A nondescript car and trusted driver were waiting for them at the front door. They couldn’t take Hilo’s Duchesse Priza or any of the family’s more recognizable vehicles. The two of them sat in silence as the car drove down dark streets.
Shae said, “What do we tell the clan about Niko?”
Hilo lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. “That he’s Lan’s son. That he was born overseas without our knowledge and brought back to Kekon after his mother died. What else do they need to know?”
“No one will believe it’s that simple.”
“Let them believe whatever they want,” Hilo said harshly. A tense silence swelled between them. Hilo turned his head to the window and blew out a stream of smoke. When he spoke again, the anger had gone out of his voice. “I know what you’re thinking, Shae, but it didn’t happen like that. I tried to work things out differently. You remember Eyni, what she was like.”
“She used to be Lan’s wife,” Shae said quietly. “She was Niko’s mother.”
Shae had not been close to Eyni, but they had been on cordial terms before Shae had left for Espenia. She struggled to even remember the woman clearly now, to describe her better in her own mind, so that when she knelt in the sanctum of the Temple of Divine Return and asked the gods to recognize her father and her grandfather and her eldest brother—all of them gone from this world to await the Return—she could pray consideration for her former sister-in-law as well. When she finished naming those who’d passed on, she pleaded forgiveness for her brother. What Hilo had done went against the Divine Virtues, but Lan’s son would be cared for and loved, she promised it on her soul. And hadn’t the family suffered enough already? Don’t punish us further, she begged.
Hilo finished his cigarette and rolled the window back up. “Would you rather I’d given Niko up?” When Shae failed to answer, he leaned back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”
They arrived at the harborfront. It had not been easy to arrange a meeting with Ven Sandolan, president and chief executive officer of K-Star Freight and patriarch of one of the country’s most prominent Green Bone families, in a place where there was no chance of the conversation being observed by members of either the Mountain or No Peak clans. The deck of a private yacht moored in Summer Harbor was probably as neutral and secure a location as could be expected.
Ven Sando was an avid boater and known for taking his fourteen- meter-long motorboat Inheritance out every Sixthday morning. They were on the water by sunrise. Ven Sando came accompanied by his eldest son, Haku, a first-rank Fist in the Mountain. Haku manned the cockpit while the elder Ven stood at the railing with his tanned face turned toward the ocean, his gray hair blasted back by wind and salt spray, expounding to his guests on the horsepower, speed, and fuel capacity of the Inheritance and how he’d once spent four weeks sailing along the coast of Tun. Shae listened politely, if impatiently, as Ven toured them around the boat, beaming with pride as Hilo ran a hand appreciatively over the furniture and the built-in wet bar behind the helm.
Ven Haku steered the craft around the far side of Gosha Island before cutting the engines, leaving only the sound of water slapping gently against the hull and the distant rumble of airplanes taking off and landing from Janloon International Airport. A thin layer of haze sat over the city’s waterfront and diffused the morning light, but overhead, the late autumn sky was blue and cloudless except for the fading contrails of recently passed fighter planes, coming or going from one of the several Espenian aircraft carriers in the area. Shae pulled her sweater tight to cut the chill.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve had members of the No Peak clan aboard.” Ven Sando possessed the cheerfully overbearing manner of a man who felt he’d earned every penny of his wealth and a belly paunch that suggested he saw no reason not to enjoy it. He gestured them into the boat’s lounge and settled comfortably into one of the white deck chairs. “About eight years ago, I met Kaul Sen at a fundraiser for the Janloon Arts Council and offered to take him and a few others on a cruise around Little Button the very next morning. He was such an interesting man, wonderful company, your grandfather. Relations between our clans were much more cordial at that time. Kaul Sen and Ayt Yu had differences, but there was always respect back then.”
Hilo’s smile approximated his usual easy and open expression but did not quite reach his eyes. “I hope our clans will be on such friendly terms again someday.” He seated himself across from Ven. Shae positioned a deck chair slightly to the right and behind her brother; Ven Haku mirrored the position next to his father. Hilo ran a meaningful gaze over the meeting’s participants and their surroundings. “Here we are, the Mountain and No Peak, so it would seem this is a good start.”
“I’d like to agree with you,” Ven said mildly, folding his hands over his stomach, “except that I’m not the Pillar and can’t speak for my clan. And neither are any of the other members of the Mountain that you’ve been talking to.” Ven’s eyebrows rose in wary inquiry. “It seems as if No Peak is a cock courting many hens.”
Four months ago, following the discussion at the Kaul family dinner table about Ayt’s potential successors, Shae had sent a large bouquet of glory hibiscus and dancing star lilies, symbolizing prosperity and friendship, to the office of Iwe Kalundo, to congratulate him and his family on assuming the office of Weather Man of the Mountain.
Six weeks later, shortly after his return from Lybon, Hilo had paid a visit to Kaul Dushuron Academy and met with Grandmaster Le. That week, nine-year-old Koben Ato was offered admission and a full scholarship to attend the Academy—an uncommon occurrence, reserved for prospective students demonstrating unusual early talent.
The Academy’s obvious attempt to poach Ayt Yu’s grandson from Wie Lon Temple School was met with a flat decline by the Koben family—they would be insane to defect from the Mountain’s feeder school and the alma mater of the entire Ayt family, no matter how generous the financial incentives—and the bouquet sent to Iwe garnered only a curt note of polite thanks, but both actions accomplished their purpose of drawing attention to the Iwe and Koben families, inflaming speculation that No Peak was looking past the current Pillar of the Mountain and toward the next one. It had been Hilo and Shae’s intention that Ven be aware of these actions before their meeting.
Hilo spread his hands unapologetically. “I want to be on good terms with whoever leads the Mountain after Ayt Madashi. Our clans declared peace, but I don’t trust Ayt to keep it. I’m thinking of my own family, of course. Ayt whispered my name and is the reason my brother is dead, so I won’t sleep well until she’s stepped down or been moved aside by a deserving successor.”
Ven sat forward. “That’s the whole problem right there,” he said, with conspiratorial vehemence. “Ayt has no succession plan. She became the Pillar by killing the rightful male heir, and now she’s too old to have children even if she could find a man who would dare to marry her.” Ven’s voice gained heat. “The Mountain wouldn’t be facing this problem if our Pillar was a man with a wife who could give him sons. The clan needs a strong Green Bone family bloodline that can be trusted for generations.” He gestured to Hilo. “You have that in No Peak, to your credit. We don’t. We’re being led by a childless woman pursuing her own ambitions—that’s how low the once great clan of the Spear of Kekon has fallen.”
Shae was astounded. Even Hilo’s eyes widened slightly. Ayt Mada was their enemy, and Shae would not have hesitated to describe her as power-hungry, but they had not expected to hear Ven speak of his own Pillar in such an openly disrespectful manner. Shae’s first reaction was suspicion; was Ven trying to ingratiate himself with them? Or was he truly so guileless?