Dauk’s mouth puckered as if he’d eaten something sour. He relayed the Boss’s words to his guest in an apologetic tone. To Kromner’s surprise, the younger man did not appear offended or thrown off by the low offer; he brought his attention back and smiled. “In my country, it’s the honor of an alliance that’s important. The leaders assign people they trust to work out the details in a fair manner.”
“Well, we’re not in your country, are we?” Kromner said. “Seven hundred.” He’d hoped to put himself in a stronger negotiating position by making the Kekonese uncomfortable, and was disappointed when the visitor gave a shrug.
“Everyone wants jade. I could sell to the Shotarians or the Ygutanians with less hassle, but I’m willing to come all the way here because of my Kekonese friends in Espenia who want to get along with you. Nine hundred.”
They settled, after some predictable back and forth, on eight hundred million thalirs for a hundred kilograms of raw jade to be delivered in four equal shipments so as to spread out the risk of it being intercepted by Espenian authorities. Kaul explained that everything would be handled through intermediaries and the jade would be transported via cargo carrier ships that were not owned or registered by anyone with ties to the Kekonese clans. All communication going forward would be passed through Dauk Losun or those in his confidence.
Kromner was pleased with how smoothly everything had proceeded. Let the Kekonese have their area of Southtrap and their gambling halls, which were of little consequence; in the whole country of Espenia, only his Crew now had a supply of jade straight from the source. Already Kromner was thinking of the fortune he would make on the black market. Of course he would keep some of the jade to equip his own foremen and coats. The Southside Crew would become more powerful than any of the others; perhaps he would be making a move to take over Wormingwood sooner than he’d planned. After all, it wasn’t as if Sharp Ricky could do a good job running his business from prison. Kromner would give the Slatters’ territory to one of his foremen—Skinny Reams or Moth Duke, perhaps. Skinny was more competent, there was no question of that, but he was too independently minded; he might well take what Kromner gave him and break off his own Crew. Moth wasn’t smart enough to entertain any complex thoughts, so he was more trustworthy.
The Kekonese man, Kaul, was still looking between the Bosses and speaking. He really was surprisingly amiable and nonchalant, not like the serious Mr. Dauk or that killer, Rohn. Kromner was not one to take anything at face value, however. He suspected that Kaul was merely a front man, someone young and easy to deal with, sent by those dangerous men who held the real power on that mysterious island. Kromner had never been anywhere near Kekon, but his imaginings included a shadowy council of elders, elaborate rituals, jade swords.
Again, Dauk translated Kaul’s words. “Since you’re foreigners, I feel I should tell you: Jade isn’t like your drugs or guns, which can be easily used by weak men. In Kekon, we say that jade can make men into gods. Only the strong can wield it. You’re going to have to move a lot of jade safely and secretly, making sure that it doesn’t get into the hands of street hoodlums in your own territories, or spirited away by your own low-level people hoping to make extra money. Who’s going to be responsible for making sure that the jade is handled properly?”
Kromner did not like the whiff of condescension he sensed in the Kekonese man’s words and the way the visitor was now sitting, leaning back in his chair with a slightly hooded expression. Kromner said, “No street punk or coat in my Crew would dare skim from Southside. Not unless they wanted to take a river cruise with no boat.” Anga Slatter smiled, and Jo Gasson grimaced, but the Kekonese didn’t react. “I personally guarantee it,” Kromner said.
Kaul shook his head. “Your word as a Boss is important of course, but it’s obvious you’re too important to be doing the unpleasant work in the streets yourself.” He gestured toward Kromner as if indicating his fine clothes and hefty body. “In a Kekonese clan, the person who would handle the dangerous work is called the Horn. He has to be completely loyal, respected by the men he commands, and feared by the clan’s enemies. He would be the one trusted to lead should anything happen to his boss. I’m asking if you have someone like that in your Crew, because you’ll need to put that person in charge of the jade.”
Kromner jabbed a finger at the man. “Listen, I like doing business with you just fine, but I don’t need you kecks to give me advice on how to run my own Crew. Have you personally ever had to keep an organization of hundreds of people in line?” When the Kekonese man didn’t answer, Kromner said, “I didn’t think so. So let me tell you something: I didn’t get to be the Boss of Southside by having incompetent men under me. Willy Reams here is the man for the job.”
Kaul studied Willy with interest, then he turned toward Dauk. The two Kekonese men had an extended conversation in their own language. “What’s he saying?” Kromner demanded.
Dauk cleared his throat and said, “He’s concerned about jade getting out into the streets and hurting innocent people, especially women and children. It’s against their code of honor, you see. So he’s asking whether Mr. Reams really is the top foreman in Port Massy—how long he’s been with you, how well he can fight, how many men he’s killed in combat. I told him Mr. Reams has a reputation, but I wouldn’t know for sure.” Dauk spread his hands. “What can I say? My friend is from the old country—all they respect is personal strength and violence.”
Willy fiddled uncomfortably with the hat in hands, but Kromner snorted. “Well, tell him not to worry his little keck head. Jo, Anga—tell him that my word and my men are dependable.”
Jo Gasson said, “Everyone knows that Skinny Reams from Southside is as tough as they get and runs the tightest ship in town.” And Anga Slatter nodded and said, “That’s the truth.”
Dauk repeated these words to Kaul, who looked at Reams again with intense assessment. Then he nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard as well, through my own sources. I’m a stranger in this country and am taking a big risk with this deal on behalf of my clan, so forgive me if I seem pushy with all my questions.” The clan representative spread his hands. “I’m happy with our arrangement.”
After leaving Thorick Mansion, Rohn Toro drove Hilo, Tar, and Dauk back to Dauk’s house, where Sana had prepared a lunch for all of them. The dining room of the house did not feel as cramped with only the five of them around the table. Dauk’s son was out with friends, and Anden was either with him or working an extra holiday shift at the hardware store.
Hilo could tell that Tar wanted to ask questions, but the Pillarman knew his manners and didn’t voice them aloud during a meal with clan outsiders. Hilo did his best to make idle conversation, but he had a headache from getting up before dawn and straining his Perception all morning. He hadn’t understood everything that had been said between the foreigners at the meeting, but he’d observed every expression and gesture, the way the foreigners sat in relation to each other and their tone of voice, and he’d carefully Perceived the heartbeat, pulse, breath, and bodily twitches signaling subtle turns of emotion during the conversation. So even though his Espenian was not up to Shae’s level, he felt that he understood the people he was dealing with.
He was glad he’d decided to come to Port Massy himself instead of sending his Weather Man; as smart as his sister was, sometimes she lacked a certain awareness when it came to connecting with people, striking the proper note with potential friends or potential enemies. Later today, Hilo planned to meet with Hami Tumashon, so the Master Luckbringer would know that even this far from Janloon, he still had the clan’s support and the Pillar’s notice. There was nothing more important than personal relationships; they were what made clan oaths real and not merely words that could be spoken by anyone.