“He’s doing well, I think,” Shae said. She tried to recall the most recent long-distance conversation she’d had with Anden, perhaps a month ago. “He says he’s getting good grades and the family he’s staying with treats him well. He’s made friends and is even playing relayball. He tells me there are people wearing jade in Port Massy, if you can believe it. Among the Kekonese immigrants, there’s a small, informal clan of sorts, and Anden’s gotten to know the local Pillar and his family.” Shae shook her head incredulously. “I can’t believe he traveled thousands of kilometers from Kekon to find himself among Green Bones again.”
“I’m not surprised.” Hilo spoke quietly. “Green isn’t easily rubbed away.”
The following morning, Shae arrived in her office on Ship Street to find Woon waiting for her, looking unusually agitated. She felt a flash of worry—perhaps things were not all right between them after all, perhaps that was why he hadn’t told her about his engagement, and he had somehow learned that Hilo had informed her last night—but then her aide handed her a copy of the Janloon Daily newspaper, opened and folded over to the bottom of the second page. Shae’s eyes fell on the headline: Weather Man of No Peak Was an Espenian Spy.
Shae stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then read the rest of the article in mounting disbelief. It cited confidential sources and documents proving that seven years ago Kaul Shaelinsan had been in the employ of the Espenian military as a civilian informant. Over a period spanning eighteen months, she had cooperated with the Espenian intelligence services to advance foreign economic and political interests in Kekon. In return, she’d been handsomely paid and granted a student visa to attend graduate school in Windton with her boyfriend, an Espenian military officer of Shotarian ancestry. A number of anonymous clan insiders testified that this betrayal on the part of his favorite grandchild had rendered the late Kaul Seningtun heartbroken and caused a rift in the Kaul family that preceded the Torch’s physical and mental decline.
The newspaper began to shake in Shae’s hands. She threw it onto the desk and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the table. “This is Ayt Mada’s doing,” she whispered. Only yesterday she’d been smug about using the Espenians to deal a blow against the Mountain’s operations. She’d wondered when and how Ayt would respond, and now she had her answer.
At the height of the clan war, Ayt had dug into Shae’s background, had used her own spies and sources to discover everything she could about Shae’s past in an effort to sway her into turning against Hilo. Now she’d fed that information to the press. Shae’s decisions as Weather Man had already garnered detractors, and the Oortokon War, which had been going on for eight months with many casualties and little discernible progress, had fanned public hostility against foreigners and Espenia to a high point. Ayt had calculated her attack to be perfectly destructive.
Woon spoke from behind her. “How should we respond, Shae-jen?”
Shae released the death grip on the edge of her desk and turned around. If she ignored the public revelations, her silence would condemn her. If she denied them, Ayt would pounce on her lies. Her mind was racing, considering how to contain the damage, how to regain the upper hand she’d held only yesterday afternoon, but beneath the calculation, a trembling fury was growing. She’d expected Ayt to strike in some way, but she’d failed to anticipate that the blow would be so swift and personal, that her own past would be used as a weapon against the clan.
“We have to issue a statement as soon as possible,” Shae said. “Find out who these reporters are and what their ties are to the Mountain. Call the editor in chief of the Janloon Daily and tell him I want to talk to him immediately. We need to shut this down.”
CHAPTER 27
Purely Practical
Hilo opened the drawstring on the small black cloth bag that Kehn dropped on his desk and lifted out a handful of small jade buttons. He rolled the gems in his palm and looked up questioningly at his Horn. Kehn said, “I had six Fingers and a dozen volunteer senior students from the Academy working for days, going through boxes of clothes from the latest cargo ship we seized—the third one in as many months. You’d think we’d opened a fucking sweatshop. Only, taking the clothes apart instead of putting them together.” Kehn looked as if he’d come straight from the Docks; his hair was windblown and the collar of his shirt was sweaty from the heat. He unslung his moon blade and propped it up against one of the chairs but didn’t sit down. “That’s just one of the bags; I had Juen bring the rest of the jade to the Weather Man’s office for safekeeping.”
Hilo dropped the buttons back into the bag. “That Ygutanian shipping insurance company is still phoning every day, no matter how many times I tell them to go fuck themselves.”
“Shae-jen is handling it. Starting with suing their clients for transporting stolen national assets.” Kehn shrugged his large shoulders. “She has a lot to deal with right now, though.”
“I heard you dropped a barukan man overboard and sunk his jade to the bottom of the ocean without thinking,” Hilo said, and grinned when Kehn looked a little embarrassed.
“It was probably only a piece or two anyway,” Kehn grumbled, but Hilo stood up, pulled out half a dozen of the jade buttons from the small sack, and went around the desk to lift the flap of Kehn’s jacket and drop the gems into the Horn’s inside pocket.
“That should cover your loss,” he said, straightening the jacket back into place. His brother-in-law muttered a protest, but Hilo said, “Don’t question me as Pillar; you deserve it. Besides, you’ll be a married man soon; think of it as an early wedding gift.” It was encouraging to see Kehn come into his own as Horn. Secretly, Hilo wished he could’ve led the raids himself, but he knew that was unreasonable, and he was glad this was Kehn’s victory alone. He was also pleased to see Kehn and Shae working together in a way that the Horn and Weather Man usually did not. That was the way it ought to be, the military and business sides of the clan cooperating instead of opposing each other, unlike how it had been with him and Doru.
There was a knock on the door and Tar put his head through to say, “There are people here to see you, Hilo-jen.” Niko toddled past Tar’s legs and into the study. He had the run of the house and was always getting underfoot. The boy put his arms out to be picked up. Hilo scooped him up and swung him back and forth a few times, making him giggle, before handing him to Kehn and saying, “Go with your uncle Kehn; I’ll play with you later.”
Holding the squirming child in one arm, Kehn saluted one handed and began to withdraw. Before he left, Hilo said, “What about the Mountain? Are they keeping up their end of the bargain?”
Kehn paused at the door and grunted an affirmative. “So far, it would seem so. Nau Suen and his Green Bones have caught half a dozen scavenging crews so far this year.” At Hilo’s wary silence, he added, “Don’t worry, Hilo-jen, we’re keeping an eye on them.”
After Kehn left with Niko, a man and a woman entered. Hilo had never met them before, but he’d heard of their terrible misfortune and knew who they were. Mr. Eyun was the co-owner of a local packaging firm and a minor Lantern Man in the clan; he and his wife had five children. The eldest, a girl, was sixteen years old. The couple saluted Hilo in silence and sat themselves down woodenly on the sofa across from him. Hilo motioned for Tar to remain in the room, then closed the door before sitting down across from the Eyuns and inquiring gently, “How’s your daughter?”