“She could resign and continue to assist the Weather Man’s office in a less visible role,” added Mr. Orn, whom Hilo also recalled had recently declared an intention to run for the Royal Council himself. “We simply need someone more publicly suitable to be a business leader.”
Hilo ignored him and said to Mr. Eho, “Who’s calling her that?” When the Lantern Man blinked in confusion, Hilo repeated himself. “Who’s been calling my little sister a whore?”
“I… I never said…” Mr. Eho stammered, looking suddenly contrite, even a little bit frightened, as if he was just now remembering that Kaul Hilo had a prior reputation of his own.
“Don’t bother to answer,” Hilo said. “I know who. Ayt Mada’s set up the whole thing to make herself out as a patriot. She’s smearing Shae in order to weaken No Peak.”
“Still, you can’t deny the facts,” Councilman Kowi argued.
“No,” Hilo said, “I don’t deny them. My sister made some mistakes when she was young, but everyone does. She had a foolish romance with a foreigner, but that’s over, and any communication she has with the Espenians these days are for No Peak’s gain, on account of the oaths she took to me as Pillar. If she’s doing her job as Weather Man, there’s no problem.”
“Kaul-jen,” Mr. Eho exclaimed, “don’t you care how this looks, what people think?”
Hilo gave Eho, Orn, and Kowi a briefly withering glance, then laid a hard, flat stare on Hami, as if to say that naturally the others could be forgiven for wasting his time, but he’d expected a Green Bone to know better. The Pillar was the spine of the clan; he didn’t make decisions to please others. Certainly not jadeless politicians.
Hami’s aura drew in, and he said, with some defensiveness, “It would be irresponsible for me as Master Luckbringer not to point out the consequences this might have on No Peak, and on your own leadership, Kaul-jen. Your grandfather and most of his comrades are gone—let the gods recognize them. When people look at Green Bones today, they’re not looking at the heroes from the Many Nations War. They’re seeing young leaders who grew up with wealth and foreign influences and wondering whether they’re green enough to defend the country the way their parents and grandparents did.”
Hilo leaned forward and swept an unimpressed stare around the circle of men. “My grandfather kept his old crony Yun Dorupon in place as Weather Man for decades, long after he should’ve retired and no matter how many pubescent girls he fucked, and I didn’t see you putting up much of a stink about it. I made the decision to put my sister on Ship Street, and I’m not going to oust her now just because Ayt Mada is digging up shit and feeding it to the newspapers.” He stood up; the meeting was over. Reluctantly, his visitors stood as well. Councilman Kowi and the two Lantern Men were visibly dissatisfied, saying nothing as they saluted stiffly.
Hilo said, “I like that you speak your mind, Hami-jen, as long as you keep using your good sense to serve the Weather Man.” The Master Luckbringer dipped into a wordless, terse salute and left along with the others. When they were gone, Hilo paced several circles around the study, cursing under his breath. Then he picked up the phone on the desk and dialed the Weather Man’s office, reaching Shae’s secretary. “Tell my sister we need to talk.”
CHAPTER 28
Not That Stupid
Bero’s prospects, which had seemed so promising last year, had been stalled for months, ever since the Mountain raided the scavenging operation and murdered the Uwiwan work crew. It had taken him and Mudt the rest of that miserable night and another two whole days to walk down the mountain and hitchhike back to Janloon. When they finally arrived, hungry, sore, and bedraggled, and told Soradiyo that Green Bones had killed the pickers, stolen the trucks, and taken the jade, the barukan manager’s face had turned purple, and he looked fit to kill both of them on the spot.
“All the fucking jade you’re wearing, and you couldn’t Perceive them in time to get out of there with anything?”
“We got out with our lives,” Mudt muttered.
“Yes, how are you alive?” Soradiyo asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why didn’t Nau snap your necks?”
“He sent us back to give you a message,” Bero said. “Says he wants to talk. Says you’re not going to make money at this rate. I think he wants to buy you out.”
Soradiyo’s narrow face seemed to lengthen further with his scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he told them.
Bero thought their next job would be an opportunity to make up for the prior disaster, but it turned out to not even be a scavenge; they were trucked out to a windy cove on the remote west side of the island to help pack motorized fishing boats with raw jade stones hidden under ice and seafood. Apparently, the clans were unofficially running the coast guard and patrolling Kekon’s waters so vigorously that it was becoming increasingly difficult to sneak jade offshore. Soradiyo was splitting up his shipments to the Uwiwa Islands and sending half a dozen boats in different directions at the same time, hoping that at least a few would get through. Bero could smell rotting fish on his clothes, his skin, and his hair for days afterward.
The next scavenge job Soradiyo scheduled for them was canceled due to a tip-off about a Green Bone patrol in the area, and then the torrential spring rains arrived, rendering the mountains inaccessible and shutting down both legal and illegal jade mining activity for three months.
Bero expected to return to work once summer came around, but Soradiyo did not contact them. The barukan manager seemed distracted and was becoming difficult to pin down in person. The one time Bero found him in the Rat House and demanded an explanation, he said testily, “Soon, soon, all right? I’ve got other things going on, things that might solve a lot of our problems,” but refused to further elaborate. Bero became frustrated and impatient.
Mudt’s attitude did not help. “I told you from the start, keke, we don’t need that unreliable barukan asshole. It was a bad idea to begin with, but fine, we did it, we’re still alive and we made enough money to last awhile. The clans are hitting the smuggling harder and harder, and Soradiyo’s going to end up as worm food, so it’s better we get out now while we can. Get back to training seriously, and then to going after Maik.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the Maiks,” Bero snapped.
Mudt yelled at him, “Maik Tar killed my da.”
“Your da had it coming,” Bero said, “messing in a clan war, and you’ll end up the same way if you don’t shut up.”
The next day, however, Bero felt a little bad for having spoken so harshly to Mudt. They had been through quite a few harrowing times together, he and Mudt. They had stolen jade and risked death together. They were each alone, and so they were friends, of a sort. He was surprised to realize that he did not want to lose the kid, that deep down, he kind of liked him. So he called Mudt up, and they went to play pool in the basement of the Rat House. Bero said, “I didn’t mean what I said about your da. We’ll get Maik. I’ll help you get that fucker back for what he did. And then we’ll take his jade for ourselves, the same way we took Kaul’s. You and me.”
Mudt looked up with eagerness in his small black eyes and was a lot more cheerful after that. They hung out and trained, and Bero went back to dealing shine, but still he hoped that Soradiyo would call with some other work, or a new opportunity would materialize, because despite what he’d said to Mudt to make the kid feel better, Bero had no intention of going after the Maiks for the sake of some foolish sense of revenge that wasn’t important to him.