Ayt made a small motion with her hand, quieting the animated Koben, who looked as if he could go on, but checked himself and settled back in his seat at once. “We should set an example for the Royal Council by acting unhesitatingly,” Ayt declared with crisp authority. “As Pillar of the Mountain, I support increasing the allocation of jade to the armed forces so long as the redistribution is done fairly, and I agree that national military service should be among the choices Green Bones have directly upon graduation.” She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “That is, if my fellow Pillars agree. This is such a substantial change that we shouldn’t enact it unless we’re all of the same mind.”
No one answered her. Even General Ronu seemed to be stunned to have Ayt Madashi’s immediate and unequivocal support. Every head in the room now swung toward Hilo, sitting partly slouched directly across from his rival. Shae scribbled urgently on the notepad between them: STALL.
“No.” Hilo’s answer landed with the weight of a boulder dropped into the middle of a stream. “I’m okay with Ronu getting the jade he’s asked for. We can take most of it out of what we’ve been giving to the temples—how much jade do the penitents really need to talk to the gods anyway?—and the rest from the national treasury. But I won’t change the way the graduates of Kaul Dushuron Academy take their oaths. If you want to do things differently at Wie Lon Temple School, that’s your decision.”
Ayt Mada didn’t miss a beat. “Surely, Kaul-jen, we should act in a unified and selfless way at this time,” she said with calculating righteousness. “It’s only right that the two clans with the most jade and people should give some of what we have.”
“The military is one arm of the country. The clans are the spine.” Hilo’s eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze across the table. “And not every clan has resources to spare after glutting itself with barukan recruits and black market profits.”
The dense blanket of jade auras shifted apprehensively as attention swung between the two Pillars.
“Baseless accusations will not stop your Lantern Men from choosing a wiser allegiance, nor will it obscure the fact that you’re standing in the way of the country’s needs, Kaul-jen.” Ayt’s aura radiated smug heat as she turned regretfully to General Ronu but spoke to the room at large. “Unfortunately, not every Pillar is capable of putting the nation first. It seems the KJA is not able to support your commendable efforts at military reform, General. Not unless No Peak is willing to reconsider.”
Shae understood now why Ayt had agreed to Ronu’s request so quickly and with no apparent doubt. The Mountain could afford to lose some Fingers to the military. No Peak could not. Any loss of warriors meant it would be less able to protect its properties from criminals and anti-clan agitators, or defend its territorial borders against the Mountain’s recently increased numbers. No Peak was already falling behind financially, and any further loss of confidence on the part of its Lantern Men would accelerate its ruin.
Ayt knew that No Peak would have to veto Ronu’s proposal, so the measure was certain to fail. She’d seized the opportunity to position herself and the supportive Koben family as leaders with Kekon’s best interests at heart, while once again casting No Peak as self-serving and unpatriotic—by now, an old and reliable attack against them that she was not going to abandon.
Underneath the table, Shae bent the pen in her hand so hard it snapped into plastic shards. She was enraged by Ayt’s unrelenting traps—and furious at Hilo. As he had in the Twice Lucky with Fuyin Kan, her brother had seen the danger even faster than she had—but diplomacy was not in his nature.
“Kaul-jen,” General Ronu began, “what would change your—”
“You don’t need a surge of graduates from the martial schools,” Hilo said to him. “The foreigners have less jade and thinner-blooded recruits, but they manage to cook scraps into a meal. Don’t tell me you can’t use all the money and jade you’ve been given to do more with what you already have.”
No one, not even Ayt Mada, could speak with Hilo’s tone of commanding finality. General Ronu fell as stiffly silent as a junior Finger who’d been put in his place by a senior Fist.
“This has certainly been a robust discussion,” said Chairman Canto Pan, bravely springing to his feet to defuse the tension and head off any further rejoinders. “One that I think should continue at the next quarterly meeting, after we’ve all had some time to examine the alternatives and consider how best to support General Ronu’s priorities, which we all agree are worthy despite disagreements over how to achieve them.” No one objected as Canto thanked Ronu and brought the meeting to a close. Hilo was out of his chair at once, striding from the room without another word.