Jade War

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.

Woon didn’t react to her change in tone; they’d worked together closely for too many long, late hours over the past year for her to maintain the same professional demeanor with him as she did with Hami or anyone else in the office tower on Ship Street. The Weather Man’s Shadow looked down at his folded hands, then cleared his throat. “I can only say what I think Lan-jen would’ve done. He would’ve called Mr. Enke into his office and, out of consideration for his status in the clan, given him a chance to match the lower bid. If the Lantern Man couldn’t do so, then he would explain that regretfully he had to give the contract to the other developer, but he’d ask what the clan could offer to help his business become more competitive.”

Shae stared gloomily out the rain-splattered windows. She’d spent the past six weeks grieving her grandfather and almost, for a short while, forgotten how much she missed Lan.

Woon leaned forward in his seat, elbows on knees. “The clan is a big, old ship—powerful but difficult to steer, Shae-jen. I know you want to make changes and improvements, but you should do so carefully. In times of uncertainty, people look for reassurance that they can count on things being done in the way they’ve come to expect. They’ll talk about how you wronged the Enke family. They’re still talking about how you wronged Kowi Don.”

“I won’t run the office on cronyism the way Doru did,” Shae replied, with some heat. “Kowi Don wasn’t qualified to be hired as a Luckbringer just because he’s the son of a councilman.”