by Fonda Lee
Lan did not really think of it as his office, though it was reserved for his use whenever he wished to conduct business out of it. It sat unoccupied the rest of the time. The top floor of the No Peak–owned office tower on Ship Street in Janloon’s Financial District boasted an incomparable view, but it was the Weather Man’s domain. Lan preferred his study in the Kaul house.
He picked up the phone and took the call off hold. “Kaul-jen,” said a deep and unhurried man’s voice. “We have your young friend, Anden. We crossed paths with him at the Boat Day festivities. No rules have been broken. We’re just having a talk with him, a very cordial and civilized talk. In three hours, he’ll be released in the Temple District, near the traffic roundabout. You have no need to be concerned for his safety … so long as no one in No Peak overreacts. I am referring to your Horn.”
Lan said, “I understand.” He knew he was speaking to a member of the Mountain clan; no one else would dare this. He suspected the man on the line was Gont Asch, though he could not be certain. Lan steadied himself against the desk and made his voice iron in its calm. “Trust me on this: I will hold you to your assurances.”
“Don’t worry about Anden. He’s been most respectful and polite. Worry about your brother turning this into a bad situation.” The caller hung up.
Lan depressed the receiver cradle on the phone and looked at his jade-backed wristwatch, making a note of the exact time. Then he released the phone switch and immediately dialed his brother’s house, knowing it was highly unlikely he would find Hilo there. As expected, he received no answer. He phoned the main house and told Kyanla to have Hilo call him at once in his Ship Street office if she heard from him. Lan hung up and permitted himself a few seconds to calm down.
The Mountain’s sheer nerve astounded and angered him. If Ayt Madashi had a message for No Peak, she could have arranged a meeting with Lan through the clans’ Weather Men. Or she could have shown respect by sending a member of her own clan to deliver a proposal. Either would have been proper. Abducting Anden, the only jadeless member of the immediate Kaul family, and using him as a go-between skirted disturbingly close to breaking aisho. It put the onus unfairly on Lan to prevent violence. The caller was right; now he had to worry about his Horn. If Hilo found out Anden had been taken by the Mountain, his rage would be unpredictable.
Lan took out his address book and found the number for Maik Wen’s apartment. Receiving no answer there either, he phoned both of the Maik brothers without success until he remembered that it was Boat Day and Hilo’s people were bound to be patrolling the waterfront and its establishments. He called the Twice Lucky and asked the owner, Mr. Une, to put him on the phone with the highest-ranked Green Bone he could find in or around his restaurant. A few minutes later, a man’s voice came on the line. “Who is this?” Lan asked.
“Juen Nu.” One of Maik Kehn’s men.
“Juen-jen,” said Lan, “this is the Pillar. I need to find the Horn immediately. Call either of the Maiks if you know where they are and send any Fingers you have with you out running. Have my brother phone me at the Weather Man’s office as soon as he gets the message. Don’t start a panic, but do it at once.”
“Right away, Kaul-jen,” said Juen, sounding worried, then hung up.
Lan walked back to Doru’s office. He apologized to the two Lantern Men—real estate developers seeking clan approval, financial support, and help with expediting permits for a new condominium complex—and sat back down, no longer paying much attention to the meeting. He was worried about Anden. The young man was like a true nephew to him, and Lan felt a great deal of responsibility for him. He still remembered holding Anden’s hand, comforting the grieving boy, bringing him into the Kaul house and telling him that this was his home now. Lan believed Gont had been sincere about not harming Anden, but things might change. The Mountain might hold him hostage if something went wrong. Where the hell was Hilo?
Doru would have to lack all sense of Perception to not notice the aggravation that had come into Lan’s jade aura. Sure enough, the Weather Man wrapped up the meeting as quickly as possible without appearing openly rude. He promised the petitioners that the clan would take care of their business needs with, naturally, an expectation that the Lantern Men’s tributes to No Peak in the future would reflect such patronage. The Lantern Men gathered their papers, saluted to Lan while gratefully reiterating their allegiance, and left the room.
“What has happened, Lan-se?” Doru asked.
“The Mountain has Anden,” Lan said. When he explained the situation, Doru blinked and made a skeptical smacking noise with his lips. “They can’t have planned this. The boy is always in the Academy, out of reach. This is an aggressive and opportunistic move on Gont’s part, but if they meant insult or harm, they wouldn’t have phoned to alert you. They must be sincere in wanting you to hold back Hilo.”
“Are they truly?” Lan said, remembering something else. Last year, business dealings between the Mountain and a minor clan called Three Run had gone sour and turned violent, resulting in the Mountain annexing the smaller clan. The story was that two Mountain men had picked up the fiancée of the Three Run Pillar’s son, driven her two hours outside of Janloon, and left her by the side of the road to walk back in the dark without shoes. The enraged heir of Three Run had led his clan in an attack against Gont. It had ended badly for him and his family.
Hilo often complained vociferously about things the Mountain was doing—skirmishes and territorial disputes that Lan left mostly to his brother’s attention—but now Lan considered the possibility that Gont snatching Anden might be just like what the Mountain had done to Three Run. Not breaking aisho explicitly but baiting their rivals into violence, then sweeping down in retaliation while claiming grievance.
The phone rang and Lan picked it up at once. Hilo said, “It’s me.”
“Where are you?” Lan asked.
“I’m in a phone booth outside of Gont’s nephew’s apartment building in Little Hammer, and I’ve got twenty guys with me.” Hilo’s voice was low, but Lan could hear the barely contained fury. “Gont’s got Andy. An informer in Summer Park saw a scuffle break out and said that dogfucking bastard drove off with my kid cousin in his car.”
“Calm down,” Lan said. “I know about it. Gont called me. They’ll release Anden on the Temple District side of the traffic circle in about two hours.” He was almost afraid to ask. “Have you done anything that might change that?”
A pause before Hilo said, “No. I have this godsdamned building surrounded though and it’s going to stay fucking surrounded until I get Andy back without so much as one of his hairs out of place. Gont’s gone too fucking far. My own little cousin!”
Lan breathed out in silent relief. “He’s my cousin too, Hilo, and whatever game the Mountain’s playing, we can’t give them any excuse to break aisho. Keep our guys under control and get over to the place they’re supposed to drop him. The important thing now is that we get Anden back.”
Hilo breathed into the receiver harshly. “I know that,” he snapped, and hung up.
Doru laced his thin fingers around one bony knee and said with a stiff-lipped smile, “I take it our Horn has not yet started a war, gods be thanked. If the Mountain is indeed trying to provoke us, Hilo would play directly into their intentions. You’re quite right to keep a cool head.”
The Pillar did not reply; although he agreed with Doru’s words, he found the man’s tone faintly condescending. Cold, careful judgment was the mark of a good Weather Man, but perhaps Doru’s commitment to peace between the clans was blinding him. Hilo might be impetuous, but at least Lan could trust that his first concern was also for Anden’s safety. Doru on the other hand had never formed any meaningful relationship with the adopted boy and seemed to be treating today’s events like a very interesting business negotiation, instead of what Lan knew it to be: flagrant intimidation. The Mountain showing that it could reach into the Kaul family.
Lan considered going over to the Temple D
istrict to join Hilo but decided it was more important to stay put in case the Mountain attempted to make contact again. “Cancel the rest of the day’s meetings. I’ll be in my office,” he told Doru, then left to wait alone for news from the Horn.
CHAPTER
10
The Mountain House
They took him to the Ayt mansion.
Ayt Yugontin, when he was Pillar of the Mountain, had fittingly chosen the highest point of elevation in the city to build his residence and had endeavored to recreate the feel of a Green Bone training sanctuary like Wie Lon Temple School in his own estate. The approach into the property looked like the entrance to a forest fortress, but when Gont rolled down the car window and nodded to the two guards—his own Fingers, no doubt—the thick doors swung open on silent automatic controls.
Anden had never seen a house more impressive than the Kaul residence, but the Ayt mansion was just as splendid in an entirely different manner. While the Kaul home was grand and modern, with both Kekonese and foreign-influenced architectural touches, the Ayt residence was classically Kekonese—a sprawling single-story structure with stone facade and dark wooden timbers, swooping rooflines, green tiles, and wide walkways. It might have been the home of a Kekonese landlord hundreds of years ago, if it wasn’t for the security cameras, motion sensors, and expensive imported cars in the driveway.
The ZT Valor pulled up to the front. Gont got out of the car. When the driver opened the other rear door, Anden stepped out nervously and followed Gont through the entrance of the house. Two Fingers stood to the side. They saluted their Horn but gave Anden no more than a cursory glance; they could Perceive that he was not wearing jade.
Gont pointed to a padded bench standing against the wall near the front door. “Wait here and don’t move until you’re called,” he ordered Anden. With no further explanation, he strode down the wood-floored foyer and disappeared down a hallway.
Anden sat down as he’d been told. Gazing around, he found it hard not to admire the landscape artwork and the antique blades mounted on the walls, even as his palms kept sweating and his insides twisted themselves into knots.
Surely he had been brought here as a hostage, to be held against the Kauls because of something that was going on between No Peak and the Mountain—the trouble that Hilo had spoken of last week. Should he have resisted, or tried to get away? He doubted it would have made any difference. What would Lan do when he found out what had happened? What would Hilo do? The threat of the Mountain hurting Anden or keeping him prisoner might provoke violence between the clans. Was that what the Mountain wanted? He glanced around, wondering if he could escape this place, and noticed Gam standing by the door with the guards, keeping a close eye on him. He didn’t know all the key people in the Mountain, but he knew Gam was Gont’s Second Fist and had a reputation as a formidable fighter. Anden remained where he was.
A good deal of time passed, perhaps an hour. Long enough that Anden’s anxiety turned to boredom and then to impatience. Finally, Gont returned. “Come with me,” he said, again with no explanation, and led the way back down the hall. Anden hurried to keep up with his long, purposeful strides.
Along the way, they passed two men in suits walking in the opposite direction. Glancing at them, Anden suspected one was Ree Turahuo, the Weather Man of the Mountain, as he’d heard that Ree was a short man. The other was probably one of his subordinates, or a highly regarded Lantern Man. Gont and Ree did not acknowledge each other. Interesting. Apparently No Peak wasn’t the only clan in which the Weather Man and the Horn maintained a frosty relationship.
Gont stopped outside a thick, closed door and paused, turning his broad shoulders toward Anden. “Don’t look so nervous,” he advised. “She doesn’t like nervous men.” He pushed open the door and motioned Anden through.
Ayt Yugontin had perished without an heir. His wife and infant son had died in the war, buried under merciless tons of mud and earth when Shotarian bombs started a landslide that destroyed the small village that had been Ayt’s birthplace.
During the war, the people called Ayt the Spear of Kekon. He was the daring, vengeful, ferocious Green Bone warrior that the Shotarians feared and hated, a man who spoke little but wreaked deadly havoc on the occupiers, only to always escape into the shadows and up into the mountains.
His closest comrade, Kaul Sen, was the elder, more seasoned rebel, a shrewd and masterful tactician who, along with his son, Du, distributed secret pamphlets and broadcast subversive radio messages that inspired and organized the network of Lantern Men that became the key to the One Mountain Society’s success.
The Spear and the Torch.
A year after the end of the war, Ayt Yugontin adopted three children, orphans from his former village. Advocating that Green Bone abilities and traditions needed to be preserved and passed on to future generations of Kekonese, he gave all three adoptees—a teenage girl and two younger boys—a martial education at Wie Lon Temple School. The girl had undeniable natural talent, despite beginning training late. The elder of the boys, Ayt Im, had an ego greater than his skill and was killed in a duel of clean blades at the age of twenty-three. The younger, Ayt Eodo, had enough ability, but grew up to be vain, more interested in becoming a playboy and art collector than a clan warrior. His sister, Ayt Madashi, became the Weather Man of the Mountain.
An hour after her father’s death, Mada killed the longtime Horn of the clan. This was followed immediately by the murder of three other rivals, all of them among the Spear’s closest friends and advisors. The Green Bone community was stunned—not by the fact that she’d done it, but that she’d done it so quickly and publicly, before her own father’s funeral. No one expected the Weather Man to best the Horn in battle. Her opponents within the clan clamored to Ayt Eodo, hoping he would return from his vacation home in the picturesque south of the island and stand up to his sister’s rampage.
The Kekonese term “to whisper a man’s name” originates from the occupation period when the identities of foreign officials targeted for assassination were passed secretly through the rebel network. Ayt Mada whispered the name of her adoptive brother, and a day later, Eodo’s mistress emerged from the shower to find him lying on the bed with his throat slit and his jade gone.
When the bloodshed was over, Ayt Mada sent a message to her father’s estranged comrade, Kaul Sen, expressing her deepest respect, her condolences over the recent loss of his wife, her sadness over the unavoidably violent internal transition of power within the Mountain, and her utmost desire for the continuation of peace between the clans. Kaul Sen instructed Doru to send a generous delivery of white heart blossom and dancing star lilies, symbolizing sympathy and friendship, respectively, to the funeral of his old friend, addressed to his daughter, the Pillar.
In the two and a half years following, two minor clans threw in their lot with the Mountain. The Green Winds clan did so willingly; its patriarch retired to the south of Kekon and its remaining leaders took positions within the Mountain. The other was the Three Run clan, which was made to see reason when Gont Asch cut off the head of its Pillar.
The office of Ayt Mada was spacious, bright, and cluttered. Books and papers were piled on the wall shelves, the desk, and the floor. Sunlight flooded in from the large windows. The space was divided in two: the office proper, and a reception area with a sofa and brown leather armchairs. Ayt was sitting in one of the armchairs, a short stack of file folders balanced in her lap. She was a woman nearing forty years, in loose linen pants, a sleeveless green top, and sandals. She looked as if she had just come straight from a workout or brunch. She wore no makeup, and her long hair was pulled back into a single functional ponytail.
Anden wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. He’d imagined that perhaps the Pillar of the Mountain would be a glamorous and deadly femme fatale. Or perhaps a hard-bitten she-man who exuded toughness and iron authority. Instead, she appeared ordinary, except for the spectacular amount of jade running up both her arms. Mounted in coili
ng silver bracelets that twined up her forearms and biceps like snakes, there must have been at least a dozen stones on each arm. So much jade, worn so unpretentiously—Green Bones had no need for any other symbols of status.
Without looking up, the Pillar said, “You made the call?”
Gont made an affirmative noise. “He understood. A reasonable man, as you say. His brother has massed a small army in Little Hammer, but so far they’re waiting.”
Ayt closed the file she was perusing and tossed the stack onto the polished wooden coffee table. She motioned Anden to the sofa across from her without ceremony. Even with a short distance between them, Anden could feel the woman’s jade aura—a steady, focused red intensity. In the center of the coffee table was a bowl of oranges and a cast-iron teapot. “Tea?” Ayt inquired.
Caught off guard, Anden didn’t answer immediately. Only when Ayt raised a gaze as formidable as her aura did he manage to say, “Yes, thank you. Ayt-jen.”
Ayt opened a cabinet under the coffee table and brought out two small clay cups. She set one in front of Anden and one in front of herself. “It’s a fresh pot,” she explained, as if it were important that hostages were served hot tea and not stale, oversteeped dregs. She poured for herself first, then for him. An honored guest, particularly a fellow Green Bone, would be served before the host, but Anden did not qualify as either. Anden glanced at Gont, who settled his large frame into an armchair near Ayt’s. She did not offer to pour him a cup, nor did he help himself; apparently he was not a party in this conversation and remained present only as a silent, disquieting observer.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been brought here.” Ayt did not waste additional time with pleasantries. “We’ve taken a large risk in seizing this opportunity to speak with you. After all, there’s a chance your adopted family might attribute dishonorable motives to our actions, when in truth they are entirely to your benefit.”