“My name is Kaul Seningtun,” answered the scout, “and the name of my clan doesn’t matter anymore. All Green Bones in these mountains are brothers.”
CHAPTER
30
The Bad Keck
the nineteenth year, third month
Dauk Losunyin passed away from heart failure at the age of seventysix, leaving behind his wife, four grown children, six grandchildren, and the unofficial post as Pillar of Southtrap, which he’d held for so long. Anden and Hilo traveled to Port Massy for the funeral, to pay their respects as allies of the Dauk family and the Keko-Espenian Green Bone community. On the long flight over, Hilo watched a movie, then had a glass of hoji and fell asleep. Anden tried to follow his cousin’s example, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to read nor calm his mind enough to drift off. He found it hard to believe that Dauk was gone. It didn’t seem that long ago that he sat in the man’s dining room, eating Sana’s home-cooked meals along with Cory and Rohn Toro.
Anden’s sadness was compounded with worry. There were no clans in Espenia; people called Dauk the Pillar simply out of respect for his personal influence. With no formal organization or plan of succession, Dauk’s death would not only change who held sway among Green Bones in Espenia, but possibly the very nature of the Keko-Espenian community, in ways that were certain to affect the No Peak clan.
The funeral services took place on an uncommonly bright winter morning. Brittle, frost-coated grass crunched under Anden’s shoes, and his breath steamed in the sunlight. Over the view of Whitting Bay, the harsh black lines of the Iron Eye Bridge cut across a milkwhite sky. In accordance with Dauk’s wishes, the funeral was traditionally Kekonese, with certain modifications and additions of Espenian custom. There were no Deitist penitents in Port Massy senior enough to be ordained as Learned Ones, but three lay penitents from the local community temple, dressed in green hats and scarves, led the attendees in the proper recitations that would usher Dauk’s spirit into the afterlife to await the Return. Afterward, Espenian mourning songs were sung and people gave speeches, many of them telling stories of the Pillar’s character and how he’d assisted them in a time of need. Anden got up to deliver a bilingual address that began in a personal way, recounting how warmly and generously Dauk Losun had welcomed him into the community when he’d first arrived as a student, but ended on a more formal note, conveying the regards and condolences of the Kaul family.
“That was nicely said, Andy,” Hilo told him afterward. Anden stood near his cousin and made introductions as funeral-goers came up to meet the Pillar of No Peak, saluting him or shaking his hand with nervous awe and curiosity before withdrawing to observe from a distance, as if he were a disguised media celebrity. Hilo accepted the respect-paying but maintained a somberness befitting the occasion, standing near the back of the gathering so as not to detract from the attention due to the grieving family. With his jade hidden beneath a black suit and tie and a long black wool coat, he could’ve passed as a visiting distant relative. The white envelope he placed in the collection plate by Dauk’s casket was stamped with the insignia of the No Peak clan and was sure to cover all the funeral expenses.
After Dauk was laid to rest, a reception was held in the Kekonese community center, where for decades the Pillar of Southtrap had presided over the neighborhood grudge hall. Anden hadn’t been inside the place in years, but he was struck by how essentially unchanged it was, despite being tastefully made up for the event. The walls were draped with white cloth and the tables that normally surrounded the cockfighting ring in the basement had been brought up and dressed with tablecloths and adorned with vases of white azaleas. The battered bookshelves and lumpy armchairs that ordinarily occupied the common area had been pushed into the corners and hidden from view behind painted folding screens. Lit incense candles and platters of fruit crowded the space in front of the small Deitist shrine.
“Ah, I miss this old neighborhood,” lamented Mr. Hian, who now resided in the suburbs with his younger son. “Where I live now, there are no Kekonese newspapers in the library, and the grocery stores are too big.” He sat Anden down and spent over an hour reminiscing, sometimes in an unfocused way, as his memory had begun to fail him in advanced age. Anden didn’t mind; he knew it might be his last chance to spend time with the old man.
Cory Dauk came over to thank Anden for his speech. “It would’ve meant a lot to my da. You know how proud he always was to be a Green Bone from the old country.”