Xiatokmai was managing. Or rather, she was failing to drown. She wasn’t sure which, really. How in the hell did ’Tok manage it? She already had her hands full balancing the different internal departments. Trying to manage all the external nonsense as well was just killing her. For one thing, the external business of the bank wasn’t internal to the Clan, mostly. It was the Throng, and Red Mountain, and the rest of the damn alliance, and the local tribes and the trade with the Eastern Edge. Each of whom wanted things, and she had to figure out how to give it to them, or keep them from getting it, all while balancing everyone else.

And that was just the bank business. Old ’Tok was keeping the wheels turning on endless committees and boards too. The good news was that he had already assigned competent clerks to handle the bookkeeping end of things, so that was already in place. The bad news was that his contribution to those committees was abundant good sense and fifty years of accumulated experience running committees.

Not that he was chair of the committees or anything, secretary at most. But when someone old enough to be your grandfather pulls you aside to quietly suggest that the meetings would run a lot faster if you circulated the minutes for the last meeting, along with the agenda for the upcoming meeting, at least a few days in advance… people tended to listen. The simple expedient of only giving attendees the right to speak if they were on the agenda or called upon by the chair certainly sped things up.

Bylaws were another piece of black bureaucratic wizardry under his command. Xiatokmai knew all about them, of course. The not-quite-laws that any board ran on. They were crucial to keeping things organized and moving. They were also so lethally dull that even specialists needed strong stimulants to power through reading them.

There was, however, a particularly terrifying breed of mutant. Quite invisible to the naked eye, they could be found quietly inhabiting boards around the world. Usually very well run, if not very exciting, boards. They were… the people that enjoyed writing bylaws. The people that read up on it for fun. The ones who thought deeply and sincerely about what their boards needed to run well and with as little conflict as possible. The people who not only insisted on external auditing, but an audit supervisory group which reported, in writing, to the whole committee. Who could, would, and did, explain why such audits and supervision was not only useful, but vital to the success of the board. Xiatoktok was one such mutant.

Xiatokmai was not. She could understand the rules. She could see them enforced. But she didn’t live them the way Xiatoktok did, nor could she explain why they were so vital. Her instincts strongly veered towards the autocratic rather than the bureaucratic, and she knew it. It was one of many reasons Xiatoktok led their little alliance. Xiatoktok built systems. Xiatokmai made those systems run. And Xiatokte, somehow, to her daily surprise, made those systems popular. She would rather be beaten to death than admit it, but she hated running things without them. But that’s what the moment called for, and she was big enough and ugly enough to take it on.

As she surveyed the growing mountains of papers in front of her, she offered a sincere prayer to the Gods of the Clan. “Get better soon, ’Tok. We need you back.”

As a general rule, Xiatokja and Gentian didn’t have a lot of free time. Almost none, in fact. However, given that Xiatoktok was currently in a Bo induced coma, Xiatokja declared that it was the perfect opportunity to tidy up the storerooms. Not throw anything out, of course. Just shifting them from the home to offsite storage.

Gentian was happy to go along with it, of course. “What’s this?” She asked.

“Oh, that’s a little interesting.” ’Ja smiled. “It’s a fertility charm, from Big Stone City.”

“It looks like a sort of blunt stone ax. Or club, maybe. Where is Big Stone City?”

“This side of the Mud Dragon, down south a long way.” Xiatokja consulted an internal map. “Not quite on the river itself, but on a major tributary. Good farming there. Very good.”

“Huh. Never heard of it.” She waved the ax gently. “I guess it’s kind of phallic, but not really screaming “fertility.””

’Ja snorted. “You have to know Big Stone and the area around it. These people make the Xia look like a gang of unrelated strangers. Huge families. They start having kids young and don’t stop until they die or get too old. Poor, dumb and mean. So they hold hard to each other and turn on strangers with an unholy fury. They call it a city, but honestly, even Cold Garden is a bigger city than Big Stone. Mostly they live on little farms.”

“Alright, still not getting it.”

“Anyone not a blood relation is a “Stranger.” Anyone related by marriage, and isn’t a cousin, is half a stranger and to be watched with deep suspicion. The stone ax is designed to be thrown. The theory is that even a very pregnant person can throw it effectively, and since it’s just stone, wood and hide, they are cheap to make. So the charm is “Go get pregnant, and don’t worry, you can brain anyone who tries to interfere.”” ’Ja chuckled lightly. “And you might remember a relevant slang term for getting pregnant.”

Gentian looked blankly at ’Ja for a minute, then buried her face in her hands. “Knocked up.”

“Ding ding ding!”

“Stars preserve us, they built a fertility idol around a pun.”

“And a blunt weapon. Practical people.” ’Ja nodded.

“How did it wind up in your storage?”

“Well, it was… gods, a long time ago. My second son, ’Bai, had just been born, and it was a tough birth. They generally get easier the more kids you have, but for whatever reason, ’Bai wasn’t coming out right. Fortunately the Clan doctors are very good, and all was well in the end, but… I was pretty torn up, literally and otherwise. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to have any more kids. It wasn’t completely rational, but it was real for all that. And postpartum depression is no joke, let me tell you. And ’Tok was out of town. This was when we lived in Stripe Cat, before emigrating to Cold Garden. So there I was, bedbound and miserable, and in walks ’Tok, a week earlier than expected. Waving this stupid little club. Gave me a big kiss, told me how proud he was of me, how much he loved me, how handsome ’Bai looked.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Snapped you out of your depression?” Gentian asked softly.

“Oh hell no. Depression doesn't work like that. But it helped a lot, and I keep the club in memory of that.”

“Aww.” Gentian smiled fondly at ’Ja.

“Bet you wind up keeping that first tiara in a box too- it will be too precious to you to take out and wear.”

“Halfway there already.” Gentian admitted. “People like seeing me wearing them, and I like wearing them, but they just feel too precious.”

“I’m glad. It means we are choosing well.” ‘’Ja was shuffling through some other boxes. She opened a lid, frowned, and jammed it back down again. “Well THAT can go straight to the warehouse! What’s it even doing in here?”

“What is it?”

“I’m going to call it a souvenir of my teenage years and leave it at that.”

“Of course.” Gentian looked demure. Then lunged for the box.

“No! Bad concubine! Bad!” ’Ja said, trying to keep it away.

“Let me see, let me see!” Gentian playfully clawed at the box.

“Ugh! No. It’s embarrassing.”

“Is it a diary? I bet it’s a diary. Or a picture of an old crush? Ooh, fancy shoes you wore a’courting?” Gentian asked.

“What? No. Stop pawing at it! Oh devils take it. Fine! See for yourself.”

Gentian opened the box with a flourish, shrieked and nearly dropped it. Then she composed herself, took another look, composed herself some more, and looked hard at ’Ja. ‘’Ja was grinning sardonically.

“Mistress.”

“Yes, Concubine?”

“Why do you have a skull in a box?”

“I told you, a souvenir. One that’s destined for the back of a warehouse.”

“Why do you have a skull as a souvenir, Mistress? Am I going to be expected to collect skull souvenirs? Because I strongly prefer tiaras.”

“Nope, you get to dodge that one, marrying in. Also you are a hair too old for those games.”

“What. Games. Involve collecting skulls?” Gentian slowly enunciated.

“It’s a… thing in the Great Clans, and those who spend a long time living around them. Basically, violence is pretty much built into our blood. None of us, not the Pi, definitely not the Bo and certainly not the Xia, are pacifists. I’m not even going to talk about the Ma. Anyhow, we tend to have really big families, live right on top of each other, and we are constantly trying to find ways to display our superiority.” ’Ja tried to explain something that Gentian had little or no context for.

“So you… rob graveyards for trophies?” Gentian asked. ’Ja gave her a weird look.

“What kind of trophy is that? No, we duel. First blood if it’s friendly, surrender if it’s less so, and to the death for a real grudge or status.”

“Sorry, you dueled to the death over status? And didn’t you just say that I’m too old for collecting skull trophies?!”

“Yes, really the domain of teenagers. Say… thirteen on. Some a little younger, but not much. Not a lot of ways to assert status when you are that young. You can borrow your parents position, of course, but that only gets you so far. Gets you pretty much nowhere with the other clans. Schoolwork or artistic achievement might score you points inside your Clan, but again, outside the Clan, nobody cares. But if you are someone who can walk out on the dueling sands and prove your strength over your peers, well, everyone gets that. And respects it.”

“And… all the Clans do this. It is legal.”

“In pretty much every major city on the Eastern Edge, yes. Not just the Clans, some of the strivers, the social climbers will stake it all and go out on the sands too. But overwhelmingly, it’s a Clan thing.”

“Not here in Cold Garden it isn’t!” Gentian said vehemently.

“Well, remember, the Clan presence here is very small. Mostly it’s just the Xia, and all duels are kept to first blood and strictly in private. Orders from Central House. We can’t afford the population loss.”

“And this is… someone you killed.” Gentian looked spooked. She knew her Master and Mistress were not opposed to killing but this…

“Yes, Xiatokii. Little bitch that she was.” Xiatokja’s voice had some lingering bitterness there.

“Was there a grudge?”

“Oh yes. She had constantly been undermining me in private while acting friendly in public. All the damn time. Then she made up some bullshit about how I was trying to seduce her fiance, and demanded satisfaction. Meanwhile, she had been slipping poison into my drink. Nothing debilitating, just a subtle weakening of the muscles and a slowing of the reflexes. She must have figured the time was right to call me out onto the sands.”

“Heavens!”

“Of course, I had known about the poison and the poisoned words, so I was pretty eager to agree myself. The look of shock on her face when I kicked her in the crotch after the first exchange is a memory I will always treasure. Well, we went on for about four minutes, back and forth but I eventually got enough cuts in that she slowed. Nipped in for the grapple, then finished with a blade through her neck.” ’Ja shrugged. “All a bit childish now, I suppose. Still, I don’t really want to get rid of it, you know?”

“Wouldn’t her family want to… have it back?” Gentian probed.

“Who cares? Actually, no, it would be very embarrassing for them if they thought I despised the skull as a trophy. You can create some really nasty grudges that way. Besides, the box is a little special too.” ’Ja smiled softly.

“Oh?”

“I never had the least interest in her fiance. ’Tok and I were already secretly courting. Well, engaged in a covert running battle where the other would be forced to submit and plead for marriage. It was great fun. Anyhow, I had scored a major coup by winning out on the sands. ’Tok has always preferred to work through other people when he wants to take a life. This put me well ahead in our game. So he countered by forcing Xiatokii’s family to make the box for the trophy.”

“Wha… wait, what? How? Why?” Gentian’s head was spinning.

“I know. Such a show off. Totally embarrassing now, of course.” ’Ja sighed. “I want to tease him about this so much.”

Gentian tried to wrap her head around everything she just heard. “Who won?”

“Our little game? The marriage portion was declared a draw when the Clan arranged our marriage. All other contenders dropped out for one reason or another. Strangely.”

“Oh yes, very strange. What do you mean “portion?””

“Oh sweety. Who said we ever stopped playing?”