That was unacceptable, for Galo and Berglund and all their superiors in Adamont Capita. They did not want anything to threaten their country’s advantage in Kekon.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Bero muttered. “I’m working on it.”
Galo handed Bero the usual paper envelope of cash. Bero reached to take it, but the handler held on to it, giving Bero a long stare of almost paternal concern. “We’ve been investing in you for years, Catfish. We’ve paid you more than you could ever have made in your sorry life. Remember that this money runs out at the same time our patience does. The Espenian military protects our assets—but only the ones we consider valuable.”
Galo let go of the envelope and left the gallery. Two minutes later, Berglund got up from the bench in the corner and followed, leaving Bero alone to curse everyone, himself included.
CHAPTER
19
Smiles and Words
the thirteenth year, eleventh month
Wen stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom and examined herself. She’d chosen a forest-green designer dress, patterned with a subtle traditional print but cut in a flattering modern silhouette. She complemented it with dangling gold leaf-shaped earrings and dressy gold flats—any sort of heel made her too anxious about falling. She debated whether to wear her hair up or down before deciding to pull it away from her face in a fan-shaped clasp but to keep it down for a more informal appearance befitting a daytime event. She rehearsed her speech once more, taking the time to pause and carefully enunciate any words that she feared might trip her up and cause her to stammer when she was in front of a microphone. As a stone-eye and the wife of the Pillar, she’d long ago developed resilience against the negative opinions of others. She was accustomed to being judged for her physical appearance and her inherited deficiencies, so nothing anyone could say on those aspects worried her, but she was terrified of being regarded as a feeble Pillarman.
The Pillarman was not traditionally a visible role and did not ordinarily draw much interest from inside or outside the clan. However, Kaul Hilo appointing his stone-eye wife into the position formerly held by one of his closest and most feared warriors was unusual enough to have caused considerable comment. Some people viewed it as a shift in No Peak, a sign that the Pillar was stepping back from personal involvement in the military side of the clan by consolidating it back under the Horn and placing a non–Green Bone in the role of his closest aide. More callous remarks suggested Kaul Hilo simply needed a Maik at his side at all times and was down to his last one.
Six years had passed since Tar had been exiled. Wen grieved for her brother as if he were dead, which he might as well be, as he could never return or contact anyone in the clan again. Whenever she visited Kehn’s gravesite in Widow’s Park, she brought two baskets of flowers and fruit and asked the gods to recognize both of her brothers. She knew that Tar was in Port Massy, closely watched by clan allies who’d been instructed not to interfere with or harm him, but to kill him if he violated any of the rules laid upon him.
Every few months, she wrote letters to Tar, telling him news about the family and how his nephews and niece were doing. She did not hide this from Hilo, and he did not stop her, because Tar knew better than to ever write back. That was how Wen knew her lengthy messages were meaningful to him, a man who was a ghost; he never once risked losing them.
Wen put the cue cards containing her written speech into a sequined clutch and went down to the kitchen. Ru came downstairs in his school uniform. He threw the ball for Koko, then fed the yellow dog before sitting down and gobbling the breakfast of eggs and hot cereal that Wen set in front of him. “Can I go to my friend Tian’s house after school today?” he asked.
“I won’t be able to pick you up,” Wen told him.
“I can walk to Uncle Anden’s apartment and he can drive me home later.”
“How far of a walk is it? Where does Tian live?”
“In the Commons.” When Wen gave him a stern look, the twelveyear-old groaned dramatically. “Ma, his apartment is two blocks away from Old Town.”
“It’s still in Mountain territory.”
“We’re not at war with them,” Ru protested.
“We’re always at war with them, even when you don’t see it.”
“Ma!” When Ru was angry, color came into his face, and he looked even more like Hilo. “No one else in my class has parents who make a big deal out of walking two blocks in an ‘enemy’ district.”