Shae gave no sign that she shared Mr. Enke’s doubts. “Woon-jen will have a memo of our conversation drawn up in writing and sent to you by the end of the day,” she said.
Satisfied, Mr. Enke promised that he would have an updated financial proposal to the Weather Man’s office by the following week. Woon showed the Lantern Man out the door, then took the vacated chair in front of Shae. “You’re hoping to turn this into a human resources advantage,” he said.
“Opening doors, as you say,” Shae replied.
Woon nodded slowly. “Offering incentives for families in the clan to send their children to college in Espenia could benefit No Peak in the long run, but only if they put their education to use for the clan. What’s to stop the students we send there from being lured away by the bright lights of Espenia? We might lose much of our potential talent overseas.”
“In addition to subsidized housing, we’ll pay their tuition. But only if they return to Kekon and work for the Weather Man’s office for three years after graduation.” She expected very few, if any, sponsored students would be so foolish as to renege on a promise to the clan, not when they had families in Janloon whose lives and livelihoods depended on No Peak’s continued favor. “Councilman Kowi’s son would be a good candidate,” she added.
“I’ll be sure to convey that to the Kowi family.” Woon stood up to go but paused at the door, looking back at her with worry. “Is there anything else you need right now, Shae-jen?”
Shae had been trying to act normal all morning, but she was certain that Woon, who knew her well, could Perceive the emotional turmoil in her aura, no matter how composed she managed to appear outwardly in front of the Lantern Men and the rest of the office. At least he would assume that it was attributable to the verbal attacks mounting against her, including the fact that Ayt Madashi spared no opportunity to declare that as a patriotic Green Bone clan Pillar, she would never allow a former Espenian spy near the leadership of the Mountain. With the Heroes Day holiday only two weeks away, Shae expected things to only get worse, not better.
She did not want Woon to suspect that there was anything else troubling her beyond that. “No, Papi-jen,” Shae said, doing her best to sound unconcerned, even a bit optimistically smug. “I told you Ambassador Mendoff would come through on his debt, didn’t I?”
After Woon had departed, the phone on Shae’s desk rang and she nearly jumped. It wasn’t the call she’d been expecting. Maro said, “I don’t mean to bother you at work, but I saw the newspaper this morning and just wanted to call to see if you were doing all right.”
Shae felt a fist close in her chest at the sound of Maro’s voice. She glanced at the clock and closed her eyes; she couldn’t talk to him right now. “I’m fine,” she told him. “This isn’t even close to the worst thing Ayt Mada has done to my family.”
It was, however, proving to be effective. Shae had issued a public statement declaring that her consultative work with the Espenian government had ended years ago and categorically denying any conflicts of interest that would compromise her loyalty to No Peak and to Kekon. She’d responded to the attacks in greater length in an interview with Toh Kita on KNB. She’d criticized and pressured the editorial staff of the Janloon Daily. All to no avail; the Daily’s owner had, unsurprisingly, family and business ties to the Mountain and, also, papers to sell. Jerald’s smiling face had stared up at Shae this morning from the black-and-white newsprint. Some industrious reporter had tracked him down in the city of Loruge, south of Adamont Capita, where he now worked as a mortgage broker, but they’d paired the tabloid-style interview with an old photograph of him dressed in his ROE Navy officer’s uniform.
“All of this is such bullshit,” Maro burst out over the phone. “The things they’re saying about you are completely unfair. It’s shortsighted, misogynistic, anti-foreigner hysteria. Don’t give in to what they want. You deserve your place as Weather Man no matter what they say.” She’d never heard him so upset and angry. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”
“There isn’t,” Shae said. “This is clan war again, in a different way. My brother and I will handle it. Just… stay clear of the whole mess and don’t talk to any reporters.” Ayt and the press did not know about Maro or his family background, and she wished to keep it that way. She wanted to say more but said, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later.”
“All right,” Maro said. “Stand your ground. I love you.”
Shae swallowed, glad that Perception did not work through telephone lines. “Me too.”
The phone in Shae’s office rang again twenty minutes later. This time, it was the call she’d been awaiting from the doctor’s clinic. The nurse on the other end of the line came to the point quickly. “The urine sample you dropped off yesterday tested positive.”
“Are you sure?” Shae asked.
“Yes,” said the nurse. “You’re pregnant. Would you like to make an appointment to see one of our obstetricians? We have available times as early as next week.”
“Not right now.” Shae thanked the nurse and hung up. She sat in silence for what felt like a few minutes that might’ve in reality been much longer, because she had the strange and nauseating sensation of everything around her—the office noises, the energies of the people nearby, the very movement of the air—coming to an ungraceful momentary standstill.
Shae picked up the phone again. She had a sudden impulse to call the clinic back to demand a retest because maybe there had been a mistake after all, but she knew that was mere denial. Instead she dialed her secretary and told her to reschedule the rest of her appointments for the day, as she was not feeling well. Shae got up, took the elevator to the ground floor, walked across the spacious lobby of the clan’s office tower, and out the front doors of the building.
Outside, she began walking west. It was a hot but soggy day; people streamed in both directions along the sidewalk, wearing summer clothes but carrying umbrellas. Shae walked for thirty minutes, until her feet ached in her black pumps and sweat plastered her blouse to the small of her back under her blazer. Rain fell, not steadily but with insulting indifference, scattered fat droplets that flecked the asphalt and landed noisily on awnings, car hoods, and garbage lids. Where Ship Street ended, Shae turned right and kept going, out of the Financial District, until she passed between the stone pillars and through the treed courtyard of the Temple of Divine Return.
Shae went straight to the front of the sanctum and knelt on one of the green prayer cushions. Rainwater from her damp hair left speckles on the stone floor as she touched her head to the ground three times and whispered, in a litany that she had repeated so many times that she barely had to call it to mind consciously, “Yatto, Father of All. Jenshu, Old Uncle. I beg you recognize my grandfather Kaul Seningtun, the Torch of Kekon, gone peacefully from this earth to await the Return. Recognize my brother Kaul Lanshinwan, taken from us before his time. Have mercy on the soul of Yun Dorupon. Give peace to the spirit of Haru Eynishun. Above all, guide and protect those of us who remain in this world, especially Wen and Niko and Ru, and my brother Hilo, for whom I also beg your forgiveness.” Shae fell quiet, trying to put her churning thoughts and emotions into words. From the front of the room, the steady burning energy of the meditating penitents filled the white spaces in her mind.