by Fonda Lee
Except that Hilo had not yet given the order to have Doru executed. He might be merciless to enemies, but Hilo was softhearted within the family. Shae suspected he was putting it off, not eager for it to be one of his first acts as Pillar. With Lan’s funeral behind them, however, it would be soon. Perhaps even today or tomorrow.
Shae made up her mind. She gathered the words she’d wanted to spit for some time and shifted forward to the edge of the chair. “You disgust me, Uncle Doru. I don’t need to tell you why. In my opinion, you’ve lived too long already, protected by Grandda’s friendship no matter what you did. I wouldn’t shed a tear for you myself, but I’ll keep you from execution, if you’ll help Grandda.” Her words thickened, and she paused. “All he does is sit in his room. He was so frail at the funeral, and he’s barely spoken since then. When he does speak, he asks for you.”
Doru’s head had rolled back against the sofa, but he was listening. She could see his eyes moving under his thin eyelids, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“His mind is going,” Shae said. “The doctor says he needs familiar people and routines. If you would play chess and have tea with him in the mornings, like you always used to, I know it would be of comfort to him. If you swear to take no further part in the clan business, I’ll talk to Hilo. I’ll convince him to let you keep your life, if you’ll agree to help Grandda now, near the end, when he needs you.”
She suspected she would have to fight Hilo hard for this, and so early on in their partnership, no less. But she was willing to do it. She was losing her grandfather, so soon after losing Lan. To all the solicitous clan members who’d crowded up to acknowledge Hilo as Pillar at the funeral yesterday, it had been obvious that Kaul Sen’s will to live was fading fast, even faster than his jade aura as he was slowly weaned off the stones he’d won and worn over the decades.
It was heartbreaking irony that she’d spent the last few good years of her grandfather’s life in a faraway country, and all she would get from now on were fleeting occasions of lucidity that came and went like flashes of tropical rain. He’d loved her most of all his grandchildren and wanted so badly for her to return to the clan, but now that she had, he didn’t even know it. She could accept that, but she wasn’t ready to let him go, to watch his body wither into a shell and his mind blow away like dust. “I want what’s best for Grandda,” she said to Doru. “That’s even more important than clan justice. Do you agree, Uncle?”
Doru lifted his head from the sofa. His skull swayed as if it was too heavy for his neck. The man’s eyes were sunken but still shiny and dark as marbles. “I will always do what Kaul-jen needs of me.”
“We’ll tell Grandda you’ve had health problems—early symptoms of the Itches. That’s why you’re without jade. There’ll be a guard present, and you’re forbidden to speak of any clan business. That’s the only way this can happen, and if you break the rules, I won’t protect you from Hilo a second time.”
“I can’t swear on my jade any longer,” Doru said with bitter humor, “but you have my word. I know my position, Shae-se. I did my best to steer toward a better outcome for us all, but I failed. Lan is dead, and Hilo is Pillar. I live only on his mercy, and yours I see, and if I can be of simple company to Kaul-jen for the short time we both have left, that is more than enough. You’ve nothing to worry about from me.”
Shae nodded and stood up. It seemed inappropriate to thank him when she was the one promising to spare his life, and also inappropriate to apologize for his situation, so she merely said, “Good, then.”
Doru laid his thin, fragile body back down on the sofa. “I get tired so easily now. I can’t tell if it’s this old jadeless body or the ache in my heart.” He pressed the damp towel back over his eyes and went still, though his voice still rasped. “You may hate me for my weaknesses, as I know you do, but I could never wish any ill on you, Shae-se, and I never will. The only thing that makes me glad for my fate is seeing you—so strong, so clever and beautiful, with your jade on. It took murder and war to bring you back, but do you remember? I always said to your grandfather that someday you would replace me as Weather Man.”
CHAPTER
38
The Lantern Man’s Dilemma
The Twice Lucky had been doing excellent business for months, and as it was located near a freeway entrance not far from a territorial border, Mr. Une was alarmed but not entirely surprised when two heavily armed Green Bones from the No Peak clan showed up in the morning and sat at the closed bar, playing cards on the countertop and watching the front door. The restaurateur went to see if he could offer them anything to eat or drink. “Are you expecting trouble, jen?” he asked.
“Maybe,” said one of the Green Bones, a man with a short beard, whose name was Satto. The other was a much younger man named Caun. “The Horn thinks there will be. We need a phone, to call him if there is.” It took Mr. Une a moment to remember that the men were no longer referring to Kaul Hilo, but to Maik Kehn.
Mr. Une brought out the phone from his office and plugged it in behind the bar. “Should I close for the day?” he asked, growing more nervous by the minute.
Satto said, “It’s your choice. No need right now.”
There was, indeed, barely any need, as business was very slow. Normally, lunch hour on a Fifthday was packed, but yesterday had been the funeral procession of the murdered Pillar, Kaul Lan, let the gods recognize him. Everyone expected that today the clans would be back at war with a vengeance, and Janlooners were wisely deciding to stay home whenever possible. Mr. Une had heard that some businesses in disputed neighborhoods had reduced their hours, or like the Dancing Girl in the Armpit, closed for the day altogether. Mr. Une’s father, however, had kept the Twice Lucky open almost every day, even during the Many Nations War when both Shotarian soldiers and Espenian bombs threatened to shut it down permanently, so the restaurateur was on principle disinclined to let any threat disrupt business.
He began to reevaluate his stance shortly after midday, when a phone call came in and the voice on the other end asked to speak to Satto. By this time, the two Green Bones had availed themselves of the lunch buffet and were looking bored. The few other diners in the Twice Lucky had seated themselves far away, and kept glancing at the two men nervously. When Satto hung up the phone, he said to Mr. Une, “Tell the customers to leave. The Mountain’s attacked the Docks. They’re on their way here.” Caun was taking the liberty of shutting and latching the wooden blinds.
“Wh-when will they arrive?” stammered Mr. Une.
Satto shrugged. “Fifteen minutes perhaps.”
Mr. Une went around personally to all the tables. None of the customers objected; they cleared out of the Twice Lucky at once, some taking their unfinished meals in takeout containers, many of them leaving generous tips on the assumption that Mr. Une would soon be needing the money for repairs. Mr. Une sent the most junior employees away as well. The rest of the staff shut away all the pots and pans, dishes, glasses—anything breakable that they could secure. They waited until all the patrons were out, as was the expectation in these sorts of circumstances, then they went into the break room or kitchen and sat on the floor. Mr. Une remained out front, alternately patting his brow with a cloth and wringing his hands. “Is it only the two of you?” he asked. “Not that I doubt either of your abilities, jen, but surely—”
At that moment, three other Green Bones from the clan—two men and a woman—came through the door, breathing hard and sweating, as if they’d run here from another location. Mr. Une’s relief at the arrival of reinforcements was quickly shattered when the woman panted, “They’ve taken almost everything south of the General’s Ride. Gont’s leading the attack himself.” The moon blade in her hand was wet. Mr. Une’s stomach gave a protesting shudder. “They’ll be here any minute.”
Caun, standing by the door, swung his head toward the street as if he’d heard a sudden noise that Mr. Une had not. “They’re already here.” The Green Bones drew their weapons and ran out
the door to defend the building. Mr. Une gave a bit of a squeak and hurried in the opposite direction. He dove behind the bar just as the sound of squealing tires, slamming doors, and gunfire erupted in front of the restaurant.
The initial spray of bullets peppered the entrance facade and broke three of the Twice Lucky’s front windows—Mr. Une groaned thinking about the damage—but after that the gunfire ceased. In a contest for territory, it was to no one’s advantage—either the attacking or defending clan—to badly ruin potential tribute property or kill bystanders. There was shouting outside, sounds of steel on steel, a scream of pain, the screech of another car arriving and additional muffled noises of fighting. Mr. Une thought he might have heard someone yelling, “Fall back!” but it was obscured by two more gunshots.
After that, there was silence. Mr. Une didn’t dare to breathe.
Just when he’d mustered the courage to stand up to try to see what was happening, the front doors burst open and a huge Green Bone who could only be Gont Asch, Horn of the Mountain, strode in. Three of his warriors followed close behind, their eyes bright and wild, their faces and clothes speckled with blood. Gont stood in the foyer, surveying the empty dining room floor. “A very nice place,” he said. He turned his head toward the bar. Mr. Une had ducked back down and was stifling whimpers with his sleeve. “Come out, my friend,” Gont called.
Hesitantly, Mr. Une stood up. Gont motioned him forward. Swallowing, the restaurant owner forced himself to put on his most professional, solicitous manner and approach the posse of men. As he neared them, he glanced toward the front door and was horrified to see blood on the glass and the lower half of Caun’s body lying in his field of view. He jumped like a squirrel when Gont said, “Where is your staff?”
Mr. Une tried to speak but found it difficult, so he pointed toward the kitchen and back room. “Bring them out,” Gont said to one of his men. Mr. Une gave another start when the front door opened and two other Mountain Green Bones entered, dragging a mostly limp Satto between them. They deposited him in front of Gont like cats offering up a slain rat. “Jade for our Horn,” said one of the Mountain warriors, saluting Gont. “A worthy victory, this. The Twice Lucky is one of No Peak’s jewels.”
Satto struggled to his knees and spat on Gont’s shoes. “My blood for my clan. Hilo-jen will tear the jade from your cold, dead—”
Gont brought his moon blade down with such swiftness and force that Mr. Une did not have time to let out a sound before Satto’s head rolled across the carpet and came to a stop at the foot of the hostess podium. “All of you fought well; divide his jade among you,” Gont said to his men. “Go tell Oro not to bring out the staff until the bodies are cleared; no need to frighten them.” The Horn sheathed his blade and sat down at the nearest table, looking around and nodding. He eyed the board with the day’s specials written in chalk. “Is the lunch buffet still open?” he asked.
The question snapped Mr. Une out of his shock. “Y-yes, Gont-jen. Though it’s been put away and might not be as hot and fresh as it would be if you’d come two hours ago …” He trailed off in awareness of how ridiculous that sounded.
“I am told that this is a favorite dinner spot of my enemy Kaul Hilo,” Gont said. “And that the crispy squid served here is particularly excellent. Regretfully, I have never had the opportunity to dine here. Such is the unfortunate reality of being a Green Bone in this city.” Two of his men passed by, carrying Satto’s headless body.
“I’m flattered that the Twice Lucky’s reputation has reached you, jen,” Mr. Une said hastily, sweating profusely. “Please, allow me to bring you a plate of crispy squid so that you can finally taste it for yourself.”
“I would like nothing more,” Gont said. “Also, bring me your ledgers.”
Mr. Une hurried to do both. Ten minutes later, the Horn of the Mountain put a piece of squid into his mouth and chewed. His subordinates watched curiously. The remaining staff of the Twice Lucky had been collected from the back and gathered around as well. They stood in a silent, fearful semicircle behind Mr. Une. Gont’s heavy brow furrowed; he swallowed, then raised a hand and smacked the table several times in applause. “Truly, the reputation of the Twice Lucky is well deserved,” he said. “The crunchiness is perfect, the flavoring is so unique … and there is just the right amount of spiciness. I would gladly eat this every day.” Despite himself, Mr. Une beamed at the praise. Behind him, the kitchen staff let out sighs of relief.
Gont continued eating as he turned to the black ledger book Mr. Une had set before him and opened it. “How much tribute do you pay to No Peak?” he asked.
Mr. Une told him, and Gont nodded slowly as he examined the books. “Your business has been doing better than that lately, and we’re in a time of war. You’ll pay one and half times that amount to the Mountain clan.” He gestured to his Fists to take chopsticks and help themselves to the squid as well, which they eagerly did. “Now, my friend, swear your allegiance and tribute, and you’ll be open as usual tomorrow.”
Mr. Une’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he mopped his brow and said, “Gont-jen, I’ve been a Lantern Man in No Peak for more than twenty years. My brother and my nephew are also Lantern Men loyal to the Kauls, my sister-in-law is a Luckbringer, my cousin is a Finger in the clan. Would you not allow me to leave here honorably?” It was a well-engrained custom that if one clan took over another’s territory, jadeless business owners and workers would be allowed to switch allegiance or leave without consequence; that’s what had happened at the betting houses on Poor Man’s Road that the Kauls had conquered just a few days ago.
“That would not be acceptable in this case,” Gont said. “The Une family has run the Twice Lucky for as long as it’s existed. It would be a travesty for it to continue without your able management and culinary vision at the helm.”
Again, Mr. Une found himself flattered. The Horn of the Mountain had a rumbling, well-enunciated baritone voice that made him seem most reasonable. Perhaps it would not be so bad to be a Lantern Man in the Mountain; how different would it be, really, paying tribute to one clan versus another? Yet, never in all his years had Mr. Une seriously contemplated the Twice Lucky being taken by another clan. No Peak had always been so powerful here, Kaul Hilo’s patronage so ironclad. The war might yet turn again and the restaurant revert to No Peak. It was safer not to betray anyone.
“Please, Gont-jen,” Mr. Une said, clasping his hands together and saluting repeatedly, “the Twice Lucky is my family’s legacy, but I must refuse.”
Gont considered this. He wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and stood. “Very well. I understand your position.” He turned to his men; two of them had already departed, presumably to push on further into the Docks or wage battle elsewhere in the city, but three remained. “See to it that all the staff members are brought out of the building,” he said. “Then burn it to the ground.”
Mr. Une’s face froze in horror. As Gont’s Green Bones moved to obey, the restaurant owner cried, “No, Gont-jen, I beg you!” The old man stumbled to his knees in front of the Horn. “I-I pledge allegiance and tribute to the Mountain clan. I raise the light of my lantern to guide the way of its warriors and call upon their protection.” His voice trembled in its haste. “For the love of the gods, please.”
Gont raised a hand to halt his men. “I gladly accept your pledge, Mr. Une. I would’ve been very disappointed if this had been the one and only time I enjoyed your crispy squid.” He stepped around the quavering Lantern Man and strode toward the door, leaving his Fists in charge. “The Twice Lucky is only the beginning of what we’ll take from No Peak. What we cannot take, we will destroy. When this war is over and the Mountain is victorious, there will be one clan in Janloon, as there was before, and then there’ll be no need for good Lantern Men like yourself to worry.”
CHAPTER
39
Steering Ship Street
Shae stood in front of the large windows in Doru’s corner office, looking out at th
e commanding view of the city. Being in this room made her skin crawl. It exuded Doru’s presence. Everything from the old brown leather chair imprinted with his body shape, to the ivory fountain pen on the desk, to the open bag of betel nuts in the desk drawer reminded Shae that she was in the old man’s domain, one he’d occupied for nearly as long as she’d been alive.
Her stomach was a mess of hard knots. She could not recall ever being more nervous in her life, not even on the first day she’d walked into a large classroom full of Espenians. When she’d knelt before Hilo swearing to be his Weather Man, she’d understood intellectually how difficult that would be, but grief and guilt had carried her through the days of the vigil and funeral and it was only now that she truly felt with full force the seeming impossibility of what lay before her. Whatever misgivings the clan might harbor about Hilo as Pillar, they were surely even more doubtful of her as Weather Man. Doru had been an accomplished war veteran and businessman with decades of experience; she was a twenty-seven-year-old woman who’d been away from Kekon for the prior two years and never held a position of high authority in the clan. If she couldn’t command respect and begin capably running the Weather Man’s office immediately, investments would quickly go south and Lantern Men would defect in droves like rats off a sinking ship. She could lose this war for No Peak faster than anything her brother did or did not do.