Fonda Lee - Jade War

Soradiyo raised his glass, giving them a thick-lipped smile that was somehow encouraging and condescending at the same time. “Belief is the first step toward making your dreams come true,” he said.

Bero snorted with impatience. For some reason, he felt the urge to impress this man, even though he disliked him. “So what do you want to talk to us about?”

Soradiyo moved his chair out of the way of the drip from an overhead pipe. The Rat House had no windows; the ceiling and walls were water stained, and by two or three o’clock in the morning, the air was thickly clogged with the stench of sweat and cigarette smoke. “I’m a recruiter,” said Soradiyo. “I look for people who have two things: jade, and something wrong with the part of the brain that’s supposed to make them fear death.”

“Way to sell the job,” Bero said.

Soradiyo gave a sharp laugh. “I’m asking if you want to be a rockfish.” A jade smuggler—the sort that moved gems out of the country. “The pay’s in money and shine, and eventually, in green. You’d make more than you ever could selling shine. A lot more.”

Bero asked, “You work for someone?”

“I’m a sworn man of Ti Pasuiga. You know what that means?” Soradiyo bared his teeth in a smile at their affirmative silence. The things he had said no longer seemed like exaggeration; association with the largest, most notorious jade trafficking ring could indeed deliver a daring man to fabulous wealth or an undignified death.

Soradiyo rapped misshapen knuckles idly against the tabletop. “Business is good; there’s more demand than ever and money to go around. But it’s too risky to keep relying on the Abukei.” Jade-immune aboriginals who didn’t give off an aura and didn’t suffer the dramatic and sometimes fatal effects of excessive jade exposure were the natural gem mules in the black market jade trade, but they were easy to identify and subject to suspicion at any border exit. Soradiyo opened his wallet and took out cash to cover their drinks. “Fortunately, these days, with enough shine, anyone can carry jade. You might even pass as Green Bones.” He stood up and picked up his jacket. “Think about it. I’ll be back here the same time next Fourthday, and you can tell me whether you want to get out of this shithole and play with the big dogs.”

After Soradiyo left, Mudt wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shoulder and said, “We don’t need that barukan asshole. We’ve got everything we need already. We got this jade ourselves.” He tapped the jade cuffs he wore cinched on his upper arms. “We can train here until we’re good enough to take on anyone. Good enough to take on the Maiks.”

“You talk too much,” Bero snapped, and got up to get another drink. He passed a table of people drawing knives across their forearms, practicing Steel. One of them cursed in pain and fell off his chair when the blade bit into flesh.

The problem with Mudt, Bero thought, was that he had too many opinions; he didn’t know when to shut up. The kid wouldn’t even have any jade or shine if it wasn’t for Bero. Bero had planned the night at the cemetery. He’d killed for his jade. Twice. Mudt hadn’t done that. At the end of the day, he was a hanger-on, not truly deserving of green.

Jan Royal University, situated on the western edge of Janloon, is the oldest academic institution on Kekon, having withstood periods of war and occupation over the span of its distinguished three-hundred-year history. Some of the weathered stone buildings that Shae walked past dated all the way back to the unification of the island at the end of the Warring Sisters period. Others, like the Foreign Studies Department building, were gleaming modern structures of steel and glass and concrete. Shae entered through the double doors and slipped into the back of the lecture hall, taking an empty seat in the last row. The class was already in progress; Maro was writing on the blackboard and did not see her come in, but when he turned back around to face the class, his eyes found her and a small smile tugged briefly at his mouth before he addressed the students paying attention to him. “Last week, we discussed the aftermath of the Many Nations War and how the economic and political collapse of the Tun Empire, followed by decades of civil conflict and reform, allowed Ygutan to fill the power vacuum left on the Orius continent. We’ll be shifting our focus for the rest of this term to the postwar policies of the Republic of Espenia with regards to Shotar and Kekon, and how that is directly related to current events.”

Shae was interested in the lecture, and Tau Maro was an engaging speaker—organized, knowledgeable, and enthusiastic about the material—but Shae could not keep her mind from returning to the prior day’s phone conversation with Ree Tura. She was surprised when the hour was over, and disappointed that she’d been unable to pay better attention. Maro wrote a closing question on the blackboard. “Your assignment this week is to write three pages on the following topic: How does the recent ratification of the Pact of Friendship and Mutual Noninterference between Tun and Ygutan affect Kekon?”

When the students had gathered their belongings and dispersed from the lecture hall, Shae rose from her seat and walked to the front of the room. “I hope you didn’t mind me coming early to watch,” she said. “You’re a very good teacher.”

Maro finished erasing the blackboard, then glanced around at the empty seats before leaning in to plant a kiss on the corner of Shae’s mouth. His short beard tickled her cheek, and she caught a whiff of aftershave mingled with the scent of the chalk dusting the lapels and shoulders of the brown suede jacket he wore over a white shirt. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. “You look nice. Where are we going for dinner?”

Spring rains had washed the campus sidewalks clean and made the wide lawns green and lush. Students on bicycles streamed past them as they left the university grounds. Shae did not have a car and driver waiting; she’d taken a taxi straight from the office on Ship Street, pausing only to refresh her makeup and exchange her blazer for a sequined red shawl. She began to hail another cab, but Maro said, “At this time on a Fifthday, it’ll be faster to take the subway. You don’t mind, do you?” She assured him she did not.

Standing on the subway platform, talking casually about the lecture, the university campus, and the recent weather, Shae felt some of the tension from her work week slowly unknotting. She rested her eyes on Maro, on his reassuringly unhurried demeanor as he allowed the first, overly crowded train to pass and waited for the next. Maro’s short beard made him look older and more serious than he truly was, but he had a soft mouth and watchful eyes, and large, handsome hands. He was the most pleasant surprise that had happened to Shae all year. She had not been looking for a relationship. Sometimes she thought about Jerald with nostalgia and wished for companionship, but she had little room for any sort of social life outside of No Peak responsibilities. With her grandfather’s death and funeral, and recent demands at the Weather Man’s office, she hadn’t seen Maro in over a month. “I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we got together,” she said.

Maro shook his head. “I know things can’t have been easy for you lately. I’ve been thinking about you but didn’t want to intrude, knowing there was already so much public attention on your family.” He hesitated, then slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re able to get away tonight.”