Jade War

CHAPTER 29 Opening and Closing Doors

The Lantern Man Mr. Enke was back in Shae’s office. His overall demeanor was considerably more amenable this time because he was asking for money. “The Oortokon War is having a terrible effect on Janloon’s real estate market,” Enke said. “My company needs to diversify our holdings. Property in Port Massy is a reliable, high-return investment. And this particular development is good value for its location.”

“And you want the clan to loan you the capital,” Shae concluded.

Mr. Enke extracted a file folder from his briefcase, placed it on the table, and opened it to a page with a financial summary detailing his request. “With the assistance of the Weather Man’s office, Enke Property Group could purchase a forty percent stake in the development.”

Moneylending was one of the most common activities on the business side of the clan. Of course, Mr. Enke could go to an independent bank to ask for a loan, but banks were purely financial institutions, operating within a limited scope. A relationship with the clan meant that Mr. Enke had access to innumerable business connections throughout Kekon and beyond it, the assurance that Green Bones would protect his properties from criminals and rivals, and preferential interest rates that reflected the fact that he had two Academy-trained sons who wore jade and served the clan as Fists. He would resort to the open market if No Peak did not give him as much as he hoped for, but like most Lantern Men of standing, he went first to the clan.

Shae studied the figures on the paper in front of her, then handed the file folder over her shoulder to Woon. She regarded Mr. Enke silently while her Shadow perused the papers. If Woon had any concerns, he would give a subtle signal—a cough, a clearing of the throat—to indicate that she ought to hold off on her decision. She Perceived in the even hum of Woon’s aura that he was satisfied with what he saw. Mr. Enke, however, could not tell; faced with the intimidating silence of the Weather Man and the stoic expression of the aide behind her, he continued talking. “I’ve sent my most experienced scouts to Port Massy, and they’ve all reported back that the area of Lochwood is desirable. Well served by transit, rapidly gentrifying, walking distance to the Port Massy College campus and major shopping districts. The development will be mixed use: condominium apartments with ground level commercial space and—”

Woon closed the file folder and handed it back to the Weather Man, who placed it on her desk and said, “Mr. Enke, the Weather Man’s office would be pleased to extend our patronage.”

Mr. Enke broke into a smile and touched his clasped hands to his forehead. “Kaul-jen, I couldn’t be more pleased to have the clan’s approval. May the gods shine favor on No P—”

“I’d like you to buy the entire development.”

The Lantern Man blinked. “That’s far more than…”

“You’ll have to adjust your calculations,” she said. “The clan is willing to finance your acquisition of a controlling interest in the project. As you say, it’s a good investment.”

Mr. Enke cleared his throat. “I would like to take advantage of your generosity, Kaul-jen, but there are regulations in Espenia strictly limiting foreign ownership of property.”

“I’ve recently received reliable assurances from the Espenian ambassador that within three months those regulations will be relaxed for investors of certain preferred nations—Kekon being one of those.” It was not everything Shae had hoped for in terms of trade concessions, but it was a good start. The Espenians were stingy, but reliable. “Move now to purchase the forty percent stake as you planned, and buy out the rest next year.”

Mr. Enke opened and closed his mouth, then said, “My current tribute rates…”

“Would normally go up, but there’s a way we can work around that,” Shae said. “It’s becoming more common for Kekonese graduates to further their education by going to study in Espenia. It was unusual when I did it five years ago, but these days, many families encourage their children to gain some international experience. My younger cousin is in Espenia right now, living with a host family. Once these apartments are built, you can rent them out to Kekonese students studying in Port Massy. Charge them half the market rate for the area. In exchange, the clan will screen potential tenants from No Peak families and cover the difference in your income. Our subsidy will offset your tribute obligations, and you’ll be guaranteed renters who’ve been backed by the clan.”

Mr. Enke licked his lips warily. His bushy eyebrows drew down until they touched. “Kaul-jen,” he said slowly, “can I count on this being a binding agreement with the Weather Man’s office?”

Normally, such a question would be unnecessary; the Weather Man’s word guaranteed fulfillment of the contract. But Mr. Enke was not sure Shae would remain in charge of Ship Street long enough to deliver on their arrangement. Since the scandal over her past connection to the Espenian military intelligence services had broken six weeks ago, she had been persistently disparaged in the media and there had been calls for her resignation.

Shae gave no sign that she shared Mr. Enke’s doubts. “Woon-jen will have a memo of our conversation drawn up in writing and sent to you by the end of the day,” she said.

Satisfied, Mr. Enke promised that he would have an updated financial proposal to the Weather Man’s office by the following week. Woon showed the Lantern Man out the door, then took the vacated chair in front of Shae. “You’re hoping to turn this into a human resources advantage,” he said.

“Opening doors, as you say,” Shae replied.

Woon nodded slowly. “Offering incentives for families in the clan to send their children to college in Espenia could benefit No Peak in the long run, but only if they put their education to use for the clan. What’s to stop the students we send there from being lured away by the bright lights of Espenia? We might lose much of our potential talent overseas.”

“In addition to subsidized housing, we’ll pay their tuition. But only if they return to Kekon and work for the Weather Man’s office for three years after graduation.” She expected very few, if any, sponsored students would be so foolish as to renege on a promise to the clan, not when they had families in Janloon whose lives and livelihoods depended on No Peak’s continued favor. “Councilman Kowi’s son would be a good candidate,” she added.

“I’ll be sure to convey that to the Kowi family.” Woon stood up to go but paused at the door, looking back at her with worry. “Is there anything else you need right now, Shae-jen?”

Shae had been trying to act normal all morning, but she was certain that Woon, who knew her well, could Perceive the emotional turmoil in her aura, no matter how composed she managed to appear outwardly in front of the Lantern Men and the rest of the office. At least he would assume that it was attributable to the verbal attacks mounting against her, including the fact that Ayt Madashi spared no opportunity to declare that as a patriotic Green Bone clan Pillar, she would never allow a former Espenian spy near the leadership of the Mountain. With the Heroes Day holiday only two weeks away, Shae expected things to only get worse, not better.

She did not want Woon to suspect that there was anything else troubling her beyond that. “No, Papi-jen,” Shae said, doing her best to sound unconcerned, even a bit optimistically smug. “I told you Ambassador Mendoff would come through on his debt, didn’t I?”

After Woon had departed, the phone on Shae’s desk rang and she nearly jumped. It wasn’t the call she’d been expecting. Maro said, “I don’t mean to bother you at work, but I saw the newspaper this morning and just wanted to call to see if you were doing all right.”

Shae felt a fist close in her chest at the sound of Maro’s voice. She glanced at the clock and closed her eyes; she couldn’t talk to him right now. “I’m fine,” she told him. “This isn’t even close to the worst thing Ayt Mada has done to my family.”

It was, however, proving to be effective. Shae had issued a public statement declaring that her consultative work with the Espenian government had ended years ago and categorically denying any conflicts of interest that would compromise her loyalty to No Peak and to Kekon. She’d responded to the attacks in greater length in an interview with Toh Kita on KNB. She’d criticized and pressured the editorial staff of the Janloon Daily. All to no avail; the Daily’s owner had, unsurprisingly, family and business ties to the Mountain and, also, papers to sell. Jerald’s smiling face had stared up at Shae this morning from the black-and-white newsprint. Some industrious reporter had tracked him down in the city of Loruge, south of Adamont Capita, where he now worked as a mortgage broker, but they’d paired the tabloid-style interview with an old photograph of him dressed in his ROE Navy officer’s uniform.

“All of this is such bullshit,” Maro burst out over the phone. “The things they’re saying about you are completely unfair. It’s shortsighted, misogynistic, anti-foreigner hysteria. Don’t give in to what they want. You deserve your place as Weather Man no matter what they say.” She’d never heard him so upset and angry. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

“There isn’t,” Shae said. “This is clan war again, in a different way. My brother and I will handle it. Just… stay clear of the whole mess and don’t talk to any reporters.” Ayt and the press did not know about Maro or his family background, and she wished to keep it that way. She wanted to say more but said, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later.”

“All right,” Maro said. “Stand your ground. I love you.”

Shae swallowed, glad that Perception did not work through telephone lines. “Me too.”

The phone in Shae’s office rang again twenty minutes later. This time, it was the call she’d been awaiting from the doctor’s clinic. The nurse on the other end of the line came to the point quickly. “The urine sample you dropped off yesterday tested positive.”

“Are you sure?” Shae asked.

“Yes,” said the nurse. “You’re pregnant. Would you like to make an appointment to see one of our obstetricians? We have available times as early as next week.”

“Not right now.” Shae thanked the nurse and hung up. She sat in silence for what felt like a few minutes that might’ve in reality been much longer, because she had the strange and nauseating sensation of everything around her—the office noises, the energies of the people nearby, the very movement of the air—coming to an ungraceful momentary standstill.

Shae picked up the phone again. She had a sudden impulse to call the clinic back to demand a retest because maybe there had been a mistake after all, but she knew that was mere denial. Instead she dialed her secretary and told her to reschedule the rest of her appointments for the day, as she was not feeling well. Shae got up, took the elevator to the ground floor, walked across the spacious lobby of the clan’s office tower, and out the front doors of the building.

Outside, she began walking west. It was a hot but soggy day; people streamed in both directions along the sidewalk, wearing summer clothes but carrying umbrellas. Shae walked for thirty minutes, until her feet ached in her black pumps and sweat plastered her blouse to the small of her back under her blazer. Rain fell, not steadily but with insulting indifference, scattered fat droplets that flecked the asphalt and landed noisily on awnings, car hoods, and garbage lids. Where Ship Street ended, Shae turned right and kept going, out of the Financial District, until she passed between the stone pillars and through the treed courtyard of the Temple of Divine Return.

Shae went straight to the front of the sanctum and knelt on one of the green prayer cushions. Rainwater from her damp hair left speckles on the stone floor as she touched her head to the ground three times and whispered, in a litany that she had repeated so many times that she barely had to call it to mind consciously, “Yatto, Father of All. Jenshu, Old Uncle. I beg you recognize my grandfather Kaul Seningtun, the Torch of Kekon, gone peacefully from this earth to await the Return. Recognize my brother Kaul Lanshinwan, taken from us before his time. Have mercy on the soul of Yun Dorupon. Give peace to the spirit of Haru Eynishun. Above all, guide and protect those of us who remain in this world, especially Wen and Niko and Ru, and my brother Hilo, for whom I also beg your forgiveness.” Shae fell quiet, trying to put her churning thoughts and emotions into words. From the front of the room, the steady burning energy of the meditating penitents filled the white spaces in her mind.

She spoke aloud, almost in a demand. “What do I do now?”

She couldn’t believe she was pregnant—not intellectually, though she had no reason to doubt the clinic’s verdict. When her cycle was late, she’d assumed that the stress of dealing with the public scandal had something to do with it. She and Maro had taken precautions. She was an educated professional woman, she was the Weather Man. She would’ve placed an unplanned pregnancy well below sudden assassination in her internal ranking of things that she considered likely to happen to her. The timing, she mused despairingly, could not be worse.

Shae had never been able to say if she wanted children. She loved her two nephews dearly but didn’t feel a maternal longing of her own. There was no room for the feeling; her position in the clan was all-consuming, and she’d been beleaguered in her role from the start. Perhaps if things were different, the urge to have children would happen naturally. But nothing in her life, it seemed, happened naturally—only as unavoidable blows, like those of a sledgehammer.

There was no precedent for a woman with children in the leadership of a Green Bone clan. Ayt Mada had no offspring of her own and continued to pointedly ignore those who questioned her about the succession. After Lan’s death and the ouster of Doru, it had been difficult for No Peak to accept a young woman as Weather Man, but it had been a desperate time of clan war, and Shae was a Kaul. She still wore the label of being the Torch’s favorite grandchild, she was backed by respected men like Woon and Hami, and few people dared to challenge her brother.

Those advantages would not help her now. She was already under attack for her past supposed misdeeds; she couldn’t walk into a boardroom or into Wisdom Hall pregnant out of wedlock with the child of a man from a family of little standing in the Green Bone community. Ayt and the press would dig into Maro’s past, would question his parentage and his many trips to Shotar, would flay open his family’s history and discover that he was the bastard of a Shotarian soldier. Maro was not a Kaul; he was barely green. He was not equipped to handle the animosity and scrutiny, the risk to his professional career and to his safety. It would ruin his life.

As for her? It was true that the clan was a big, old ship, but for two and a half years, she’d thrown herself sweating against the wheel, straining No Peak toward the growth and change required to survive enemies at home and the threats of the modern world beyond. Her efforts were beginning to take effect: She’d gotten the clan back on solid financial footing, made advantageous military and trade agreements with the Espenians, expanded the clan’s operations and opened up opportunities. If she was ousted from her position by personal scandal, everything she had accomplished might be undone. Woon and Hami were capable, there was no doubt of that, but they had not lived abroad, they were not as strategic as Ayt Mada, they would not know how to stand up to Hilo or persuade him. And it was worse than that: Shae’s brother had appointed her Weather Man and stubbornly kept her in the role against all opposition; her shameful downfall would cascade through the clan, would become an indictment of the whole family and affect Hilo’s standing as Pillar.

All of these thoughts sank from Shae’s mind through her body and settled like a pile of rocks in the pit of her stomach. She’d assumed business leadership of the clan because she’d been forced—by her own actions and her brother’s death—and when the days were long and the work difficult, she told herself that she was doing it for Lan and for her grandfather. Deep down, she knew herself better than that. She wanted to be the Weather Man.

Shae gazed up at the high ceiling of the sanctum and closed her eyes. She waited for an epiphany, for a sense of spiritual peace to fill her and guide her with certainty. She stretched out her Perception and tried to sense a message in the croon of jade energy that vibrated through her flesh and bones. She felt nothing from the gods, except perhaps a distant watchfulness, and within herself, only a turbulence swirling and coalescing finally into resignation and purpose.

She got up and left the temple.