Colonel Deiller had a square face, assertive eyebrows, and the long-suffering dignity of a career military officer who’d been posted to a dozen places in the world and seen every form of bullshit there was to see. He regarded Shae with an intensely evaluative gaze, one that made her feel faintly uneasy. She suspected the man was flipping through his mental dossier, comparing her to photographs from many years ago, when she’d acted as an informant to the ROE’s intelligence service. She’d been twenty-two at the time, the girlfriend of a Republic of Espenia naval officer, spoiled granddaughter of the famous war hero Kaul Seningtun. Perhaps the colonel was wondering how, in seven short years, she had become one of the most influential political and business figures on the island of Kekon.
“Our objective in Oortoko is to provide support to the Shotarian government.” Deiller’s voice had a heavy northern Espenian accent that Shae recognized from her graduate school years in Windton. “We’re deploying military assets at their request.”
“You were quick to amass naval forces in the West Tun Sea as soon as you suspected the Ygutanian military was equipping the Oortokon rebels,” Shae pointed out.
“The ROE’s policy is to combat any Ygutanian aggression, and it’s abundantly clear that the rebellion in Oortoko is a vehicle for Ygutan to extend its territory.” Deiller eyed the squid dish suspiciously and reached for the pork instead. “The premier and the secretary of the War Department have stated that we’ll unequivocally defend the sovereignty of our allies.” He gave her a pointed look. “Including Kekon, I might add.”
Shae motioned to the server to refill the small cups of hoji. The ambassador had finished his first serving, the colonel had not. Shae had only tasted hers. “I’m sorry to say that many Kekonese don’t see the rapid military buildup on Euman Island and in our surrounding waters as the actions of a trusted ally.”
“I’ve spoken at length with Chancellor Son Tomarho,” said Ambassador Mendoff, managing to sound indignant at Shae’s suggestion while still retaining the smooth tone of a diplomat. “I’ve assured him and the Royal Council that our heightened military presence on Kekon is a necessary and, we hope, temporary measure in our joint security interests.”
“Jade is in your interest,” Shae clarified, setting down her soup spoon. “We all watch the news, Ambassador. Stories of Espenian special operations teams equipped with Kekonese jade… that makes people very nervous. You must remember that my country has a long history of foreigners trying to invade and occupy us. How can we trust that our Espenian allies are any different? If you wanted to, could you not use your military might and jade-wearing soldiers to take over our mines for yourselves and control our country?” Shae opened her hands in a helpless gesture, as if she was only giving voice to a ridiculous paranoia, but she was certain Mendoff and Deiller had been in conversations of that very nature with their superiors. If No Peak hadn’t kept jade flowing to Adamont Capita during the KJA shutdown, or if the clan war had continued and forced the mines to remain inactive too long, the Espenians might indeed have taken military action. She said, “Don’t be offended; I’m only telling you how the Kekonese mind works. We are always on guard against theft.”
“It seems you’re already aware of our request to the Royal Council,” grumbled Ambassador Mendoff. “Nothing in this country escapes the notice of you clan people.”
Shae said, “Asking for such a significant increase in jade exports as soon as the mines begin running again, while at the same time you amass forces in our territory, is not going to cause Espenia to be viewed favorably by anyone on Kekon. The Royal Council is already under severe pressure from the public to reduce jade exports and condemn the Oortokon War.”
“Shotar is in a crisis situation,” the ambassador insisted, leaning forward for emphasis, “and Ygutan is a clear and present threat to us all. Kekon is geopolitically important not only as the world’s sole source of bioenergetic jade, but because of its strategic position in the West Tun Sea. We require your country’s full support.”
“You will not get additional jade,” Shae said. “Neither the members in the Royal Council nor the clan representatives that sit on the board of the Kekon Jade Alliance will agree to surrender more of the country’s reserves to a foreign proxy war.”
Ambassador Mendoff sat back and frowned. “Excuse me, Miss Kaul-jen, but you don’t speak for the Kekonese government.”
“That’s true,” Shae said. “You will have to wait for the official answer. It will be the same as the unofficial one that you’re hearing from me now. We have a saying in Kekon: ‘Gold and jade, never together.’ Those of us who wear jade don’t hold political office, but you’re not asking for gold—you’re asking for jade. In that, the clans have the final say.”
Shae hoped that the two men picked up on the subtle reminder: Kekon might be a small island with an undersized national army, but any attempt to exert military control over the country would mean contending with the Green Bone clans, which controlled the cities and all major industries and whose membership included thousands of trained fighters each wearing more jade than several elite Espenian soldiers put together.
The Weather Man said, “Allow me to explain, so you can communicate to your superiors: It’s not that we disagree with your stance against Ygutan. But in Kekon, we believe that jade is a divine gift from Heaven. A person must train for many years beginning in childhood before they can wear it, and it is our sacred tradition that it be wielded only by those who defend others. Of course,” she added, “we recognize the world has opened up and we are no longer the only ones who can possess jade, but nevertheless, it is central to our national identity. There is a large Keko-Shotarian population in Oortoko; they and other civilians will be caught in this conflict. We don’t want jade to become known as a tool of war for foreigners, one that might even be used to harm fellow ethnic Kekonese.”
“You’re suggesting that it’ll somehow tarnish Kekon’s reputation and the sanctity of jade for it to be used by military personnel in an armed conflict?” Ambassador Mendoff said skeptically. “Disputes between the clans in this country have resulted in people wearing jade killing each other with swords in the streets of Janloon. So where’s the logic in your argument?”
Shae spoke calmly but with a cold edge in her voice. “The two things you describe are entirely different. If you cannot see why, it is because you are not Kekonese.”
The two men looked disgruntled. The server came to clear their empty plates; Mendoff and Deiller glanced somewhat apologetically at the men beside Shae, who had not eaten or drunk anything from the meal. The translator, a junior Luckbringer in the clan, could not help looking at the leftover food hungrily as it was taken back to the kitchen. Woon, who knew well enough to have eaten his fill elsewhere before the meeting, did not spare the dishes a glance.
Shae waited for the server to finish pouring tea, then added in a more conciliatory tone, “Do not think, however, that this means we do not support our allies. Jade is a national resource that must be managed by all of Kekon, but I would speak to you now, not as a board member of the KJA, but as Weather Man of my clan. We can offer other things of value to you besides jade.” For the first time, she turned toward Woon, who immediately handed her a thick manila envelope.
Shae set the envelope down in the center of the table and observed that Colonel Deiller reached out to take it first. He removed the papers within and began to examine them. As he read, his eyebrows drew together, and though his face kept its gruff composure, his pulse quickened enough for Shae to Perceive. He handed the papers wordlessly to Ambassador Mendoff, who, after a few minutes of study, rubbed his mustache and looked up at Shae. “How did you get this?”