CHAPTER
17
Night at the Lilac Divine
The charm girl’s voice was exquisite, by turns operatically high and pure, then sultry and suggestive. She played the Tuni harp and sang with eyes closed, her dainty head and waves of dark hair swaying to the melody.
Resting on the plush cushions, Lan let the tension drop out of his shoulders, and his mind fall quietly into the music. He was the only one in the opulent room; this was a private performance. The song was about a lost traveler missing his island home. No one here would have the poor tact to sing him lyrics about love or heartbreak.
Lan was accustomed to traveling with one or two bodyguards, but he came to the Lilac Divine Gentleman’s Club alone. He wanted to enjoy himself without being tailed by anyone else in the clan. While he was here, he didn’t want to think about being the Pillar. Mrs. Sugo, the Lantern Man owner of the Lilac Divine, was appreciative of that fact, and could be counted on for her discretion as well as her excellent taste. There was never any trouble at this place either; everyone knew it was a No Peak–frequented establishment, and a person would have to be suicidal to cause problems, even if the gambling downstairs got out of hand.
Green Bones could take credit for certain things, Lan figured. On the whole, Janloon was one of the safest cities in the world. The clans kept out foreign criminals and gangsters, stamped down street crime, and taxed and controlled vice at a level acceptable to the politicians and the public. If some
of Mrs. Sugo’s late-night offerings were not entirely legal, she had the good sense to make her clan tribute payments timely and generous, and to spare no effort in making Lan’s visits enjoyable.
Yunni, the charm girl, stretched out the last melancholy note of the song, her throat vibrating as her fingers danced lightly across the harp strings. Lan set down his wineglass and applauded. Yunni ducked her chin with false shyness, looking up at him through dusted eyelashes. “Did you enjoy that
one, Lan-jen?”
“Very much so. It was beautiful.”
She started to stand and let the silk scarf fall from her shoulders, but Lan said, “Do you have another song?”
She sat back down gracefully. “Something a little more cheerful, perhaps?” She plucked at the strings and launched into a lighthearted ballad.
Lan rested his eyes on the curve of her neck and the plump red gloss of her moving lips. He admired the way her gauzy dress hung off the slopes of her breasts and pale thighs. It was getting easier to work himself up to being with her. As Pillar, he could have any of the girls here, more than one at a time if he wanted, but the first few times he’d come, after he’d accepted that Eyni was gone for good, all he’d asked for was to sit and listen to Yunni sing.
He’d told himself he didn’t want sex—just an escape, just company. He shuddered at the sorts of places Doru had attempted to suggest to him on a few occasions. But Yunni was easy to talk to, and beautiful in both voice and body. She was neither overly deferential nor too eager to please; she conversed with him about music and foreign films but never asked him to say anything about the clan or its affairs. When he did finally take her to bed, he found her pleasing and energetic.
Tonight, though, he found it harder than usual to forget his worries. There had been no further communication between the clans for over two months, but Lan knew that Ayt could read his actions clearly enough. He’d declined the Mountain’s proposal to join forces in producing SN1, he’d set Chancellor Son to proposing KJA reforms, and instead of removing Hilo, he’d allowed his brother to bolster clan presence along all territorial borders. He believed he’d acted correctly in each case, but Lan knew he was walking a perilous line, particularly with the latter decision.
Just last week, there’d been a spate of motorcycle gang violence between Coinwash and Fishtown—enough to garner a short mention in the news,
which was saying something, as both neighborhoods were such crowded, destitute slums that a few killings there would normally never merit attention.
Green Bones were not directly involved, so neither clan could claim offense, but everyone knew the Horns on both sides of the border not only kept the criminal class in line but manipulated it as well. Lan worried that it would take only one Green Bone or Lantern Man being caught or implicated in a violent incident for it to escalate to something that openly involved the clans themselves.
Lan knew his brother well. Subtlety was not in Hilo’s nature. He respected clan hierarchy too much to ever disobey the Pillar on important matters, but he had complete day-to-day authority over the clan’s activities on the streets, and his personal code was to leave no doubt that he would go further than his enemies if wronged. A look would be returned with a word, a word with a blow, a blow with a beating, a beating with an execution.
Perhaps it would be better to have a Horn that was more prudent and restrained, who wouldn’t raise overflowing tensions even further.
However, alienating his brother might be the worst possible decision.
There was no one who could, or would, step in to fill Hilo’s role. The Fists of No Peak, and by extension the Fingers, weren’t just loyal to the clan, or to the office of the Horn—they were loyal to Kaul Hilo. It disturbed Lan far more than he cared to admit that, if forced to choose between him and Hilo, many of the Green Bone warriors in the clan might side with his younger brother.
By demanding that he replace his Horn as a condition for future negotiation, Ayt was asking him to knowingly weaken and sow dissent within his own clan. She was placing him in a dilemma that held all the makings of a trap.
“You look as if you could use a massage.” Yunni had finished playing her song and come to sit beside him. Lan had barely noticed.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I seem distracted.”
“You have a lot on your mind,” she said kindly. He appreciated her patient acceptance; it was something Eyni had not been willing to give. He ran a hand down her long, sleek hair and brought some of it to his face, enjoying the feel and smell of it as she unbuttoned his shirt and drew it over his shoulders.
“Wait,” he said. He stood up and went to the dresser in the corner of the room. In the mirror, under the dim red lighting, he saw himself, bare-chested, and wondered if he really could live up to being the person he appeared to be
—a strong, assured man, a hard-bodied Green Bone warrior, a leader adorned in jade. A man like his father.
Lan took off his jade-studded belt and the cuffs on his forearms, leaving on only the beads he wore on a chain around his neck. He shut his belt and cuffs in the safe below the dresser and turned the combination lock. Yunni claimed she was half Abukei, nearly a stone-eye, but he removed most of his jade out of consideration for her anyway, just to be safe.
In truth, after the initial disorienting few minutes of withdrawal, he found it strangely relaxing to be without all his jade. His surroundings became a little foggy and soft around the edges. With his senses dimmed, he felt as if he was making love in a dark room, in a pleasant dream perhaps, and could just let himself act without seeing too clearly, without thinking too much. He felt more detached, more serene. He wondered if this made him unusual among Green Bones. Hilo, after all, studded jade into his body so it could never be removed. Shae had gone too far in the other direction. Lan wondered how she could stand it, being jadeless.
That was another thing troubling him tonight. Last month, Shae had gone to the mines as he’d asked and phoned from Pula to tell him that Gont Asch was ordering equipment purchases at the mines. Neither of them knew what to make of it; did it mean Gont was usurping Ree Tura’s authority? Three weeks had passed before she’d phoned him again. It was as Lan had feared.
“I’ve gone through the numbers over and over, and it looks as though the equipment purchases Gont approved aren’t being reflected in the KJA’s financial statements,” Shae told him. “The Mountain has been getting involved in the mines directly without consulting the board of the KJA.” Shae said she was going to the Kekon Treasury to examine its records. She’d get back to him soon.
He’d been highly reluctant to pull Shae into the clan business, but now he knew it had been worthwhile. Shae had verified his mounting suspicions that Ayt Mada had been a step ahead of his meeting with Chancellor Son and had already begun to try to wrest greater control over the country’s jade supply.
In addition, Lan was now convinced he could not rely on Doru. There was no excuse for the Weather Man to not be aware of such information, or to keep it from him. If he confronted the old advisor, he was sure Doru would deny any subterfuge or negligence, give him some reasonable explanation, and go to Kaul Sen for support. No, he needed solid evidence to justify not just
removing the man from his post but from the inner circle. Woon would have to be ready to take over immediately and completely, with no transition.
That was another reason he couldn’t demote Hilo—the clan couldn’t be without a veteran Weather Man and a Horn at the same time. So many problems.
Yunni led him to the bed, undressed him completely, and guided him down onto his stomach. He closed his eyes as she rubbed his back with scented oil. “You’re tense,” she said soothingly, working her thumbs into the muscles of his neck. “Perhaps from carrying so much jade.” The pillow under Lan’s face hid the twist of his lips. The charm girls here knew a few things about Green Bones and how to flatter them. Even the ones who wore the most jade were insecure about their power.
Everyone’s tolerance was different, though. Lan carried a considerable amount of jade by the standards of any respectable Green Bone, but he felt no desire to press his limits. Beyond a certain point, additional jade made him feel off-kilter, wired, moody. The problem was, although the role of Pillar was about far more than how much green a man displayed, people were superficial. According to old timers, the great Kaul Du had carried more jade than any other warrior in his day. When his son’s rival, a woman Pillar, showed off conspicuously more green, it was talked about. It was whispered as if it was a personal failing.
Yunni massaged down to his waist. She spread warm oil on her hands and forearms and slid them up and down his body. She reached and stroked between his legs. He wasn’t sure at what point her dress came off, but he felt her bare breasts rubbing against his back, her long hair trailing against his skin as she glided herself up and down slowly and sensually against him.
When she turned him over and straddled him upside down, her bare stomach and crotch over his face, every troubled thought finally exited Lan’s mind. He lifted his head to drink in her odor as she worked her elegant harpist’s hands over his chest, stomach, pelvis, and inner thighs. He was truly impressed by how many skills she possessed. For a few seconds, he thought of Eyni and missed her bitterly, but the emotion was fleeting, made dull by familiarity. His arousal flagged only briefly, returning once Yunni’s hands and mouth began their masterful and exciting ministrations, and when he felt close to climax, he asked her to lie down. Yunni moaned and sighed, and whispered, “Ah, yes, this is what I want,” grabbing his hips as he took her.
He came faster than he’d expected, then sagged, everything leaving him as he rolled off her and sank into the soft mattress.
Yunni brought a warm, moist towel and rubbed his face and neck and chest. “You can stay as long as you like,” she cooed. He knew that was not true, but out of all the lies he had to deal with, Yunni’s were the most innocuous and easy to swallow. He was pleased that she seemed to enjoy their time together. Even if it was a skillful artifice, he appreciated it. Out of habit, he closed one hand over his jade beads as the room dissolved and he began to drift off.
There was a knock at the door. Lan wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly; no one ever interrupted him here. Yunni frowned in disapproval and sat up, reaching for a robe to cover herself. She started to get up and go to the door,
but Lan stopped her.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Kaul-jen,” came Mrs. Sugo’s voice, sounding high and apprehensive through the door. “Please forgive me for disturbing you. I would normally never … but there is someone from the clan here for you. It’s very urgent.”
Lan pushed off the bed and put on his pants. “Stay here,” he said to Yunni, then went to the safe and tried the combination twice before the lock popped open. He put on his belt and jade cuffs, then clutched the edge of the dresser with both hands as the energy surge hit him, flooding into his system.
Everything swam, then sharpened; noise and vision and feeling blasted into his skull. He breathed deeply through the adjustment, then straightened. He glanced at himself in the mirror again—shirtless, but with every pebble of jade in place. He walked to the door and opened it.
Mrs. Sugo backed out of his way, white-faced. Behind her stood Maik Kehn, breathing hard, enraged, his tan jacket splattered with blood that was not his own. “The Mountain did it,” he gasped. “They whispered Hilo’s name.”