Jade War

CHAPTER 22 The Grudge Hall

Anden played relayball twice a week now, with Dauk Corujon and a group of his friends, in the grass and dirt field behind the neighborhood high school. One day, two weeks after the dinner at the Dauks’ house, the Pillar’s son had ridden by the Hians’ home while Anden was outside, standing on a stepladder and fixing a broken gutter. Instead of speeding past as he usually did, Cory stopped his bicycle and called up to Anden. “Hey, islander, you play relayball?”

Anden wiped his hands on his pants and came down the ladder. “Yeah.”

“Are you any good?” Cory asked, not in an arrogant or scornful way, merely curious. The young man looked Anden up and down.

“I played on the team at the Aca—” Suddenly, he didn’t want Cory to know he’d gone to the Academy, that he’d been trained as a Green Bone. “At my school in Janloon.”

“What position did you play?”

“First guard.”

Cory nodded. “Fifthday evening, all right? I’ll come get you.” He pushed his bike forward and pedaled off again before Anden could say yes or no.

At the first game, Cory introduced him to a group of similarly aged young men and said, “Look here, crumbs, this is our new first guard, Andy.”

“Anden,” Anden corrected quickly, and perhaps more forcefully than he’d intended. He smiled to soften the unintended rudeness and said in a friendlier voice, “I go by Anden.” He hadn’t meant to strike yet another awkward note with the local Pillar’s son, now that they’d finally had a conversation of more than twenty words and he was being brought into Cory’s group of friends. It was just that back home, his cousin Hilo was the only one who ever called him Andy; it seemed strange for someone else to do so.

Anden discovered that he was one of the better players. Relayball was the primary national sport in Kekon, but here in Espenia, only the Kekonese and Shotarian communities played the game, so the most athletic members of Cory’s informal league had other pursuits that they took more seriously—bootball, ruckets, swimming—and they came to the Secondday and Fifthday games at the high school field purely for recreation. There was a lot of joking and mock feuding, and Anden found it hard to follow all the Espenian slang that was tossed around, but soon the gatherings became the highlight of his week. He didn’t quite fit in, but that was fine, he was used to that. At least he was becoming an accepted member of the community. No matter how busy he was with schoolwork, the Hians always encouraged him to go. “It’s good that you’re finally making friends,” they said.

Cory played the position of finisher. He was the best player, and the unofficial organizer and leader of the neighborhood league. At first, Anden assumed that could be attributed to the fact that he was a Green Bone and the son of the Pillar, but he soon came to realize that the young man stood on his own feet. Cory never spoke of his father’s dealings, and even after two months of seeing him twice a week, Anden had not figured out where he wore his jade. As far as Anden could tell, Cory never employed his advantages of Strength or Lightness while on the relayball field. Even so, he always placed himself and Shun Todorho, the other Green Bone who regularly showed up at the games, on opposite teams, so all would be fair. He didn’t argue about points either. More than once, when a game grew heated, Anden heard him say, with a laugh, “We’re just here to have a good time, crumbs.” Contrary to the stereotype of the Kekonese being quick to fight, Cory never seemed to take offense, nor to give it either. He seemed to get along with everyone. Even when he called Anden, “you fool islander,” he did so lightheartedly and with a teasing wink that could not be construed as mean-spirited.

Anden had a hard time imagining how Cory would fare as a Finger in Janloon. People would not know what to think of a Green Bone who was so easygoing, who seemed so quick to please.

They played throughout autumn, when damp wind billowed the relayball nets and the evenings grew cold enough for them to need hats and gloves. One Fifthday, they were finally driven off the field by the first real winter storm; the ever-present clouds over Port Massy darkened to the color of slate and began dumping icy sleet over the city. People ran between cars and buildings with briefcases and newspapers held over their heads. The clumpy turf behind the high school turned into a soggy marsh. Anden slipped during a pass and landed hard on his back in a puddle of freezing slush. He’d never experienced such cold before in his life. He decided, as he rose with his teeth chattering, all his extremities numb, and his glasses too smeared and fogged to see through, that it was no wonder the Espenians were a people who’d sailed all over the world, if their homeland was so inhospitable.

Cory called a premature end to the evening; everyone hurried for their homes. Anden dreaded trying to bike back to the Hians’ house in such weather. “This won’t last long,” Cory said to him and two of the other remaining players as they huddled under the high school’s covered back entranceway. “Let’s run over to the grudge hall to warm up and get something to eat while we wait it out.”

They hurried two blocks through Southtrap to a rectangular, gray building that from the outside looked not unlike a school or library. The large white sign over the front entrance read KEKONESE COMMUNITY CENTER in both Kekonese and Espenian. Anden had passed it many times and walked through the doors out of curiosity one Seventhday morning. Inside and to the right he’d discovered a tiny Deitist shrine with a framed poster print of the mural of Banishment and Return hanging on the wall in front of a couple dozen faded green kneeling cushions and a row of blackened incense candles. To the left was a cafeteria-style kitchen behind an area of clumped tables and armchairs occupied by elderly people playing circle chess or reading out-of-date newspapers and well-used books taken from the unstaffed Kekonese-language library, which consisted of several bookcases crammed against the back wall. Down the hall, there was a small fitness room with exercise equipment and a schedule of classes posted on the door. The drop-in hourly daycare was manned by two teenagers.

“The community center?” Anden asked skeptically, his lips numb with cold as they ran across the slicked street through a gap in traffic. He didn’t think the place would be where a group of young men would want to spend Fifthday evening. “That’s what you meant by the grudge hall?”

One of Cory’s friends, Ledt Derukun, snickered, but the other, Shun Todorho, said, “That’s just the front of the place, crumb. The grudge hall’s in the basement; you get in from the back.” They jogged around the rear of the gray building to a set of unmarked metal doors, where to Anden’s surprise an erected portable metal awning sheltered a long line of people—mostly men, but women as well—young and old, rubbing their arms and stamping their feet against the cold as they waited to get in. Cory led the way to the front where the door attendant, a muscular man in a fleece-lined raincoat said, “Cory, it’s been a while.” He nodded to the other two. “Derek, Tod, good to see you.”

“Hey, big Sano,” Cory said, clasping the doorman’s hand and bumping his shoulder with his own. “Miserable night, but maybe that’ll mean a lot of people tonight, yeah? My folks in there?”

“Sure are.” The man pushed the metal door open and stepped aside to let them enter ahead of all the others waiting. Anden was surprised; it was the first time he’d seen Cory take advantage of his status as the Pillar’s son. The doorman stopped Anden before he could go in. “Not him,” Sano said in Kekonese, eyeing Anden with disapproval before saying to Cory, “You know the rules about outsiders in the grudge hall. Thirddays only, and it’s twenty thalirs.”

“He’s one of us,” Cory said. “Straight off the island, even. Plays relayball like a pro.”

“That true?” asked Sano, speaking to Anden. “You’re Kekonese?”

“I was born in Janloon,” Anden said. “My family sent me here to study.”

Cory said, “It’s true. You can even ask my da; he’ll vouch for him.”

Sano raised his eyebrows. “How about that,” he said, and let Anden pass.

Inside, the warm smell of food hit Anden at once. They were in a large open room with exposed ceiling beams and a concrete floor—it appeared to have been originally built as the community center’s garage. From portable cook stations situated behind long white tables, people were serving up spicy noodles in soup, hot fried bread, and Kekonese pastries on trays. There were also cheese-stuffed potato cakes and the sour sweets so ubiquitous at Espenian sporting events. A line was already forming where a cask of hoji had been rolled in and set on a low platform. “Let’s go downstairs and snag a place to sit, first,” Tod suggested.

They crossed the room and went down a flight of stairs. Anden was having a hard time reconciling what he’d seen in the uninspiring front part of the building with the liveliness of the rear half now. In the basement, small bar tables and stools were crowded along the brick walls; people were claiming spots by draping jackets over their chairs. Tod and Derek found seats for the four of them near the loudly chugging radiator. Anden followed more slowly, distracted. An area roughly the size of an indoor ruckets court was cordoned off with blue rope and bordered with bench seating. In the center of the bare space, a cockfight was occurring. Bettors leaned over the barrier, shouting in excitement or groaning in disappointment as one of the gamecocks fell beneath its opponent’s steel spurs in a feathery melee.

Cory led the way to the table where his parents were sitting, eating steaming noodles from disposable plastic bowls and talking to Rohn Toro—the man Anden had begun to think of as the Horn of Southtrap—and two others that Anden did not know, but suspected must also be Green Bones. Cory said, “Well, relayball season’s over; we finally got rained off the field and decided to come here. I brought my crumbs.” He smiled and shook hands with the other men around the table, who clapped the Pillar’s son on the back affectionately, asking him whether he was excited about going to law school.

Dauk Losun beamed when he saw Anden standing behind Cory and motioned him over. “My young friend from Janloon! You’ve never come to the grudge hall before, have you?”

Anden shook his head. A commotion rose up as the next cockfight got off to a rousing start. The Pillar raised his voice to be heard. “Now that we know you, you’re welcome anytime. We keep some of the old ways from the island, you’ll see. Some of it is serious, but most is in good fun.”

Rohn Toro said, “Everything is sorted out over that little incident, by the way. Just so you know not to worry.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Rohn-jen,” Anden said, relieved. “I never wanted to cause trouble for anyone.”

“From what I hear, you’re a great help to the Hians, more so than their own sons, who are too busy to visit.” Dauk Sana clucked her disapproval, then patted Anden on the arm. “Have you eaten? You absolutely must try the noodles Mrs. Joek makes.”

Anden and Cory rejoined Tod and Derek at their own table, then took turns going upstairs to fetch food and drinks. Anden’s wet clothes were soon dry; the basement was warm, and as more people arrived and filled the space, it grew somewhat uncomfortably stuffy, yet no one seemed to mind. The cockfighting appeared to be the main attraction, but people were also playing cards, drinking, and socializing. Anden overheard several nearby conversations heatedly discussing Espenia’s involvement in the Oortokon War. Two young women sidled over to their table, looking sly. “Hey, Cory.” One of them pouted. “Why don’t I ever see you anymore?”

“Aw, Tami, you’re seeing me now, aren’t you?” Cory slapped her ass and pulled her into his lap. She gave a squeal of mock indignation and draped her arms over his shoulders.

Anden looked away uncomfortably. He slurped another mouthful from his steaming bowl of noodles, which were indeed well worth Dauk Sana’s recommendation, and turned to Tod. “I didn’t know this place existed. Is it always like this?”

“No, only on certain evenings.” Tod glanced at Cory, deferring the explanation to him, but the Pillar’s son seemed distracted, so Tod turned back to Anden and said, “When it’s not a grudge hall, it’s a training gym.”

Anden looked around and saw the folded blue gym mats leaning against the wall in one corner, the stacked wooden blocks and closed equipment bins. “A gym for Green Bones,” he said.

The chatter in the hall abruptly died away. The girl hopped reluctantly out of Cory’s lap and hurried back with her friend to their own table. A few oblivious teens in one corner of the hall continued chatting, but several nearby adults shushed them so remonstratively that they fell silent. Anden turned around on his stool to see that the latest cockfight had ended, and now two men were stepping over the blue ropes. They took off their boots, then their shirts, and handed them to friends standing on the other side of the cordon before facing each other.

It was easy to hear the scrape of chair legs as Dauk Losun pushed his seat back. There seemed to be nothing to distinguish the Pillar from those around him—his seat in the room was not better than anyone else’s; he wore a red sweater vest and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin as he stood up—yet no one else spoke a word as Dauk cleared his throat and said, “Orim Rudocun, you’ve been offered a clean blade by Yoro Janshogon. Do you accept?”

“Yes,” said one of the men, who was of slightly heavier build than the other. Neither man actually carried a blade. They touched their clasped hands to their foreheads in brief salute but did not pause to offer up any prayers to the gods.

The challenger, Yoro, launched himself at the other man with an angry shout. It was over quickly. Yoro drove his shoulder into Orim’s chest. They staggered together into the blue ropes, bringing the cordon down with them as Yoro dragged his opponent to the ground by the neck. They rolled about in a tangle for a minute. Orim flailed and caught Yoro a blow across the face, but the slighter man ended up on top and clamped his hands around his rival’s throat. Snarling, he shook the other man—the back of Orim’s head smacked against the concrete floor with a sound that made everyone in the hall flinch—then he jammed crossed forearms against Orim’s windpipe, leaned his body weight forward, and began to press with all his might. Orim sputtered and kicked and clawed at Yoro’s arms. No one in the hall made a move. A few worried murmurs began to rise.

Seconds passed; Orim’s face turned purple. Dauk Losunyin stood up again and said, in a stern and concerned voice, “Mr. Orim, do you yield? Raise your hands if you do.”

For a moment, Anden thought that Orim would refuse and consent to be choked to death. Then, reluctantly, he opened his hands in a gesture of submission. Yoro spat in disdain, then released him, stood up, and strode away to gather his shirt and boots, staunching his own bleeding mouth with the back of his hand. Orim lay on the ground gasping. Two of his friends lifted him to a sitting position and, taking him under the arms, helped him out of the hall.

Someone righted the rope cordon. The Pillar sat back down. Anden caught a glimpse of Dauk; he looked relieved as he leaned over to say something to Rohn Toro. People turned back to their tables and conversation returned to the hall.

“If you can believe it, Orim and Yoro used to be good friends,” said Derek.

“Business partnership gone bad,” Cory explained, in response to Anden’s questioning look. “Orim says Yoro cheated him out of ten thousand thalirs. Yoro says he did all the work while Orim was doing the deal with Yoro’s girlfriend behind his back.” Cory unwrapped a sour sweet and popped it into his mouth. He offered another to Anden, who shook his head—he couldn’t understand why anyone liked the taste of those things. “My da was worried about this duel going all the way,” Cory said, in a lowered voice. “It doesn’t happen often, only once in while over really serious things, but it’s a good thing Orim yielded. No one wants the police to come snooping.”

Anden felt stunned by what he’d seen. Not by the duel itself, despite all the odd differences in custom, but ever since his encounter in the park with the crewboy Carson Sunter, he’d been careful to try and learn all the rules in Espenia. “I thought dueling was illegal,” he said.

“Crumb, everything in Espenia is illegal.” Derek laughed. “Even cockfighting.”

Cory patted Anden’s arm in a reassuring manner that surprised Anden and made his face warm a little. “Naw, it’s only that the law is complicated. And more often than not, negotiable.”

“True words from an aspiring lawyer,” Derek said.

“Shun Todorho!” came a shout from the center of the room, where a young man now stood in the place where the clean-bladed duel had happened minutes earlier. “Tod, where are you?” He pointed through the crowd at Anden’s table, then crossed his arms in a posture of mock offense. “I’ve been hearing some talk that your Deflection is better than my Lightness. Care to test that bit of bullshit?”

A round of foot-stomping applause ran through the grudge hall. Cory smacked Tod on the back encouragingly and shouted back at the other man, “He’s only had two drinks, Sammy, you sure you don’t want to wait?” Shun Todo raised his glass and drained the rest of it dramatically, then slammed it down on the table and rose with his hands held up in a show of acquiescence to the crowd’s demands. “Etto Samishun,” Tod growled. “For your arrogance, I offer you… an ass kicking.” More foot stomping and cheers as Tod climbed over the blue rope. In contrast to the sense of deathly seriousness of the preceding duel, the mood in the grudge hall was now jovial; everyone could tell that this contest was benign, the typical sort of social challenge that Kekonese threw down all the time.

The challenger, Sammy, crouched in a posture of exaggerated readiness. Tod, smirking a little, faced the audience and strode around a little with his arms raised to urge them to make more noise, which they did with so much enthusiasm that Anden was reminded of an Espenian sporting event and could not help but think the whole display rather crass and un-Kekonese.

Tod whirled and threw a spear of Deflection at Sammy, who leapt Lightly out of the way with a taunting shout. The Deflection buffeted some of the people nearby, who clutched their drinks and hung on to their tables and chairs. A plate of food went flying. Tod unleashed two more Deflections in quick succession that Sammy was hard-pressed to dodge—he bounded straight over Tod’s head and landed behind him.

Cory whooped and shouted, “Get him, Tod!” Their friend spun and feinted high, then sent out a low, wide Deflection that at last caught the other young man at the knees in midleap and sent him sprawling to the ground. Sammy rolled over and held up his hands, grinning and mock cowering while Tod made a show of pretending to jump on him and finish him off. The people in the hall cheered.

The two Green Bones clapped each other on the shoulders good-naturedly before climbing back over the rope and returning to their tables amid praise. “That was toppers,” Derek said when Tod sat back down, and Cory added, “Mass toppers, crumb.”

Anden nodded along in agreement, though in truth, he hadn’t found the contest to be particularly impressive. The style with which Tod and Sammy employed their jade abilities was different and some of it seemed inefficient. Tod’s Deflection had precision but little power; Sammy’s Lightness was nimble enough, but lacked the speed it might have with more Strength. All in all, it had been at the level of what one might see from year-fives at the Academy.

These were ungenerous thoughts, Anden chided himself. The Green Bones here did not receive a full-time education in the jade disciplines. What little jade they carried, they had to hide at all times. They had to train in secret, in the stuffy basement of a community center instead of the sprawling campus of a school like the Academy. Any pride or status they could claim on account of being green could only be garnered here, within the Kekonese community, on nights like this.

All evening, Anden had found the grudge hall strange and a little overwhelming, and now he understood why: The place was like a distillate of Kekonese culture—the food and hoji, the cockfighting and gambling, the social life, the tradition of clean-bladed dueling, and the celebration of jade abilities—all crammed together under one roof in one evening. It gave Anden the oddest feeling. It was both acutely Kekonese and not Kekonese at all.

More food and drink was had, more conversation. Another cockfight was played out. At the urging of friends, other Green Bones got up to challenge each other to contests of Strength and Steel. After a time, Tod, who had to work the next morning (he was an assistant manager at an electronics store) stood up to go, and Anden, already worried that the Hians might be concerned about him being out so late, put his drink down and followed suit. Cory said to them, “It’ll be freezing cold and black out there by now. Let me see if my da is heading out anytime soon. Maybe he can give us all a ride.”

Anden did not want to bother Dauk Losun, but Cory had no compunction about going over to ask his father, who said, “Sure, no problem; no need for me to stay any longer.”

Before they could take their leave, however, Mrs. Joek, the noodle lady, rushed down the stairs into the grudge hall and hurried to the Pillar’s table. “Dauk-jens,” she exclaimed, “there are police officers here. Two of them.”

In the crowded basement, her words were heard immediately. Conversations died on the spot; heads turned anxiously toward the Pillar’s table. To Anden’s surprise, Dauk Sana got up from her place at the table immediately and went upstairs. Her husband did not follow; he raised his voice and said calmly but loudly enough to be heard, “Everyone, stay where you are and keep enjoying yourselves. Don’t worry.” To his son, “You and your friends, go back and sit down.”

Anden sat back down. The room was thick was unease and shuffling murmurs. Anden saw Rohn Toro rise from his seat and move to stand in the corner of the room near the door. He removed the black gloves from the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled them on, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Dauk Sana returned a few minutes later, speaking loudly in accented Espenian as she descended. “Of course, yes, food license, liquor license—I can show you, officers.” She reached the bottom of the steps. Two Port Massy police officers followed her, boots clomping loudly, the brims of their black caps and the shoulders of their uniforms beaded with ice. “Not a restaurant or bar,” Sana went on. She had been calm a minute ago, but now she acted extremely nervous, wringing her hands. “This is just a party. A neighborhood party.”

The officers squinted around the basement. “A party, eh?” said the older one of them. “What’s the occasion? What’re you kecks up to down here? Fighting? Jade trading?”

Sana looked horrified and insulted. “No, of course not. Maybe you’ve been watching too many movies? Just because we’re Kekonese you think we all wear jade like gangsters?” She gestured around at the tables of people—men and women, young and old. “We can’t get together to eat and drink and have a good time in our own community center on a stormy night like this, without being suspected?”

The younger of the two officers looked a little abashed at this, but the older one strode to the center of the room and snorted at the sight of bloodstains and feathers on the ground. He lifted the blanket that had been thrown over one of the benches and peered down at the gamecocks in their cages. Straightening up again with a smug look, he said, “Cockfighting’s a criminal offense, ma’am. The fine is two thousand thalirs, and we could shut this whole building down.”

Sana sucked in a breath. “Please, officers,” she said, “we will pay the fine. We don’t have much money, but we understand there are consequences to breaking the law. We’ll all pay.” As if on cue, one of the men at the nearest table took off his felt hat and began passing it around the room. All those present pulled out their wallets and deposited money into the spontaneous collection fund. Sana appeared on the verge of tears; she twisted the end of her scarf in her hands and said to the officers, “We have to hold some cockfights in here once in a while, to satisfy the older people, especially. You see, it’s not illegal in our home country. They bring their gamecocks and I can’t say no all the time. Please don’t revoke our licenses for this small thing.” She gave them a pleading look. “The community center is the heart of our neighborhood, it serves everyone. There’s a shrine and library and daycare upstairs. There are people—some very old or very young—who come here for a meal and company when they have nowhere else to go. And yes, sometimes parties go on in the basement, but the worst that happens is some drinking and cockfighting.”

A girl of about ten years old ran up to Sana with the hat full of money. Sana thanked her, then took the hat and counted out the cash on the nearest table. “There’s two thousand four hundred and fifty thalirs here,” she said, stacking the bills. “More than required, but we’ll pay extra. We just want to keep our community center open.” She pressed the money into the hands of the older policeman and smiled at the younger. “Please, officers. We all appreciate how hard you work.”

The officers looked around the room, at the wary and hopeful expressions of the watching Kekonese. Their eyes passed over Dauk Losunyin’s table with no special attention. The Pillar, like everyone else, was listening to what was going on, but he was slouched in his chair, his large hands folded, drawing not the slightest attention to himself. Rohn Toro had not moved from his spot against the wall near the door.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time,” said the older cop, as if he’d considered the issue and come to a reluctant decision. With a show of deliberation, he stowed the money in his inside jacket pocket. Sana sagged in visible relief. “Thank you; you are very kind,” she murmured gratefully.

“You kecks better keep your noses clean and be careful about staying within the law from now on,” said the older cop. “Jade’s illegal. You should all know that by now. If you get caught wearing or selling it, that’s jail time.”

Sana nodded vehemently. “We are worried about jade, too,” she insisted. She began to lead the officers out of the grudge hall and back up the stairs. “The Crews, they run rackets in this part of the city, and there are rumors that they want to get their hands on jade now. All Kekonese people know such a dangerous substance shouldn’t be worn by ordinary people—certainly not criminals. That’s why we need the police.” To the younger cop, “Do you like Kekonese food? Would you like some noodle soup, before you have to go back out into the cold?”

Their voices faded up the stairs. Slowly, the tension in the grudge hall dissipated. People relaxed and normal conversation returned once it was clear that the police officers were gone. Rohn Toro waited a minute, then sat back down.

Dauk Losun came over to their table, smiling and congenial once again. “They’ll be back. This happens every few months, in the same way.” He smiled and patted Anden on the shoulder. “You look worried. Don’t be. The Port Massy police are like another one of the Crews: expecting payment and giving little in return.”

Anden nodded, though he didn’t really understand. It had never occurred to him to be fearful around the city police in Janloon. When his cousin Hilo had been Horn, he had often met with the police to instruct them on where to go after petty crime, which street gangs were causing trouble, where they ought to conduct drug raids—so Anden had always thought of the police as civil servants who were useful to the clans, not a hindrance to them. Apparently, in Espenia, there were a multitude of subjective rules and regulations that even the Pillar of Southtrap was careful to insulate himself against.

“I should stay a little longer, to make sure everything is fine,” said the Pillar. He fished his car keys from the pocket of his sweater vest and handed them to his son. “It’s late though, and I don’t want the Hians to worry about Anden. Drive your friends home and come back to pick me up.”

The Pillar’s car was a green station wagon parked in the back lot. Cory started the car and blasted the heater on its defrost setting while Anden and Tod scraped the front and back windshields free of ice. In the car, their breaths steamed together as Cory pulled into the street and drove first Derek, and then Tod, back to their homes. The crusty wipers scraped against glass, and the car’s headlights gleamed on wet pavement as he navigated to the Hians’ house on the other end of Southtrap.

On the street corner, a block away from the house, Cory pulled the station wagon over to the curb. He shut off the engine and turned to face Anden. His eyes were bright with reflected streetlight, but his expression was suddenly unreadable in the dark. “You’re wondering where it is, aren’t you?” he asked. “My jade.”

Heat rose up Anden’s neck. In answer, he forced himself to look into the other young man’s eyes. Cory unzipped his jacket. Shrugging out of it, he turned in the driver’s seat to face Anden and lifted his shirt. The streetlight overhead illuminated his bare torso. Anden swallowed. His eyes traveled down Cory’s chest, to the trio of jade studs pierced through the man’s navel.

Anden tried to pull his eyes away but couldn’t; his gaze continued traveling, down the line of thin dark hairs that disappeared under Cory’s waistband. The skin of Cory’s arms was goose-pimpling in the cold. Anden thought that perhaps he should say something, that maybe Cory wanted him to, but he was afraid to open his mouth and say the wrong thing.

Cory didn’t speak either. He reached across the front seat and took hold of Anden’s wrist, pulling it forward, until the tips of Anden’s cold fingers brushed bare skin. Slowly, Anden flattened his palm against the man’s abdomen. His pulse was pounding in the palm of his hand. In the close quarters of the car, he could suddenly hear his own breath, loud and unsteady.

Cory’s gaze was hungry now. He moved Anden’s hand across his bare stomach, as if guiding a blind reader over braille. When Anden touched the hard, smooth pieces of jade, an intensely delicious and slightly nauseating sensation, like that of an overripe sweetness, hit him in the back of the throat and fell into the pit of his gut. Cory’s jade aura throbbed into him, hot with desire, like a black rock baking in the sun. Anden wanted to press himself against it, to clutch it greedily, to let it envelop him, but his body remembered the taste of jade energy the way an alcoholic remembers his last drunken blackout—with a crooning, desperate longing and visceral repulsion. He wanted to lose himself in it; he wanted to jerk away. The two impulses collided; Anden froze, his arm trembling. His eyes found Cory’s, and he saw the confusion in his friend’s expression resolve into understanding. Gently, the young man let go of Anden’s wrist. He dropped his shirt back into place and pulled on his coat.

Anden drew his hand back to his own side, his face burning with regret and embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’ve worn jade before,” Cory said. “You were trained as a Green Bone at one of the schools in Janloon, weren’t you.” It was a question delivered as a statement, but beneath it, another question.

After a moment, Anden gave a nod. “I suppose that wasn’t hard to guess.” With difficulty, he raised his gaze. “You’re wondering why I don’t wear it anymore.”

Cory did not answer at first. “You don’t have to tell me, crumb.”

Anden stuffed his fists into the pockets of his fleece jacket. His breath steamed in the suddenly claustrophobic confines of the station wagon. Without looking at the other man, he began speaking. “In my last year at the Academy, my family was at war with another clan. One of my cousins, the Pillar… was murdered.” He had not spoken of Lan in over a year. “Even before I graduated, I wanted to do whatever I could to avenge him and help win the war. I… I killed a man. Someone important. A few men, actually.” The words coming from his mouth sounded vague and insubstantial; he couldn’t imagine anyone hearing them could appreciate their meaning, certainly not someone as removed from the situation as Cory Dauk.

Cory nodded slowly. “You don’t want to be a killer.”

Anden looked up, a little surprised. That wasn’t it at all. Sometimes it was necessary to take lives; every member of his family had done so when it was called for. He tried to think of how he might be able to explain it better, to communicate how this was different, how deeply it had affected him, how tragic and elating and painful it had been. “I don’t want to enjoy it,” he said.

Cory regarded him for a long moment. He rubbed his hands together for warmth, then scooted over on the car’s bench seat; he was suddenly inches away from Anden, his gaze more restrained but still insistent. “You’re the most interesting person I’ve met in a long time, islander.” He leaned in and kissed Anden on the mouth.

Cory’s lips were chilled, but his tongue was not. It slid, for an instant, over Anden’s bottom teeth. The kiss was over quickly, so quickly that Anden had a hard time believing that it had happened at all. When Cory pulled back, Anden acted almost without thinking—he reached forward and grabbed the other man by the front of his coat.

The second kiss lasted long enough that Anden felt the blood rushing into his head, their hot breaths mingling and steaming the windows, the warmth of Cory’s jade aura slipping over his skin. When they broke apart, Anden managed, “I… I thought you liked girls.”

Cory laughed. “I do.” He leaned in again, his lips pursed to one side. “And I like you, crumb. You’re a paradox. You look as if you walked out of a magazine ad but you’re so damn… Kekonese. It’s kind of sexy.” The bridge of Cory’s nose scrunched up, his expression teasing as he slid a hand up Anden’s leg. “You’re not like the rest of us kespies.”

“Kespies?” Anden said.

“Kespenians. You know, Kekonese-Espenians.” Cory began rubbing his hand on the crotch of Anden’s pants. Anden sat very still, not daring to move, though it seemed all the heat in his body was flowing down into his groin. Cory unbuttoned the top of Anden’s pants and slid a hand under his waistband. Cold fingers found their way into his pubic hair, began touching and encircling his stiffened cock.

Anden made an inarticulate noise. Excitement and terror rose in him. “Wait, I…” he gasped, but did not get any further; Cory unzipped Anden’s pants in one swift jerk and pulled back, lowering his face into Anden’s lap. Anden could not truly believe this was happening. It seemed somehow inappropriate to let Cory do this—he was the son of the local Pillar, to whom Anden was indebted—yet it also seemed wrong to try and stop him. Then he felt Cory’s mouth—the sudden, exquisite, flooding heat made Anden’s eyes roll back in his head—and he could no longer think clearly about anything.

It was over too quickly, for which Anden blamed himself. He would’ve wanted it to go on longer, but in a way he was relieved, if also disappointed. He felt as if he’d just experienced one of the most memorable moments of his life thus far, even though the release itself had not exactly been ecstatic. Furtive and unexpected, thrilling, a little uncomfortable. Cory drew back and wiped a hand over his mouth. Anden shivered with the shock of cold air on his wet, exposed crotch. He buttoned himself up quickly, still at a loss, feeling entirely out of control.

Cory said, “You’ve never been with a man, have you?”

Without quite meeting the other man’s gaze, Anden shook his head. He was twenty years old and had never been intimate with anyone. There was one time, on a Boat Day three years ago, when several of the students at the Academy had gone to a bar and gotten drunk and one of his female classmates had kissed him for a long, booze-scented minute, putting her tongue in his mouth, but he didn’t count that.

Cory leaned in and touched his lips lightly to the side of Anden’s mouth, in a strangely tender, chaste action. He said, “Okay. We’ll go slow, then,” which made Anden want to laugh out loud, a little hysterically, because everything that had happened this evening had been, in his opinion, anything but slow. The windows of the car were fogged. Large flakes of white snow had begun to fall. Just down the street, the lights in the Hians’ house were still on. Anden imagined Mrs. Hian waiting up past her bedtime at the kitchen table to make sure he made it back to the house safely in the storm, and he said, “I should go.” He thought he ought to say something else, but what?

“See you around, islander,” Cory said, smiling a little. Anden got out of the car. He drew his coat around himself and walked down the sidewalk. The headlights of the station wagon turned on and fell across his back, throwing his shadow against the wet pavement. As he reached the front stoop of the townhouse that had, after eight months, finally begun to feel like home, he heard the car start, and Cory drove past, tires plowing through slush, before the taillights of the car turned the corner.