Jade War

CHAPTER 32 Overdue Conversations

Shae required a blood transfusion and twelve days in Janloon General Hospital before the surgeon and Dr. Truw cleared her to return home. At her request, no one but immediate family had been allowed to visit her while she was in the hospital. Addled with painkillers and shaking with jade withdrawal, the last thing she wanted was to answer questions from reporters, be seen in this state by any of her Ship Street colleagues, or even to guiltily face Maro. As a result, when she got back to her own house, she felt utterly disconnected from the world and overwhelmed by how to even start getting her footing back. Although she’d been trained at the Academy and had fought and killed before, by Green Bone standards, and by Kaul family standards in particular, she’d enjoyed a relatively safe existence: spoiled by her grandfather, protected by Lan, groomed for the business side of the clan, living abroad in Espenia, then working on the top floor of an office tower. She had never been so near death before, and it humbled her.

Now she stood naked in front of the mirror in her bathroom. A long pink scar, fading to white at the edges and puckered by stitches, ran across her abdomen, distorting the shape of her navel. It still gave her pain when she twisted or bent at the waist. A dull jade withdrawal headache sat at the base of her skull and every muscle in her body felt leaden. She still had her jade earrings, bracelets, and anklets, which Hilo had brought to her in the hospital when she was strong enough to wear them, but her neck was pale and bare without her two-tier jade choker.

Shae dressed and called Woon on the phone. He came over immediately, and in a mutual flood of relief, they embraced each other in the doorway. “Shae-jen,” Woon said, his voice unsteady, “I understand why you acted as you did, but at the time, I thought I was about to lose you as well. If that had happened, I think I would’ve gone to the Pillar and begged for death.”

“Don’t ever think such a thing, Papi-jen,” Shae said, a little shaken by his words. They went into her kitchen. Shae leaned heavily against the table as she pulled out a seat; Woon put a steadying hand under her elbow and helped her into it. “How bad has it been, Shae-jen?” he asked, his brow deeply creased with concern.

“Withdrawal?” Shae grimaced. “It’s manageable, and it won’t last long.” She was achy and exhausted and felt at times as if there were cobwebs over her eyes and ears, but she was not incapacitated. She still had her jade abilities. Withdrawal symptoms felt worse piled on top of her physical injuries, but they weren’t nearly as severe as they would’ve been if she’d lost all her jade, and she knew from experience they would pass within a few weeks.

Woon took what she’d said to mean something different. “I’ll bring you jade from the clan’s stores,” he said. “How much do you need to have a new choker made?”

Shae shook her head. “I don’t want a new one.” There was nothing to stop her from drawing from the Kaul family’s reserves of wealth to replace the jade she’d lost in the duel, but after nearly dying in the most public manner possible, she felt as if it would be dishonest, personally diminishing in some way, to be seen wearing a new choker made of jade she had not fought for. It would seem as if the near-fatal stand she’d taken had no lasting impact, as if what she’d lost that day could be so easily restored. Ayt Mada could not grow back the missing portion of her ear. Shae would carry the absence of her jade openly, like a scar.

Woon looked unsure at her refusal, but understanding how personal the decision was, he accepted her explanation without argument. Shae asked him to tell her what had happened over the past twelve days. The Weather Man’s Shadow had been staunchly holding her place on Ship Street. The decisions that had to be made, he’d made in a way he judged she would approve; all other questions and requests he’d dealt with by saying the Weather Man would answer them upon her return.

Woon had done one thing she had not anticipated: He’d gone to Hami Tumashon and asked the Master Luckbringer if he intended to resign from his position. The two highest-ranking men in the Weather Man’s office had had a respectful working relationship stretching back years, to when Woon was Lan’s Pillarman, and Hami a senior Luckbringer under Doru, but Hami had not taken the question kindly, seeing it for what it was: an accusation of disloyalty.

“Only the Pillar or the Weather Man can ask for my resignation, Woon-jen,” Hami had answered coldly. “I’m tempted to offer you a clean blade, but I think we can agree that any other duels would be anticlimactic at this point.” The Master Luckbringer continued to manage the day-to-day activities on Ship Street with all of his usual competence, but after the confrontation, he and Woon spoke little beyond what was necessary.

When Woon had filled her in on everything she needed to know, Shae felt as if it wouldn’t have been so bad to have stayed in the hospital a few more days. “I can’t thank you enough, Papi-jen,” she said. “And I’m sorry that I left you with so much to deal with at a time when you should’ve been happily planning your wedding.” Woon was to be married in a few months. Shae had not met his fiancée but had seen a very pretty photograph of her on the man’s desk.

Woon’s jade aura shifted at the mention of the wedding. “It was hardly anything compared to what you went through. Besides, Kiya and my mother are doing all the work; I only need to show up.” He added, “However, the next time you challenge Ayt Madashi with a clean blade, if you could be more considerate about the timing, that would be appreciated.” Woon’s sense of humor, when it made an appearance, was so deadpan that Shae wasn’t sure whether to laugh.

When she returned to Ship Street the following day, she felt physically stronger and less muddled after having slept for fourteen hours in her own bed. An abrupt silence accompanied her arrival into the building. As she walked from the elevator to her office, people stopped in their conversations and paused in their work. Shae’s Perception was sluggish from the combination of jade loss and days of convalescence, but she sensed the wave of trepidation that spread down the corridor.

A man on her left brought his clasped hands up to his forehead and dipped into a formal salute. “Kaul-jen,” he called out. “Welcome back.”

The woman at the desk next to him followed suit, as did another, and the Luckbringers near them stood up from their chairs and went to the doors of their offices or the entries of their cubicles and saluted the Weather Man as she passed. Shae saw tenuous smiles on their faces, congratulatory and consoling in equal measure. She’d lost the duel and the majority of her jade, but she’d defended herself and her clan from slander. She’d fought as well as anyone could’ve expected and shown herself willing to die for personal and family reputation. In those most critical aspects, she’d put to rest the question of her integrity and fitness as a Green Bone leader.

Shae’s secretary jumped up and followed her into her office. “Kaul-jen, Councilman Kowi and two Lantern Men have been coming into the building for the past two mornings and waiting in the lobby to speak to you. Do you want to see them or should I send them away?”

“I’ll see them,” Shae said. Behind her, people went back to their work as if there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Kowi and the two Lantern Men were admitted to Shae’s office. The pretense of the meeting was to give her an update on the goings-on in the Royal Council during her absence, particularly the national budget, and the question over what Kekon’s stance ought to be regarding refugees from the Oortokon War, which had been going on for nearly a year. Shae knew the true reason for their visit. They had taken a risk by going to Hilo to advocate her removal as Weather Man. Now that it was clear they had failed and she was to remain in her post, they were here to forestall disfavor.

“Kaul-jen,” Councilman Kowi said, saluting deeply and nervously. “I speak for all of us in expressing how relieved we are to see you well.” The two Lantern Men echoed his sentiments vehemently. Shae accepted their well wishes graciously and entertained twenty minutes of discussion on Council matters. At last, Kowi cleared his throat. “Kaul-jen, my family’s ties to No Peak go back generations, so it goes without saying that my allegiance to the clan is ironclad and I personally hope to be working with you for many years.”

Mr. Eho, the Lantern Man, said, “In this day and age, the news cycle moves faster than ever, and things are printed in the newspapers or spoken on the radio before the truth is even verified. I’m ashamed to say that perhaps I jumped to conclusions based on some of the recent negative talk, but I should never have lost faith in the clan and in the Weather Man’s office.”

“I’d be willing to publicly declare my regrets to the Pillar for any misunderstanding,” said Mr. Orn contritely and earnestly, though his pained expression suggested obvious reluctance. A missing ear would not look good on someone hoping to run for political office.

Shae let a silence come to rest in the room, for long enough that she could Perceive the anxiety of her visitors rising. She looked at each of them in turn, her face impassive; none of the men met her gaze for more than a few seconds before glancing away. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over one knee. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “My grandfather taught me that if a friend asks for your forgiveness, you should always give it.” Her guests relaxed considerably, their shoulders coming down, smiles beginning to appear on their faces.

Shae added, before any of them could begin to speak, “He also taught me that if you have to give it again, then they weren’t a friend to begin with.” She rose smoothly from her seat to end the meeting. “I know I can count on your friendship and allegiance from now on.”

Shae spent the next few days getting caught up. On Fifthday morning, she called Hami Tumashon into her office. “Hami-jen,” Shae said without preamble, “it’s time we talked about your future in the Weather Man’s office and in the No Peak clan.”

Hami’s expression turned stiff and wary, and his jade aura began to bristle defensively. Shae went on, “We haven’t always seen eye to eye during the time I’ve been Weather Man. At times you’ve challenged my decisions or made it clear that you felt I acted incorrectly.”

“I’ve spoken up when I’ve thought it necessary,” Hami said brusquely. “I did the same when Yun Doru was Weather Man. He was too parochial, but the truth is that the clan was comfortable with him, because he was an old-timer, a comrade of the Torch. You don’t have that luxury. Even if I agree with the general direction you’re taking the clan, I have to point it out when you act in ways that are ill considered or that cost respect for you and for No Peak.”

“You’re right to do so,” Shae said. “As much as your honesty wounds my pride sometimes, I have to admit you’re the one person in No Peak who best straddles the different sides of the clan. You have the presence and cold instincts of a Fist but the brains and experience of a good Luckbringer. You see the need to change with the times but also the importance of staying true to our core as Green Bones. That’s why I called you in here: I want you to move to Espenia, to start up a branch of the Weather Man’s office in Port Massy.”

Whatever Hami had been expecting when he’d been called into Shae’s office, it was not this. As he was too stunned to reply at first, Shae continued. “Despite current political sentiments, the reality is that we’re tied to Espenia economically. They buy our jade, have military bases on our soil, and now our business interests in that country are growing more than ever. We can’t manage it all from Janloon. I need someone there. Someone who I know is loyal to the clan, who is adaptable to new ways but will run the business like a true Kekonese.”

Hami was obviously still trying to process the idea. Cautiously, he said, “What support would I have from Janloon?” He wanted to know if Shae was serious about expansion, or if this was simply a convenient excuse to send him overseas and into functional exile.

“As much as I can give you,” Shae said. “You would choose a handful of Luckbringers to help you start the branch office. We have connections in Port Massy to help you hire additional staff locally. You would report directly to me as you always have. The clan would pay for your family’s relocation and living expenses. You have two children, don’t you, Hami-jen?”

Hami nodded. “They’re four and six years old.”

“If you accept, I ask that you commit to the assignment for at least three years. Your children would attend school in Port Massy and become fluent in Espenian, but still be young enough to attend Kaul Du Academy when you return to Janloon.”

She could see Hami weighing her offer. As Master Luckbringer, the man was at the height of his career; there were few avenues for further advancement. No doubt he’d expected to stay in his role on Ship Street for another decade or more. But he was still relatively young, only forty-one years old—the idea of being paid to live abroad and start a whole new division of the clan’s operations was appealing. “My wife and I have talked about the idea of spending time overseas,” he admitted.

“There’s something else for you to consider,” Shae said, knowing it might dissuade him but must be addressed. “Civilian possession of jade is now illegal in Espenia. You would have to give up your green. You could store it safely here in Janloon, or we would find a way to make sure it’s covertly transported to you in Port Massy, but you can’t wear it while you’re in that country. If you were only going to be there for a short while, we could obtain a visitor’s waiver, but you’ll be living there. Wearing jade would expose you and the clan’s businesses to too much legal risk.”

Hami winced. He’d left the military side of the clan a long time ago, and Shae doubted he’d been called upon to employ his jade abilities in a martial capacity for years, but the idea of losing one’s jade was appalling to most Green Bones. Even though this would be a temporary measure of his own choosing instead of a permanent loss brought about by an enemy, Shae could see him questioning whether he could stand to live in a place where he couldn’t wear jade, no matter how good the pay, the professional challenge, and the family enrichment.

Hami looked to her. “You’ve taken off your jade before. How bad was it?”

Shae considered the question before answering honestly. Her own recent symptoms had abated considerably, but the memory was fresh. “Withdrawal isn’t pleasant, but it’s not as bad as most people think,” she said. “You’d go through it here at home, under medical supervision, so it would probably be over in a couple of weeks. Being without jade is different when you’re in Espenia. I’d never ask for such a thing from any Green Bone in Kekon, but over there, when you don’t see green anymore, after a while you stop missing it altogether.”

“Like being deaf in a country of deaf people.” The Master Luckbringer mulled the idea for a minute. “I can’t make such an important decision right away. I need to talk to my family.”

She nodded. “Give me your answer by next Fifthday.”

Shae left the office an hour after lunch and took a thirty-minute subway ride to meet Maro on the campus of Jan Royal University. She brought a book to read along the way but couldn’t focus on any of the words. She’d been longing terribly to see Maro again, but she dreaded the conversation to come. When she’d finally mustered the courage to call him, part of her had hoped that Maro would hang up the second he heard her voice and make it easy on her. No such luck; there’d been several heartbeats of silence from the other end of the line, and then he’d said, in a voice with no emotion she could read, “I can meet you after my last class finishes today.”

“I’ll come to where you are,” Shae offered, as if, ridiculously, this small consideration on her part could compensate for the weeks she’d been out of contact.

At the height of summer, the city subway was humid and odorous, but the campus was pleasantly green and generously shaded. Shae spotted Maro sitting at an outdoor table behind the Foreign Studies Department building’s cafeteria. His back was to her. He had a book open on the table but wasn’t reading it; the pages lay undisturbed in the hot, still air. Shae felt a powerful desire to walk up and put her arms around Maro’s shoulders, to pretend that nothing had happened, that everything was the same as before. And yet in the same moment, the idea struck her as impossible, awkward, inappropriate, like draping her arms over a stranger. The ease she felt around him—the escape and acceptance he represented, that she realized she’d made of him—that feeling was gone. She could sense it even from this distance.

She walked around the table and sat down in the chair across from him. Maro took her in: dressed in her usual business attire, ugly new scars hidden, her throat bare and pale where her distinctive jade choker used to be. A strange expression crossed his face—a mixture of hurt confusion, affection, anger, and relief that seemed to twitch his features in several indecisive directions before he forced it into a cautiously neutral smile. The smile of someone trying to be civil to another driver who’s smashed into their car. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said slowly. “And I’m glad you came to see me.”

“I’m sorry,” Shae said. It seemed to be the only way to start.

“Why?” The single word came out strained, but there were so many things that it could be referring to that Shae was not sure how to answer. Maro lowered his voice. “Why wouldn’t you return any of my calls? Before, or after, you did it?” For a second, Shae was struck by uncertainty—did he mean the abortion, or the duel? But he didn’t know about the former, so it was the duel. “Why did you make me find out about it from the news? Why wouldn’t you even talk to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Shae repeated. “A lot of things happened quickly. I knew that if I talked to you, I’d lose my nerve and not be able to do what I had to.”

“What you had to?” Maro asked, skepticism strangling each of his words. “You had to volunteer for a dramatic public death?”

“I was being discredited and forced out, Maro. The Mountain was using me to undermine and weaken No Peak.” She’d promised herself she would not give in to defensiveness, but she heard it creeping into her voice anyway. “I had to put a stop to it. On the phone, you reminded me that I deserved my position. You told me not to give in.”

Maro shook his head. “A duel wasn’t what I had in mind! You could’ve been killed.”

Shae said, “Yes, but I wasn’t. I’m still here. Still the Weather Man.”

“But if you had been killed—and you almost were—you wouldn’t even have spoken to me beforehand. That’s…” Disbelief and anger contorted his expression. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work between people who care about each other. How could you not even talk to me about it?”

“What would you have said?” Shae asked. “Would you have supported my decision? Or would you have told me not to risk my life? To avoid the duel by not showing up?”

She regretted her words almost at once. Maro’s eyes widened, and then his face crumpled softly. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose that’s exactly what I would’ve said. I would’ve told you that you’re above that kind of thing, above using violence to prove yourself. No matter the public pressures, I would’ve reminded you of what you once said to me: that it’s brave to be true to who you are.”

Shae said quietly, “This is who I am.”

Maro reached a hand partway across the table but did not touch her. “It’s not who you are when you’re with me.” When she didn’t meet his eyes, he nodded sadly. “But I don’t really know you, do I? All the time we’ve spent together, I was seeing what I wanted to and what you wanted to show me. Your other side, the greener side—I don’t know that person at all.”

Shae’s face felt hot, as if Maro had slapped her. “I never meant to lie to you or shut you out. I tried to warn you that there’re things about the clan and about me that you wouldn’t agree with.”

“Whether I agree with them or not, you shouldn’t have kept me in the dark like that!” Maro’s voice rose and he forced it down again, with effort. “You’re right—maybe there are things in your life and your family that I’m never going to be able to accept. I’ve thought about them, before—how couldn’t I? I wondered if I would have to join the clan to be able to marry you, how we’d ever raise a family with the demands on you as Weather Man, whether my Shotarian family would ever be able to meet yours… there were so many things that I knew we would have to talk about, but I always assumed we would talk about them. We’d be truthful with each other about the challenges, and we’d get through them together.” He searched her face with pained eyes. “That’s the only way I want a relationship with you—if we’re completely honest with each other. I know you can’t tell me everything that you do as Weather Man. I can live with that, but things that affect your safety, our lives… I deserve that much, at least. Can you promise not to keep important things from me?”

Shae was lacking enough moisture in her throat. She certainly couldn’t tell Maro about the abortion, not now, not with him already hurt. What else might she have to do in the future that she wouldn’t be able to explain? “In the last few years, I’ve done things I never thought I would,” she admitted hoarsely. “I’m not sure what I can promise anymore.”

Maro’s silence lasted for an interminable minute. It seemed to Shae that he was receding from her, shrinking to the end of a tunnel. Maro drew his hand back to his side of the table and looked away, across the green lawn of the campus, the line of his bearded jaw flexing. “I don’t know where this leaves us, then.”

Shae managed to say, “As friends, for now. If that’s something you’ll still accept from me.”

Maro closed the book on the table, one finger tucked between the pages to hold his place as he stood up. His lips formed the shape of a weak smile, but one entirely without cheer. “Of course. Who in all of Kekon would be unwise enough to refuse the friendship of the No Peak clan?”