Wen turned away. Dudo and Tako moved silently to open the office door. She left the Diamond Light building unhappy, but she hoped her words would sit with Guttano and the apprehension she’d left him with would motivate him to reconsider.
_______
Shae sighed and kicked off her shoes in the back seat of the SUV as Wen’s bodyguards drove them back to the hotel late that evening. “You should come on business trips with me more often,” she sighed to Wen. “We could make a habit out of this.” After an excellent meal of oshoys—small plates served alongside poetry—and a production of The Lady’s Scarf, a romantic musical Shae had first seen in Espenia as a university student and which was still enjoyable decades later even in Shotarian, she was feeling uncommonly relaxed, clan worries pleasantly pushed from her mind. She doubted she would’ve been so self-indulgent on her own.
“It’s nice to spend time without the men or the children around, isn’t it?” Wen agreed. She seemed preoccupied, though, and the smile slid from her face as she picked at a bit of chipped nail polish. “Shaejen,” she said after another moment, “is there anything we can do about the Diamond Light situation? Can we find out who’s standing in our way, who Guttano is afraid of?”
Shae rubbed the balls of her feet. “I can try,” she answered ambivalently. It would be easy to find out the information Wen wanted; that was not the problem. “I know this film deal is important to you,” she said, “but we don’t want to show No Peak’s hand in Shotar too strongly.” The Weather Man’s branch office in Shotar was small and Shae was being careful to keep it unobtrusive, but the Mountain was surely aware that No Peak was in Leyolo City, and it would be looking for any misstep. Trying to muscle in on the barukan over the film industry seemed risky, even if Shae agreed with her sister-in-law that they shouldn’t underestimate the power of popular culture and entertainment when it came to growing the clan’s influence. Applications to martial academies and requests for clan patronage went up every time one of the Fast Fists movies came out.
Wen drew the silk shawl over her shoulders. “You’re right,” she said with resignation. “I think maybe I’ve become so invested in this project to prove something to Hilo.” The Pillar supported his wife’s activities and acknowledged their value to the clan, but they were side projects, peripheral to No Peak’s core concerns of territory, jade, money, and warriors. A Kekonese film breaking onto the international scene in a major way might’ve changed that, and it would’ve been Wen’s victory alone.
Sometimes, when Shae was overwhelmed by the demands of being the clan’s Weather Man while also managing life as a wife and mother, she considered every obstacle her sister-in-law had overcome with quiet but immeasurable determination. She was always forced to conclude that in comparison, she had no reason to complain and no excuses for failure. “Wen, you have nothing left to prove to anyone.”
Wen gave her a sad smile. “Remember, Shaejen, most of the clan would say I had only one truly important job.” To give the family an heir. It was no wonder that Wen had taken Niko’s departure even harder than Hilo had.
Red lights pulsed behind the SUV, causing them both to turn in their seats. Dudo, who’d just taken the freeway exit leading to the hotel, glanced in the rearview mirror at the Leyolo City police car behind them. He cursed incredulously.
“Pull over,” Shae said. “It’s only a Shotarian cop.”
Shae saw his foot hover indecisively between the gas and brake pedals. Then he obeyed her, pulling over to the side of the road and shutting off the engine. The squad car parked behind them. A uniformed officer emerged and walked toward the SUV. Shae’s Perception was not as sharp as it had once been when she used to carry more jade, but she could still easily sense the lone policeman’s nervous caution as he approached the driver’s side of the vehicle. Wen looked to Shae with a question in her eyes.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” Shae told her. Leyolo City police officers carried only a double-action revolver and a baton. A single policeman would be no threat to one, much less three, trained Green Bones. Nevertheless, Dudo’s and Tako’s jade auras were humming warily, and Tako, in the passenger side seat, slid his pistol out of his jacket and tucked it out of sight under his leg, within easy reach.
“Calm down and be respectful,” Shae ordered. Gods forbid the police officer should be unwise enough to try to detain them, or that either of the Fists would give him reason to draw his weapon. None of them knew how to speak much Shotarian, and the last thing No Peak needed was for a foolish police officer to be accidentally killed by visiting members of the No Peak clan over some misunderstanding.