by neetha Napew
The next morning started very well indeed, with an impatient clutch of people waiting for them to start serving the coffee. There were even some wanting to trade, and Zainal managed to obtain a carton of Nokia cell phones, a real prize.
“And most of them will do anything to secure a supply of the drink,” Zainal replied, pointing to the everincreasing diversity of cartons that were piling up as fruits of his labors to trade coffee for spare parts. “Gold and dentistry are doing well enough but take time.” He waved to Eric’s stall and the rattattat of his hammer on the gold he was pounding into the proper thickness for the crowns that had already been ordered: half payment on signing the contract and half on completion.
“Ah, another customer,” Zainal said as a tall uniformed Catteni walked up to Eric’s office, looking about for whoever manned it. He gestured to Clune to tell Eric that he had an interested party. There was a brief silence from the hammer, then Eric emerged and evidently Clime took over the flattening, though his blows weren’t
spaced as evenly as Eric’s were and the rhythm of the rattattat was uneven.
“May I be of service?” Eric asked with the deference of a professional to any uniform.
“I have heard of your services and wish to avail myself of them.” As the man spoke, Zainal could see the empty spaces in his teeththe four central ones. That seemed to characterize the usual applicant for Eric’s skills. Three out of four, or so Eric had once remarked, adding, “Don’t your people ever duck?”
“Now, sir, what may I do for you?” “I am Emassi Ladade.”
“I am Emassi Doctor Sachs,” Eric responded, courteously proud. “If you would step this way where I may conduct a quick private examination.” Eric ushered him into his “office.” Much better for potential patients.
Ferris was proving extremely useful in sussing out genuine leads and had already saved Zainal from spending time with sellers who had nothing he wanted and were only there for the free coffee. But Zainal recalled an earlier conversation he’d had with Kris.
“We must watch him, Zainal,” she had said, her anxiety getting the better of common sense.
“Why?”
“He’s a magpie. A klepto,” she said, trying to burrow into his shoulder.
“A what?”
“A magpie is a Terran bird who will grab anything that sparkles and take it off to its nest to play with.”
“And the other word? Klepto?”
Zainal had excellent aural memory so she wasn’t surprised that he queried an unfamiliar word. “That is a human who keeps taking things that do not belong to him or her, for a variety of reasons: sometimes it’s merely envy of someone else possessing a pretty or valuable thing; other times it’s just a psychological compulsion, the acquisition of the object as a onesided game, played against the legitimate owners of the item. Or a denial of other people’s rights to possession. It is considered a minor crime but a genuine obsession. The kleptomaniac often steals for the fun, not the need of the object stolen. Ferris is the second type, stealing for the fun of it and to win pleasure by giving it to someone.”
“And he does not understand that stealing is wrong?”
“He understands that, but doesn’t stop doing it. He became very deft, and I fear he was encouraged by his circumstances during the invasion to acquire things without paying the legitimate owners.”
“The Catteni?” Zainal asked with remarkable charity.
“Not just the Catteni. He really is a Human sort of magpie, thieving because he likes the look of something or to outwit the owner.” “And you worry that he might start using his craft here?”
“I don’t think Commander Kapash would turn a blind eye if Ferris were caught in the act.”
“Is he often caught?”
“Now, only by those who know he has acquired without payment. Ferris has a grave character flaw. He really cannot understand buying and selling when he likes something or knows it’s needed.”
“Knowing it’s needed might cause us more harm than good. I am glad you advised me about Ferris.”
Even with that earlier conversation in mind, Zainal couldn’t help thinking that the boy had been extremely useful on this mission. Ferris had supplied the numbers and names of store shed holders with whom Zainal could most profitably invest time and effort. However, Zainal dealt from a stronger position if the sellers came to him first. If he made known too publicly what he wanted, prices would be driven up. To date, Barevi merchants had found buyers thin on the ground so many had scrutinized him.
He had dealt as shrewdly as he could with those who had ap
proached him, with beans and more carefully with what materials they had brought with them.
he morning when Eric started up his dental unit for the first time a new whirring sound broke through the usual noise of the marketplace. Zainal swiveled around, toward the sound made by Eric Sachs’s equipment, and saw a huge Catteni sitting in the dental chair, his mouth wide open and the broken stubs of his upper teeth visible. There were also more merchants waiting to receive a cup of coffee and more coins in the little dish Kathy had put out.
There were three other very burly Catteni, guards from the look of their gear and clothing, watching as Eric attended to the man in his chair. The man did not dare flinch or squirm, and shortly Eric told him he could sit up. Then he began to tell him his options, with pictures he had provided himself for just such demonstrations, while Ninety Doyle did what translations he could with the technical terms involved.
“I can provide you with new gold teeth,” Eric said. “It will take several days as well as quite a few visits to me to prepare and fit the crowns. And the work is not cheap.”
“I have plenty of money,” the Catteni said with a shrug, fascinated by the photographs of the stepbystep process he was about to undertake. From the textbooks he had removed from his office, Eric had, with Gail’s help, organized some illustrative examples of treatment on yet another set of flip cards. “I am told you take cartons of things. I have cartons. I was a Catteni cargo captain. I took much from storehouses.”
Eric snapped his fingers and Ferris, who had been hovering at his elbow, immediately produced copies of the lists. The man glanced down the columns of alphanumerically listed items and shook his head. Ditsy then produced the various logos for the companies that manufactured the spare parts wanted. The man tapped a finger on several, including, Zainal noticed, the NASA and Boeing logos. “Have some cartons with these on them. You want?”
“First,” Zainal said, stepping closer, “we will have to check the cartons to see if they are what we require.”
The man grunted. “I am told you will buy anything.”
“Not anything,” Zainal said with a dignified contempt for such an assumption. “We have specific needs, and the services you requireas well as the gold for the teethwill be expensive.”
“I have gold,” the man said with typical Catteni arrogance.
“It must be of a certain weight and purity,” Zainal said, and Eric grinned at himas much because Zainal had been relatively certain they would be required to supply the metal as because of his patient’s attitude. Eric rummaged around in his supplies and brought up the goldtesting equipment.
“However, if you will show us your gold, we will see if it is of the quality that can be used for this unusual purpose.”
“Gold is gold!” the Catteni protested.
“No, it is not,” Eric replied, for he understood that much Catteni and the spirit of the remark. “For proper work, we need a certain quality of gold.” He reached for his testing equipment, which their erstwhile customer recognized.
The man rose from the chair, signaled brusquely to one of his friends to stay and observe, then removed a nugget of gold from his pouch and handed it to Eric, as if certain of its intrinsic value and suitability.
“You come with me, then, and see what I have.”
“Ditsy, if you will accompany me,” Zainal said as he had no intention of wasti
ng his time checking inventories.
“My pleasure, Emassi,” Ditsy said with just the right touch of deference due a superior officer.
The man, who gave Zainal his name as Luxel, led them into the
very depths of the marketplace, down rows of storage places, most with heavy metal doors and locks with complicated knobs and spikes. “The kind you lose hands from trying to open,” Zainal murmured in an aside to Ditsy, who then kept his hands close to his sides.
Luxel finally halted at an intersection of corridors.
“Stay, until I call,” he said, pausing only long enough to be certain they stopped before he turned right.
They could clearly hear the snick of metal, a rasp of hinges, and then Luxel called to them to come.
Ditsy ran on a little ahead of Zainal, but when he stopped by Luxel’s side he gave a whistle that Zainal had heard, expressing surprise or amazement.
“Opensezme,” Ditsy murmured. “Ali Baba!” He was clearly impressed. And so was Zainal when he joined him.
Hughes and Lockheed logos dominated the mess of cartons in Luxel’s little shed. Ditsy had his list out and was delving into its depths when Luxel suddenly yanked Zainal across the entry, himself assum ing a blocking pose as three Catteni appeared in the alley. Zainal was quite willing to drape himself across the doorway, obscuring its contents from the passersby, who fortunately did no more than glance in their direction and quickly away, visibly picking up their pace to make speed past them. Luxel glared at Zainal as if he were to blame for their unexpected passage. Zainal returned his angry glance with an indifferent shrug. What did it matter if anyone saw what he had stored there? No one but Terrans could use it, much less buy it.
Clearly stenciled on the boxes were numbers and contents, and Ditsy had no trouble picking out items on the wish list. Solar Panel Array Assembled, HGSP88373BO5, Expandable dish antenna: HGMW7712d1525. High on the list were circuit boards #A.05, but all Ditsy could find were A.01 and A.02. But that was a start. “Jeez, Zainal, it’s all the solar panel stuff,” Ditsy said, shielding his jubilant remark from Luxel’s hearing.
“Calm down, lad, calm down. Just check them all off as if they were quite ordinary.”
“Oops, sorry, boss. Shouldn’t have given myself away like that.” “No, you shouldn’t have. Rule number one in bargaining: pretend you don’t really want the items.”
“I know, sir.” Ditsy was most chagrined. “I’m sorry, Zainal, but most of the items are on here.” He flicked the list as if it were annoying him. As they were speaking English, Luxel was unlikely to have understood. He then crammed the list in his pocket as if he were discarding it but could not presume to litter the slab floor with his trash. He went to the doorway and lounged negligently against the frame.
“There are some items here that might interest me,” Zainal said, ignoring the disbelief in Luxel’s expression. “But these are crates”he mimicked their shape “and the dentist man requires payment worthy of his skill, practice, and hard work, which is not as easily quantified as a mere crate.”
“It is what the crate contains, Emassi,” replied Luxel, still feeling he had the upper hand.
“You say you are a ship captain?” Luxel nodded.
“How much are you paid by the day?”
“It cannot take a full day’s captaincy to pay to replace a toothwhen I have provided the necessary gold metal,” was his protest. “And how long was it before you were allowed to dock a ship at Barevi port?”
“I had to serve only the minimum time before I got my full ticket,” Luxel replied stoutly, expecting Zainal to be impressed. “How long was that?” Zainal insisted.
“In my fourth year.” He still felt Zainal should be impressed.
“It was in his seventh year in the practice of his profession that Eric Doctor was allowed to contrive gold crowns.”
“Seven years?” Luxel was impressed. “It can’t be that hard to do.”
“Watch and see how cleverly he will shape the metal.” Zainal ticked off points on his fingers. “Then, how carefully he prepares your tooth, which will take several days’ work, how he makes a mold to fit exactly in your face.” Zainal’s expression suggested that this “face” was not worth so much effort. “And then fits the tooth. That is not as easy as parking a ship at Barevi port and takes much more skill and training.” Zainal gave a nonchalant shrug and, jerking his chin at Ditsy to follow him, walked out into the alleyway, paying no further attention to Luxel. They did hear the click and snick as the captain secured his shed and his footsteps as he hurried after them. As much, Zainal thought, to be sure they were going to quit the sheds as to catch up with them.
On their return, Zainal was instantly disquieted when he saw the gaggle of folk, some in the tunics of the market police, clustered in front of their stall. Ferris had been anxiously awaiting their return for he darted toward Zainal, pointing out Kapash, who was speaking to Bazil and Peran with menace. “Questions, questions, and your sons have been answering in the negative. Which, of course, is only correct. You, Captain, must inform the merchants that you are the owner of that piece of gold and where you came by it.” Ferris looked very worried and indeed, Zainal thought, had good reason to be.
The market security people were very careful to apprehend any thieves who might roam the market, and they were also on the lookout for suspicious quantities of any metals that might have been smuggled in without benefit of the percentage that by law the market should have on the sale of such commodities. Zainal had taken the precaution of making an inventory of all he had brought with him and the fact that it had been mined on Botany. He would not be subject to the tax if he used the gold in exchange for other items. But he knew the rules and he knew that Kapash was aware of that. Especially since Kapash had known of Zainal’s time spent in command of Barevi. There were subtle differences between gold from disparate worlds, and the market had experts who could differentiate. Luxel’s gold would obviously not be part of Zainal’s inventory. Zainal just hoped that Luxel’s sample had been appropriately declared by him.
As Zainal strode quickly to join his people and defend their innocence, he noticed that Eric had a very tight knot of young men around his place.
“Your father, all respect to him,” Kapash was saying to a staunchly defensive Peran, “knows that gold must be taxed.”
“Not in exchange for goods and services,” Zainal said, charging right up to Kapash, making his squad break apart. He pulled Peran back to him, hands on the boy’s stiff shoulders, tightening his fingers to show approval.
“Whatever,” Kapash retorted angrily, aware that he had possibly overstepped his duties by bullying the son. “There is the matter of dispensing an unknown beverage that was not stipulated as the purpose for this stall.”
“We are not dispensing a beverage for a price, but as a private refreshment while a bargain is being made,” Zainal said crisply. He did not wish to antagonize Kapash but it was clear that the man wanted to cause trouble for him if he could.
“And the matter of that unusual equipment.” Kapash gestured with a thumb over his shoulder at Eric’s appliances. “They must be checked as possibly hazardous.”
Zainal heard Eric’s snort. “You obviously did not have a chance to visit Terra,” Zainal retorted, “or you would know that this is dental equipment, to repair teeth.”
“You there.” Kathy Harvey pointed to a man in the forefront of the crowd that had now assembled to watch the scene. He had a grin on his face in anticipation of watching a fracas and it clearly showed his gold crowns. “You have gold teeth, so you can reassure Kapash that this equipment is useful.”
“Me? How would I know that?”
“By the smile on your face. You have had similar work done on your teeth that Eric is beginning for the Catteni.”
Kapash now gestured for the man to step forward. He did with great reluctance, jamming his upper lip down over his teeth. Eric stepped forward and met the man, putting his fingers on the man’s chi
n.
“Open! Wider! Ah yes, good work,” Eric said in Catteni, Judiciously peering into the man’s mouth. “And halitosis, too. Remarkable diet your folk have, Zainal. Whatever you paid for it, you got a bargain for that work,” he added, amiably slapping the Catteni on the shoulder. “But,” and now he waggled his finger at Luxel, “I do better work. Does he have the goods, Zainal? Because his gold is the proper quality. I would ordinarily cut it with platinum, but I think the piece will go far enough to provide him with the caps those tusks of his require. How do you grow teeth like that?” The last was said with admiration.
Eric shot Kapash a quick, measuring look and then resumed his place on his own dental chair and, folding his hands serenely across his chest, went back to observing the scene with amused detachment.
“You did not say that you were selling services, Zainal,” Kapash accused him.
“You did not ask. We are selling services in exchange for goods, which is quite legal and requires no further licensing.”
“But you are dispensing a beverage.” He flicked dirtynailed fingers at the cups on the table.
“We are, as I said, providing private refreshment for our customers as we discuss terms and prices.”
“Would you care to discuss items with us, Market Commander Kapash?” Kathy Harvey said, with such a winning smile that Zainal hoped he’d remembered to tell her that the man was a known lecher. She offered him a cup she had just poured, and although he made a show of fighting with his principles, he took it quickly enough, savoring the smell of the coffee before he took a sip.