Jade War

“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.”