Jade War

CHAPTER 26 Setting Expectations

The news was vaguely reported in the Ygutanian papers and not at all outside that country’s borders, but according to the translated articles Shae received from the clan’s contacts in Ygutan, several targeted bombings had occurred in the past week, destroying chemical factories near Dramsk, Nitiyu, and Bursvik. The Ygutanian Directorate was blaming the attacks on Shotarian loyalist groups from Oortoko, backed by the Espenian government. The articles did not reveal who owned or operated the facilities nor what they were producing that would make them the targets of sabotage, but Shae already knew. The Espenians wouldn’t offer to pay for something if they didn’t plan to use it; she’d met with Ambassador Mendoff and Colonel Deiller in the White Lantern Club eight months ago, and now the Mountain’s lucrative shine-producing facilities were destroyed.

Ayt Mada must be furious. A satisfied smile crept onto Shae’s face and hovered there before sliding off. No Peak had not acted against the Mountain’s operations directly, but Ayt was sure to deduce who had sold the information to the Espenians. Shae did not for an instant regret what she’d done; she’d dealt a staggering financial blow to the Mountain without risking any No Peak lives or businesses, prevented vast quantities of the poisonous drug that had killed Lan from ever reaching the black market, and strengthened the alliance with the Espenians without giving in to their demands for more jade. It was precisely the sort of cunning victory that her grandfather would’ve been proud of. The only problem was that Ayt was sure to retaliate. Shae didn’t know when or how it would happen, but the Mountain would find a way.

Shae called Woon into her office and asked him to arrange another meeting with Colonel Leland Deiller. “Tell the colonel we have additional information of military interest to him.”

Woon sat down in front of her desk. After his attempt to resign as her chief of staff, several weeks of unspoken awkwardness had lingered between them, but it had faded under the pervasive necessity of their working relationship. Shae was glad that Woon seemed comfortable around her again. She was grateful they were still friends, even if things were not the same as before. “Maik Kehn’s discovery of jade being smuggled from the Uwiwa Islands to Ygutan on commercial cargo ships,” Woon inferred. “You believe if we hand over that information to the Espenians, they’ll shut it down, the way they destroyed the shine factories in Ygutan.”

“Kehn and his Fists got lucky with a tip-off on that one ship, but they can’t possibly patrol the entire West Tun Sea. The Espenians can, and do,” Shae said. “Even though we have informers and agents in the Uwiwa Islands, we have little power there—less ever since Hilo caused a publicized bloodbath. Espenia, though, provides the bulk of that country’s foreign aid; they could force the Uwiwan government to crack down on Zapunyo’s activities when no one else can.”

Woon nodded. “We get them to solve our problems.”

“Ayt Mada’s nationalistic rhetoric aside, we have interests in common with the ROE,” Shae said. “We don’t want jade or shine on the black market, and neither do they.”

“Because they want it all to themselves,” Woon said. “You have to be careful, Shae-jen. Working with the Espenians is like sleeping next to a tiger—it seems like a good idea until the tiger gets hungry, and the Espenians aren’t a subtle people. There’s over a hundred thousand of them on Euman Island now, and we’re fielding complaints from Lantern Men about Espenian soldiers on shore leave in Janloon causing problems in casinos and brothels. The news is reporting rising civilian casualty figures in Oortoko, and the world is blaming it on Espenian involvement. Given public opinion these days, we don’t want No Peak to seem too cozy with the foreigners.”

Shae couldn’t disagree, especially since she knew some people, inside and outside of the clan, already viewed her as an Espenophile for her foreign education. Meanwhile, Ayt Mada was capitalizing on the Oortokon War, excoriating foreigners in general and Espenians in particular, raising her own public profile and popularity.

Shae could understand people’s temptation to buy into Ayt’s bellicose arguments, but she couldn’t agree with it. Ayt’s calculated sentiments led down a well-worn path toward ethnocentric isolationism. Kekon had come from that centuries ago but could never return to it, not with modern technology and global trade and people such as Maro. “You’re right to be cautious, Papi-jen,” Shae said to her aide, “but you encouraged me to open more doors for our Lantern Men, and Espenia is where we can do that.”

“What you say makes sense,” Woon said slowly, “but the more ties we have with that country, the more leverage they’ll have over us as well. They may use that in the future, in ways that we don’t know about yet and that might be costly to us. And how do you know the foreigners will even come through? Mendoff and Deiller haven’t yet delivered on anything you asked for in the White Lantern Club.”

“Which is why I’m doubling down,” Shae said. “The Espenians treasure their reputation as direct and honest businesspeople, and they view indebtedness and poverty as moral failings. Providing them another gift before they’ve repaid me for the first will make them uncomfortable. They’ll be motivated to fix that imbalance soon.”

Woon stood and took his leave. “I’ll arrange the meeting as you requested, Shae-jen, but I’ll keep it quiet. Not everyone in the clan agrees with us.”

That evening, Shae had Maro, Hilo, and Wen over for dinner at her house. She’d considered inviting Maro to a family meal at the main Kaul house, but perhaps meeting the entire family, including the children and the Maiks, would be too much at once. Besides, the main house was the Pillar’s residence, and she thought that might send the wrong signal as to the nature of this get together. She ruled out meeting at a restaurant where people might see them and start speculating about when the Torch’s granddaughter would be getting married and having children.

Shae had never seriously taken to cooking, but with Kyanla’s help, she put together what she thought was a presentable meal of pickled radish salad, ginger egg soup, and baked red chicken glazed with chili sauce. She’d instructed Hilo to show up fifteen minutes before Maro, because she wanted to talk with him first and make a few things clear.

“I’m not bringing my boyfriend home for your inspection,” she told her brother, when he and Wen arrived and Wen went into the dining room to help Kyanla set out plates. “Maro seems to think that because he doesn’t wear much jade and isn’t a member of the clan, I’m reluctant for him to meet my family. That’s not true; I meant to do this much earlier, but with all our schedules—he’s been traveling, we’ve been busy, and now with Niko and Ru to take care of—there hasn’t been any time. So we’re finally getting a chance, but it’s just dinner.”

“What are you so nervous about?” Hilo said, with a teasing smile that irritated her because she was not nervous, she simply wanted to set expectations. “You think I’m going to interrogate him? Make him fight me? Wen and I are just glad to have an excuse to get away from the kids for a few hours.”

The Fingers who guarded the gates of the Kaul estate had been told to admit Shae’s boyfriend when he arrived. Maro showed up wearing a new shirt under his suede jacket and bearing an expensive bottle of premium hoji. He kissed Shae chastely on the cheek and saluted Hilo deeply to show proper respect. “Kaul-jen.”

It bothered Shae more than she thought it would, to see Maro acting deferential toward her brother. “Shae tells me that you’re a professor, so I ought to call you Dr. Tau,” Hilo said with a smile, “but we’re all friends here, so I’ll drop the formality if you do.” He accepted and admired the gift (tactfully neglecting to mention that the Cursed Beauty distillery was owned by his former Fist and thus the Kaul family could get as much of this hoji as it could want) and, putting a hand on Maro’s shoulder, led him inside to introduce him to Wen.

Dinner was more relaxed than Shae had anticipated. The food had turned out fine—quite good, even, no doubt thanks to Kyanla’s help. Hilo was perfectly casual and disarming in the way that he could be when he wished, and Shae was grateful for her sister-in-law’s presence because Wen kept the conversation going by warmly asking Maro about his teaching work and his published papers on postcolonial Kekon-Shotar relations. Maro had recently returned from a two-week trip to Leyolo City, where he’d given a series of guest lectures at the Imperial University and conducted some research at the national archives. Shae knew his frequent professional trips were also covert opportunities for him to visit the Shotarian side of his family.

The only truly awkward moment of the evening came about inadvertently, when Wen asked Maro, with genuine interest, “Maro-jen, since you’re a respected advisor to the Royal Council, would you ever consider pursuing a career in politics yourself?”

Maro took a sip of hoji before answering. “The thought has crossed my mind,” he admitted. The long-standing prohibition against Green Bones holding political office meant that he would have to voluntarily give up his jade to run for the Royal Council, a hardship that dissuaded the vast majority of Academy graduates from government ambitions. “I enjoy teaching and research, but I also want to make more of a difference in national policy.”

“Maro’s been getting involved in nonprofit work, addressing humanitarian issues related to the war in Oortoko,” Shae mentioned.

“That’s very admirable,” Wen said with a smile. “And the fact that you speak Kekonese, Espenian, and Shotarian—that must be quite an advantage in your career.”

Hilo refilled their guest’s hoji cup and said, encouragingly, “With Chancellor Son retiring next year, we could use more No Peak councilmen in Wisdom Hall.”

Maro did not respond right away; he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I don’t have plans to run for public office any time soon, but if I did, I would do so as an independent.” He glanced at Shae and then at the Pillar. “I know it would be more difficult to win without the backing of one of the major clans, but I’m not a tribute-paying Lantern Man and I don’t come from an established Green Bone family. I wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting the clan’s support and creating the appearance that my relationship with Shae is motivated by personal political gain.” He placed a hand on Shae’s arm but continued speaking to Hilo. “The biggest reason, though, is that I think it’s important there be more voices in government that aren’t clan affiliated.”

Hilo’s eyebrows rose, very slightly. Shae’s eyes jumped between her brother and her boyfriend. The contrast between Hilo and Maro was stark. Hilo sat relaxed in his chair, one elbow resting on the table, taking up space in his usual casual manner. Maro sat upright and intent, seemingly older, warier, more deliberate in posture and speech. “Independents can be bought or cowed,” Hilo said, in a perfectly neutral voice. “Does having them in the Royal Council really make any difference?”

“If there were enough of them, it would,” Maro insisted. “There are things the clans accept as sacrosanct, that perhaps ought to be more closely examined for how well they actually serve society. SN1 prohibition, clean-bladed dueling, the Kekon Jade Alliance.”

Wen made an attempt to derail the impending collision by saying, brightly, “Hilo often complains about all the reading he has to do for the KJA meetings, and how slow and boring they are.”

“They’re also economically inefficient,” Maro went on, failing to take the conversational escape Wen offered him. “There’s a case to be made that jade ought to be treated like any other resource, with supply and demand dictated by the open market.”

Hilo snorted. “Then the foreigners would try to buy up every pebble.”

“Is that objectively such a bad thing?” Maro asked, as if prodding a student’s thesis argument. “The KJA constricts the global supply of jade, which artificially inflates prices and funnels capital into the illegal secondary market instead of adding to our own GDP. With the availability of SN1, we’re moving rapidly toward a time when jade is less and less exclusive to Kekonese.” When Maro warmed to a subject, he spoke faster, his voice taking on a tone of academic discourse. “Our economy is developing and diversifying; we have other industries and resources. Our fastest-growing exports are manufactured goods, textiles, and metals. So why do we continue to treat jade as far more important than the others, something that has to be regulated by a national cartel and defended with violence? Only because of our deep-seated historical and religious biases.”

Hilo looked at him in a funny way. Unlike Shae, he was not used to Maro’s habit of challenging accepted beliefs for the sake of robust debate. For a moment, Shae could sense her brother assessing Maro coldly: What kind of a Green Bone, what kind of Kekonese man, would devalue jade and all that it represented, in front of the Pillar of the clan, no less?

“Maro’s good at playing devil’s advocate,” Shae said quickly but firmly, putting a hand on Maro’s arm in affection and restraint. “Which is why he’s thought of so highly as a teacher, for always challenging his students. He could argue you into believing a black cat was white, or a white cat black.”

Hilo gave them a thin smile. “That doesn’t change the color of the cat, though.”

The confidence in Maro’s manner faltered. Shae glimpsed embarrassed resentment color his face. She had forgotten how quickly Hilo could put other men in their place—with a glance or a word, and without even trying—and she was furious at her brother in that instant. Scholars might be respected, but Kekonese parents prayed to have at least one son bring honor to the family as a Green Bone warrior. All of Maro’s degrees were mere paper next to the jade of a man like Kaul Hilo, and for a fleeting moment, Shae could see the reminder of that fact stamped across his stiff expression.

Maro forced a smile. “I do argue too much, even outside the classroom. Shae is patient with me, but sometimes I have to remember that not everyone appreciates it.”

Perceiving either the man’s discomfort or Shae’s anger, Hilo’s manner changed immediately; he waved off Maro’s explanation and said with a short laugh, “Shae, patient? I’ve never seen it. You must bring out a better side of her.” He sat forward and clapped Maro on the shoulder in a lighthearted way. “Don’t take anything I said as a criticism; I’ve never had patience for politics myself, but I’m sure you would succeed in it no matter what, and I’m glad my sister’s found someone who’s a match for her in brains and strong opinions.”

Wen asked, “Do the two of you have any plans for Boat Day this year? We’re going to take our boys to the harborfront for the ship sinking. We haven’t been to see it in years.”

The momentary tension dissipated, and conversation veered back into lighter territory as they finished their meals and lingered to enjoy tea. Maro gracefully took leave of their company before the hour grew too late. He saluted Hilo again, less formally this time, and thanked him for spending time with them this evening. At the door, he turned to Shae with a relieved and rueful expression, as if to say, Well, that wasn’t so bad—we survived, didn’t we? then gave her a kiss on the mouth. “Will I see you sometime soon?” he asked in a lowered voice.

“Soon,” she promised him.

Wen said she needed to return to the main house to nurse Ru and put him to bed but told her husband he didn’t need to hurry. “Let’s have tea together next week, if you have the time, sister,” she said, embracing Shae on the way out. “Fourthday or Fifthday would be best; I have a class on Secondday and I’m going to the bathhouse on Thirdday. It’s been weeks since my last massage.”

“We could build you a pool or a sauna here at home,” Hilo suggested. “It would save you all these trips.”

“It would take up too much space,” Wen told him. “And I like getting out of the house.” Wen’s small children occupied most of her time and attention, but she still managed a handful of informers who occasionally carried information through the Celestial Radiance to No Peak’s ears.

“Next Fifthday, then,” Shae said. “I’ll call you when I get home from work.”

After Wen departed, Hilo helped to stack the dishes in the kitchen sink, then stepped out the door into the courtyard, lighting a cigarette. When Shae followed and stood next to him, he said, “That was a nice dinner, Shae.” She was about to thank her brother when he added, “He’s a little odd, but I like him well enough. At least he’s Kekonese.”

Shae’s reply took a sharp turn into indignation. “What did I say to you beforehand? I didn’t invite Maro over to get your approval.”

Hilo turned to her with a frown. “Don’t yell at me, Shae. You invited me to come over to meet your boyfriend, and I was happy to do that. You wanted me to take it easy on him, to not treat it like a big deal, so that’s what I did. I already said it was a nice dinner; Wen and I had a nice time. You introduce me to someone and then expect me not to say a single word?”

Even though Hilo was unaware of Maro’s true parentage, Shae was incensed on her boyfriend’s behalf. “‘At least he’s Kekonese?’ What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said, is all,” Hilo snapped. He ground out his cigarette with more force than necessary. “Maybe that wasn’t the right way to put it,” he admitted grudgingly. “All I’m saying is that I’m glad we won’t have another issue like we did in the past. Maro’s too idealistic, but he seems like a man with a good heart. He’s not anywhere near as green as you are, but there aren’t that many men who are, so that’s no surprise. As long as he makes you happy, that’s what’s important. Do you love him?”

Shae was thrown by the sudden question. The contrast between Hilo’s bluntness and apparent reasonableness made her unsure. “I think so,” she answered, almost without thinking.

Hilo said, “If you’re not sure you’re in love, then you’re not.”

Of course that would be something Hilo would say. Shae knew for certain that she loved the time she spent in Maro’s company, their long conversations, the warmth of him next to her in bed, the way he was everything that No Peak so often was not: peaceable, thoughtful, open-minded. When she was with him, she felt valued and attractive. She could imagine a future unfolding before them. But she had been cautious ever since Jerald.

“I think we’re getting there,” Shae said. “I wish we could spend more time together. The clan doesn’t leave room for much else.”

Her brother’s posture slackened. “I know,” he said, and rubbed a tired hand over his eyes. Looking at him, Shae lost some of her irritation and could not help but feel a pang of sympathy. Hilo was the most hands-on Pillar anyone had ever known. He still left most of the business and political matters to her, but she’d seen him sitting at the kitchen table in the evenings, forcing his way through industry reports and highlighting the parts he needed to ask her about. He dutifully attended the meetings she arranged with corporate executives and councilmen, compensating for lack of business experience and knowledge with the undeniable force of his personal presence. Although he’d gradually given Kehn a great deal more autonomy, he still went out into the streets and talked with his Fists and Fingers, met with Lantern Men, and reviewed every aspect of No Peak’s military activities, which had shifted and grown to include patrols in motorized boats and stakeouts in the mountainous wilderness.

Ayt Mada could command respect as a leader with her public poise and canny rhetoric. Hilo could not do that, but he managed the vast No Peak clan in the same way he’d built his following as Horn: through thousands of conversations and personal interactions with his people, painstakingly accomplished one at a time. It was an effective but grueling way to be the Pillar. And now he also had two small children to take up all the rest of his energy.

“I’ve no problem with Maro,” Hilo said, “but I don’t want any secrets or surprises. If it gets serious, if you want to marry him and bring him into the family, you have to tell me. You have to ask me properly.”

“Because you’re my older brother?” Shae said, smirking a little.

“Yes,” he said, with a touch of anger and a glare that said she was being difficult. “I’m the Pillar,” Hilo said. “You don’t do something that affects the whole clan without the Pillar’s say so. I went to Lan to ask for his permission before I married Wen.”

“And what if he’d said no?”

“He didn’t. Why would he do that?” Hilo’s aura was crackling with irritation now. “Just because you’re my sister and the Weather Man, you think the rules don’t apply to you? Kehn came to me properly. So did Woon. Of course I said yes to both of them.”

Shae blinked. “Woon… asked you if he could…?”

Hilo blinked back at her. “You didn’t know?” He gave her an odd, almost pitying look. “Shortly after New Year’s. He came to see me and brought his girlfriend. They hadn’t been together long, maybe four or five months. But the families know each other, and they seem happy together. As happy as Woon ever seems, that is. It’s hard to tell with him.”

New Year’s had been eight weeks ago. Shae had been talking to Woon in her office that afternoon. “Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked, more to herself than to Hilo.

“He was probably planning to and forgot,” Hilo said, though Shae could tell he didn’t believe that was the reason. Woon did not forget anything.

“We’re Kauls; all our decisions are clan decisions, even the ones that seem private,” Hilo said. “You think I didn’t know that people would talk about the Maiks, about Wen being a stone-eye? Of course I knew. I gave Kehn and Tar every chance I could to earn green and prove their worth to the clan. I got Lan’s blessing to marry Wen. You’ve got to do the same with Maro, because he’s not going to be a force in No Peak. He’s a nice person, but the clan’s not for him. I’m sure he’ll go far in his own world, and he’ll have a good life if he’s with you, but he won’t be at the table after dinner when we talk clan business. Ever. He has to know that going in, I’ll have to have that talk with him if and when you come to me. I think he already knows it about himself, so I don’t think it will be a problem. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves; tonight was just a dinner, like you said, so let’s end the subject for now.”

“Let’s do that.” Shae heard her words come out sour and a little numb. She wanted, more out of instinctual habit than anything else, to be angry at Hilo, but nothing he’d said was untrue.

Hilo yawned. “I should go. Ru’s going to wake me up before dawn.” He gazed out across the garden. “How’s Andy?”

The question came so completely out of the blue that Shae had no response at first. Their cousin had been in Espenia for more than a year, and Hilo had not once asked about him. Whenever Shae mentioned she’d spoken to Anden on the phone, or gotten a letter from him, Hilo listened but never replied. His question now was delivered as simply and unexpectedly as a coma patient opening his eyes and asking what time it was.

“He’s doing well, I think,” Shae said. She tried to recall the most recent long-distance conversation she’d had with Anden, perhaps a month ago. “He says he’s getting good grades and the family he’s staying with treats him well. He’s made friends and is even playing relayball. He tells me there are people wearing jade in Port Massy, if you can believe it. Among the Kekonese immigrants, there’s a small, informal clan of sorts, and Anden’s gotten to know the local Pillar and his family.” Shae shook her head incredulously. “I can’t believe he traveled thousands of kilometers from Kekon to find himself among Green Bones again.”

“I’m not surprised.” Hilo spoke quietly. “Green isn’t easily rubbed away.”

The following morning, Shae arrived in her office on Ship Street to find Woon waiting for her, looking unusually agitated. She felt a flash of worry—perhaps things were not all right between them after all, perhaps that was why he hadn’t told her about his engagement, and he had somehow learned that Hilo had informed her last night—but then her aide handed her a copy of the Janloon Daily newspaper, opened and folded over to the bottom of the second page. Shae’s eyes fell on the headline: Weather Man of No Peak Was an Espenian Spy.

Shae stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, then read the rest of the article in mounting disbelief. It cited confidential sources and documents proving that seven years ago Kaul Shaelinsan had been in the employ of the Espenian military as a civilian informant. Over a period spanning eighteen months, she had cooperated with the Espenian intelligence services to advance foreign economic and political interests in Kekon. In return, she’d been handsomely paid and granted a student visa to attend graduate school in Windton with her boyfriend, an Espenian military officer of Shotarian ancestry. A number of anonymous clan insiders testified that this betrayal on the part of his favorite grandchild had rendered the late Kaul Seningtun heartbroken and caused a rift in the Kaul family that preceded the Torch’s physical and mental decline.

The newspaper began to shake in Shae’s hands. She threw it onto the desk and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the table. “This is Ayt Mada’s doing,” she whispered. Only yesterday she’d been smug about using the Espenians to deal a blow against the Mountain’s operations. She’d wondered when and how Ayt would respond, and now she had her answer.

At the height of the clan war, Ayt had dug into Shae’s background, had used her own spies and sources to discover everything she could about Shae’s past in an effort to sway her into turning against Hilo. Now she’d fed that information to the press. Shae’s decisions as Weather Man had already garnered detractors, and the Oortokon War, which had been going on for eight months with many casualties and little discernible progress, had fanned public hostility against foreigners and Espenia to a high point. Ayt had calculated her attack to be perfectly destructive.

Woon spoke from behind her. “How should we respond, Shae-jen?”

Shae released the death grip on the edge of her desk and turned around. If she ignored the public revelations, her silence would condemn her. If she denied them, Ayt would pounce on her lies. Her mind was racing, considering how to contain the damage, how to regain the upper hand she’d held only yesterday afternoon, but beneath the calculation, a trembling fury was growing. She’d expected Ayt to strike in some way, but she’d failed to anticipate that the blow would be so swift and personal, that her own past would be used as a weapon against the clan.

“We have to issue a statement as soon as possible,” Shae said. “Find out who these reporters are and what their ties are to the Mountain. Call the editor in chief of the Janloon Daily and tell him I want to talk to him immediately. We need to shut this down.”