Shae’s blood soaking into the dry dirt raised a pungent metallic smell that stung her nostrils. With shaking fingers, she fumbled for the clasp of her jade choker and broke it. The twin strings fell from her neck, sliding from her skin as easily as blood from a vein. She held it out to Ayt, her arms shaking even from the small effort. She could Perceive the uncertainty, the frantic calculation, behind the burning gaze the other woman fixed on her. Ayt was furiously debating whether to eliminate an enemy now or preserve the moral high ground, and she could not be certain whether Kaul Hilo would go so far as to break the pact of clean blades, not to mention the truce between the Mountain and No Peak, and send them all careening back into clan war. Ayt’s eyes narrowed. Shae’s mind rang with the crowded Perception of all the people watching and waiting with growing alarm and held breath.
Ayt lowered her blade. She reached out and seized Shae’s jade in her fist. When she spoke, she raised her voice so all those nearby could hear. “You’ve acted disgracefully in the past, Kaul Shaelinsan. Nevertheless, it would be a waste to kill a fellow Green Bone at a time when Kekon needs every one of us.” The Pillar of the Mountain wiped the length of both sides of her moon blade against the thigh of one silk pant leg. “My blade is clean.”
Noisy exclamations of relief and appreciation erupted from the sidelines. The collective fever pitch of tension from the auras of the waiting Green Bones settled back to a wary hum. Ayt leaned in, close enough to speak to Shae alone. Shae stared at her jade in Ayt’s grip with curious horror, as if it were a part of her own body—a severed hand, her heart, her entrails—that the other woman was holding between them. The left side of Ayt’s head was grisly where part of the ear was missing, but she paid it no heed. “I promised you before, you foolish girl, that you would live to see your clan in ruins,” Ayt whispered. “It would be dishonest for me to kill you until then.” She turned calmly and walked into the posse of congratulatory Mountain fighters.
The jade withdrawal and blood loss hit Shae simultaneously, like a typhoon ripping her violently off the face of the earth. Everything fractured and tilted away as her weakened body collapsed beneath her. Dimly, she was aware of a great deal of commotion: Hilo and the Maiks crouching over her, the family’s Green Bone physician, Dr. Truw, pressing down on her wound and Channeling into her, forcing tingling warmth into her shivering limbs. Other people speaking as if from a great distance: “Get her into the ambulance.” Shae inhaled the smell of the grass pressed under her cheek and let unconsciousness drag her away from it all.
CHAPTER 32
Overdue Conversations
Shae required a blood transfusion and twelve days in Janloon General Hospital before the surgeon and Dr. Truw cleared her to return home. At her request, no one but immediate family had been allowed to visit her while she was in the hospital. Addled with painkillers and shaking with jade withdrawal, the last thing she wanted was to answer questions from reporters, be seen in this state by any of her Ship Street colleagues, or even to guiltily face Maro. As a result, when she got back to her own house, she felt utterly disconnected from the world and overwhelmed by how to even start getting her footing back. Although she’d been trained at the Academy and had fought and killed before, by Green Bone standards, and by Kaul family standards in particular, she’d enjoyed a relatively safe existence: spoiled by her grandfather, protected by Lan, groomed for the business side of the clan, living abroad in Espenia, then working on the top floor of an office tower. She had never been so near death before, and it humbled her.
Now she stood naked in front of the mirror in her bathroom. A long pink scar, fading to white at the edges and puckered by stitches, ran across her abdomen, distorting the shape of her navel. It still gave her pain when she twisted or bent at the waist. A dull jade withdrawal headache sat at the base of her skull and every muscle in her body felt leaden. She still had her jade earrings, bracelets, and anklets, which Hilo had brought to her in the hospital when she was strong enough to wear them, but her neck was pale and bare without her two-tier jade choker.
Shae dressed and called Woon on the phone. He came over immediately, and in a mutual flood of relief, they embraced each other in the doorway. “Shae-jen,” Woon said, his voice unsteady, “I understand why you acted as you did, but at the time, I thought I was about to lose you as well. If that had happened, I think I would’ve gone to the Pillar and begged for death.”
“Don’t ever think such a thing, Papi-jen,” Shae said, a little shaken by his words. They went into her kitchen. Shae leaned heavily against the table as she pulled out a seat; Woon put a steadying hand under her elbow and helped her into it. “How bad has it been, Shae-jen?” he asked, his brow deeply creased with concern.
“Withdrawal?” Shae grimaced. “It’s manageable, and it won’t last long.” She was achy and exhausted and felt at times as if there were cobwebs over her eyes and ears, but she was not incapacitated. She still had her jade abilities. Withdrawal symptoms felt worse piled on top of her physical injuries, but they weren’t nearly as severe as they would’ve been if she’d lost all her jade, and she knew from experience they would pass within a few weeks.
Woon took what she’d said to mean something different. “I’ll bring you jade from the clan’s stores,” he said. “How much do you need to have a new choker made?”
Shae shook her head. “I don’t want a new one.” There was nothing to stop her from drawing from the Kaul family’s reserves of wealth to replace the jade she’d lost in the duel, but after nearly dying in the most public manner possible, she felt as if it would be dishonest, personally diminishing in some way, to be seen wearing a new choker made of jade she had not fought for. It would seem as if the near-fatal stand she’d taken had no lasting impact, as if what she’d lost that day could be so easily restored. Ayt Mada could not grow back the missing portion of her ear. Shae would carry the absence of her jade openly, like a scar.
Woon looked unsure at her refusal, but understanding how personal the decision was, he accepted her explanation without argument. Shae asked him to tell her what had happened over the past twelve days. The Weather Man’s Shadow had been staunchly holding her place on Ship Street. The decisions that had to be made, he’d made in a way he judged she would approve; all other questions and requests he’d dealt with by saying the Weather Man would answer them upon her return.
Woon had done one thing she had not anticipated: He’d gone to Hami Tumashon and asked the Master Luckbringer if he intended to resign from his position. The two highest-ranking men in the Weather Man’s office had had a respectful working relationship stretching back years, to when Woon was Lan’s Pillarman, and Hami a senior Luckbringer under Doru, but Hami had not taken the question kindly, seeing it for what it was: an accusation of disloyalty.
“Only the Pillar or the Weather Man can ask for my resignation, Woon-jen,” Hami had answered coldly. “I’m tempted to offer you a clean blade, but I think we can agree that any other duels would be anticlimactic at this point.” The Master Luckbringer continued to manage the day-to-day activities on Ship Street with all of his usual competence, but after the confrontation, he and Woon spoke little beyond what was necessary.
When Woon had filled her in on everything she needed to know, Shae felt as if it wouldn’t have been so bad to have stayed in the hospital a few more days. “I can’t thank you enough, Papi-jen,” she said. “And I’m sorry that I left you with so much to deal with at a time when you should’ve been happily planning your wedding.” Woon was to be married in a few months. Shae had not met his fiancée but had seen a very pretty photograph of her on the man’s desk.