Fonda Lee - Jade War

They went to the Golyaani Kitchen, an upscale dining spot in North Sotto, not far from the apartment where Shae used to live when she’d first moved back to Janloon. She’d been wanting to take Maro there for some time. The waiter showed them to a corner booth where Shae ordered a cocktail and Maro chose a midrange Shotarian whiskey and a glass of water. “So. How are you doing these days?” he asked her.

“Better than I was. I miss my grandfather… but he wasn’t really himself in the last year of his life. He used to be such a force of nature.” Shae stirred her cocktail pensively. “I like to think that he’s awaiting the Return in the afterlife with my father and my brother, and they’re all much happier and more peaceful now.” She paused to take a long sip of her drink, determined not to be melancholy on what ought to be a lighthearted evening. She reached across the table and laid her hand over Maro’s large one; his jade aura was like a light blanket, full of interesting wrinkles and pleasant to touch. “How’re things at work?”

“The usual,” Maro replied, letting her change the subject. “I’m teaching three classes this semester. And I’m still trying to get my foreign studies trips funded. The bureaucracy in academia never ceases to astound me.” A sigh of wry resignation. “With events in Shotar being in the news so much, I’ve also been called to Wisdom Hall a lot lately.”

When Shae had first met Maro at a Kaul Dushuron Academy alumni event six months ago, she’d determined immediately that he would be a valuable acquaintance. As Weather Man, she needed to be current in her knowledge of international relations and trade. At age thirty-three, Tau Marosun was one of the youngest faculty members in the Foreign Studies Department at Jan Royal University and a political advisor to the Royal Council. The fact that the accomplished young professor was attractive was a noteworthy but secondary consideration. She asked Maro to sit down with her over dinner a few weeks later, hoping to build a professional relationship and gather additional names from his network of experts in the field. They’d talked for four hours, beginning with his academic areas of expertise but soon ranging into everything from Janloon’s restaurant scene, to foreign films, to budget traveling.

Afterward, Maro had shyly asked if he might see her again.

The Golyaani Kitchen served upscale traditional Tuni food alongside a large and varied drink menu, and on a Fifthday evening, the surrounding tables were occupied by the young professionals who populated the North Sotto district. Hanging pot lamps illuminated the stylish brick hearth, black tabletops, and shelves of decorative rustic bottles filled with dried spices. Their meal arrived: smoked liver sausage, spiced eggplant stew over rice, quail baked in a clay pot. Shae was pleased when Maro exclaimed appreciatively over the dishes and complimented her selections. She watched him ladle the eggplant stew onto both of their plates. Maro did everything with a certain subtle deliberation: outlining the topics of his lecture before the beginning of class, pausing before speaking, taking the time to smell whiskey before drinking it. He was completely unlike Jerald. Shae’s previous boyfriend had been athletic and exuberant, vigorous in bed, a funny, charming, ultimately shallow and insensitive young Espenian military officer. Maro was intelligent and opinionated, but unpretentious, valuing thoughtful conversation and new experiences. He was also unlike most Green Bone men Shae was accustomed to; he wore two jade studs pierced conservatively through his left ear, but he had never been a Finger in the clan. Indeed, he seemed to have little interest in clan affairs, asking after them only insofar as they were important to Shae and to the extent that they related to national politics and world issues.

“What’s the Royal Council been asking you?” Shae asked.

“Exactly the sort of thing I ask my students,” Maro said, a touch ironically. “But in far greater detail than a three-page report.” Shae recalled the question he’d written on the blackboard at the end of class: How does the recent ratification of the Pact of Friendship and Mutual Noninterference between Tun and Ygutan affect Kekon?

“So how would you answer your own essay question?” she asked him.

Maro took a bite of quail, chewing and swallowing before replying. “I would say that Kekon is going to be in an unprecedentedly difficult position. The Tun-Ygutan pact isn’t surprising. Tun has too many of its own problems to oppose Ygutan, and the Ygutanians are content to leave their largest border undisturbed so they can concentrate on attaining control of the entire Origas Gulf. That’s entirely unacceptable to Shotar and to Espenia. The ROE is bound to commit more military resources to the region, and to Kekon in particular.”

Shae nodded. “We’ll be caught between the Espenosphere and the Ygut Coalition.” Kekon was officially allied with the Republic of Espenia and hosted the largest Espenian naval base in the region on Euman Island. The Kekonese, however, generally did not care for the Espenians more than any other foreigners. They were geographically closer to the continent of Orius than that of Spenius, and they had such a long enmity with Shotar that it was hard to imagine the two countries being on the same side simply because they both had alliances with the ROE. Shae’s mind returned to the vexing conversation she’d had with Ree Tura. The world outside of Kekon was exerting forces that derailed even a blood feud between the Green Bone clans.

“It’s a politically charged situation,” Maro agreed, “but maybe an opportunity as well, for our country to play a bigger role on the world stage.” He took a sip of his drink; when he set the glass down, he said, “For most of our history, we’ve been an insular, tribal, and isolationist island, trusting in jade and Green Bones to keep us safe. But all that’s been changing. Jade brought the world to our doorstep, and now we have to take part in that world.”

Shae thought about her cousin, now in Espenia. She’d been certain she was doing the right thing, convincing Hilo to send Anden to study abroad. No Peak was in need of more people who had lived and worked outside of Kekon, who understood the rapidly changing world that Maro spoke of. Anden had not believed her, though, had blamed her, even. Shae paused in her meal and settled her gaze on Maro. “I can’t help but wonder,” she said with a smile, “how someone ends up as a leading professor of foreign studies after graduating from a hidebound Green Bone clan institution like Kaul Du Academy.”

Maro grimaced as he leaned in. “I almost didn’t,” he admitted. “Graduate, that is. I struggled with the jade disciplines and wanted to drop out as a year-five, but that wasn’t an option. I’m the only boy in my family.” It was an enduring belief among Kekonese that every family of quality had jade in it. An only son would be expected to receive a martial education and wear green. Maro pursed his lips thoughtfully, then finished the whiskey in his glass. “Looking back now, I’m glad I went through the training. I think I’m a stronger person because of it. But at the time, it was hard. Fortunately, my academic grades pulled me through, but I was never really cut out to be a Green Bone. Not like certain people who graduate Rank One.” He gave Shae a teasing prod with his elbow. “I remember you from back then. I was a year-four when you came in as a year-one. You don’t remember me, do you?”

Shae was embarrassed to admit that she did not. “That’s okay, I wouldn’t expect you to,” Maro said. “I was a bookworm and didn’t make much of an impression at the time. Everyone knew who you were, though. You and your brother being in the same class, it was hard to miss you.”