Part 11 (1/2)
LOCAL YEAR 728.
DAWN BAZAAR.
”In addition,” said the fat man in the electric purple overrobe, ”we have fourteen dozens of the finest quality firegems in a mult.i.tude-a double rainbow!-of colors. It is certain that the honored Trader must feel impelled to acquire so worthy an item.”
Shan took a careful puff on the hookah that his host had so graciously provided for him. The smoke wasnarcotic-mildly to the individual across from him, rather more than that to even a large Liaden well fortified with anti-intoxicants.
”Firegems,” he said, blowing a thoughtful smoke ring. ”But surely the honored merchant jests. Why should I wish to purchase firegems of any quality, when all the galaxy carries them? More profitable to s.h.i.+p ice. Or atmosphere.”
The fat man smiled with unimpaired good humor. ”I see the honored Trader is a man of discrimination, with an eye for the beautiful and the rare. Now, it happens that we also have in our warehouses Tusodian silks of the first looming, elbam liqueur, essence of joberkemey, praqilly furleng, tobacco such as we now enjoy...”
The honored Trader yawned and blew another smoke ring. ”Herr Minata, do, please, forgive me! When Herr Sasoni spoke of you-of your warehouses, the rarities-but I misunderstood! My command of your language falls short. A thousand apologies for having wasted your time, sir! Believe me, your most obedient...” He stood, bowed with more courtesy than abjectness, and turned to go.
”Master Trader!”
He turned back, concern apparent in his face. ”Yes, Herr Minata? How may I serve you?”
The fat man dropped his eyes and toyed with a fold of his robe. ”Perhaps we might speak again,” he suggested delicately.
”That would be pleasant,” Shan said with apparent delight. ”We will have our pavilion in Ochre Square within the port, as always. Anyone will tell you the way. Please do come. I will be most happy to see you there.”
He bowed again and turned away. This time the merchant let him go.
Outside, Shan took a deep breath of double-baked air and allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation. That fish was well netted and no mistake. Praqilly furleng-essence that was mere perfume for some, and a religious necessity for others-Tusodian silks... a vivid mind-picture of Priscilla Mendoza draped in diaphanous garnet silk presented itself for his inspection.
That will do, he told himself sternly, banis.h.i.+ng the picture and merging with the flow of pedestrians heading toward the Outworld Bazaar. The sample case would be down by now, and Ken Rik would surely have something choice to say if his captain were not present at the raising of the pavilion in Ochre Square.
The s.h.i.+pment had been taken to Heir Sasoni's warehouse and handed over to a capable-looking young man who inspected the packing and gravely counted the crates before signing the receipt and handing it back.
Returning to Ochre Square and Ken Rik, Priscilla maintained a sedate pace through the bustling pedestrian and jitney traffic, prolonging her first opportunity fen-quiet thought since the previous evening's encounter with Dagmar.
The second cla.s.s provisional in her pocket had proved to be neither counterfeit nor imaginary. Sworn to by Master Pilot Shan yos'Galan, it had been issued and registered at the Arsdred branch of the Galactic Pilots Commission yesterday.
A pilot-even a provisional second cla.s.s pilot-could always find work, she thought, steering her jitney carefully through a crowded corner. The red and yellow plastic card in her pocket represented a solid,respectable future; it represented a breathing s.p.a.ce, if she required one when they hit Solcintra, before looking about for another berth.
She slowed as she reached another knot of traffic, then stopped as it became apparent that the driver of the jitney stuck sideways across the thoroughfare was going to be some time in righting his error. Sighing, she leaned back and ran her eyes absently along the crowded street.
What a difference from Jankalim! The air was filled with the whine of jitney motors and the deeper throbbing hum of the monotrains running on the maze of catwalks and rails that roofed the whole of the port. And, of course, voices: raised in conversation, song, argument.
Priscilla yawned and reached for the thread of her thoughts. She had not yet reviewed her contract. That was the first thing to be attended to, next off-s.h.i.+ft. Then she would speak with the captain.
With her eyes on the bustling, bright crowds, it occurred to her that she had several things to speak with the captain about. That he should restore her belongings was a puzzle. Lina had said something about owing, but that made no sense. She was Terran; no Liaden could feel honor-bound to balance accounts with her. And if honor had not prompted him to return her things, what in Her name did a gift of earrings mean?
Priscilla sat up suddenly, eyes sharpening on the crowd, catching sight of a familiar bulky figure just turning the corner into Tourmaline Way.
Dagmar.
Her hands clenched the steering rod convulsively even as her breath hissed out between her teeth. Stop it! she ordered herself sharply. That one who has been in the service of the G.o.ddess should feel hatred for a fellow being...
She swallowed hard and sent her thoughts back to the comfort of her friend-to meet with mockery even there. Done well, Lina?
”C'mon, honey-move mat thing! Coast's clear!”
Priscilla shook herself, automatically s.h.i.+fted into gear, and sent the jitney forward again, resolutely declining to think of anything at all.
”Took your time, did you?” Ken Rik asked, though not with the air of one who expected an answer.
”Found the warehouseman amusing?”
”There was a jitney jammed across Coral Square,” Priscilla said tonelessly, sliding out of the seat and offering him the clipboard.
He took the board and glanced at her sharply. Priscilla shrugged. Sharp glances, after all, were not unusual in the old cargo master.
”All right,” he said after a moment. ”Help me with the samples. When the captain arrives, the pavilion will be raised.”
”And the captain has arrived, so work may proceed without interruption,” concluded that gentleman, walking toward them with a grin. ”Thank the G.o.ds. I was certain I was late and living in terror of a tongue-las.h.i.+ng, Master Ken Rik!”
”You're a bad boy, Captain,” the old man said repressively.”My expectations fulfilled! Thank you, old friend. Now-” He spun slowly on one heel, surveying the immediate neighborhood. ”Wonderful, a temporary-permanent next door. We shall ignore it, secure in the knowledge of our superior taste. The southeast corner, I think, Ken Rik, and we'll have the nerligig for catching eyes. Heir Sasoni's order has been safely delivered?”
”Priscilla Mendoza has just returned from the warehouse. The trip down was unexceptional.”
”Unexceptional?” Priscilla demanded. ”You told me it wasn't too bad.”
Ken Rik sniffed and burrowed into the depths of the sample crate.
”Carried away by exuberance,” the captain explained. ”It's the sort of thing that happens to Ken Rik rather often. My father had to speak to him frequently.”
The subject of this palpable untruth turned his head to glare. ”Are you going to help raise this pavilion or not?”
”Absolutely! Nothing could induce me to miss such an undertaking! I was only just now having the most delightful chat with Merchant Heir Minata. We could have gone on for hours, so at one did we find ourselves on all matters of importance. But no, I said to him, making my excuse, I must go and help raise the pavilion, for Master Ken Rik rules me with an iron hand.”
A small sound escaped Priscilla, somewhere between a sneeze and a cough. The captain looked at her curiously.
”Are you well, Ms. Mendoza?”
”Perfectly, sir. Thank you.” She took hold of the slippery pavilion cloth and kept her eyes lowered.
”Now,” Ken Rik said, shoving a portion of fabric into the captain's hands, ”we begin.”
It took some time to arrange the comers to Ken Rik's satisfaction. Eventually it was accomplished; the valves were closed, and the pavilion began to inflate.
Priscilla, standing a little way back and watching the first wriggling upheaval, caught sight of a tip of bronze against the bright yellow fabric and inclined her head, as if welcoming a friend.
”Is Korval the dragon or the tree?” she wondered to no one in particular.
”Neither,” the captain said. ”Or both. The Tree is Jelaza Kazone, originally the cipher for Clan Torvin-Line yos'Phelium. The Dragon is Megelaar, for Clan Alkia-Line yos'Galan. Together they're Clan Korval.”
She frowned a little. 'Two Clans merged to make one?”
”Oh, well,” he said, smiling, ”they really didn't have a choice. Cantra yos'Phelium was the only member of her Clan on the colony s.h.i.+p-when it landed on Liad, you understand-except for her unborn child. Tor An yos'Galan was in the same fix. At least he wasn't pregnant, so perhaps his fix was worse. She had been pilot; he'd been co. When they finally raised a world-landed the s.h.i.+p safely-she asked him to raise her heir, should something happen to her. He accepted it, poor child, ready to abandon Alkia to the void and become Clan Torvin. But Cantra seems to have been a fair-minded sort of person, among her other faults, so Torvin and Alkia ceased to be, and Clan Korval emerged.” He moved his shoulders.