“You’re a good man, Papi-jen,” Shae said. “You deserve someone who’ll show as much devotion to you as you’ve shown to the clan and to my family.” She wanted to put a hand on her friend’s arm, in the casual manner that she used to, but was afraid to touch him in any way now, for fear of making the situation worse. Her mind sprinted through options: Could she offer him more pay? A bigger office? Or would that only offend him, show her to be even more callous than he already thought she was? She had only one reliable piece of emotional leverage over him, and she used it now, knowing and regretting that it would have a cruel effect on him.
“We’re both in our positions because of tragedy, because we owe it to Lan to be able to face him in the afterlife,” she insisted. “We managed to keep No Peak afloat during the war, but there’s a lot more to do, to make the business strong enough to outlast its enemies. We’re a good team, Papi-jen; we’re changing the Weather Man’s office for the better. We’ve made investments and alliances that will pay off. And the work we’re doing won’t just benefit the clan, but the country as a whole. Give it a year. Can you put aside any discomfort you might have around me, for one year?”
Shae stopped talking, afraid that if she continued, she’d only show her own desperation and weaken what she’d already said. She waited with held breath as indecision shifted across Woon’s face. At last, eyes downcast, he nodded reluctantly. Shae breathed again. The Weather Man’s Shadow opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, there was a loud knock on Shae’s office door.
Woon stepped away from her as the door opened and Hami thrust his head into the room. He glanced between them for a second, eyes narrowed, then said, brusquely, “It’s happened. Espenian ground forces invaded Oortoko. It’s on every news channel right now.”
They followed him into the office floor’s common area, where a dozen people were gathered around a television. On screen, the KNB news anchor Toh Kita was speaking to a political analyst over video footage showing convoys of Espenian military transports traveling through the hills of eastern Shotar and air support launching from the aircraft carrier RES Massy.
The news cut to Chancellor Son Tomarho giving a speech in Wisdom Hall. The chancellor declared that “Kekon stands with its Espenian allies” but also emphasized the need for “diplomacy, honest dialogue, and mutual respect,” and he expressed deep concern about the potential for civilian casualties in the military conflict. Shae understood all that to mean the Espenians had not informed the Kekonese government before proceeding to invade Oortoko. In his official comments on behalf of the Royal Council, Son was now being forced to walk a fine line between the public interests that the Council ostensibly represented, the clans they were functionally beholden to, and the reality of the country’s diplomatic alliances.
An hour after Son’s speech, Ayt Madashi held an impromptu interview with reporters as she stood outside Wie Lon Temple where she was attending an alumni fundraiser. A crowd of hard-bodied young Green Bone trainees filled the background of the screen. “In my father’s day, the One Mountain Society fought against the tyranny and brutality of the Shotarians. It’s appalling that our jade and our security are now being sacrificed on behalf of the foreigners that killed, raped, and tortured our countrymen.” The Pillar of the largest clan on Kekon was as self-assured on camera as she was in person. She spoke in the clear, precise voice of a natural orator and her steady gaze appeared to travel through the small television screen to rest on each viewer individually.
“Chancellor Son can stand with the Espenians,” Ayt said, “but the Mountain clan stands for Kekon alone. We will defend it against avowed enemies or those masquerading as friends. I am not a politician. Gold and jade, never together. But if you must choose between the two, count on jade.”
A few people standing near the office television began to cheer, before realizing who they were cheering. Shae saw them clap their hands over their mouths and glance at her in chagrin. She could not fault them. Ayt Mada, her sworn enemy, who had vowed in Shae’s presence to kill everyone in the Kaul family and destroy the No Peak clan, had spoken on behalf of the nation’s Green Bones and given voice to the sentiments of the people of Kekon.
Meanwhile, Kaul Hilo was nowhere to be seen or found because he was on the other side of the world. “Find the number of the hotel my brother is staying in,” Shae ordered her secretary as she strode back to her office. “Then get me on the phone with him, now.”
CHAPTER 21
Change of Plans
Hilo got off the long-distance call and said, “We need to go home.”
Tar, who was watching a ruckets game on the hotel television despite the fact that neither of them understood the rules of the sport, said, “Our flights are booked for Sixthday and we’re supposed to have dinner with the kid’s mom and her boyfriend tomorrow night. What do you want to do?”
Hilo picked up the remote control and changed the channel. The news was covering the Espenian entry into Oortoko. He couldn’t understand what the Stepenish commentators were saying, but they were referring to a large map of the East Amaric region, with Shotar, the Uwiwa Islands, and Kekon highlighted. Hilo mumbled a curse under his breath. Trust the Espenians to do things when they pleased, without informing or consulting anyone else.
Shae had made it clear that he needed to return to Janloon as soon as possible, but he was also determined not to leave Lybon until he’d hammered out an acceptable arrangement regarding his nephew’s future. He hated the prospect of explaining to Wen that he’d flown all the way to Stepenland at her urging, leaving her in her thirty-fourth week of pregnancy, and had nothing to show for it.
Also, he found himself thinking about Lan’s son a great deal, and feeling, on a deep and painful level, a kinship with the child that went even beyond blood relation. Like Niko, Hilo had lost his father when he was not even a year old. From all the stories he’d heard of Kaul Dushuron, Hilo had always imagined he would’ve gotten along with his father—certainly better than he’d gotten along with his grandfather. Niko would never know his father either. Perhaps it was because he was soon to become a parent himself that the thought caused Hilo to grieve for his elder brother in a way that he had not been able to two years ago, when war and vengeance and survival had been paramount in his mind. Over the past couple of days, he’d been unusually morose, unable to enjoy the picturesque novelty of Lybon.
Tar, sensing the Pillar’s mood if not the underlying reasons for it, tried with the earnestness of a worried child to lift his spirits, making fun of everything unexpected they encountered—from salty candy, to Stepenish hairdos, to the fact that supermarkets closed at dusk. While Hilo spent time dealing with clan issues on phone calls with Shae or Kehn, Tar went around the town and returned to offer up daily accomplishments he hoped would please his boss: He’d found a good restaurant and made a reservation for Fifthday; through the clan’s vast network, he’d made a few local connections that might be useful; he’d discreetly tailed Eyni’s boyfriend to an office building near the center of town and discovered where he worked and with whom.
“You want me to call the airline and see if we can get on an earlier flight?” Tar asked now.
Hilo pinched the bridge of his nose, then nodded. Lybon was seven hours ahead of Janloon; it was early evening and the streetlights outside of their hotel room had just come on. If they took a flight out tomorrow morning, they could be back home by the end of the day. “Change the flights,” he said. “Then we’ll go talk to those two. We’ll insist on having dinner tonight to figure everything out.”