Jade War

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.

CHAPTER 30

Heroes Day

Wen alone went with Shae to the clinic early on a Secondday morning. They took one of the family’s nondescript cars, leaving both Wen’s conspicuous Lumezza convertible and Shae’s red Cabriola in the garage. Wen could always say that she was going to the doctor for a prenatal checkup and that Shae was the one accompanying her. At twelve weeks, Wen was clearly showing her second pregnancy. She was still nursing Ru, so between her enlarged breasts and swelling belly, her body was a collection of soft maternal curves. Shae felt as if they were doing something wrong, perhaps inviting bad luck, for Wen to be an accomplice to terminating an unborn life when she was carrying one of her own. “You don’t have to come inside,” she told her sister-in-law. “You’re doing me enough of a favor driving me there and back. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“If it were me, I’d like another woman to be with me,” Wen said. “Why should we have to go through hardships in life by ourselves?” She parked the car in the nearly empty lot. It was still dark; the clinic didn’t open for another two minutes.

“It seems unlucky for you to be here,” Shae said.

Wen cupped her hands around a thermos full of ginger tea, which she drank every morning to help settle her stomach. A wry smile curved her lips. “I’ve been called unlucky my whole life. I’m not afraid of bad luck any more than a bird would be afraid of feathers.”

They went inside and Shae checked in. Getting an abortion was neither particularly easy nor particularly difficult in Janloon. Clinics varied in repute and there was a moderate cost, but the main restriction was that a woman had to obtain the consent of her husband if she was married, or that of a male relative if she was not. This rule was regularly circumvented for an additional fee. Shae had filled out the necessary paperwork in advance and forged Hilo’s signature next to her own at the bottom. The young woman at the reception counter looked at the forms, then at Shae, and her eyes widened. Shae suspected the receptionist did not see heavily jaded Green Bones come through the clinic very often.

Wen went with her into the room and then held her hand during the whole procedure, which took less time than Shae had expected. Afterward, as she rested in a pleasantly sedated state, Shae said, “You were right. I’m glad you’re here.” She almost added, “Please don’t tell anyone,” but caught herself before she said it, realizing how insulting and laughable it would sound. She already knew that her sister-in-law could be trusted with secrets.