Jade War

CHAPTER 42 A Difficult Position

Shae was astounded by how much difficulty her brother had managed to create for her in such a short amount of time. It was dangerous to let Hilo off the island of Kekon, she concluded. It seemed each time he returned from an overseas trip, it was with news of some shocking and irrevocable thing he had accomplished abroad. This time, at least, he had not recklessly killed anyone, although she expected inevitable violent consequences were still forthcoming.

“It was a good trip,” Hilo told her. “I had some useful conversations.”

“You sold a hundred kilos of raw jade rock to an Espenian crime boss, and you promised cut jade, manpower, and from the sounds of it, tributary clan status to some people you just met.”

“Do you disagree with what I did?” Hilo asked mildly, but with a narrow-eyed expression at her tone. “I solved the problem they were having with the Crews and got exactly what you wanted: information and allies in Port Massy. A way for us to gain a stronger foothold in Espenia and grow the clan’s business over there without relying solely on those swindling foreign politicians.”

“By selling raw jade to a well-known criminal kingpin,” she repeated.

Hilo crouched down to fix one of Niko’s shoes that had come loose. “The KJA controls all official mining, and thanks to the Royal Council, there’s now a shitload of regulations to keep all that activity on public record. But both the Mountain and No Peak have been confiscating jade from smuggling operations—and that jade isn’t officially declared anywhere. All of it goes through the Horn’s side of the clan—it’s considered victor’s spoils, same as from any battle or duel. I’ve got a bag of it sitting in my drawer in the study. None of that shows up in any KJA files. Nau Suen has been raiding Zapunyo’s jobs the same way we have; what do you imagine Ayt Mada’s doing with their share of the jade? And do you think she’s given up on producing shine after you leaked her Ygutanian factories to the Espenians?” Hilo shook his head. He lifted Niko onto the swing set that had been installed on the lawn in the garden and pushed him back and forth. “I’d bet my own green the Mountain’s still enriching its purse, in ways we don’t know about and can’t prove. It was always part of Ayt’s strategy that Kekon supply both sides of the conflict.”

Shae sat down on the stone bench by the pond and studied the water pensively. What Hilo said was true; one of Wen’s White Rats had provided phone logs that showed Iwe Kalundo and his top Luckbringers making long-distance calls to Ygutan. Another informer reported that the Mountain’s Weather Man had recently made a business trip to that country. Ayt Mada was no doubt well aware of No Peak’s alliance with the Espenians and seeking to expand her clan’s own businesses—legitimate and otherwise. Due to the Mountain’s previous activities in Ygutan and connections such as the late Tem Ben, it made sense that Ayt was choosing to focus on the other world power with a market large enough to rival Espenia. It would not surprise Shae in the least if the Mountain was rebuilding its SN1 factories right now—perhaps somewhere less vulnerable to detection and attack, such as the demilitarized Tun-Ygutan border—or pursuing some even larger scheme.

Despite agreeing with Hilo’s assessment, Shae was disturbed by the path he had set them on. “Ayt Mada’s undermining the KJA, putting jade in the hands of foreigners and criminals who don’t deserve it and can’t control it,” she said. “By selling jade to Kromner, we’re following her example. We’re acting no differently than our enemies.”

Hilo made a noise in the back of his throat. “If it were up to me, foreigners wouldn’t have jade at all, but we’re way past that point, Shae. Grandda’s generation went down that road thirty years ago, as soon as they let the Espenians into the country and took their money to rebuild after the war. Now look at where we are: SN1 and IBJCS and all the other shit.” He leveled a faintly accusing look at his sister that suggested she was as much to blame as anyone for this, having made decisions that further entangled them with foreign interests.

Hilo went on. “Ayt will sell jade under the table to make the Mountain powerful enough to eventually destroy us and rule the country themselves. If we’re not willing to make some big moves of our own, that’s exactly what’ll happen.” He stared into the distance as he continued to push his son on the swing with one hand. “Unlike Ayt, though, I’ve no intention of keeping my clients. The Crews aren’t a state, and their people aren’t warriors. They’re like the greedy sailors that landed on Kekon hundreds of years ago. They’ve no clan loyalty, no real brotherhood. They want jade but don’t know what it means or how to handle it. We’ll take the money they’re offering and invest it where we need it, shore ourselves up, because the Mountain is going to come after us again; it’s just a matter of time.”

“How am I supposed to move that much jade across the Amaric Ocean?”

Hilo gave her a crooked smile. “Kehn and his people have experience with all of Zapunyo’s methods, we’ve confiscated ships and containers, we have companies and people on both sides of the ocean. I’m sure my Weather Man will figure something out.”

Shae grimaced. She was already deeply uncomfortable wielding the clan’s influence over the Royal Council in support of the Espenians’ political agenda. The agreement Hilo had made might turn into yet another area where she’d have to regularly plead the understanding and forgiveness of the gods. “The black market jade trade—we’re getting into a dangerous game, Hilo.”

“You have to go where your enemies are,” Hilo said. “And then further.”

Shae gave her brother a long look. She was accustomed to being the one who made decisions about the clan’s foreign interests; the idea of Hilo acting like a cold-blooded Horn in the place where the Weather Man’s office was placing its stakes made her nervous. She wished she could speak to Lan. She wanted to consult his thoughtful, steady moral compass, his broader view of aisho, his prudent mind. She imagined that if she’d been Lan’s Weather Man, they would’ve had detailed, rational discussions before each major clan decision. Hilo was guided by his own strict principles, that was certainly true, but on his own, he took instinctive action with all the decisive military cunning he considered necessary—and filled in the rationale later. “I heard one of the Kobens was gunned down in a parking lot last week,” she said.

“Anyone could’ve done that,” Hilo replied, with a satisfied shrug. Not only had the assassin—a man with no clan ties and a long record of petty crime and mental illness—been conveniently killed by police while fleeing arrest, but Koben Ento himself had proven unexpectedly and unintentionally helpful, loudly blaming a business rival in the Iwe family before dying of his injuries in the hospital some hours later. Of course there was suspicion that Ayt herself had whispered the man’s name, or that No Peak was behind it—but conflicting speculation was to be expected. The important thing was that the Mountain’s various factions were at each other’s throats, each convinced that the others were out to ruin them, and demanding Ayt Madashi quell the infighting by making a decision about the succession.

A group of workers passed, pushing a trolley stacked with folding chairs. Large red tents were being erected in the courtyard for tomorrow’s festivities. Woon Papidonwa and his bride would be getting married at the Temple of Divine Return, but Hilo had generously offered to host the reception at the Kaul estate, as a gift to the new couple and in recognition of Woon’s status in the clan. Since Shae had convinced the Weather Man’s Shadow to stay on in his role, more than a year had come and gone, but Woon had not made any further mention of resigning his post, perhaps because he seemed to be much happier now. Shae was glad for him, but the feeling was not unreserved.

Niko held his arms out to be taken off the swing, and Hilo obliged, setting him down and watching the boy scamper off down the garden path. “I haven’t seen Maro around lately,” Hilo said. “Are things over between the two of you?”

Shae did her best to sound nonchalant. “We’re on something of a break right now.” She suspected that statement sounded as noncommittal and confused as the issue itself, and was disappointed that she was not as beyond caring about her brother’s judgment as she’d thought she was. “We’re still friends,” she added. “He’s coming as my guest to the wedding tomorrow.”

Hilo gave her a knowing, almost sad look, as if he guessed how much the duel had cost her, more than even her jade. “If you’re friends like you say, you should be honest with him, Shae.”

Shae pretended not to have heard him. “Maro’s been involved in a humanitarian advocacy group called Four Virtues International. He asked if you’d be willing to meet with some of the representatives who’re looking for the clan’s support. It would mean a lot to them.”

Hilo sighed in exasperation—possibly with her for redirecting the conversation, possibly at the fact that as Pillar he was being constantly petitioned by various groups and had never ceased to find it tedious. “All right, as a favor to your… friend,” he said. “Sometime in the new year, when things aren’t as busy.” Wen was due to give birth in a month. Niko came back with a fistful of colorful pebbles; Hilo made a show of admiring them, then picked the boy up to bring him indoors for lunch. “Andy’s doing well,” he said to Shae over his shoulder. “He wasn’t happy about staying, but he understands.”

Shae watched her brother’s back recede toward the house. She called after him. “Would you really have done it? If Ayt had killed me in the duel, would you have broken aisho and gone back to war with a dirty blade?”

“Ayt thought I would.” Hilo’s aura was smooth as a river. “That’s what’s important.”

Chancellor Son was warming up at the target range of the Three Springs Leisure Club when Shae joined him that afternoon. “Kaul-jen,” he exclaimed, with a relaxed and cheerful air. “A lovely day, isn’t it?” The chancellor was three months away from the end of what had been a grueling six-year term in office and he was obviously looking forward to having more time for his family business, his grandchildren, and the game of chasso.

Chasso is a cross-country game that involves walking through a sprawling and manicured parkland, stopping at regular intervals to shoot fake birds (tufted rubber balls launched from hidden machines) with crossbow darts fired from specialized bows. Although chasso began as a foreign gentleman’s game with origins in hunting and archery, in the past decade it caught on as a popular pastime for wealthy Kekonese. Janloon’s most well-heeled politicians and businessmen regularly conducted business over games at the recently built Three Springs Leisure Club, located thirty minutes south of Janloon.

Shae personally found the game uninteresting in the extreme, but she understood why it appealed to someone like Son Tomarho. Devoting so much land to private recreation on an island where space was at a premium meant exorbitant, status-enhancing membership fees; the sport required reflexes, good aim, and expensive equipment but low physical fitness; and aging Kekonese men still liked to pretend they were capable warriors. She also suspected that Son enjoyed beating her at the game, as jade abilities were of minimal advantage.

Shae waited until after they’d spent the first two flushes in social chat and were hiking up a low hill against the wind to the third flush point before she decided to broach the topic she’d come to discuss. “No one deserves a break from the pressures of Wisdom Hall more than you, Chancellor Son, but it’ll be a loss for the No Peak clan to no longer have such a dependable friend in the chancellor’s office next year.” The Royal Council had voted in Guim En, the current Minister of Home Concerns, as Son’s successor. Guim was viewed as an experienced, fiscally responsible statesman with a populist streak. He was also a long-standing member of the Mountain clan.

“Guim is a reasonable man,” Son said unconcernedly, planting himself at the vantage marker and lifting the chasso bow to his ample shoulder. Son raised his left arm to signal his readiness to the machine operator below. One after another, half a dozen chasso balls flew into the air from behind a row of shrubs. Son fired in rapid sequence and grunted in satisfaction as three impaled balls thudded to the lawn below.

“This is a difficult time for the country and for No Peak,” Shae said. “The clans have held to peace, but only because the world around us hasn’t. Can we count on Guim En to continue to pressure the Uwiwa Islands over smuggling? Will he keep holding the Mountain accountable to the KJA? Will he oppose the Oortokon Conflict Refugee Act when it’s time for the Royal Council to vote?”

Son stepped aside and Shae took his place at the vantage marker. The chasso balls flew; Shae pinned two of them using the rented bow from the leisure club shop. She grimaced, tempted to cheat by Deflecting her opponent’s darts at the next flush. As they hiked down to collect their points, Son said, in a considerably more somber voice, “Kaul-jen, I was there in the room during the visit from the Espenian secretary, and I’m well aware of the foreigners’ security concerns. But the Refugee Act addresses a humanitarian issue. No Peak will seem heartless to oppose it.” He wiped his brow and bent his large frame to pick up his downed chasso balls, which he handed to the young chasskeeper who tailed them at a respectful distance, carrying equipment and water and keeping score. “Compassion is one of the four Divine Virtues, after all.”

Shae didn’t disagree with Son’s sentiments. Nevertheless, she said to Son, “In a perfect world, people would act in accordance with the Divine Virtues all the time, and then I suppose the Return would be in sight. But the world is far from perfect, and we both know there are trade-offs to be made.”

Son turned around and jabbed one of the chasso darts into the air. “The Espenians are asking us to turn away homeless widows and orphans because they’re afraid some of them might be Ygutanian spies. Should we compromise our morals on account of foreign pressure?” Son’s words were indignant but his tone was resigned, and his objections were more rhetorical bluster than true disagreement. He knew as well as Shae did that No Peak was in a difficult position. The military challenges in Oortoko had made the Espenians paranoid and controlling. To their continued displeasure, the Kekonese Royal Council held firm in refusing to contribute soldiers or additional jade to the Oortokon War effort. Yet all the while, Shae had steered the clan toward business expansion and trade deals with Espenia and was opening a branch of the Weather Man’s office in Port Massy. Now that Hilo had established clan ties with the Green Bones in Espenia, and knowing that the Mountain was seeking its own foreign opportunities, Shae was all the more certain that No Peak needed every bit of political influence it could hang on to, at home and abroad. It needed the continued favor of Adamont Capita. As did the whole country, for a fact, if it wished to maintain its rapid economic growth. The Son family’s own textile business was benefiting handsomely from reduced tariffs.

“You’ve held Kekon’s highest political office during clan war within our country, and now foreign war surrounding it,” Shae pointed out to the chancellor. “You know all about pressure—and when to compromise.”

Son shook his head. “These are issues for my successor to deal with now, Kaul-jen.” They descended a well-landscaped pebble path into a small woodland. The afternoon was cooling fast; it wouldn’t be long before the autumn chill and the dimming light drove them back indoors.

“You’re not an old man yet, Chancellor Son. Look at how you’re outlasting me on the chasso course.” Shae paused in the middle of the path and faced the man. “On behalf of the Pillar, I must ask you for one more act of friendship to No Peak. Don’t retire after the end of your term. Keep your seat in the Royal Council. You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy yourself later, but stay in government for another year or two, and continue to do the good work this country needs of you.” She paused meaningfully. “The clan would be grateful to you, and your family.”

As a former Lantern Man, Chancellor Son knew that the clan’s gratitude was not something lightly given and almost certainly meant a significant monetary reward to him and his relatives. If he remained in the Royal Council, Son would continue to act as No Peak’s most senior politician in Wisdom Hall and would vote in line with the clan’s interests. In the event of a tie, his status as chancellor emeritus gave him the same privilege as the sitting chancellor—to cast an additional, tie-breaking vote—which would potentially negate Guim’s deciding power.

Chancellor Son pursed his thick lips. Speaking thoughtfully, but not without a touch of pride, “I suppose, after a lifetime of public service, what is one more year?” He fixed Shae with a sober, calculating gaze before hefting his chasso bow and turning back to the path. “I remain a loyal friend of the clan, Kaul-jen, but I can’t hold back a tide. Most people don’t understand the trade agreements or care about the Espenians’ security concerns. Many don’t see why we should accommodate foreigners at all. You’re walking a thin line. If you keep pitting the interests of No Peak against the will of the country, you won’t prevail.”

Shae was not normally a heavy drinker, but she had several glasses of wine at Woon’s wedding reception the following evening. Sometime after midnight, the bride and groom departed to the cheers of the guests, in a limousine festooned with red and yellow peonies symbolizing marital happiness and fertility. Shortly afterward, Shae left the party and retired to the Weather Man’s residence. Maro, dressed in a pressed blue linen suit and tie, walked with her to the front door. She paused before she went inside and turned to him over her shoulder. “Do you want to come in for a little while?”

She wasn’t sure if it was politeness, or drunken wistfulness, or something else that made her ask, but in that moment, she hoped he would say yes. Dozens of people had seen them leave the reception together, but having already endured and survived national public scandal, Shae no longer cared if there was clan gossip tomorrow morning.

Maro glanced away, then back at her with a hopeful but cautious expression. “For a little while,” he said.

Inside, Shae took off her shoes and sat down on the sofa, rubbing her sore feet. Maro poured two tall glasses of chilled mint water from the pitcher in her fridge. Shae accepted one of them gratefully and pressed the cold glass to her forehead before draining half of it. Although the Weather Man’s house was at the far end of the central courtyard, she could still hear the music and Perceive the energy of the remaining crowd like a distant background throbbing. By now, her body had acclimated to carrying less jade, but at times she felt as if her senses were softened, muted around the edges. The alcohol she’d consumed exacerbated the effect; she was tired and everything seemed slightly gauzy.

Maro sat down at the other end of the sofa and leaned back, loosening his tie and taking a drink from his own glass of water. He didn’t appear as inebriated as she felt. “Your friend Woon Papi must be very dedicated to the clan,” he said. “Your family threw quite the party for him.”

“He was my eldest brother’s best friend.” And mine. “He deserves it.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me.” Maro turned the glass in his hands. “And I appreciate you setting up a meeting for Four Virtues to talk to your brother.” As if trying to fill the air between them, he continued, “I’ve been on their steering committee for a while. They’re doing good work but can only get so far without more high-profile support. It would be an enormous step for the major clans to publicly acknowledge the need for Kekon to take a more active role in international humanitarian efforts.” He looked to her as if hoping for agreement. “Perhaps we can convince your brother to lend his support to the Oortokon Conflict Refugee Act.”

Shae was in no mood to explain the situation involving the clan’s business interests and the pressure from the Espenian government, nor suggest that she was the one holding Chancellor Son and the Royal Council accountable to questionable foreign interests. “Let’s not talk politics right now,” she said.

Maro tugged at his collar. “If you say so,” he said uncertainly, as if Shae had snatched away the last of their safe conversation topics. A swollen silence hung between them. Nearly five months had passed since the duel, but their relationship persisted in the awkward limbo of two objects held at a precise distance by constant centrifugal force, unable to move either closer together or farther apart. They’d spoken on the phone. They’d had lunch together a number of times. Shae still consulted Maro on questions of economics and foreign policy, and now he was hoping for the clan’s endorsement of the nonprofit work that had begun to consume a greater amount of his time. They were cordial, friendly—but they circled each other tentatively, as if the other person was a fire whose warmth they craved but knew might burn.

Maro had, on more than one occasion, implied that they could get over this difficult stretch if they were both willing to trust again. Looking at him now, handsome and earnest, seeing the longing in his eyes and the slight flush in his face, Shae wished more than anything that were true. Tonight she ached for closeness—but she did not deserve Maro’s trust and could not bear to regain it dishonestly. She considered thanking him for coming and politely showing him to the door. She considered pulling him over to her and fucking him on the floor of the living room. Neither option seemed entirely correct, nor fair to her friend. She did not regret the decisions she’d made, but she did regret that she could no longer look at Maro without seeing the impassable distance between the realities they inhabited.

“Shae.” Maro cleared his throat roughly, then got up and moved to sit next to her. His soft aura brushed against her, brimming with conflicted desire, almost distress. He had trimmed his beard and there was tension in the curve of his jaw. “I think I understand better why you shut me out before. I’ve accepted the fact that you were under a lot of pressure at the time and wanted to keep me from being targeted. But I’m not sure I can do this anymore—be your friend, that is. Someone who’s vaguely associated with your family, who gets invited to weddings, but isn’t a part of the clan itself. It’s… not a good position to be in.”

A heaviness came to rest below Shae’s rib cage. “I know. I tried it once myself and it didn’t work out.” She sank lower onto the sofa. A throbbing had begun somewhere behind her eye sockets. “You’re right. I’ve kept you at a distance and not told you the truth you deserve. I was trying to protect you from my decisions, but it was wrong of me.”

Maro’s face moved in a brief spasm. “You can’t shelter me. You know that I don’t like Green Bone culture, but I still care about you. Do you remember when I said I wanted us to be completely open and honest with each other?” He searched her face. “I need to know where I stand with you. Can you just tell me once and for all: Is there any chance for us?”

Hilo’s words came back to her: If you’re his friend as you say, you should be honest with him. The pressure of a fierce and masochistic abandon swelled inside Shae’s chest. She wrapped a hand around Maro’s neck and kissed him. The taste and smell of him flooded into her mouth, and she sighed, filled with bittersweet ferocity as strong as the dry lingering taste of wine. When she pulled back, Shae said, “I had an abortion, Maro. I was pregnant before I fought the duel with Ayt Mada.”

Maro’s face went blank for several seconds, then he sat back as if he’d been shoved hard. A cloud passed over his gentle features, turning them wounded and ugly. The edges of his jade aura seemed to ripple and harden. “You…” His voice came out as a coarse whisper. “You kept this from me. You decided without even telling me. Just like the duel.”

“You wanted complete honesty,” Shae said. “So that’s what I’m giving to you. I love you too.” Shae looked down at her hands and found that they were clutched tightly in her lap. “You asked me if there’s any chance for us, but only you can answer that question now.”

Maro set the glass down on the coffee table and stood up. Shae felt the painful weight of his stare pressing down on her for a long, silent moment. She leaned her head back against the cushions. The ceiling seemed to be rotating and so she closed her eyes and did not watch as Maro turned away and left the house.