CHAPTER

5

Keeping Up Appearances

the sixth year, fourth month

During New Year’s week, the Kaul family’s schedule was jammed with festive obligations, the most important being the banquet and party for the upper echelon of the clan. The entire leadership of No Peak would be in attendance, along with the most senior Fists and Luckbringers, prominent Lantern Men, and clan-affiliated government officials and public figures. Wen was busy for weeks ahead of time, drawing up the guest list and making arrangements for food, music, decorations, and security. Hilo told her to delegate the work to estate staff and hire more help so as not to overtax herself, but she was determined to maintain oversight of the event. She was afraid of something going wrong at a time when the clan could not afford any further appearance of weakness.

On the evening of the party, her sister-in-law Lina came over to the house to help her dress, pin up her hair, and apply makeup. After Kehn’s death, Lina had vacated the Horn’s house for Juen Nu, moving off the Kaul property and closer to her own large family, but she and Wen remained close friends. “You look beautiful in lucky green,” Lina said brightly as she did up the buttons on the back of Wen’s dress, perhaps noticing the tightness in her shoulders and neck, the stiff anxiety in her set mouth. Wen could hear the rising noise from the courtyard as it began to fill with arriving guests. When she looked out the upstairs window, she could see expensive cars pulling up in the roundabout, one after the other, bringing men in suits and women in gowns.

Hilo came into the room, dressed in a tuxedo. “You’re sure you want to go?” he asked. They had barely spoken in the busy past few weeks. She was often already asleep when he got home. At other times, he went to bed without touching her and was gone when she woke up. Now he looked at her steadily for what felt to Wen like the first time in months. His expression softened. “You don’t have to. It’s fine.”

Wen smiled weakly. “You know it’s… not fine.” It was often difficult for her to put her trapped thoughts into words or to make those words come out smoothly and correctly, but she was perfectly capable of listening to the news and hearing the talk in the clan. The treason and public execution of a Green Bone Lantern Man was uncommon and much discussed, and the recent attack on the Double Double casino had prompted concern of additional stunts by fringe anti-clan extremists during the holidays. Both incidents had made No Peak appear to be on the defensive, scrambling to protect its holdings. It was not a good image at a time when fears were running high that Kekon could become the next hotspot in the global conflict between Espenia and Ygutan. Meanwhile, the Mountain clan seemed flush with cash and its members were pleased that Ayt Mada had positioned her teenage nephew as her heir. Their enemies were spending lavishly on their own New Year’s celebrations.

She walked toward Hilo and he offered her his arm. She held on to it, steadying herself and feeling shorter than usual next to him without high heels, which were impossible for her now. “Don’t… let me f-fall,” she said. Tonight was about appearances. The Kaul family needed to put on its strongest and most unified face. As the wife of the Pillar, Wen was expected to be the hostess tonight. Her absence would only be seen as proof of her infirmity. Hilo said nothing, but walked patiently with her as they went down the stairs, positioning her stronger left side by the railing so she could step down with her weaker leg first, one step at a time.

“Today’s… our wedding anniversary. Remember?” she asked him, slowing down the enunciation of her words to avoid slurring them. They had been married on New Year’s Eve, the day before Hilo had gone to save the clan by facing a death of consequence.

“Sure,” he said, not unkindly, but the casual curtness of the single-word answer made Wen bite her lip. Her husband’s moments of outright cruelty were infrequent and brief—a cold look, a cutting remark, a flash of hurt or anger in response to any reminder of her past dishonesty and how she’d nearly been killed because of it. Each one felt corrosive on her soul, but far worse was the deliberate distance he’d placed between them. Having lived so long in the uncompromising sunlight of Hilo’s love, the absence of his affection was a lifeless and unending winter.

Wen had assumed this would happen eventually—he would find out how deeply and for how long she’d been getting involved in clan affairs behind his back and against his wishes, using her deficiency as a stone-eye to move jade, putting her own life at risk. Of course he would be angry, but she’d counted on being able to explain herself, to talk to Hilo in the way she’d always been able, to reassure and calm him so that he would come to understand, as she was certain he eventually would.

She had not gotten that chance. At the time she most needed to communicate, she’d been barely able to express herself, struggling to even string a few words together coherently. And Hilo—if only he’d been able to rage at her, to give free rein to his hurt and sense of betrayal, he might’ve burned away some of the force of his feeling. But the shock of her near death and her need for care meant he hadn’t been able to do that.

At the bottom of the stairs, Wen paused to take a deep breath and ready herself. Hilo put his hand on the small of her back and she rested briefly against the gentle pressure. They went together out into the courtyard to face the clan.

A wave of clasped hands rising to foreheads in salute and shouts of “Kaul-jen! Our blood for the Pillar!” greeted them as soon as they stepped outside. Wen swallowed and forced a welcoming smile toward the sea of faces—important people from every part of the clan seeing her by the Pillar’s side for the first time in more than a year and a half. She began to tighten her grip on Hilo’s arm, but restrained herself, not wanting to appear as if she were clinging to him for balance.

Hilo raised his voice and his free arm high in acknowledgment, calling out to the crowd, “Brothers and sisters, my order as Pillar tonight is that you’d better eat all this food and finish those casks of hoji!” Laughter, followed by someone, probably a Fist who’d already had too much to drink, yelling cheerfully, “I am ready to die for the clan!” Wen caught a glimpse of Shae, in a conservative but flattering black dress, rolling her eyes and taking a drink from her glass of wine.

Ordinarily, they would walk around the festively decorated courtyard, greeting clan members and accepting their respect-paying, but tonight Hilo led Wen to the main table and helped her into her chair. He took his seat next to her and remained there as guests came by in small groups to speak to him. He seemed to everyone to be in a good mood, attentive, smiling in his usual relaxed way.

Wen returned well wishes, nodding and smiling more than speaking. Every time she opened her mouth she feared she would make a mistake. She used to possess a nearly perfect memory for faces and names, a skill that had served her well in every social situation, but she had lost that as well. Just get through this, she told herself.

The cold spell had lifted, but it was still uncommonly chilly for what was supposed to be the start of spring. Women pulled shawls over bare shoulders, and evenly spaced gas lanterns cast warmth and flickering firelight shadows against the erected red canopies sheltering the tables. The children were brought out by their grandmother right before dinner was served—Niko and Ru in little suits and ties, Jaya in a yellow dress and white tights that she’d somehow already managed to stain at the knees. She ran ahead of her brothers and tried to climb into Wen’s lap and onto the table. “Jaya-se, sit down properly,” Wen scolded, struggling to wrangle her youngest and breathing a sigh of relief when Lina took the toddler to play on the swing set on the garden lawn with her little cousin Cam.

“You’re looking well, Mrs. Kaul,” said Woon’s wife, coming over to sit next to Wen while her husband was engaged in conversation with a handful of senior Luckbringers. “I pray the gods favor you with good health this year.”

“Thank you… Kiya,” Wen said, relieved she remembered the woman’s name. Her words came out slow but otherwise normal. “I hope… the same for you.”

The woman’s smile faltered for a moment but she pulled it back into place and nodded over at Hilo, who was walking around with Niko and Ru, proudly letting people exclaim over them and indulging Ru’s talkativeness. He gave each boy a bag of candy coins and sent them off with the mission to hand them out to all the other youngsters. “You have beautiful children,” Kiya said to Wen with a wistful smile. “You must be very proud about the future of the clan.”

Wen wondered how much Woon Papi told his wife when it came to clan affairs, whether she knew how much financial strain No Peak was under. “The future of… the clan,” she reminded Kiya, nodding to the huge party, “is bigger than that.”

Anyone observing the large and well-dressed crowd tonight, the overflowing food and hoji, the gleam of jade on hundreds of wrists and necks, would think the No Peak clan was invincible. That was by design. There was an art to shaping people’s impressions—a small room could be made to seem big, flaws in a house could be transformed into assets. On this night, she’d made No Peak seem too wealthy and powerful to fall. Reality was more complicated. Wen had seen newspaper photographs of the graffitied proclamation on the glass doors of the Double Double. Although she knew no one would dare attack such a large gathering of Green Bones, especially on the eve of a holiday, her eyes searched out the figures of the guards standing watch by the estate’s brick walls and iron gates. No one was guaranteed anything—not them, not their enemies.

Shae came over to take her spot at the head table as the waiters began to bring out the main courses. Kiya stood briskly. “I’d better collect my husband and get back to our own seats,” she announced, and pulled insistently on Woon Papi’s arm, leading him away. Juen Nu and his wife claimed their places next to Hilo. Tar, who’d recently returned from a trip to Espenia, arrived with his lover, Iyn Ro. Both of them seemed to be several glasses of hoji into the party and were hanging on to each other, laughing loudly. Anden quietly took the seat next to Wen, letting out a relieved breath and giving her a small smile. “I’m glad I’m sitting next to you, sister Wen.”

Wen was glad to be sitting next to Anden as well. He alone understood what she’d been through on that horrible night in Port Massy. He’d confided that he too sometimes woke thrashing from nightmares in which he couldn’t breathe. She owed Anden her life, but he was still the unassuming young man she’d always known. When her words stuck or slurred, he never looked at her with pity or impatience. All the strain she felt while trying to talk to the other guests vanished, and ironically, when she was relaxed, she had barely any trouble. “How’s medical school?”

“It’s a lot of work,” he said ruefully, but didn’t offer further complaint.

Wen tried to encourage him. “I’ve heard the first year is the hardest.”

Anden nodded. “There’s so much material in the first year, and you have to learn to think of jade abilities in a completely different way. I hope this next year will be a little easier.” He saw Wen hesitating to pick up the soup ladle and reached for it himself, spooning the seafood soup into a bowl for her. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it,” he admitted, “but if I fail at this, there’s nothing else I can do that’ll be of any use.”

“Anden,” Wen said sternly, “you sh-shouldn’t say that. Think about what you did even while living with… with… without jade in a foreign country. Growing up, everyone made you think your worth was about jade ability, when it’s… it’s obviously because of who you are as a person. Your cousins know that by now, even if you were to drop out of medical school tomorrow.” She was so adamant about making her point that she barely noticed the triumph of speaking several sentences together with so few stumbles.

Anden flushed and seemed suddenly engrossed in pushing the shrimp on his plate around in a puddle of garlic sauce. “Thank you for saying so,” he said after a moment. “I hope you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” Wen could understand why the young man might be feeling uncertain tonight. Anden’s place at the head table confirmed to everyone that the Pillar had brought his previously disgraced cousin back into the family, but that didn’t mean the heavily jaded warriors and wealthy businessmen of the clan weren’t eyeing him with pity and skepticism. As much pity and skepticism as they likely felt toward her, Wen thought. So much bad luck near the top, they would murmur.

Hilo’s joking orders notwithstanding, it seemed food continued to arrive at a rate faster than it could be consumed. The tables were laden with roast suckling pig, steamed fish in ginger broth, pea shoots with garlic, fried octopus. A band of hired drummers escorted the previous year out with thunderous energy, and two adjacent tables of Fists challenged each other to a drinking game. Niko, Ru, and Jaya came over to hug their parents good night before Hilo’s mother took them inside and put them to bed. A veil of exhaustion was descending over Wen’s vision, turning everything gauzy, seeping into each muscle and gumming up her thoughts.

She noticed that Juen and his wife had left the table some time ago, but now the Horn appeared behind Wen’s chair and leaned over to speak to Hilo. “Kaul-jen. My wife went back to our house to put the kids to bed, but she rushed back to tell me the news that’s on the radio.” He spoke near the Pillar’s ear, but had to raise his voice enough over the sound of popping firecrackers that Wen could still hear him. “An Ygutanian spy plane was shot down by Espenian fighter craft over Euman Island two hours ago. It crashed near the naval base. The pilot survived the landing but killed himself before he could be captured. The Ygutanian and Espenian governments are throwing accusations at each other over the incident and threatening war in the Amaric.”

As Juen spoke, Hilo’s expression did not change much outwardly, but Wen saw the light in his eyes shift from relaxed good humor to disbelief to anger in a few seconds, like a flame turning from red to orange to blue. “Of all the fucking times,” he breathed through his teeth.

“The Royal Council is meeting in an emergency session tomorrow.” Juen looked at the exuberant party in progress. The drummers had begun a countdown to midnight and another cask of hoji was opened. Even Shae seemed to be having a good time. “Should we tell people?” the Horn asked.

The muscles of Hilo’s jaw flexed under the skin. “No,” he said. “They’ll find out soon enough. Let everyone start the New Year in a good mood.” He muttered darkly, “It might be the only chance we have to call down good luck, and we’re going to fucking need it.”

“I’ll speak quietly only to the senior Fists, then,” Juen suggested. “So they’re ready to keep order in our territories if people start panicking about an invasion.”

When the Horn departed, Wen reached for her husband’s arm. She intended to say, “You need to talk to Shae tonight, too. The Weather Man’s office should align with our loyalists in the Royal Council before anyone makes a statement.” Instead, her elbow knocked over a full cup of tea, spilling it across both their laps. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out—she felt as if the words had been shoved back down into her chest. She could only look up at Hilo helplessly.

Hilo used a napkin to blot up the tea soaking into their clothes. “You’re tired.” He stood and drew Wen to her feet. She leaned against him as they made their way back to the house. For the moment, no one was paying attention to them. Nearly all the guests had migrated to the lawn to wait for the display of fireworks that would soon go off over the city. Once inside, Hilo helped her up the stairs and into bed. His hands were gentle but empty of affection or lust as he unbuttoned her elaborate gown and removed it before tucking her under the blankets.

Tears of regret and humiliation stung the back of Wen’s eyes. Years ago, when they were young lovers, she used to spend the entire day in feverish anticipation of Hilo’s arrival. He would come to her at last, a young Fist burning bright with the high of new jade taken in some skirmish or duel. She would make him recount his victories as she undressed him, pressing her mouth to the gems freshly studded into his body. They would have mind-blowing sex, over and over again. How exhilarating it had been, the erotic power she’d possessed over him.

Hilo never brought up the fact that he now occasionally used charm girls, but he made no effort to hide it either. She’d smelled perfume on his clothes a few times, had found matchbooks and mint wrappers from the Lilac Divine Gentleman’s Club in his pockets. She could accept that he paid to have his needs met elsewhere during her long recuperation, but it was too painful to imagine, as she did now, that they’d lost the ability to find solace in each other. On the occasions they attempted lovemaking, Hilo was not himself, either handling her with extreme care, as if afraid of damaging her, or else copulating brusquely, as if engaged in an angry chore.

Hilo turned off the bedside lamp and sat down on the edge of the mattress, staring out the window at the city skyline as the first fireworks exploded high over the roofline of Wisdom Hall and the tiered conical tower of the Triumphal Palace. The flashes of light briefly illuminated his darkened profile, sharpened the pensive lines that did not fit on the face she’d fallen in love with. Outside, the drums boomed and the people at the party cheered the arrival of the New Year.

When Wen was seventeen years old, she’d sharpened a kitchen knife and slashed the tires on her brother’s bicycle. She never told Kehn, who gave one of the neighbor boys a beating over it. After that, Kaul Hilo came around their house in his car every day to pick up Kehn and Tar when the three of them went around town together, junior Fingers fresh out of the Academy, hungry to win jade and earn their reputations. Every day, Wen walked out to the Duchesse to bid her brothers goodbye and to welcome them home. Hilo once laughed as he pulled up to see her standing in the rain. He said she was the kindest and most devoted sister he’d ever met, that his own sister would never do such a thing.

Wen had to admit with some chagrin that she had been a lovesick teenage girl, but she hadn’t simply pined uselessly. A small thing like a ruined bicycle could change fate, just as a stone-eye could tip the scales in a clan war. She searched now for the one thing she could say that would make Hilo turn toward her, the way he used to when he rolled down the window and leaned across the seat with a grin. But she was too weary.

“I have to go back out there,” Hilo said. Wen turned onto her side. She felt the pressure of him lift off the mattress, and when the next burst of light from the fireworks struck the room, it lit empty space.