He was tipping the last of the cake crumbs into his palm when his Perception startled with the sudden awareness of something harsh and wrong. Tar tensed, alarmed, scanning in every direction until he realized that what he was sensing was coming from inside the building: a stampeding heartbeat, blinding pain, a blast of terror and triumph. Tar threw open the metal door and was astonished to see Seko jerking and sputtering, blood pouring from his neck down the front of his black shirt. Tar drew his talon knife and cut the rope holding the Fist up; the man collapsed like a sack, his mouth working instinctively for air, but his eyes bright with scorn. Tar bent over him, spitting curses. He could sense the prisoner’s life flooding out like tidewater. He tried to stop it by directing his own energy into clotting the man’s wound, but Channeling had never been Tar’s strongest discipline, and in seconds, Seko was dead. His bloodstained hands, still bound in chains, clutched a small, flat blade.
Too late, Tar understood his mistake. He’d stripped the man of his talon knife and his jade and thought him helpless. In a determined feat of strength and willpower, the Mountain Fist had managed to bring his feet up to his hands and extract the plain blade hidden in one of his combat boots. Then he’d pulled his body up on the chains and cut his own throat.
Tar kicked and stomped on the corpse in a blistering fury. When he calmed down, he could not deny he was impressed. For a warrior who’d lost his jade to still outwit his enemies and die on his own terms—Seko’s mother ought to be proud to have a son who was so green.
That did not change the fact that Tar was now, to his great embarrassment and frustration, at a dead end in terms of finding the remaining assassin and the missing jade.
As usual, Kehn was more stoic and levelheaded about the situation. “We just have to wait until he shows up again,” he said over the phone. “Sounds like this thief is a reckless kid with an ungodly amount of stolen green. No one with that much jade stays hidden for long.”
His brother’s common sense made Tar feel better, but only temporarily; the following week, the Mountain stole across the border from Spearpoint and took revenge for Seko in an attack that left one of Kehn’s men dead and put Tyin in the hospital for two weeks. Because a storefront was damaged by gunfire and two civilian bystanders injured by wide Deflections, the incident ended up as front-page news. The headline, No End in Sight to Clan Violence, was printed above the photograph of the dead No Peak Green Bone in a pool of blood in front of the shattered window of a Jollo Plus Mart.
CHAPTER 5
Every Advantage
"There must be some misunderstanding, Kaul-jen,” said Mr. Enke. The stocky, gray-haired Lantern Man wore a disgruntled frown, and though he was careful to keep his voice respectful, the glower he fixed on Shae from under his bushy eyebrows was indignant. “My company has been the leading commercial real estate developer in Janloon for over a decade. I’ve been a Lantern Man of No Peak for twenty-five years and my family has always paid clan tribute. Two of my sons are Green Bones; one is a Fist who followed your brother when he was Horn and now answers directly to Maik Kehn. How could this contract go to a smaller firm, one that has barely any history with the clan and is not even fully Kekonese?”
“The other company’s bid promised earlier completion at a lower cost,” Shae said from across her desk. “The clan values the loyalty and friendship of our long-standing Lantern Men, but the contract was awarded on the basis of merit.”
Mr. Enke made a sputtering sound of disbelief. Slightly behind and to her left and right, Shae could sense Hami Tumashon and Woon Papidonwa shifting uncomfortably at her words. “I’m not sure how you define merit, Kaul-jen,” said Mr. Enke in a temper now, “but I ask: What is the purpose of the clan if it does not look out for the interests of its most loyal members? Can the friendship of the No Peak clan be so easily broken by unreliable numbers on a piece of paper? Are we not Kekonese anymore, but Espenians, selling ourselves to the lowest bidder?”
“With the Weather Man’s permission,” said Hami, speaking out of turn but clearly intent on reining in the situation, “perhaps we can reach an accommodation.” Shae’s lips tightened, but she nodded, and Hami went on. “Mr. Enke, the clan has to look out for the interests of the country as well as its Lantern Men; we can all agree on that point. Smaller firms should be given a chance to succeed, and foreign investment is good for the national economy. That isn’t to say that No Peak values you and your family’s allegiance any less. In fact, we hope to see your company continue to grow by investing in equipment and personnel. If the Weather Man agrees, we would negotiate a reduction in tribute payments to support you in this.”
Hami looked to Shae, who inclined her head stiffly. “That seems reasonable.”
Mr. Enke did not look entirely satisfied by this concession, but after a few moments of silent consideration, he grumbled, “Very well. I’ve trusted in the clan of the Torch—let the gods recognize him—for too long to let this one unfortunate experience get between us.” The way he eyed Shae made it clear that he did not trust her in the same way. “We’ll take advantage of the lower tribute you’ve extended and do our best to put together a more convincing bid next time.”
After Woon closed the door behind the departed Lantern Man, Shae turned to Hami and said, “Why did you speak without my prompting? You offered him too much prematurely.”
“You appointed me as Master Luckbringer to speak my mind,” said Hami gruffly as he stood and walked to the door. “So I’m speaking my mind now: You mishandled the situation. The Enke family is an old and influential one in the clan. Even if you had good reasons for your decisions, you made them feel disrespected.” He paused and spoke over his shoulder. “Right now, Kaul-jen, you need the support of the Lantern Men more than a hundred million dien of cost savings.” Hami pushed through the door of Shae’s office, letting in a brief wave of noise—ringing telephones and clacking typewriter keys from the cubicles across the hall—before the door closed firmly and the man’s proud jade aura receded down the hallway.
Shae slumped back in her seat. Hami was right; her defensive response to Enke and cold talk of merit had struck the wrong note and forced the Master Luckbringer to step in and offer a solution before she did. She’d come across as a naive young woman, overly influenced by her foreign education, not a properly experienced Weather Man of a Green Bone clan. Finances she understood, strategy and politics she was learning, but clan leadership required managing not only the vast scope of No Peak’s business concerns but the seemingly irreconcilable interests and expectations of its people. “What was I supposed to do?” Shae demanded aloud, hearing the exasperation in her own voice.