Jade War

A girl of about ten years old ran up to Sana with the hat full of money. Sana thanked her, then took the hat and counted out the cash on the nearest table. “There’s two thousand four hundred and fifty thalirs here,” she said, stacking the bills. “More than required, but we’ll pay extra. We just want to keep our community center open.” She pressed the money into the hands of the older policeman and smiled at the younger. “Please, officers. We all appreciate how hard you work.”

The officers looked around the room, at the wary and hopeful expressions of the watching Kekonese. Their eyes passed over Dauk Losunyin’s table with no special attention. The Pillar, like everyone else, was listening to what was going on, but he was slouched in his chair, his large hands folded, drawing not the slightest attention to himself. Rohn Toro had not moved from his spot against the wall near the door.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time,” said the older cop, as if he’d considered the issue and come to a reluctant decision. With a show of deliberation, he stowed the money in his inside jacket pocket. Sana sagged in visible relief. “Thank you; you are very kind,” she murmured gratefully.

“You kecks better keep your noses clean and be careful about staying within the law from now on,” said the older cop. “Jade’s illegal. You should all know that by now. If you get caught wearing or selling it, that’s jail time.”

Sana nodded vehemently. “We are worried about jade, too,” she insisted. She began to lead the officers out of the grudge hall and back up the stairs. “The Crews, they run rackets in this part of the city, and there are rumors that they want to get their hands on jade now. All Kekonese people know such a dangerous substance shouldn’t be worn by ordinary people—certainly not criminals. That’s why we need the police.” To the younger cop, “Do you like Kekonese food? Would you like some noodle soup, before you have to go back out into the cold?”

Their voices faded up the stairs. Slowly, the tension in the grudge hall dissipated. People relaxed and normal conversation returned once it was clear that the police officers were gone. Rohn Toro waited a minute, then sat back down.

Dauk Losun came over to their table, smiling and congenial once again. “They’ll be back. This happens every few months, in the same way.” He smiled and patted Anden on the shoulder. “You look worried. Don’t be. The Port Massy police are like another one of the Crews: expecting payment and giving little in return.”

Anden nodded, though he didn’t really understand. It had never occurred to him to be fearful around the city police in Janloon. When his cousin Hilo had been Horn, he had often met with the police to instruct them on where to go after petty crime, which street gangs were causing trouble, where they ought to conduct drug raids—so Anden had always thought of the police as civil servants who were useful to the clans, not a hindrance to them. Apparently, in Espenia, there were a multitude of subjective rules and regulations that even the Pillar of Southtrap was careful to insulate himself against.

“I should stay a little longer, to make sure everything is fine,” said the Pillar. He fished his car keys from the pocket of his sweater vest and handed them to his son. “It’s late though, and I don’t want the Hians to worry about Anden. Drive your friends home and come back to pick me up.”

* * *

The Pillar’s car was a green station wagon parked in the back lot. Cory started the car and blasted the heater on its defrost setting while Anden and Tod scraped the front and back windshields free of ice. In the car, their breaths steamed together as Cory pulled into the street and drove first Derek, and then Tod, back to their homes. The crusty wipers scraped against glass, and the car’s headlights gleamed on wet pavement as he navigated to the Hians’ house on the other end of Southtrap.

On the street corner, a block away from the house, Cory pulled the station wagon over to the curb. He shut off the engine and turned to face Anden. His eyes were bright with reflected streetlight, but his expression was suddenly unreadable in the dark. “You’re wondering where it is, aren’t you?” he asked. “My jade.”

Heat rose up Anden’s neck. In answer, he forced himself to look into the other young man’s eyes. Cory unzipped his jacket. Shrugging out of it, he turned in the driver’s seat to face Anden and lifted his shirt. The streetlight overhead illuminated his bare torso. Anden swallowed. His eyes traveled down Cory’s chest, to the trio of jade studs pierced through the man’s navel.

Anden tried to pull his eyes away but couldn’t; his gaze continued traveling, down the line of thin dark hairs that disappeared under Cory’s waistband. The skin of Cory’s arms was goose-pimpling in the cold. Anden thought that perhaps he should say something, that maybe Cory wanted him to, but he was afraid to open his mouth and say the wrong thing.