Part 4 (2/2)

”Up, down-up, down,” muttered the trader.

They sat, and Alen said in Lyran: ”My trader unexpectedly indorses the reduction. He says, 'Better to lose some than all' -an old proverb in the Cephean tongue. And he forbids any further .reduction.”'

”Come, now,” wheedled the gem dealer. ”Let us be men of the world about this. One must give a little and take a little. Everybody knows he can't have his own way forever. I shall offer a good, round eight hundred credits and we'll close on it, eh? Pilquis, fetch us a pen and ink!” One of the burly guards was right there with an inkpot and a reed pen. Garthkint had a Customs form out of his tunic and was busily filling it in to specify the size, number and fire of gems to be released to him.

”What's it now?” asked blackbeard.

”Eight hundred.”

”Take it!”

”Garthkint,” said Alen regretfully, ”you heard the firmness and decision in my trader's voice? What can I do? I am only speaking for him. He is a hard man but perhaps I can talk him around later. I offer you the gems at a ruinous fifteen hundred credits.”

”Split the difference,” said Garthkint resignedly.

”Done at eleven-fifty,” said Alen.

That blackbeard understood. ”Well done!” he boomed at Alen and took a swig at Garthkint's winecup. ”Have him fill in 'Sack eighteen' on his paper. It's five hundred of that grade.”

The gem dealer counted out twenty-three fifty-credit notes and blackbeard signed and fingerprinted the release.

”Now,” said Garthkint, ”you will please remain here while I take a trip to the s.p.a.ceport for my property.” Three or four of the guards were suddenly quite close.

”You will find,” said Alen dryly, ”that our standard of commercial morality is no lower than yours.”

The dealer smiled politely and left.

”Who will be the next?” asked Alen of the room at large.

”I'll look at your gems,” said another dealer, sitting at the table.

With the ice-breaking done, the transactions went quicker. Alen had disposed of a dozen lots by the time their first buyer returned.

”It's all right,” he said. ”We've been tricked before, but your gems are as represented. I congratulate you, Herald, on driving a hard, fair bargain.”

”That means,” said Alen regretfully, ”that I should have asked for more.” The guards were once more lounging in corners and no longer seemed so menacing.

They had a mid-day meal and continued to dispose of their wares. At sunset Alen held a final auction to clean up the odd lots that remained over and was urged to stay to dinner.

The trader, counting a huge wad of the Lyran manpower-based notes, shook his head. ”We should be off before dawn, Herald,” he told Alen. ”Time is money, time is money.”

”They are very insistent.”

”And I am very stubborn. Thank them and let us be on our way before anything else is done to increase my overhead.”

[Something did turn up-a city watchman with a b.l.o.o.d.y nose and split lip.

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