“I’d be willing to publicly declare my regrets to the Pillar for any misunderstanding,” said Mr. Orn contritely and earnestly, though his pained expression suggested obvious reluctance. A missing ear would not look good on someone hoping to run for political office.
Shae let a silence come to rest in the room, for long enough that she could Perceive the anxiety of her visitors rising. She looked at each of them in turn, her face impassive; none of the men met her gaze for more than a few seconds before glancing away. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over one knee. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “My grandfather taught me that if a friend asks for your forgiveness, you should always give it.” Her guests relaxed considerably, their shoulders coming down, smiles beginning to appear on their faces.
Shae added, before any of them could begin to speak, “He also taught me that if you have to give it again, then they weren’t a friend to begin with.” She rose smoothly from her seat to end the meeting. “I know I can count on your friendship and allegiance from now on.”
Shae spent the next few days getting caught up. On Fifthday morning, she called Hami Tumashon into her office. “Hami-jen,” Shae said without preamble, “it’s time we talked about your future in the Weather Man’s office and in the No Peak clan.”
Hami’s expression turned stiff and wary, and his jade aura began to bristle defensively. Shae went on, “We haven’t always seen eye to eye during the time I’ve been Weather Man. At times you’ve challenged my decisions or made it clear that you felt I acted incorrectly.”
“I’ve spoken up when I’ve thought it necessary,” Hami said brusquely. “I did the same when Yun Doru was Weather Man. He was too parochial, but the truth is that the clan was comfortable with him, because he was an old-timer, a comrade of the Torch. You don’t have that luxury. Even if I agree with the general direction you’re taking the clan, I have to point it out when you act in ways that are ill considered or that cost respect for you and for No Peak.”
“You’re right to do so,” Shae said. “As much as your honesty wounds my pride sometimes, I have to admit you’re the one person in No Peak who best straddles the different sides of the clan. You have the presence and cold instincts of a Fist but the brains and experience of a good Luckbringer. You see the need to change with the times but also the importance of staying true to our core as Green Bones. That’s why I called you in here: I want you to move to Espenia, to start up a branch of the Weather Man’s office in Port Massy.”
Whatever Hami had been expecting when he’d been called into Shae’s office, it was not this. As he was too stunned to reply at first, Shae continued. “Despite current political sentiments, the reality is that we’re tied to Espenia economically. They buy our jade, have military bases on our soil, and now our business interests in that country are growing more than ever. We can’t manage it all from Janloon. I need someone there. Someone who I know is loyal to the clan, who is adaptable to new ways but will run the business like a true Kekonese.”
Hami was obviously still trying to process the idea. Cautiously, he said, “What support would I have from Janloon?” He wanted to know if Shae was serious about expansion, or if this was simply a convenient excuse to send him overseas and into functional exile.
“As much as I can give you,” Shae said. “You would choose a handful of Luckbringers to help you start the branch office. We have connections in Port Massy to help you hire additional staff locally. You would report directly to me as you always have. The clan would pay for your family’s relocation and living expenses. You have two children, don’t you, Hami-jen?”
Hami nodded. “They’re four and six years old.”
“If you accept, I ask that you commit to the assignment for at least three years. Your children would attend school in Port Massy and become fluent in Espenian, but still be young enough to attend Kaul Du Academy when you return to Janloon.”
She could see Hami weighing her offer. As Master Luckbringer, the man was at the height of his career; there were few avenues for further advancement. No doubt he’d expected to stay in his role on Ship Street for another decade or more. But he was still relatively young, only forty-one years old—the idea of being paid to live abroad and start a whole new division of the clan’s operations was appealing. “My wife and I have talked about the idea of spending time overseas,” he admitted.