Bero couldn’t argue with that, so he said nothing, which only encouraged Tadino. The man leaned an elbow on the bar and jutted his angular face near Bero’s. “Don’t tell me you’re done, keke. You’re not just going to sit there like a lump and drink, are you? You and me, we’re still cut. You still want to stick it to the clans as much as I do.”
Bero scowled into his hoji. Just because he still hated Green Bones didn’t mean he was going to risk his neck for the sorry remnants of the Clanless Future Movement. Without Molovni bringing in money and weapons from Ygutan, what could they do? Better to move on, forget all that old shit.
See? You really have turned into a fucking pussy.
Bero downed the rest of his drink with a surge of self-loathing. He’d become soft and useless while away in Iwansa. He used to be full of thick blood and daring. He’d done things no one else could’ve done. Tadino might be talking bitter nonsense, but at least he was still thinking, still trying to do what Bero used to do for himself—come up with the plan that could change everything. Maybe the ratfaced bastard was right. Maybe there was still more for Bero to do.
He squinted with guarded interest for the first time. “What do you have in mind?”
“Here’s the thing.” Tadino licked his lips. “The only way to take down a Green Bone clan is with another Green Bone clan.”
“What’re you getting at?”
“When are times best for people like us?” Tadino answered his own question with a glint in his eye. “When there’s war, keke. The way to bring down the clans is to make them go to war with each other again.”
CHAPTER
39
The Stone-Eye Club
On his first day of classes at Jan Royal University, Kaul Rulinshin stood in the main campus plaza, awash in nervous excitement as he watched students strolling across the grounds between the wide lawns and brick buildings. Ru didn’t think of himself as a particularly academic person, but having grown up in a ruling clan family where nearly everyone was a jade warrior or a businessman, the sheer wealth of possibilities in college made him giddy.
One dense cloud of sadness marred the clear blue sky of his mood. Niko should be here. Niko had always been the smart one, the one who liked reading and was good at school, who would surprise adults with the sorts of things he’d learned and remembered. Now, Ru had no idea where his brother was. He’d received one letter from Niko, saying that he’d finished two weeks of orientation at GSI headquarters in Fort Jonsrock, Espenia. Ru had to look up the place in an encyclopedia to find out where it was. Niko didn’t say where he was going now, nor did he mention the painful conversation they’d had before he’d left. In the letter, he didn’t even say whether he liked the job so far, whether he was happy. There’d been no return address on the envelope, no way for Ru to write back.
Ru shouldered his backpack and went to his first class, Government and Society 120. It was an entry-level undergraduate course, held in a large lecture hall with hard seats and weak lighting. No one recognized him in that class or the other two he attended that day, which was not surprising. His father saw to it that the media kept away from him, and compared to his siblings, he’d always gone unnoticed within the clan.
When he checked out books from the library the next day, however, the librarian who took his student ID card looked at him curiously, then glanced down at his name. “Oh! Kaul Rulinshin? You’re the Pillar’s son, the—” She did not finish the sentence with stone-eye. Flushing with embarrassment, she touched her forehead in abbreviated salute. “My husband and his parents are Lantern Men of No Peak. They own Wan’s Chariot—the chain of autobody shops. All the clan’s top Green Bones take their cars there. My husband’s worked on the Horn’s Lumezza, the Weather Man’s Cabriola, and of course your father’s Duchesse.” She checked his books out with vigor. “We were at the clan New Year’s party, the big one at the General Star Hotel last month. I suppose you must’ve been there? It was huge! I’m sure your father doesn’t remember us, since he spoke to so many people that night, but if you get a chance, will you let him know that the Wans from Wan’s Chariot send their loyal respects?”
“I’ll let him know when I’m home for dinner this Fifthday,” Ru promised.
The librarian beamed. “I’m honored to have met you. Come back often. If you ever want to book one of the private study cubicles or the computer stations, just let me know. I’ll get you the best one. There’s a two-hour limit, but I can override that.”