“Rohn Toro is a reason, yes,” Tar said. Sammy and Kuno had been among Rohn’s friends and protégés in the Keko-Espenian Green Bone community; they’d witnessed years of brutal harassment by the Crews against the Kekonese neighborhood in Southtrap, and had been the first to arrive on the scene of Rohn’s murder. That was why they were here, with Dauk Losun’s approval, to exact justice. However, Reams was correct: As the new Boss of the Southside Crew, he was too careful and too well guarded for anyone, even Green Bones, to have snatched him unawares without inside help. “You spennies, though, you are all the same,” Tar said. “Can’t be trusted, not even by each other.”
Kuno turned around from where he was still stirring concrete. He pointed the tip of the hand shovel at the prisoner. “Your fellow Bosses, they’re not too sad to see you go, Skinny,” he said in fluent Espenian. “Jo Boy Gasson and the Slatters all figure you helped put Kromner in prison in the first place, and after the police heat you brought down on everyone from murdering Rohn and nearly killing two Kekonese nationals, they would just as soon be rid of you and make peace with us.”
“Shortsighted fuckers. Turning on a fellow crewboy like that, when it’s you ungodly kecks and your poisonous rocks that need to be wiped off the face of the earth.” He spat on the floor of the boat. The toes of his bare feet were white with cold. “Get on with it then.”
Tar shook his head. “You killed Rohn Toro. And made enemies of your own people. But that is not all. Not why I am here.” Tar took off his coat and set it aside. It was getting warmer in the boat now. He rolled up his sleeves and drew the talon knife from the sheath at his waist. “You strangled my sister nearly to death. Now she can’t walk or talk right. You don’t know who she is, or who I am, do you? Doesn’t matter. All you should know is this is personal from the No Peak clan.”
Skinny Reams had been a crewboy all his adult life and was considered by everyone in the Port Massy underworld to be as tough as they got, but Tar could Perceive the animal fear swelling in him as his eyes traveled up from the edge of the hooked blade to the Green Bone’s face, to the stamp of madness there.
“Kuno, go up to the deck with Sammy,” Tar said, speaking in Kekonese now. “I’ll call you back down when I need you.”
The younger Green Bone hesitated. “Maik-jen,” he said uncertainly, licking his dry lips. “Dauk Losun said we should be quick and careful, the way Rohn-jen always . . .”
Tar turned his head with a sharp jerk, and the wild light in his dilated pupils along with the knife in his hand convinced the other man to obey without objection. Kuno laid the shovel down, took off his work gloves, and threw a wet drop cloth over the metal tub to prevent the concrete from drying. He took the steps up to the deck of the boat quickly, with only one apprehensive glance backward.
Tar turned back to the man in the chair. He was no longer Willum Reams, he was no longer anybody, just another enemy of the clan, one snaking head of a many-headed beast. The clan had numerous enemies and sometimes they blurred together in Tar’s mind, because in the end they all had one terrible thing in common, and so in a way they were all the same. They should not be able to hurt and kill powerful Green Bones. Men who were better than them, men like Maik Kehn. But they did, and they had, and they might again. They were responsible for the hollowness that followed Tar everywhere now that he knew he would never see or speak to his brother again. So when the man in the chair began to scream, Tar felt as if he were hearing his own cries, drawing out his own feelings.
CHAPTER
5
Keeping Up Appearances
the sixth year, fourth month
During New Year’s week, the Kaul family’s schedule was jammed with festive obligations, the most important being the banquet and party for the upper echelon of the clan. The entire leadership of No Peak would be in attendance, along with the most senior Fists and Luckbringers, prominent Lantern Men, and clan-affiliated government officials and public figures. Wen was busy for weeks ahead of time, drawing up the guest list and making arrangements for food, music, decorations, and security. Hilo told her to delegate the work to estate staff and hire more help so as not to overtax herself, but she was determined to maintain oversight of the event. She was afraid of something going wrong at a time when the clan could not afford any further appearance of weakness.
On the evening of the party, her sister-in-law Lina came over to the house to help her dress, pin up her hair, and apply makeup. After Kehn’s death, Lina had vacated the Horn’s house for Juen Nu, moving off the Kaul property and closer to her own large family, but she and Wen remained close friends. “You look beautiful in lucky green,” Lina said brightly as she did up the buttons on the back of Wen’s dress, perhaps noticing the tightness in her shoulders and neck, the stiff anxiety in her set mouth. Wen could hear the rising noise from the courtyard as it began to fill with arriving guests. When she looked out the upstairs window, she could see expensive cars pulling up in the roundabout, one after the other, bringing men in suits and women in gowns.