by Fonda Lee
Shae rarely smoked except on social occasions, but now she lit a cigarette to calm her nerves. What she most needed was the public support of the two men Lan had pegged as the logical potential successors to the Weather Man’s post: Woon Papidonwa and Hami Tumashon. The clan had to see that these credible men were behind her. Woon would be arriving any minute now. Shae remained standing by the window and did not turn around even when she Perceived Woon’s aura exiting the elevator, escorted by Maik Tar.
Tar knocked on the office door, then opened it and said formally, “Kaul-jen, I’ve brought Woon Papi to you like you asked.” Shae felt an approving twinge of gratitude toward her brother’s lieutenant—clearly Hilo had briefed him well. She took her time stubbing out her cigarette and turning around. “Thank you, Tar,” she said, and the Fist departed with a salute, closing the door firmly behind him, leaving Woon standing just inside.
“Woon-jen,” Shae said, coming around the desk and motioning the former Pillarman toward the ugly dark green sofa in the sitting area of the office. Woon sat without a word. Shae casually filled two glasses of water from a pitcher on the side table and placed one of them on the coffee table in front of Woon. She noticed that his hand shook slightly as he took it. She lowered herself into the armchair opposite him.
“My brother spoke well of you,” she said. “He trusted you and considered you a good friend, an old friend all the way back to the Academy.”
Woon didn’t answer, but in that instant Shae saw written plain on his face the depth of sorrow and shame he felt, and also the legitimate fear for his own life. Woon had failed Lan. He hadn’t known his Pillar had gone out that fateful night, hadn’t been there to protect him personally nor taken the precaution of ensuring that his bodyguards stayed with him. After Maik Tar had ordered Woon to get into the car this morning, the man would’ve spent the next twenty minutes believing that Kaul Hilo had ordered his exile or execution.
Finding himself in the Weather Man’s office instead of kneeling on the side of a forested stretch of road seemed to have confused Woon, but after drinking the glass of water Shae gave him, he recovered enough to look up with a self-loathing hope in his eyes. “I don’t deserve to live, Kaul-jen.”
Shae said gently, “Lan would’ve forgiven you.” She felt, as much from the involuntary pulse of emotion behind the man’s aura as the look on his face, the effect her words had on him. She went on in a soft but firm tone, “If the clan is to win this war and avenge Lan, we can’t afford to lose anyone needlessly. Neither Hilo nor I can take Lan’s place, we know that. Together we stand a chance, but you were Lan’s Pillarman. You knew him well, and you know the business and the politics side of the clan better than either of us. Failures must have consequences, it’s true, but there are other ways to atone.”
Woon’s face was flushed with remorse over his own relief. “What do you want me to do, Kaul-jen?” he asked in a whisper, and Shae knew that she had handled this correctly. Woon now believed she had plucked him from Hilo’s justice for some more noble purpose that Lan would have wanted.
“I know Lan had plans for you to take on more responsibility in the clan, perhaps to become his Weather Man after Doru. Hilo has named me to his side, but I can’t do it alone. Help me run the Weather Man’s office, as my Chief of Staff. That’s a term I picked up in Espenia, for a role much like Pillarman but with more visibility, more decision-making power. Hilo will understand. Be my right hand, as you were my brother’s. Will you do this, Woon-jen?”
Woon’s eyes brimmed, and he nodded with his face lowered. “Yes. It’s what Lan-jen would’ve wanted me to do,” he said simply.
“Good,” Shae said, relieved that this first conversation had gone as planned. “We have a lot to do, but we’ll start tomorrow. Go home today, but start thinking about what steps we’ll need to take to insulate our businesses. Before you go: Who do you think should be made Master Luckbringer?”
Woon thought, then said, “Hami Tumashon.”
Shae appeared to consider this, then nodded. Even if Woon had given another name, it would’ve been good to demonstrate that she was already leaning on his counsel. Still, she was glad he had pointed to Hami.
When Woon had left, Shae drained the rest of her water and leaned her head back against the armchair, preparing herself for what she expected would be the more difficult second conversation. The door opened and a woman who looked as young as Anden edged her head inside tentatively. “Kaul-jen?” she ventured in a high, girlish voice. “Is there anything you need?”
Through the half-open door, Shae could hear the normal chatter of muted conversation in the halls and the ringing of telephones. The Financial District was not technically neutral, but the banks and professional services headquartered in the skyscrapers of Ship Street were less susceptible to being taken over and controlled at the point of a blade. Those clan members who worked here—lawyers, accountants, and other Luckbringers of similar schooling—waged war in an entirely different way from Fists and Fingers, so business continued in spite of the violence raging just across the freeway. “Yes,” Shae said, eyeing the girl and making a note to herself to move the unfortunate creature to a new job, one in which she would not have to dress in such a way and remind Shae of her uncle Doru’s predilections. “Call facilities management. I want this entire office cleared out and new furniture brought in. And send in Hami Tumashon when he arrives.”
She seated herself at Doru’s expansive desk and was looking through the papers in his inbox when Hami knocked and came in, saluting her shallowly. “You asked to see me.” The man’s voice was carefully neutral, but his eyes were faintly narrowed with skepticism.
Shae put down the document she was studying. “Come in, Hami-jen,” she said, gesturing to the chair in front of the desk. When he sat, she offered him a cigarette, which he declined. Hami was a brusque man in his late thirties. He’d been a respected Fist before a relayball injury gave him a permanent limp and turned his career path toward corporate law. He wore more jade than the average man on Ship Street and there was a certain proud and solid quality to his aura.
Hilo had assured Shae that Hami was a clan loyalist who could be trusted, though perhaps her brother’s assessment was a reflection on the fact that in recent years Hami had clashed with Doru and his career had stalled as a result. Shae suspected Hami might have played a key role in helping Hilo find evidence of Doru’s betrayal. She did not, however, delude herself into thinking that this meant the man held any desire to answer to a woman a dozen years his junior, regardless of whether she was a Kaul.
Shae said straight away, “I’m in a difficult position, and the Pillar has told me that you’re the one I need to talk to, because you always speak honestly even when it doesn’t serve you to do so. A strange quality for a lawyer, I might add.” She saw Hami’s eyes widen slightly at this. She’d gotten his attention. He might be honest, but he also knew how to reserve judgment and he appeared to be doing so now, waiting for her to continue.
Shae settled back in Doru’s padded chair and spoke as if she were reluctantly bringing the Luckbringer into her deepest confidence. “Hami-jen, I didn’t expect to have to sit in this office for at least another fifteen years. I returned from studying in Espenia not long ago. I was supposed to run some of the clan’s companies to get operational experience. Some of the easier, stable businesses that still have room to grow—in real estate or tourism, perhaps. Along the way, I could live life, travel, maybe meet someone and get married. I’m the youngest Kaul, so my grandfather always gave me more freedom.”
“And now you’re the Weather Man.” It was said matter-of-factly, but the upward twitch of Hami’s mouth betrayed that he found this ironic and amusing.
“And now I’m the Weather Man.” Shae’s voice hardened and she knew Hami would Perceive the true resentment and vexation crackling through her aura. “Betrayal, murder, and war have a way of ruining one’s plans.”
She sensed the man’s wariness. Perhaps the senior L
uckbringer had expected her to be an entitled girl playing at being an executive, someone he could begin to undermine or manipulate as soon as she began to order him around with insufferably false confidence. He was not as certain now.
Shae said, “If I thought it would serve the clan, I would ask the Pillar to put someone else behind this desk. But my brother is no fool. He knows how deeply Green Bones value lineage. In a time of war, having another Kaul in the leadership reminds everyone of the Torch and the victories of the past, and that reminds people that the clan is strong—that Kekon is strong. With the clan under attack, my personal preferences mean nothing.”
Hami spoke a touch impatiently. “Why have you asked me here?”
Shae laid an expectant gaze on him. “Because I need you to tell me the truth. How difficult will this be? What must I do right away to secure the confidence of the staff and Lantern Men so this place doesn’t fall apart and the Mountain doesn’t sweep in and swallow us? Because if I fail, it will be the end of the No Peak clan.”
Hami regarded her with what Shae sensed was tentative respect. She’d reminded him that she was and always had been the Weather Man in waiting—trained by Doru, educated at one of the best schools in Espenia, favored by the Torch—merely prematurely installed. And now she was being entirely honest about her credibility challenges. She was astute to have sought his advice at once, a fact that could not help but flatter him. Shae waited for his response.
After a moment, Hami cleared his throat and said roughly, “You’ll need the senior Luckbringers on your side, the ones who really hold the relationships with the Lantern Men. You should hold a staff meeting as soon as possible. If you’re going to make major changes, make them quickly while you’re in this grace period when people are waiting to see what happens in the street war.”
Shae nodded in agreement. “I do intend to make changes. I’ve learned enough to know that some of Doru’s actions weakened the clan. Too many investment decisions were made by him alone; we’ve been cautious and reactive, waiting for Lantern Men to come to us instead of seeking out opportunities. It’s put us on weak footing against the Mountain.” She knew this was what Hami believed as well, but she treaded carefully now, not wanting to press the point and appear to be mining his discontent. “How many people in the office would you say are loyal to Doru and might be a problem if they remained in their current roles?”
“Fewer than you would think,” Hami said, and Shae saw the gleam in his eye that told her she’d touched upon their shared dislike for Yun Dorupon with just the right amount of force. “Yun-jen has not been popular recently; many people thought he should’ve retired five years ago. Most of his staunchest allies are old enough that they can be made to retire gracefully with a clan stipend. We’ll find stronger support among the divisions that he underfunded or gutted—Luckbringers that saw good businesses go to the Mountain. They’ll be eager for change.”
Shae noted Hami’s encouraging use of the word we and asked with absolute bluntness, “Who was the leading candidate to be the next Weather Man before Lan-jen was killed and the Pillar appointed me?”
Hami’s jaw tensed, but his honesty prevailed. “Woon Papidonwa.”
“My brother’s Pillarman,” Shae said thoughtfully, as if considering Woon for the first time. “A good man, respected throughout the clan, though perhaps a bit staid. I’ll make him my Chief of Staff.” Let both men believe she had taken their counsel in appointing the other. “The current Master Luckbringer, Pado Soreeto—is he loyal to Doru?”
“Yes. He’s been Master Luckbringer for twelve years.”
“He’s fired,” Shae declared. “You’re Master Luckbringer now, Hami-jen. Assuming that you’re willing to take on the challenge of leading the clan in a time of difficulty, with the same clear-sightedness you’ve shown me today.”
Hami did not look surprised by the sudden promotion, but he hesitated. Shae waited for his reply without betraying her anxiety. Her worry was that Hami would resign; not from the clan itself, of course, that was nearly impossible for a Green Bone of his level, but he was certainly free to seek a livelihood outside of the Weather Man’s office, operating one of the clan’s businesses, or going to work for a prominent Lantern Man. A step down in status perhaps, but the money could be better. His departure might start a chain reaction of desertion. She had played her cards well, however; after another moment’s thought, Hami said, “I would be honored, Kaul-jen.”
“The honor is mine,” she said, and offered him the first smile she’d given that day. “As you’ve already advised me, we have to move quickly, beginning with an announcement to the entire senior staff tomorrow. Can we meet again later this afternoon? We need to go into that meeting with a strategy.”
Hami nodded and stood up. The dubiousness he’d so obviously carried into the room with him had been replaced with a mildly bemused sense of eagerness to get to work. “We’ll be ready.” He saluted her more deeply than he had upon entering, then strode out of the room. When he was gone, Shae closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Two down, several thousand to go.
The next afternoon, while workers were tearing apart her office, carrying out Doru’s desk and chairs and bringing in new furniture, Shae walked into a long boardroom crowded with the senior Luckbringers of the Weather Man’s office. She’d done her makeup to look older and pulled her hair back into a tight knot at the back of her head. She wore a conservative navy skirt suit, but the neckline of her blouse accentuated her two-tier jade choker, and her loosened jade bracelets hung at her wrists. Not all Luckbringers wore jade, and those that did usually wore less than military members of the clan, but a strong display of green meant status and respect everywhere on Kekon, and the top floor of a tower on Ship Street was no exception.
Shae took stock of the people staring at her. Most of them were men, and all of them were older than she was. Woon sat on her right-hand side, Hami on her left. Shae placed her hands firmly flat on the polished wooden table. “I wish I could begin by saying how excited and pleased I am to be here, but that would be a lie. I’m here because my brother, let the gods recognize him, was murdered.” An uncomfortable stillness fell over the room. “Our territories are being taken, our tributes stolen, our businesses are under attack. The Royal Council has called for an audit of the Kekon Jade Alliance, which will show that we are being robbed of our fair share of jade. We’re educated people here. We work in offices and make phone calls and balance books. But at the end of the day, we’re clan.”
Silence from around the table, though some people nodded.
“Yun Dorupon served the Torch faithfully for a long time. I respect him for that. But the truth is that we’ve fallen behind, and as a result, have become prey to our enemies. For the clan to endure, we have to make No Peak strong again, stronger than even my grandfather envisioned, because this war against the Mountain threatens not just our clan but our country.” Shae nodded toward the windows that looked out over the city. “The clans control the economy of Kekon. If the Lantern Men, the Royal Council, the Espenians, or the public lose confidence in No Peak’s survival, they’ll lose confidence in the stability of the whole nation. Two and half decades of exponential growth could come crashing down. We can’t let that happen. That’s why I ask for your commitment in no less a way than the Horn asks his Fists for their blood.”
Shae inclined her head toward Woon and Hami in turn. “These two men, who I don’t need to introduce to you, have given me that commitment. I’m privileged to have their loyalty and experience on my side. Woon is my right hand, he will be the Weather Man’s Shadow. Hami will be Master Luckbringer, effective immediately. He has a few words to say about what will happen next.”
Hami said, “We’ll be evaluating all the senior positions over the next two weeks. Part of that will involve a detailed accounting of the past activities of the Weather Man’s office. Over the coming weeks and months, we’ll be making personnel changes as well as reaching out to Lantern Men to recruit n
ew Luckbringers. If you don’t feel you can continue in your role under these new circumstances, the clan will accept your resignation and provide you with a retirement stipend for your service. Decide by the end of the day.”
Shae could sense consternation and disgruntlement from some around the table, but as Hami had predicted, it was less than might be expected. People were used to showing respect to, or at least not challenging, the Pillarman, and Hami, whose prior criticisms of Doru were secretly supported by many, capably commanded attention with his Fist-like intensity. With two of the most respected men on this side of the clan flanking her, Shae could feel the Luckbringers’ reservations about her slightly tempered. At the very least, there was no open disagreement as Hami and Woon outlined the rest of Shae’s immediate agenda.
At the end of the day, Shae slumped in a stiff new chair in her disassembled office, which smelled of new upholstery and wallpaper. Her predecessor’s dark, thickly padded leather furniture and heavily fringed drapery had been replaced by cushioned bench seating, open shelving, and copper globe lamps, some of them still wrapped in plastic and not yet placed in their final positions. Most people had gone home and the building had fallen largely silent.
She felt as if she’d pulled off a minor miracle. She hadn’t lost the Weather Man’s office in the first forty-eight hours. Word of her initial success would get around to the Lantern Men, and they would give her the benefit of the doubt. For a while. It was the best she could’ve asked for.
The phone sitting on the floor rang. Shae picked it up and answered it. The agitated male voice on the other end demanded to talk to Yun Dorupon.
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Shae said.
“Don’t give me that,” the man on the other end snapped. “You tell him this is the Minister of Tourism calling from the Royal Council. I just returned from three weeks out of the country, only to find that the entire city has become a Green Bone battleground! Did you know this is being reported in the foreign news? Other countries are putting out travel advisories for Kekon. This is madness. Where is Yun-jen? I need to talk to him.”
