Woon’s jade aura shifted at the mention of the wedding. “It was hardly anything compared to what you went through. Besides, Kiya and my mother are doing all the work; I only need to show up.” He added, “However, the next time you challenge Ayt Madashi with a clean blade, if you could be more considerate about the timing, that would be appreciated.” Woon’s sense of humor, when it made an appearance, was so deadpan that Shae wasn’t sure whether to laugh.
When she returned to Ship Street the following day, she felt physically stronger and less muddled after having slept for fourteen hours in her own bed. An abrupt silence accompanied her arrival into the building. As she walked from the elevator to her office, people stopped in their conversations and paused in their work. Shae’s Perception was sluggish from the combination of jade loss and days of convalescence, but she sensed the wave of trepidation that spread down the corridor.
A man on her left brought his clasped hands up to his forehead and dipped into a formal salute. “Kaul-jen,” he called out. “Welcome back.”
The woman at the desk next to him followed suit, as did another, and the Luckbringers near them stood up from their chairs and went to the doors of their offices or the entries of their cubicles and saluted the Weather Man as she passed. Shae saw tenuous smiles on their faces, congratulatory and consoling in equal measure. She’d lost the duel and the majority of her jade, but she’d defended herself and her clan from slander. She’d fought as well as anyone could’ve expected and shown herself willing to die for personal and family reputation. In those most critical aspects, she’d put to rest the question of her integrity and fitness as a Green Bone leader.
Shae’s secretary jumped up and followed her into her office. “Kaul-jen, Councilman Kowi and two Lantern Men have been coming into the building for the past two mornings and waiting in the lobby to speak to you. Do you want to see them or should I send them away?”
“I’ll see them,” Shae said. Behind her, people went back to their work as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Kowi and the two Lantern Men were admitted to Shae’s office. The pretense of the meeting was to give her an update on the goings-on in the Royal Council during her absence, particularly the national budget, and the question over what Kekon’s stance ought to be regarding refugees from the Oortokon War, which had been going on for nearly a year. Shae knew the true reason for their visit. They had taken a risk by going to Hilo to advocate her removal as Weather Man. Now that it was clear they had failed and she was to remain in her post, they were here to forestall disfavor.
“Kaul-jen,” Councilman Kowi said, saluting deeply and nervously. “I speak for all of us in expressing how relieved we are to see you well.” The two Lantern Men echoed his sentiments vehemently. Shae accepted their well wishes graciously and entertained twenty minutes of discussion on Council matters. At last, Kowi cleared his throat. “Kaul-jen, my family’s ties to No Peak go back generations, so it goes without saying that my allegiance to the clan is ironclad and I personally hope to be working with you for many years.”
Mr. Eho, the Lantern Man, said, “In this day and age, the news cycle moves faster than ever, and things are printed in the newspapers or spoken on the radio before the truth is even verified. I’m ashamed to say that perhaps I jumped to conclusions based on some of the recent negative talk, but I should never have lost faith in the clan and in the Weather Man’s office.”
“I’d be willing to publicly declare my regrets to the Pillar for any misunderstanding,” said Mr. Orn contritely and earnestly, though his pained expression suggested obvious reluctance. A missing ear would not look good on someone hoping to run for political office.
Shae let a silence come to rest in the room, for long enough that she could Perceive the anxiety of her visitors rising. She looked at each of them in turn, her face impassive; none of the men met her gaze for more than a few seconds before glancing away. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over one knee. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “My grandfather taught me that if a friend asks for your forgiveness, you should always give it.” Her guests relaxed considerably, their shoulders coming down, smiles beginning to appear on their faces.
Shae added, before any of them could begin to speak, “He also taught me that if you have to give it again, then they weren’t a friend to begin with.” She rose smoothly from her seat to end the meeting. “I know I can count on your friendship and allegiance from now on.”
Shae spent the next few days getting caught up. On Fifthday morning, she called Hami Tumashon into her office. “Hami-jen,” Shae said without preamble, “it’s time we talked about your future in the Weather Man’s office and in the No Peak clan.”
Hami’s expression turned stiff and wary, and his jade aura began to bristle defensively. Shae went on, “We haven’t always seen eye to eye during the time I’ve been Weather Man. At times you’ve challenged my decisions or made it clear that you felt I acted incorrectly.”
“I’ve spoken up when I’ve thought it necessary,” Hami said brusquely. “I did the same when Yun Doru was Weather Man. He was too parochial, but the truth is that the clan was comfortable with him, because he was an old-timer, a comrade of the Torch. You don’t have that luxury. Even if I agree with the general direction you’re taking the clan, I have to point it out when you act in ways that are ill considered or that cost respect for you and for No Peak.”
“You’re right to do so,” Shae said. “As much as your honesty wounds my pride sometimes, I have to admit you’re the one person in No Peak who best straddles the different sides of the clan. You have the presence and cold instincts of a Fist but the brains and experience of a good Luckbringer. You see the need to change with the times but also the importance of staying true to our core as Green Bones. That’s why I called you in here: I want you to move to Espenia, to start up a branch of the Weather Man’s office in Port Massy.”
Whatever Hami had been expecting when he’d been called into Shae’s office, it was not this. As he was too stunned to reply at first, Shae continued. “Despite current political sentiments, the reality is that we’re tied to Espenia economically. They buy our jade, have military bases on our soil, and now our business interests in that country are growing more than ever. We can’t manage it all from Janloon. I need someone there. Someone who I know is loyal to the clan, who is adaptable to new ways but will run the business like a true Kekonese.”
Hami was obviously still trying to process the idea. Cautiously, he said, “What support would I have from Janloon?” He wanted to know if Shae was serious about expansion, or if this was simply a convenient excuse to send him overseas and into functional exile.
“As much as I can give you,” Shae said. “You would choose a handful of Luckbringers to help you start the branch office. We have connections in Port Massy to help you hire additional staff locally. You would report directly to me as you always have. The clan would pay for your family’s relocation and living expenses. You have two children, don’t you, Hami-jen?”
Hami nodded. “They’re four and six years old.”
“If you accept, I ask that you commit to the assignment for at least three years. Your children would attend school in Port Massy and become fluent in Espenian, but still be young enough to attend Kaul Du Academy when you return to Janloon.”