Once they were in the car, Terun blasted the heater, and when the driver pulled aggressively into the exit lane in front of irate honking cab drivers, he yelled back out the window in Espenian with a casual vociferousness on par with that of a Port Massy native. Terun’s highly animated but demanding personality seemed to serve him well in Espenia. He’d been growing the clan’s business in the country capably for eight years but had decided that at age thirty-five, it was time to start searching for a wife and maybe have a family. So he’d asked to return to Kekon in the spring, and a hunt was on within the clan for his replacement. Shae was looking forward to having him back in Janloon, as Terun was one of the most keenly intelligent business minds she’d ever worked with, the sort of person who could absorb a remarkable amount of information and see solutions before others were done asking the question.
Terun turned over his shoulder and said, “Kaul-jen, I’ve made all the arrangements we discussed. The meeting is set for tomorrow afternoon. We have reservations for a group dinner tonight at a restaurant not far from your hotel. If you’re feeling up for it, I know the staff here in Port Massy would be honored to spend time with the Weather Man.”
Shae would’ve preferred to order in room service and go to bed early, but she accepted Terun’s invitation. As Rainmaker, Hami made frequent trips between the clan’s branch offices, admirably coordinating No Peak’s international business efforts between Janloon, Port Massy, the smaller, secondary Espenian office in Adamont Capita, and now Khitak in Tun—but it was still important that the Weather Man herself make an appearance, so that the Luckbringers （or associates, as they were referred to over here） saw that their work was personally valued by the Kaul family.
Shae went to the hotel and even though it was well past midnight back in Janloon, she called Woon to assure him she’d arrived safely, knowing he wouldn’t sleep until she’d done so. He hadn’t wanted her to make the trip at all even though Hami would be accompanying her and Anden had personally told him there was little health risk. Woon’s first wife, Kiya, had miscarried several times, so he was fearful that something would go wrong. For many years, Shae had depended on her former Shadow’s stoic, reasonable optimism. It was a strange role reversal for him to now be such a fretful husband. It was only because he could not give up his long habit of being her chief of staff that she was able to convince him to stay in Janloon and manage the clan’s business affairs in her absence. Although two other people had held the role of Weather Man’s Shadow since Luto’s death, Woon was who she still trusted most to make important clan decisions on her behalf if the need arose.
At times, Shae still awoke next to her husband with a sense of bewilderment. They’d been colleagues for many years before they were married, and although they no longer worked within sight of each other every day, that history still occasionally caused odd moments of strain. Shae had once embarrassed Woon by saying, “You know you can kiss me without permission when we’re not in the office, don’t you?” More than once, he’d reminded her crossly, “You can’t end discussion like that. I don’t answer to you as Weather Man inside our own house.” Woon claimed it didn’t surprise or bother him that no one used Shae’s married name and continued to call her “Kaul-jen,” as they always had, but marrying into the Kaul family under scandalous circumstances couldn’t have been easy even for someone as forbearing as Woon Papidonwa.
“There’s a licensed Kekonese medicine clinic only four blocks away from the office on Jons Island,” he reminded her over the phone. “The two doctors there are Janloon-trained. I called to make sure. Do you have the address and phone number?”
“Yes, Papi,” Shae reassured him. “Anden told me already. Don’t worry.”
Her pregnancy had been exhausting but uncomplicated so far, but it was a comfort to know that she could legally obtain care from a qualified Green Bone doctor if necessary. She hadn’t expected to conceive at the age of forty and, to be honest, was still surprised with herself. As much as she cared for her niece and nephews, Shae had never pegged herself as the maternal type. She wasn’t sure she would’ve ever come around to the idea of having a child if it hadn’t been for Woon, who was as happy as she’d ever seen him at the prospect of finally becoming a father.
“When Terun returns to Janloon, you could take some time off,” he said.
“Let’s talk about that later,” she suggested. “How was the meeting with the Espenian ambassador?” She managed to distract her husband with talk of work, then got off the phone so he could get to bed. Sitting at the window and gazing out at the wintry skyline, she rubbed her gently swelling belly, hoping to feel one of the small fluttering sensations that she thought might be the baby’s movement. She sometimes thought of her first, aborted pregnancy, and of Tau Maro, of how much he’d loved his little nieces and would never have any children of his own, with her or anyone else. Because she had executed him. In those moments, Shae would feel a cold, creeping fear that she didn’t deserve this child, that something terrible would happen as just and fateful retribution.