“That’s because the clans take all the jade and warriors, and some of them don’t care about the country.” Hilo’s lips twisted sarcastically. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
It infuriated Hilo that Ayt Mada had outmaneuvered him in the KJA meeting at the beginning of the year, in front of every other Green Bone leader in the country. Since then, the Mountain had predictably and relentlessly attacked No Peak in the battlefield of public opinion. Even though the KJA had recently voted unanimously to increase the allocation of jade to the armed forces, and No Peak loyalists in the Royal Council had helped to pass greater funding for national defense, if one were to believe Koben Yiro’s zealous rants on the radio, Ygutan was on the verge of invading the country all because of No Peak’s craven selfishness.
Koben taking enthusiastically to his new role as Ayt Mada’s unfettered mouthpiece had certainly not hurt the Mountain’s continued efforts to financially strangle their rivals. Shae’s latest reports showed that so far this year, two-thirds of newly incorporated small businesses were seeking patronage from the Mountain over No Peak. Woon Papidonwa was working full time to manage the clan’s public image and outside relationships, but as Shae had put it, You can’t sell thin air. No Peak needed substantial political wins of its own.
“Let me get this straight,” Jim Sunto said slowly, after Hilo explained his offer. “You want to hire me to help reform the Kekonese military?”
Hilo said, “You’ve been teaching IBJCS to Espenian Navy Angels and interested Green Bones on the side. The Kekonese military could use someone like you, to show them how to make the most of the jade they have. There’s no denying that foreigners have done some things that even Green Bones can learn from.”
Sunto sat back, arms crossed, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’ll admit that’s not what I expected to hear from a clan Pillar. I know the ROE military brass also believes a stronger Kekonese army would be a deterrent against Ygutan.” He fingered the triangular pendant around his neck, as if consulting his foreign God as well as his selfinterest. “When would I meet this General Ronu?”
_______
Wen prepared a dinner of crab soup, peppered sea bass, pea shoots with garlic, and stuffed buns. She had help from Kyanla, but was proud to have done most of the cooking herself, even though it had taken hours. She still suffered occasional numbness and weakness on the right side of her body, but her balance and motor control had greatly improved, and she’d gradually become adept at doing things one-handed.
When Hilo arrived home, he found her waiting in the dining room, wearing a soft blue dress and pearl necklace, the elaborate dinner for two laid out on the table.
“What’s this about?” he said.
“I thought it would… be nice to have dinner together. Alone, for once.”
Her husband took off his suit jacket and weapons, dropped his keys and wallet on the kitchen counter, then sat down at the table with an air of bemused suspicion. He glanced around the uncharacteristically quiet house. “Where are the kids?”
“I sent . . . Niko to sleep over at the Juens. Ru and Jaya are at your mother’s house.”
“Jaya’s going to be furious.” The three-and-a-half-year-old had strict ideas about how her bedtime routine was expected to proceed, beginning with an evening snack and ending with her father reading from a big book of children’s stories about the hero Baijen. She was liable to throw a tantrum that could be Perceived, and possibly heard, from across the courtyard of the estate.
“She has to learn she . . . doesn’t always get what she wants.” Wen carefully ladled soup into two bowls, concentrating on keeping her arm steady. She worried about her children growing up spoiled or neglected, in some combination. They had relatives to care for them when she could not, but they still suffered from her inability to be a more attentive mother. She could not carry them, or run around with them, or even tie their shoelaces.
Hilo tasted the soup and said, “It’s good,” almost grudgingly. They ate in silence for a few minutes, but she could feel Hilo’s eyes on her.
“That’s the dress you wore when we were married,” he said.
Wen smiled at his notice. “Does it still look good?” She was wearing support pantyhose and a padded bra under the silk. Birthing and nursing two children, and then loss of muscle function from traumatic brain damage, meant that the body inside the dress was not the one from six and a half years ago.