Shae rose and shuffled out of the memorial service at the head of the exiting crowd. Dozens of cars filled the parking lot and every available spot along the streets. Private drivers and taxis were pulling up at the entrance. Shae walked away from the scene and stood on the street corner, watching. Nau Suen’s death, although undramatic, was still newsworthy. Journalists and cameramen waited outside, fanning themselves in the cloying heat, trying to catch senior members of the Mountain clan as they left the temple.
A flurry of activity and conversation erupted as Ayt Ato exited the temple amid a small throng of his relatives. Clan members saluted him and approached to offer condolences even though the young man had no relationship to Nau Suenzen and had been a student at Wie Lon, not even a Finger yet, when Nau had retired. He’s so young, Shae thought. Then she remembered with a start that she’d been the same age when she’d become Weather Man of No Peak.
A reporter asked Ato a question, and the accompanying cameraman focused upon the Fist’s handsome face. “Nau Suenzen was a role model for me, almost like a second grandfather,” Ato avowed. “He was full of energy and will, right up until the very end, as green in body and soul as Baijen himself.”
Ayt Mada emerged from the temple. The Pillar of the Mountain was as straight and commanding as ever, but walking more slowly than she used to. Shae wondered if it was due to grief, or if the knife that Ven’s daughter had plunged into her neck had done some irreparable physical harm that she would never make public. Shae pulled down the brim of her hat, not that it would make any difference to Ayt’s ability to Perceive her, but the woman did not so much as glance in Shae’s direction. She likewise ignored all the clan loyalists who pressed in to pay their respects and offer condolences. Instead, she laid a swift glance of contempt on the scene around Ayt Ato, then said something curt that was too quiet for Shae to hear.
The young man stiffened. Shae couldn’t see the expression on his face as he turned away from the remaining reporters and followed his aunt obediently toward the waiting cars. Aben Soro jerked his head in signal to two of his Green Bones, who moved to politely but firmly disperse the media and prevent them from following. Ayt Mada got into the front of her silver Stravaconi Primus S6. Ayt Ato got into the back. In minutes, the lingering crowd in front of the temple was gone, leaving the ordinary bustle of a summer afternoon to fill the streets still littered with debris from last week’s parade and fireworks. Heroes Day. Truly a fitting time for an old war veteran like Nau Suen to make his exit from the world.
Shae hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take her back to the Kaul estate. She wondered if Ayt Mada had put her nephew in his place because she considered his actions shallow and unbecoming of a future Pillar. Ayt knew how to use the media, feeding it information that elevated the Mountain and was damaging to her enemies, but she didn’t pander to the press or offer vain sound bites.
The Kobens, on the other hand, showed no compunction about appearing on talk shows and engineering photo opportunities. Those who’d believed the family’s star would fall after the death of the outspoken Koben Yiro had not accounted for his widow riding her husband’s martyrdom into public prominence and onto a seat in the Royal Council.
“It’s comforting to think that Ayt Mada probably finds Koben Tin Bett as obnoxious as I do,” Wen had commented with a surprising amount of acidity when she heard the news of the election victory. It seemed unlikely to Shae that Ayt Mada could feel jealous or threatened by the popularity of the Koben family, none of them with a fraction of her ability or fame as a Green Bone leader. Then again, she surely hadn’t forgotten that when the city had thought her dead, the Kobens had rushed to make a statement before her body had been found.
The taxi arrived at the gates of the Kaul estate. When Shae walked into the Weather Man’s house, Tia ran into her arms, smearing finger paint all over Shae’s blouse and skirt. “Ma, you’re home! I’m drawing pictures with Da.”
Shae let her daughter lead her into the kitchen, where poster paper had been unrolled and taped down on the kitchen table. Colorful, child-sized handprints and much larger adult ones had been turned into butterflies, birds, and other animals. “These small ones are mine and the big ones are Da’s,” Tia pronounced.
“I was wondering how your hands got so big,” Shae teased.
“Silly, Ma.” Tia laughed. “Jaya says you’re not funny, but I think you’re funny.”
Woon came over and shook his head apologetically at the sight of Shae’s stained clothes. “It’s washable paint,” he said. “I figured the piglet would need a bath before dinner anyway.”