Tiger Honor, page 2
The wind rustled the azalea blossoms and their glossy leaves. For a moment, I wondered if the Matriarch had heard us. Even if she hadn’t, we’d have to wait here until she acknowledged us. It was her way.
Then a hoarse voice with a hint of a growl in it said from above, “Come in, Sooni, and bring the cub with you.”
I hated being called cub as if I were still a child, but the fact remained that I was the youngest tiger spirit in the family. Besides, I knew better than to object. I followed Aunt Sooni up the stairs to the foyer, where we both took off our shoes before continuing up more stairs into the pagoda proper.
The Matriarch sat cross-legged on an embroidered floor cushion, her back straight. Her long white hair had a single black streak remaining in it, and she had yellow eyes, which made her look impossibly tigerish even in human form. I had never seen her in anything but a hanbok, the old-fashioned dress of the Thousand Worlds. The jogori, or jacket, was a faded orange with subtle gold embroidery, and her chima, or skirt, was an equally faded black.
We bowed deeply. I was impressed by how Aunt Sooni managed it without dropping the box on her toes.
“Bring it here, Sooni,” the Matriarch said in her growling voice.
Aunt Sooni did.
“Open it.”
Aunt Sooni kept her fingernails sharp, as did all the elders in the family. Or maybe she’d turned them partway into claws. I wasn’t sure which. I didn’t have that kind of fine-grained control over my shape-shifting; most tigers didn’t. She sliced the package’s tape and opened the lid.
My breath caught when I recognized the sword.
“It’s Hwan’s,” Aunt Sooni said.
The Matriarch’s eyes flicked to me, sharp as a knife-cut. “So it is.”
The Matriarch noticed my distress. Instead of rebuking me directly, she said to Aunt Sooni, “Sebin is disgracing themself.”
I knew she’d meant for me to hear. I immediately lowered my gaze, flushing in shame.
The Matriarch opened the letter that Aunt Sooni gave her. Her eyes flickered. Then she looked at the two of us.
“Space Forces Command informs us,” the Matriarch said, “that Hwan of the Juhwang Tiger Clan stands accused of treason and has disgraced his uniform. There is a warrant out for his arrest. He will be court-martialed upon his capture.”
That can’t be right! I wanted to cry out. Even though I was relieved that Hwan wasn’t dead, this was almost worse. Uncle Hwan was the one who’d taught me about honor. He couldn’t have deserted.
And if Uncle Hwan had been branded a traitor, what did that mean for me? Had my dream of serving among the stars just evaporated with the arrival of Uncle Hwan’s arrest warrant?
The Matriarch had other things on her mind. “The Space Forces have insulted the clan’s honor and threatened one of my agents. If I suffer them to cast out Hwan like this, the rest of my supporters will be next. This cannot be allowed to stand.”
My heart almost seized. Did she mean I wouldn’t be allowed to go, even if I got into the cadet program? Then I felt like a traitor myself for the thought. Shouldn’t I care more about the clan’s honor than my petty personal ambition to fight pirates and invaders?
The Matriarch harrumphed. “I can’t believe Hasun allowed this to happen. I must have words with them.”
I swallowed. My auncle, Rear Admiral Hasun, was one of the Matriarch’s distant cousins. I wasn’t sure of the exact relationship, as our family tree had unexpected branches on other worlds. Hasun was also the highest-ranking relative I had in the Space Forces, but the Matriarch outranked them within the clan. I didn’t want their job, which sounded like sitting around strategizing and filling out paperwork. I hoped to have a starship of my own someday, maybe even a battle cruiser like Uncle Hwan’s Pale Lightning. Then I realized that Uncle Hwan didn’t have a ship anymore—there was no way Space Forces Command would allow a captain who’d been branded a traitor to keep one—and I felt worse than before.
Earlier, I’d wondered from time to time if people would say that I hadn’t earned my cadet posting on my own, that my relatives had pulled strings to get me in. Now I faced the opposite problem. How would anyone take me seriously if they knew I was related to an alleged traitor? It wasn’t the kind of thing I could keep hidden. The moment people discovered my clan, they would make the connection to Admiral Hasun, and now to Uncle Hwan.
“We will have to call a family council,” the Matriarch declared. My heart sank, only to lift, cautiously, when she added, “The cub will attend.”
Not for the first time, I wished she would address me directly instead of referring to me as the cub as though I were a peculiarly ambulatory statue. Or maybe an artifact someone had left behind from the days of the planet’s colonization, kept out of obligation rather than any real affection.
Aunt Sooni, who could guess my thoughts, coughed politely. “Sebin is right here, Matriarch.”
Then the Matriarch’s words penetrated. I’d never attended a council before. They’d always been for the adults. She might call me cub, but perhaps she finally thought I was ready for more adult responsibilities—and a say in my own fate.
To summon the council, the Matriarch rang a bell that she kept in the pagoda. It had a low tone, not overly loud, but I’d heard it throughout the house and beyond in times past. For a human household it might have made more sense to summon everyone by paging their data-slates, but with our family, various members might be in tiger form, or sparring, or otherwise away from their slates at any given time. The bell, though old-fashioned, got the job done.
The ringing awoke a foreboding in me. As a cub, I’d often wondered if the elders were discussing some terrible fate for me. When I’d confessed my fear to my mother and Nini, the two of them had ruffled my hair, then said soberly that if I was the source of the trouble, I’d know it. Their words hadn’t reassured me much.
Despite the Matriarch’s insistence on honor above all things, I had grown up with folktales of tiger warriors who lured their prey closer through tricks. One that nagged at me was about a wicked tiger who had disguised herself as someone’s grandmother in order to gobble them down. It was at odds with all the family stories of stern, brave tiger warriors who’d been celebrated by the Thousand Worlds. I’d never dared to ask about the disparity, sensing it would get me into trouble.
Aunt Sooni nudged me out of my reverie and guided me toward a seat near the door. “This is your place,” she said, “since you’re the youngest. Don’t speak unless spoken to.”
Her warning wasn’t necessary. I had no intention of opening my mouth in a gathering of full-fledged tiger spirits. Clutching my envelope, I sat.
It didn’t take long for my mother and Nini to arrive. They must have been training in the nearby gardens. I sometimes wondered what they were training for. My family always talked about the nebulous enemy as though they might attack at any moment, something I had never experienced. But I reminded myself that it was our family’s duty to be prepared for any eventuality, even an unlikely raid on the planet.
My parents glanced at me with surprise before bowing to the Matriarch and taking their seats in front of me. I took the opportunity to study them as they passed. I’d gotten my sturdy build from my mother. My pale amber eyes and snub nose came from Nini. Like Nini, I wore my hair shaved at the sides, with bangs. I wished I could run to them for reassurance, but they would have chided me for weakness.
The rest of the family traipsed in, paying their respects to the Matriarch. There was Great-Uncle Myung, who had an artificial leg replacing the one he’d lost in the Space Forces. He’d served another eight years before retiring. Great-Uncle Chin-Mae accompanied him everywhere. And Great-Aunt Jung-Soo, who was the Matriarch’s right hand, and who wore a hanbok similar to hers, except in simple blue and white.
There were eight tiger spirits here, including me. It made for a crowd. If we had shifted to tiger form, there wouldn’t have been enough room in the pagoda for all of us. The clan included other members, but these were the ones with the right to sit in council. I knew that my presence was an exception to the usual state of affairs.
“Acceptable response time,” the Matriarch said, looking at a clock on its stand. Its appearance was deceptive: It resembled a traditional water clock, but its bowls were empty of any liquid, and it sported an ordinary holo panel that told the time. Less than five minutes had elapsed since she’d rung the bell.
Everyone in the room stiffened. I did, too, by reflex. The Matriarch meant those words as a criticism. She had expected better, and the family had failed.
“But I have a more important matter to discuss with you all,” she went on.
Everyone stiffened even more, which I hadn’t thought possible. I held myself like a soldier at attention. My back ached from the tension. I reminded myself that I had to endure.
The Matriarch’s description of Uncle Hwan’s disgrace met with immediate growls, especially from Great-Aunt, who had been particularly close to him. “Hwan must have made powerful enemies,” she said. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Hwan would never do anything to disgrace the family’s honor,” Great-Uncle Myung agreed, although his mouth twisted in distaste. He and Uncle Hwan didn’t usually get along.
A snarl of outrage on Hwan’s behalf started up in the back of my throat as well, and I hastily bit my tongue. Still, it was heartening to know that the family all agreed there had been some miscarriage of justice.
“Surely we can appeal to Space Forces Command,” Great-Aunt said. “Admiral Hasun—”
“I will call Hasun right now,” the Matriarch said, “and make it clear that they are to answer immediately.”
I bit my tongue again. Hasun didn’t serve in the field, despite their high rank, so perhaps they’d be available. By mysterious means, the Matriarch had arranged for Hasun to take a post on a starbase in-system, close enough that we could talk to them directly instead of relying on the couriers for faster-than-light communications. Hasun had apparently objected to this, calling it “high-handed,” but the Matriarch’s connections—whatever they were—were too powerful to be denied.
Hasun did something in logistics, making sure that troops were sent where they were needed, along with all the necessary supplies. I’d always expected the Matriarch to find the admiral’s lack of a more warlike role disappointing, given the family’s glorification of war. Instead, she made cryptic comments about how useful Hasun’s position was for her schemes. For my part, I couldn’t imagine wanting to work away from the front lines and the action, no matter how crucial logistics were. My family liked to emphasize the job’s importance, even if it wasn’t as fun.
Great-Aunt checked her slate. “It’s 0300 hours where the admiral is,” she noted, her voice neutral.
Ugh, three in the morning! Even my family didn’t make me train at that hour. At least not often.
“Then Hasun is unlikely to have other engagements and will be available to take my call,” the Matriarch said firmly.
Like everything the Matriarch owned, her slate had been embellished to give it a more traditional flair. She kept hers in a case that resembled a bronze-backed mirror, complete with etched ornaments in the shapes of clouds and various symbols for good luck and long life. It even had a faint green patina, although it didn’t smell like real bronze but some kind of plastic.
The entire room fell into a hush as the Matriarch said in her imperious voice, “Connect me to Admiral Hasun of the Juhwang Tiger Clan.”
“Your will, Matriarch,” the tablet responded. My grandmother had always preferred a verbal interface. As for me, Aunt Sooni had taught me to set my tablet to vibration mode or simple visual alerts so I didn’t disturb any of the elders. But then, the Matriarch ruled the clan. It was a different situation.
I kept still, thinking furiously. I’d only met Hasun in person once, before their promotion to rear admiral. They’d visited the estate and had a spectacular quarrel with the Matriarch. I wasn’t sure why they’d argued, but their relationship had been frosty ever since. Hasun had never visited again.
The tablet chimed once. And again. And kept chiming. The Matriarch’s expression didn’t change, but I could smell her growing anger. It’s hard to hide any strong emotion, especially from a room full of tigers.
Then a holo image blazed into life above the slate. I’d only seen their visage a handful of times, but I recognized Rear Admiral Hasun, if only because they had the family’s deep-set eyes and flat nose. Tiger nose, Aunt Sooni liked to call it. Right now those eyes, a darker amber than mine, were bleary from lack of sleep. Hasun appeared in the blue Space Forces uniform, only slightly rumpled. I guessed that Hasun had changed into it for the call, since I couldn’t imagine that they slept in it. For some reason, the fact that half their collar was sticking up made me like them more—that small evidence of imperfection, so little tolerated in my home.
“Matriarch Juhwang,” Admiral Hasun said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“You will have to be specific,” Hasun said. Despite their deferential speech forms, I was impressed that the admiral hadn’t rolled over and shown the Matriarch their belly. I rarely saw anyone stand up to her at home. “For the sake of clarity.”
“For the sake of clarity,” the Matriarch said, her voice lowering ominously, “I will ask how you could allow the Space Forces to declare Captain Hwan a traitor, whatever…peccadilloes may have been involved. Hwan is useful to me, Hasun.”
Peccadilloes? I wondered what that meant. It struck me as strange that the Matriarch didn’t seem surprised by Hwan’s disgrace.
Hasun lifted an eyebrow. “Matriarch,” they said, “the situation is more serious than you realize.”
I couldn’t smell Hasun’s aggravation through the holo, but I could definitely hear an edge to their voice. I wasn’t the only one, either. Great-Uncle Myung’s nostrils flared. Even Aunt Sooni, who was normally so cheerful, winced.
“How so?” the Matriarch barked.
I kept myself from shrinking back. She’s family, I told myself. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Besides, I wasn’t the object of her disapproval. Not at the moment, anyway.
“I wasn’t on the board of inquiry that investigated Hwan’s record,” Hasun said dryly. “But, Matriarch, even in absentia, they found him guilty of high treason. It’s not just a simple case of him taking more leave than he was entitled to.”
I choked back an incredulous laugh. Uncle Hwan had never struck me as the type to relax, not even when he visited the family. The last time he’d been home, I hadn’t been able to keep up with his strict training regimen, though he’d smiled and nodded approval at my fledgling efforts. I’d vowed to myself then that I would do better, and a part of me was disappointed now, however childishly, that I wouldn’t get a chance to show him how I’d improved. The absurd image of my uncle swanning off to some pagoda near a carp-filled lake framed by graceful willows, perhaps while sipping a perfectly steeped cup of tea, presented itself to me.
Aunt Sooni must have scented my amusement. Without looking at me, she stepped on my toe. I kept from yelping in protest and forced myself to calm down.
I wasn’t the only one who was frozen in place. The Matriarch’s face remained a mask of severe dignity, but she stank of barely suppressed fury. Her eyes burned like star-embers, and if she’d turned to me I would have shrunk from her in sheer terror.
“Captain Hwan,” the Matriarch said, “is not capable of bringing disgrace upon the clan, which is the only standard that really matters. He has served me long and well.”
“Former captain,” Hasun corrected. “The Space Forces regret that Hwan’s actions reflect upon the family, but the board of inquiry’s findings were airtight. He abandoned his duty to his crew and his ship to steal a magical artifact.”
“If he went after the Dragon Pearl,” the Matriarch countered, “he had good reason. He never made a move without my knowing about it.”
The Dragon Pearl? Surely she was joking. It was a singular magical artifact, known for the ability to terraform worlds into splendor, or destroy them outright. It had been lost for some time. But wouldn’t the Space Forces want one of their captains to secure such a valuable item?
I squirmed inside. The family’s honor was important. But a member of the Space Forces also had an obligation to their crew and their chain of command. Even an admiral like Hasun ultimately answered to the councilors who ruled in the Pearled Halls. Surely the Matriarch wouldn’t act in a way that caused a conflict? I opened my mouth to interject, then thought better of it.
“There’s no misunderstanding,” Hasun said. “I can’t share more details, you understand, but what I saw was quite damning.”
“Hasun of the Juhwang Clan,” the Matriarch said, “are you telling me that your cousin is a traitor in the eyes of the Space Forces?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“You will fix this immediately. Hwan’s disgrace will only embolden the clan’s enemies.”
This time my mouth ran away with me. “Matriarch,” I blurted out.
Everyone in the room stared at me like I was a rabbit who had wandered in at dinnertime. My back prickled.
“Speak your piece, cub,” the Matriarch hissed.
“It wouldn’t be proper for an admiral to show favor to the clan,” I said, making sure I spoke calmly and clearly. My heart was beating too quickly, and I knew that everyone in the room could hear it, but there was nothing I could do about that.
“Not openly, no,” the Matriarch said. “Clan business is not for outsiders.” It wasn’t agreement.
“Cub?” Hasun wondered aloud.
There must have been some issue with the viewing angle. The Matriarch tilted her slate.
Hasun nodded. “Ah, I see Sebin. By the way,” the admiral added, their expression softening, “congratulations.”
“S-sir?” I asked, startled into a stammer.
