Jade War

All evening, Anden had found the grudge hall strange and a little overwhelming, and now he understood why: The place was like a distillate of Kekonese culture—the food and hoji, the cockfighting and gambling, the social life, the tradition of clean-bladed dueling, and the celebration of jade abilities—all crammed together under one roof in one evening. It gave Anden the oddest feeling. It was both acutely Kekonese and not Kekonese at all.

More food and drink was had, more conversation. Another cockfight was played out. At the urging of friends, other Green Bones got up to challenge each other to contests of Strength and Steel. After a time, Tod, who had to work the next morning (he was an assistant manager at an electronics store) stood up to go, and Anden, already worried that the Hians might be concerned about him being out so late, put his drink down and followed suit. Cory said to them, “It’ll be freezing cold and black out there by now. Let me see if my da is heading out anytime soon. Maybe he can give us all a ride.”

Anden did not want to bother Dauk Losun, but Cory had no compunction about going over to ask his father, who said, “Sure, no problem; no need for me to stay any longer.”

Before they could take their leave, however, Mrs. Joek, the noodle lady, rushed down the stairs into the grudge hall and hurried to the Pillar’s table. “Dauk-jens,” she exclaimed, “there are police officers here. Two of them.”

In the crowded basement, her words were heard immediately. Conversations died on the spot; heads turned anxiously toward the Pillar’s table. To Anden’s surprise, Dauk Sana got up from her place at the table immediately and went upstairs. Her husband did not follow; he raised his voice and said calmly but loudly enough to be heard, “Everyone, stay where you are and keep enjoying yourselves. Don’t worry.” To his son, “You and your friends, go back and sit down.”

Anden sat back down. The room was thick was unease and shuffling murmurs. Anden saw Rohn Toro rise from his seat and move to stand in the corner of the room near the door. He removed the black gloves from the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled them on, then leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Dauk Sana returned a few minutes later, speaking loudly in accented Espenian as she descended. “Of course, yes, food license, liquor license—I can show you, officers.” She reached the bottom of the steps. Two Port Massy police officers followed her, boots clomping loudly, the brims of their black caps and the shoulders of their uniforms beaded with ice. “Not a restaurant or bar,” Sana went on. She had been calm a minute ago, but now she acted extremely nervous, wringing her hands. “This is just a party. A neighborhood party.”

The officers squinted around the basement. “A party, eh?” said the older one of them. “What’s the occasion? What’re you kecks up to down here? Fighting? Jade trading?”

Sana looked horrified and insulted. “No, of course not. Maybe you’ve been watching too many movies? Just because we’re Kekonese you think we all wear jade like gangsters?” She gestured around at the tables of people—men and women, young and old. “We can’t get together to eat and drink and have a good time in our own community center on a stormy night like this, without being suspected?”

The younger of the two officers looked a little abashed at this, but the older one strode to the center of the room and snorted at the sight of bloodstains and feathers on the ground. He lifted the blanket that had been thrown over one of the benches and peered down at the gamecocks in their cages. Straightening up again with a smug look, he said, “Cockfighting’s a criminal offense, ma’am. The fine is two thousand thalirs, and we could shut this whole building down.”

Sana sucked in a breath. “Please, officers,” she said, “we will pay the fine. We don’t have much money, but we understand there are consequences to breaking the law. We’ll all pay.” As if on cue, one of the men at the nearest table took off his felt hat and began passing it around the room. All those present pulled out their wallets and deposited money into the spontaneous collection fund. Sana appeared on the verge of tears; she twisted the end of her scarf in her hands and said to the officers, “We have to hold some cockfights in here once in a while, to satisfy the older people, especially. You see, it’s not illegal in our home country. They bring their gamecocks and I can’t say no all the time. Please don’t revoke our licenses for this small thing.” She gave them a pleading look. “The community center is the heart of our neighborhood, it serves everyone. There’s a shrine and library and daycare upstairs. There are people—some very old or very young—who come here for a meal and company when they have nowhere else to go. And yes, sometimes parties go on in the basement, but the worst that happens is some drinking and cockfighting.”