Not for the first time, Hilo envied his brother-in-law. The duties of the Horn were difficult and dangerous, but simpler and more tangible. “The bad news,” Kehn went on, “is that clever dog Zapunyo keeps getting more creative. I’ve seen jade disguised as buttons and children’s toy marbles, packed in frozen seafood, or hidden in canned goods. We catch some of it, but the Espenian navy catches more. Another reason why Shae-jen is right. We need to stay in bed with the foreigners if we want to put that Uwiwan dog out of business.”
Tar shook his head at the irony. “The spennies start a war that grows the black market for jade. We get them to help us shut down the smuggling that they caused in the first place, and in return they expect us to be grateful and do their bidding like children.”
The political demands of the Espenians, the constant threat of the Mountain, the dirty schemes of Ti Pasuiga—any one of them was more than enough to have to deal with, but they were all connected in inextricable ways that made Hilo frustrated and uneasy. “It’s getting late,” he said. “That’s enough talk for tonight.”
Kehn and Tar departed for their own homes. Niko came down the stairs to say that he’d had a nightmare and didn’t want to be alone. Wen handed Ru to Hilo and rose with a pregnant groan to settle the boy back to bed. The Pillar and the Weather Man were left alone in the dining room except for the drowsy child in Hilo’s arms and the sound of Kyanla doing dishes in the kitchen. Shae appeared deep in thought; Hilo noticed that she’d developed the habit of rubbing absently at her bare throat where her two-tier jade choker had once rested.
Shae dropped her hand and turned to him. “I’m going to Espenia for a couple of weeks,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about what Anden told me over the phone, and I think we should meet these people, these Green Bones in Port Massy. One thing was clear from the meeting on Euman Island today: The Espenians have leverage over us because they have people here, and they know more about what’s happening in our country than we know about what’s going on in theirs. It seems everything the Espenians do affects us in some way, and from what Anden’s said, their largest city is turning into a battleground for jade, just like here at home. I need to go over there and learn more.”
Hilo considered her words. “No,” he said after a minute. “You need to stay here. There’s too much political bullshit going on with the Royal Council, the KJA, and the Espenians these days. You can’t afford to be gone from Kekon that long in case something happens, and now that you have the support of the clan back under you, the last thing you should do is leave Ship Street and travel to Espenia again.” The Weather Man opened her mouth to argue, but Hilo said, “I’ll go.”
Shae did not mask her surprise. “You… will?”
“I’m the Pillar; if this could be as important as you say, I should handle it in person. You keep telling me that our advantage is in Espenia, that we need to invest there. I’m going to that country to see it for myself.” Part of the problem, Hilo thought, was that foreign people and businesses had always been Shae’s thing. Now they were too much a part of No Peak’s fate, indeed Kekon’s fate, for him to leave them entirely to his sister’s attention. Hilo had always found that when things were unclear, when he couldn’t immediately see the right action to take in a confusing situation, he needed to get closer. Talk to the right people, understand it all better. The solution was always there on the street, somewhere in plain sight.
Ru began to fuss, and Hilo stood up to walk around and calm him. “Besides,” Hilo said quietly, “it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Andy. Too long, I think.”
CHAPTER 36
What You Deserve
Bero and Mudt sat on the floor of Bero’s apartment, drinking and practicing their Channeling on a pair of rats that Mudt had lured and captured in a plastic bucket in the alleyway behind the building. “I say we learn how to make shine ourselves,” Bero said. “Then we can sell it and save what’s left of the good stuff for ourselves.”
“Sure, keke.” Mudt opened a bottle of beer and took a large swallow from it. “You got a lab to synthesize chemicals?”
“We’re not the fucking Espenian military,” Bero scoffed. “You can make street shine if you can get syrup.” The main ingredient in SN1 could be found in small quantities in plant-based remedies that had been used since ancient times as a health aid; if you could steal or smuggle prescription medicine out of a hospital or pharmacy, you could distill it into “syrup” and amplify its potency with industrial chemicals.
Bero hovered his hand over the bucket on the ground. If he closed his eyes, he could Perceive the rats more clearly, as thrumming hot spots of energy. Trying to visualize his own jade energy as something he could extend beyond his own body, like a sharp weapon held in his hand, Bero Channeled into one of the rodents with a two-fingered jab. The animal fell stunned onto its side, legs twitching in pain, but not dead. “Godsdamnit.”
Mudt handed the beer bottle to Bero. “Have the rest.”
“I thought you liked this stuff.”
“Not anymore. It’s cheap Ygutanian shit.” Mudt put his hand in the bucket, his face tight with a concentration that looked almost angry, and touched the other rat. It gave a little jump, staggered in a circle, and keeled over dead. Bero scowled and drank the rest of the beer. Since when had Mudt gotten better than him at Channeling? Had he been practicing?
Bero admitted there had not been much else to do for the past three months. They hadn’t seen or heard anything from Soradiyo. The ungrateful barukan sheep fucker had cut them out and was probably giving all the jobs to Mo and Shrimps now. Which meant that Bero once again needed to think about how to bolster his income stream. “I already have clients who buy from me, regular,” Bero went on. “All we need is to set up our own supply.” He wiped the back of a hand over his sweaty brow; the last typhoon of the season had brought down the lingering summer heat but also knocked out the power in Bero’s building, so none of the fans were working.
Mudt said, “Your clients don’t come to you for the weak stuff cooked with drain cleaner that’ll make you go blind. They come to you for quality shine.” He turned to Bero, his small eyes dead cold. “Shine you stole from my da’s storeroom after he died.”
Bero stared at him. He’s drunk. But Mudt’s gaze was steady, his face flushed from anger, not booze. Bero growled, his voice a low threat, “Are you calling me a thief?”
It was a cliché, posturing thing to say—the sort of challenge that started bar brawls—and Mudt just laughed in an oddly high giggle. “That’s real funny, keke. We are thieves, remember? We’re the lowest of the low.” His voice took on a strange edge. “But you… you’re something else. My da gave you work and paid you good money, and then when everyone was looking to have you killed, he saved your life. And you took his shine for yourself and you sold it, and you pretended the whole time like you cared to help me avenge him, but you never did. You only kept me around because I was useful, but you never intended to pay my da back for anything he did for you. You’d never stick your neck out for anyone but yourself. You’ve got jade, but you don’t know what to do with it because you’ve got nothing to live for. I might be a thief, but at least I’ve got reasons. You’ve got nothing. You are nothing.”