wen was quiet for a moment. “I’d rather speak to you alone.” She turned to face him again, her head pillowed on one bent arm. “When it’s just the two of us, I can say anything that’s on my mind. I know you’ll listen even if you don’t agree. I talk to a lot of ordinary people: small business owners, contractors, office workers, students.” Wen had turned a talent for interior design into a job consulting for clan-affiliated properties, and she was taking classes at Janloon City College to further her career. “So I’m only telling you what I’m hearing out there.”
Hilo pulled her near and pressed his face against her chest. “When the baby comes, you’ll have a new job to occupy you so you won’t have time to worry so much about mine.”
“I’ll always worry,” Wen said. “Even though I know there’s no man greener than my husband. Every time I see all this”—she ran her fingers down Hilo’s collarbone and chest, gently tracing each jade stud—“no matter how proud I am, I think of the danger you’re in, of how many enemies we have.”
“I will never let any of them near you,” Hilo promised. “Or our children.”
They kissed and touched each other for a while longer, and just as Hilo was thinking he ought to get up because he had a thousand things to do, Wen spoke quietly. “Eyni replied to my letter. I wrote her a long message and mailed it right away. I gave her news about the whole family and asked her to come visit with her boyfriend and son. I knew it would take time to get a letter to Stepenland and back, but still, she took over a month to reply and wrote only a few sentences.”
Hilo sat up with his back against the headboard. Wen rarely sounded so aggrieved; she was generally of a warm and caring disposition, but when she was upset, she could be extremely stubborn and cagey about the specifics of her displeasure. He had to prod her to elaborate. “So? What did she say?”
“She thanked me for taking the time to write but told me not to contact her again.” Wen sat up beside him, her eyes flashing with hurt. “Why would she say something like that? We’d met before. We weren’t close friends when she was Lan’s wife, but only because we never had the chance to get to know each other. I can’t make sense of her rudeness.”
“I told you, Eyni was always stuck-up like that.” He’d always considered his sister-in-law to be a shallow, selfish woman—someone who liked nice clothes, theater, wine, and the status of being a Pillar’s wife but who didn’t fit into the Kaul family at a deeper level. He’d done his best to show respect to his brother’s wife, but had gotten the distinct sense that she looked down on him, thought of him as an uncouth kid (which he supposed he had been), and she’d never made an effort to talk to him. Lan must’ve appreciated her cultured intellect and pretty face, but Hilo had been unsurprised and secretly relieved when the marriage ended.
“You have to write back to her this time,” Wen insisted. “If she won’t show me the courtesy of a proper response, she’ll at least have to acknowledge the Pillar of the clan.”
“I thought we talked about this,” Hilo said, but seeing the determined look on his wife’s face, he relented. “I don’t think it’ll make a difference, but all right.”
Wen nodded, satisfied, although obviously still vexed. “If she won’t make the effort to come here, you should go see her in Stepenland. Even if it’s a long trip, it would be worth it.” At Hilo’s doubtful expression, she said, “You always say yourself that meeting face-to-face is best.”
CHAPTER 14
Old Warrior’s Mercy
Three days after the press conference, Shae took only Woon and Hami with her on a trip out of Janloon. They arrived in the village of Opia late in the afternoon. As was typical during rainy season, a thick mist had rolled off the mountains, obscuring the canopy of trees overhead and reducing visibility on the winding single-lane road that led into the township. Opia consisted of a few dozen wood and clay buildings resting at odd angles to each other, dug into tenacious positions on steep slopes. Chickens sat on the corners of low, corrugated aluminum roofs. A barefoot boy with a yellow dog stared at the three Green Bones as they stepped out of Shae’s red Cabriola LS; with a shout, he turned and ran out of sight down a narrow cobblestone path.
Woon came and stood next to her. Shae glanced at him for a little longer than usual. Ever since Hilo had teased her at the dinner table, she couldn’t help but wonder whether her brother was right, whether Woon had developed feelings for her that she’d failed to see or had dismissed as dutiful protectiveness. It was strange to see her chief of staff out of business attire and wearing a moon blade at his waist; he didn’t look like his normal, Ship Street self. Perhaps, judging from the uncertain expression in his eyes, he felt the same way looking at her.
Woon had suggested bringing some of the Horn’s people with them, but Shae had declined. She felt this was almost a personal errand, a responsibility of the Weather Man’s office. The two sides of the clan depended on each other, but there was a sense of competition between them as well.
The boy with the dog must have spread word of their arrival, because the residents of the small houses came to stand in their doorways. “Green Bones! Come see,” Shae heard the children whispering excitedly. The men and women wore plain or checkered cotton shirts and watched with silent, wary respect, touching their hands to their foreheads in salute as Shae and the two men passed. Opia seemed like a place from another time, or perhaps simply a place that time had carelessly bypassed in its relentless march. The thick fog that obscured even nearby features of the landscape made it seem all the more remote and eerie. It was hard to believe they were only a ninety-minute drive inland from the metropolis of Janloon.