CHAPTER
34
You Owe the Dead
Shae was confused when she woke up. It was the middle of the night and she was in her childhood bedroom. She hadn’t been in this room lately other than to pick up old clothes and belongings. When she opened her eyes, the moonlight dimly illuminating her room revealed a pile of bloodstained clothing and weapons on the floor next to her old globe lamp and a stack of paperback novels. She realized she’d crawled under the covers in nothing but her underwear—and her jade.
Everything came back to her then. Lan’s death, putting on her jade and weapons, going with Hilo to wreak brutal vengeance on Poor Man’s Road.
From deep inside a pressure built and expanded like a balloon inside a box, until a great sob ripped itself from her chest. She curled tightly onto her side, squeezing the pillow to her face, and wept, long and hard, until she ran out of tears and energy. Then she lay still, breathing raggedly, and took stock of her new and terrible reality.
She’d been possessed. It was the only explanation—or perhaps merely an excuse. A dam that had been straining under hairline fractures had burst inside her yesterday, and instead of feeling appalled, she’d welcomed the final destruction, had reveled in it, in the sweet power of jade and the frenzy of violent retribution.
In the cold clarity of the aftermath, however, she felt numb. She’d done something irreversible last night, equally cowardly and brave, and she
wondered if this mixture of sadness, strange elation, and calm acceptance was what one would feel in the moments of free fall after jumping off a high bridge. One could not change fate after such a decision, only own the choice and anticipate its inevitable outcome. This thought, somehow, calmed her, and slowly her body unclenched.
Perception told her she was not the only one awake. Now that she could once again sense jade auras as automatically as she discerned color, it seemed unthinkable that she would never again feel the cool, heavy texture of Lan’s presence. Yet there it was—a truth more immutable and unforgiving than gravity on a falling body.
Shae got out of bed and turned on a lamp. In her closet, she found an old T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—clothes she hadn’t bothered to move out.
Slowly, she dressed herself. Her body and mind were sore. Regular training was still not the same as carrying and fighting with jade. She had dark bruises and shallow cuts she hadn’t noticed at all last night, and she suspected it would be more than a week before she could move or extend any jade abilities without pain. In the mirror over the dresser, she saw that she looked battered and weary, more like a victim of domestic abuse than a Green Bone warrior, except for the jade on her arms, her ears, her neck.
She walked out of the room and down the unlit hall toward the glow of a single light emanating from downstairs. It was still dark out. The only sounds in the eerily quiet house were the ticking of the clock, and the clinking of a spoon against ceramic. They seemed deafening. She descended the steps, walked into the kitchen, and saw Hilo sitting alone at the table, eating a bowl of hot cereal. He was still in his clothes from the previous day. His sheathed moon blade was propped against one of the other chairs, and his stained talon knife lay on the granite kitchen counter. He had not shaved, nor slept by the looks of it, but he was eating breakfast so calmly one might have been fooled into thinking nothing at all was out of the ordinary.
Shae sat down silently in the seat opposite him.
“There’s a pot on the stove if you want some,” he said after some time.
“Kyanla made it yesterday, but no one ate it. It’s still good, just add a little water.”
“Where is everyone?” Shae’s voice sounded dry. “Where’s Grandda?”
Hilo pointed the handle of his spoon up to the ceiling. “In his room.
Probably still sedated. Kyanla had to call the doctor yesterday while we were
gone. Sounds like he gave the old man some strong stuff to calm him down.”
Shae croaked, “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s old and crazy.” Hilo turned darkened eyes on her. “He had a breakdown when he heard about Lan. He thought he was back in the war, and it was Du that had been killed—he’s been ranting and raving about the Shotarians. Doesn’t recognize me. When he does, he blames me—says I’m the reason Lan’s dead.”
Hilo said it with a flat affect to his voice, but Shae was not fooled. She wanted to rush up to see her grandfather, but if she got up now, Hilo would be hurt and it seemed dangerous to hurt him right now. Their grandfather had always been kinder to Shae than to her brothers, and he had always been the least kind to Hilo.
Hilo went back to eating, and she wondered, How can he even eat right now? She hadn’t eaten in over a day but had no appetite at all; she wasn’t sure she ever would again. “What about everyone else?”
“They’re busy, Shae,” he said. “We’re stretched thin. I left Kehn in charge of the mess. I sent Tar running around the city to make sure we’re defended elsewhere.”
Shae sat up as something else occurred to her. “Where’s Doru?”
Hilo’s lips went crooked. “The traitor? We picked him up that night, you know; Lan was supposed to meet us, to handle it himself. I called but couldn’t reach him; no one knew where he was. That’s when I knew
something was wrong.”
“Did you kill Doru?”
Hilo shook his head. “That was going to be Lan’s call. So what was I supposed to do with the old ferret? Anyway, I stripped him of his jade and locked him in his house under guard. He’s been there ever since. No phones, no visitors.”
Stripped of jade. What abject humiliation for an elderly Green Bone who’d once been the trusted confidant of the Torch of Kekon. Despite her hatred for the man, Shae imagined him in the advanced throes of jade withdrawal, watched over by Hilo’s unsympathetic men in his own house, and she felt pity for him, traitor or not.
“I can’t execute him now,” Hilo said. “I wouldn’t taint Lan’s funeral with bad luck like that. But he’s no longer Weather Man; I’ve made that clear to the clan.”
Only then did the realization truly strike her. Hilo was the Pillar.
She stared at her brother. There had never been a Pillar under the age of thirty. Hilo was barely older than she; he’d been the youngest Horn in memory. There he sat, blood-spattered and reeking of fire smoke, eating a bowl of cereal after having led a massacre. His aura had the sharp edge of new jade he’d taken. Shae reeled. This will be the end, she thought. This will be the end of the No Peak clan.
Hilo’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl. The chair scraped back loudly as he got up from the table. He probably didn’t even need to Perceive her emotional reaction—it was on her face—but he said nothing. The new Pillar placed his dishes in the kitchen sink, then washed and dried his hands. He grabbed a chair and pulled it up in front of Shae’s, then sat back down and took her by the elbows, their knees touching.
“They’ll come after us now,” he said. “With everything they have.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Ayt Mada might have bargained with Lan. After last night, after what Shae and Hilo had done, there would be no mercy. The Mountain would come down from the forest and would not rest until the remaining Kauls were dead. Their closest allies would be executed; this house would be burned to the ground. The remnants of the clan would be absorbed into the Mountain.
“I need you, Shae.” The strain on Hilo was showing at last; every line of his face looked sharper than before. “I know we haven’t always agreed. I know I’ve said things, gone too far at times—only ever because you’re my sister, and I love you. Even if you’re still angry with me, I know you care about the clan. Grandda built it, and Lan died for it, and now I need your help. I can’t do this without you.” His grip on her tightened; he bent forward and tilted his head to look up into her downcast face, his unwavering gaze a solemn plea. “Shae. I need you to be my Weather Man.”
Only a few days ago, she’d insisted to Anden that she’d put clan issues and the life of a Green Bone behind her. Don’t get involved, don’t worry, Lan doesn’t need help, these problems aren’t your problems. Selfishness. Hubris.
Dispassion. The opposite of the Divine Virtues she’d contemplated when she’d knelt in the Temple of Divine Return and prayed for a sign. An unequivocal message. She’d gotten what she’d asked for.
The gods were often cruel, everyone knew that.
If No Peak held any hope of surviving, the Pillar needed a Weather Man
he could trust. Who else in the clan could stand up to Hilo? Who else could moderate him, could keep him from getting himself killed and taking the clan down with him? Lan’s spirit would never be at peace if that happened. It’s not true that the dead don’t care, Shae thought. You owe the dead.
Shae slid slowly from the chair and knelt on the cold kitchen tile. She raised clasped hands to her forehead. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master. On my honor, my life, and my jade.”