That night, the old man suffered a severe stroke. A deep medical diagnostic revealed substantial damage to his brain, and blood clots that continued to put him at risk. Inside his private dwelling, Bram was covered with thermal blankets, but he still shivered, barely able to open his eyes. When he did, he seemed not to see anything.

“Oh, Jess,” Cesca said, unable to articulate anything else as she brought tea. Jess waved the warm liquid under the old man’s nose, imagining that he saw a faint flicker of a smile on his father’s lips. “He’ll recover,” Cesca said as she stroked Jess’s arm. “The Guiding Star will show him the path.”

Jess shook his head. “Let us never lie to each other, Cesca. You saw the analysis. We know what’s wrong with him. It’ll only be a matter of hours. He doesn’t have the strength to fight.” Frustrated, Jess sagged into his chair. “Where is Tasia? She should be here.” After the stroke, he had sent two water workers to search for his sister, but no one had seen her since the last argument with her father. Jess knew Tasia had her own hiding places out on the ice, boltholes for when she needed to get away from stubborn Bram and his demands. “We’d better find her soon.”

His uncles had come to take turns on the nighttime vigil, some of them good friends to Jess when he was younger, some of them distant strangers. They would all have to work more closely together, tie the clan threads into unbreakable knots.

Jess reached out to clasp his father’s hand. He felt a flicker of muscles in Bram’s fingers, an answering signal, though he didn’t know exactly what his father was trying to say. Jess felt unsettled and lost with all the events crashing around him. But he would do what was necessary, somehow.

After Ross had left home years ago, Bram had placed more and more duties on his second son, hammering a sense of obligation into him. Never waver, never flinch. Jess knew the role he must play, the responsibilities he had to handle, the inflexible path laid out for him—and he had grown harder, developing a personality perhaps too similar to his father’s. When he’d promised old Bram, “I’ll never let you down,” it had seemed like a sacred oath to him.

But Jess forced himself to be more flexible. Unlike his rigid father, he could roll with adverse circumstances and wait for events to change.

Now the Plumas water-mining operations would belong to his uncles, if he didn’t run them himself. Though he had trained hard for exactly this situation, Jess felt overwhelmed. He had clung to a hope that Ross and his father would eventually end their feud and reconcile. Now that would never happen.