He raised his eyes fully to hers at last, and Shae almost wished he hadn’t, because his soft, sincere expression tugged at her insides in painfully hungry ways. She stood in his office at a respectable distance in her business suit and thought of his lips on her neck, his large hands climbing up under her shirt. In that moment, she realized what a fool she was, to have finally fallen for her colleague and friend when it was too late.
She managed an answer. “Of course.”
True to his word, Woon had overseen Luto’s work as they carefully verified the sincerity of the overture from Six Hands Unity, thoroughly examined the smaller clan’s finances and operations, and finally arranged for a secure and private meeting with its leaders. She’d spoken to him on the phone before she got on the train.
“Are you sure you have all the information you need, Shae-jen?” he asked her. They both knew how important this meeting would be. If Shae returned with the allegiance of Six Hands Unity, everything would change. They had been hypervigilant about secrecy. Only Hilo, Woon, and Juen even knew she was making the trip.
“Yes,” Shae assured him. “Luto’s done a good job compiling everything.”
Woon hesitated on the other end of the line. He could’ve easily walked up one floor in the office tower to see her before she left, but he’d phoned instead. She’d half expected him to offer to make the trip to Lukang with her, as he normally would’ve as her Shadow, but he didn’t do that either. She tried and abjectly failed not to be hurt by his entirely appropriate professional distance. It was better they didn’t see each other in person. Her emotions would’ve been far too easy to Perceive.
Over the phone, it was easier to keep up their shields. “Have a good trip, Shae-jen, and good luck,” Woon said, then hung up.
The train pulled into the station at Lukang late in the afternoon. While Janloon, the glamorous capital city, sits smoggy and sheltered by the warm waters and outlying islands of Kekon’s curving eastern shore, Lukang, on the country’s southern coast, is a windswept, seableached city known for its sunny skies and unpretentious workingclass character. Janlooners consider their southern countrymen to be less sophisticated, and make fun of their slow way of talking, but Lukang stands as a metropolis in its own right, fueled by the factories and telecom companies that have grown up around its bustling port.
A hired car and driver were waiting for Shae and her aide as soon as they got off the train. It drove them directly to the arranged meeting place deep inside Six Hands Unity territory. Lukang was a city controlled three ways. The Mountain and No Peak both had people and businesses here, but Six Hands Unity was the principal regional clan. For over a decade, it had maintained an arm’s-length alliance with the Mountain, paying tribute in exchange for continued operational independence and access to the Mountain’s greater resources and national reach. Shae hoped to change that.
At the entrance to the Unto & Sons Restaurant & Hoji Bar, they were met by Jio Wasujo, the Pillar of Six Hands Unity, along with two other men. “Kauljen,” said Jio, saluting her respectfully. “I’m honored by your visit.”
“I’m glad to make the trip, Jio-jen,” Shae said, returning the salute. Jio Wasu was a physically formidable but aging Green Bone. He wore jade on a silver chain around his throat but a bald patch shone on the top of his head and he was a touch overweight. Shae had seen him sitting near Ayt Mada in the Kekon Jade Alliance meetings and noticed he was always one to watch and listen more than talk.
Jio motioned to the two men standing with him. “You know my Weather Man, Tyne Retu.” Shae nodded toward Tyne. They had been in discreet contact a number of times since their brief conversation in the elevator. Jio introduced the third, younger man as “my Horn and nephew, Jio Somu.”
Shae and Luto were ushered politely but quickly into one of the bar’s private rooms, where long shelves on the walls held display bottles of fine hoji of different distilleries and ages. The place was not yet open for the evening, and Shae’s Perception told her no one else was in the building. The wooden shutters were closed, blocking what would’ve been an excellent view of the Amaric Ocean off the city’s lengthy seawall.
“Stay out front and keep watch,” Jio Wasu told his nephew. The Horn nodded and departed to do so. “I apologize for not welcoming you to Lukang in better style,” Jio said, turning to Shae, “but I trust you understand the need to keep this conversation discreet.”