“I think having your nose in your ledger would take away a bit from your selling presence,” I said. She turned the transport carefully around a corner, and tugged her red wrap closer with one hand. “I could never make the numbers dance to my tune like you do.”
“And what was the price?” Better to hear the bad news all at once.
“Twenty drezels per ounce.”
I tried not to wince, while the Festuour’s argument died out over the speakers. “You did good. Next time pretend you’re writing all those numbers down in your book rather than staring at the ugly mug you’re selling to.”
“Next time?” Amra’s face lit up and I realized my mistake. I tried to backpedal.
“Yes, well, we have to save up for that little shop on Methiem somehow, don’t we? And you have to keep up your habit of supporting whatever orphans and beggar children come our way. Just think, one day, you may even turn a profit! We might have enough to feed a child of our own!”
Amra poked me from the pilot’s seat. “I’d give up trying to sell things and be content to write in my little book if you’d agree to marry me before we die of old age. We don’t have to be stationary to live together. We’ve done well this far.”
I must have looked pained again, because she rolled her eyes. But neither of us got to say anything further.
“There is another Sureri following us.” Kamuli’s tinny voice cut into our conversation. “He looks like an officer in one of the gangs.”
I peered out the window to see the Naiyul official on one of the tall bird-things they favored. Not gaining on us, but just…watching.
Amra frowned. “We had one of the Naiyul constable thugs following us all the way from the market, even though we were doing completely legitimate business. I have all our merchant licenses in order. The protest has everyone acting nervous.” She paused, biting her lower lip. “Though Bhon might have taken a little bit of a pot shot at him to keep him from getting too close.” That explained the tail.
“Is there something you are not telling us, boss?” Kamuli asked. “What happened when you signed the contract?”
I described the well-to-do grand-dame and her gentleman family member, and how they had presented the contract. It was starting to sound too good to be true. Amra had been right not to trust them. “In any case, those Sureriaj were definitely not Frente.” I finished.
“Then what’s their game?” Bhon asked through the speaker.
“I don’t know,” I answered, “but let’s get to the portal ground before anything else happens. With the advance they gave us, we can jump the line and get to Methiem today instead of tomorrow. We won’t be able to deliver this in time otherwise.” And the sooner we got off Sureri, the better.
I held on to my co-pilot’s chair as the transport went over a rut in the dirt road with a clang. I heard a grunt from one of the speaking tubes, but other than that my crew was silent, likely contemplating the same questions I was.
The portal ground was on the edge of the trading city, and we lost our shadow by the time we got there. I gripped my chair’s arms as Amra brought the heavy transport to a tenuous stop in the line queued at the roped-off square. The transport was good for hauling cargo, not so much for driving through a populated city.
The side hatch clanged open and Saart pulled himself up. “Do I have to say I don’t like this?” he asked. He adjusted his glasses. I could hear the engine winding down in the section behind us.
“You just did. And I don’t like it either, but it will make us a lot of money.” I swiveled my chair, taking in Saart’s soot-stained fur. “Or maybe you want to drive this transport back to the warehouse and tell those thugs we’ve thought better of their deal?”
“No, I want us all to understand what’s going on, instead of jumping into a bad deal like a bear into a tar pit. You could have turned this down when you saw the payoff was too large. But you didn’t see fit to consult the rest of us.”
“I already apologized.” I relaxed my grip on the chair, and fought to keep my voice level. “I had to take the contract then or not at all. The profit will cut down the number of new trades before we can look at a shop on Methiem.”
Saart snorted. “You’ll never settle down.”
“Why do you think I took this contract?” I asked.
Amra was pulling levers, letting the transport roll forward in line. “It’s a start for him, Saart.”
Saart snorted again. “Remember when Prot was ‘sick’ with the ‘Kirian maggot flu?’”
“Yes, when we were supposed to look at potential shopfronts outside Biharia…” Amra turned with a hiss of inhaled air. “Tell me you didn’t lie to me.”
“So I got cold feet.” I raised a hand. “The brakes!” I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. There was a cart in front of us with two terrified-looking Lobath. They were gathering bunches of smushfruit in their arms to cart out of the way.
Amra jerked on the lever, and I barely got my hands up to stop myself flying out of the seat. Saart stumbled into the back of my chair, and I heard a series of grunts and bangs from the passenger section speaking tube.
“That took time and money to set up. If you’re so interested in settling down, don’t waste my time.” Amra was fuming.
“What the hell is going on up—” Bhon began before I flipped the switch next to the speaking tube, cutting her off.
“I’ll handle the customs officials,” I said, extricating myself from the seat and ignoring both Saart and my accountant. “Get this thing ready to travel to Methiem.” I left the cockpit before anyone could catch me and ask any more questions, banging the hatch shut on an enraged squawk from Amra.
I shook my head as I walked. We had to get the merchandise delivered. We had to get the money. We had nothing saved up without it. I pushed away the feeling of impending doom settling on my shoulders.
A few steps away from the transport, I checked the layout of the portal ground. There were four large merchant parties, each with several wooden cargo wagons pulled by system beasts. One set—in the form of immense horses sparkling like glass in the cold sun—doubtless cost more than my transport and cargo combined. The maji-created animals ate grass to sustain themselves, but the cost to recharge the system that ran them was more than I made in a full cycle.
Another group consisted of a pair of Etanela, towering above everyone else, and carrying heavy packs on their backs. Four Kirian women, with short, wildly colored robes ending above wrinkled elbows and knees, talked off to the side. I could see their crests fanning and flattening as they gossiped. There was even one lone Benish, standing rooted to the spot like a particularly gnarled anthropomorphic tree. It carried an immense bag in one hand. All the parties here had surely booked weeks in advance.
I searched the Sureriaj guards, dressed in a combination of family regalia. I could recognize a few—Frente and Baldek, and even one of the Nara family. What I was really looking for was…there. Technically one of the great families, the Naiyul also had a right to put a customs official at the portal ground.
Sureriaj tolerated corrupt family members less than most would tolerate a corrupt employee. Imagine being dragged in front of your company owners and seven of your great-great-grandmothers—who happened to be the same people—to explain why you had taken the money from the nice man with the shiny transport.
As a race, they were loyal to a fault to their family, but the rare individual Sureri was willing to take a little extra on the side. The disgraced Naiyul had fewer ties to family, making them more susceptible.
I checked to make sure none of the other Sureriaj were paying attention before I slipped over to the customs official dressed in the navy and yellow of the disgraced Naiyul. “I need to go through the next portal to Methiem,” I said. I took a quick look at the sun. “In the next hour or so, if one’s available.”
The customs Sureri hefted my proffered clinking bag of Nether glass—a sizeable fraction of
the advance I had been paid— and evidently found it acceptable, as he tucked it away with a conspiratorial grin and bent to fill out paperwork. He checked a sheet with timetables, then checked around to make sure the other agents weren’t watching before completing the form he gave me. The writing was all in the interconnected Sureri script, but I assumed it was legitimate. I had offered enough.
“Yer in luck, yer are. The majus is makin’ a hole to Loba just now, but the next one for them,” he threw out a long finger toward the group of Etanela, “is goin’ to Kashidur City.” He handed me the paper. “Lucky yer leavin’ today. Grounds were closed yesterday, what with that protest by the Baldek.” He cocked his head to one side. “I’m hopin’ yer had a pleasant stay here, regardless.”
“Many thanks.” At least this Sureri didn’t act like I carried fleas. I’m sure the bag of money helped.
I tried not to think of how much the bribe reduced my assets, but it did let us skip the line. Much of the rest would go to the price of the portal itself. I would be expected to share the cost equally with the group of Etanela, so at least they wouldn’t complain at our jumping in line. Still, even what Amra got from selling the spices was a valuable addition to our savings at this point.
Without the portals that moved us from planet to planet, the ten homeworlds would have no trade. Just because the maji were the only ones who could open them was no reason to charge so much. Every majus I had seen was rich as a king with an ego bigger than Methiem.
By the time I got back, the others had prepared the transport to travel. I carefully stayed around the other side from Amra, watching Kamuli and Bhon bolt in the last panel to trim down the outline.
My vehicle had been a war machine, in its past life. Its kind had only been used once, more than twenty-five cycles ago, when the Methiem waged a short war against the Sathssn over their trading rights on Sath Home. Turned out preparing the machines for battle, once they passed through portals linking the homeworlds, took so long the Sathssn defeated the Methiemum easily. But we still got the trading rights in the end. That’s war for you.
Saart found the transport right after we met, we bought it for a song-and-a-half at a junk yard from a rather eccentric majus, and Saart fixed it up. Physically, it was long and narrow, with low ground clearance. A majus could only open a portal so large, and the transport could only traverse one after modifications to reduce its overall height. The adjustments made riding claustrophobic while in transport mode, but it was worth it to carry cargo between planets. With its capacity, we could rise above many petty merchants, even if we weren’t at the level of the larger, better-funded parties.
I sighed. I couldn’t avoid things any longer. I stopped pretending to observe my transport, and came around the front of the pilot section at the same time Amra was pulling open the door to the cabin. We stopped, watching each other.
I broke first.
“I shouldn’t have lied. I…I wasn’t—”
“No, you shouldn’t have.” Amra interrupted. “If you don’t want to settle down yet, tell me. Don’t sneak off.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was trying to get our portal scheduled so we can actually make money.” I threw a hand back toward the portal ground.
“Oh, and I’m not capable of making us any?”
I frowned. “I never said—” I wanted to tell her how much the money from the spices helped, but before I could, she broke in.
“You were thinking it,” Amra accused.
Suddenly, I was angry. I didn’t have time for this. “Look, I want you, I want children, I want our store somewhere. We just have to—”
“We’ve ‘just had to’ for nearly six cycles,” Amra said. “When do we finally find the time to make it happen?”
“I don’t know,” I shot back. I took the door from her, climbing in. “Maybe when this delivery is finished. Maybe not.”
Amra climbed in after me. “We lose money traveling from homeworld to homeworld.”
“Then we need this last job to go right,” I told her. And a few others. Amra snorted, and took the co-pilot’s seat. “Then we can start looking—”
She held up a hand toward me. “I don’t want to hear it now. Drive. I can’t stand going through portals.” Her segue only meant she didn’t have a good answer either. But this argument wasn’t finished.
I pushed any retorts to the back of my mind, and checked through the speaking tubes that everyone was strapped in. Driving to the front of the line, I saw the portal to Loba closing, the hole in the air compressing to nothing.
The majus standing in front of our transport—a red-skinned fishy-looking Lobath—went to the group of Etanela, asking a question. A bag of coins changed hands. She shivered in the cold, the wind puckering her rubbery skin. Her three long tentacles growing in place of hair were drawn close to shield her from the wind. Next she came to us, calling in the Trader’s Tongue through the side door I had left open.
“You are going to Methiem, yes? You agree to split the cost with the other party?”
“We are, and we do,” I called back. Amra counted out the fee in Nether glass we got from the Sureriaj, not looking at me. The amount was much bigger than that of the bribe. I eyed it with distaste, wondering where the money went. A bribe to smooth our transit was one thing, but the cost of traveling from one homeworld to another was far too high, in my estimation.
Amra handed the pouch to the majus, who hefted it with a practiced hand and gestured us forward. I kept the transport idling right behind the group on foot. Amra shut the door and, despite our argument, a thrill ran through me. This never got old.
The Lobath majus walked to the front of the line, but before she could do anything, there was a disturbance behind us, and I looked out the window near my seat. Four of the Naiyul constables pushed through the waiting line, each riding a tall bird.
“These aliens are not allowed to leave our world,” the one who had tailed us said. He must have gone back to get reinforcements.
I didn’t have time for this. I went to the hatch, rolling it back to argue, but the majus got there first.
“What is the suspicion?” she asked. “You have a warrant for them, yes?”
The Sureri faltered. “They’ve been hangin’ ‘round warehouses, and we think they mebbe have stolen goods…”
“We’re merchants,” I shouted. “We hang around warehouses for a living. Do you have proof or not?” I could see others in line starting to talk and shuffle. The Sureri constable was going to have another riot on his hands if he wasn’t careful.
“They have already paid for portal,” the Lobath majus said. “I must make it now, unless you have proof.”
The Sureri made a horrible face at me. “We know yer involved,” he said. “We’ll track yer down soon, don’t fret.”
I traded looks with Amra, our argument swept aside for the moment.
The majus turned her back on the constables and waved vaguely in midair, doing her magic. The black oblong hole between worlds opened, and I climbed back in my seat. Unless the Sureri physically stopped the transport, there was nothing they could do. Anything to get off this world.
They had been watching us, but why? The cargo? We just needed to deliver it, get our money, and all would be well.
I drove away from the constables, away from Sureri, and past the majus. The Etanela we shared the portal with were a bit taller than the transport, and ducked to pass through the top edge of the portal. The majus had skimped on the height to make it wide enough for us. I kept the wheels turning slowly, aimed directly for the slice of utter blackness, barely high enough for the curved and aerodynamic outline of the transport. My arms broke into gooseflesh as I tried not to think about the two halves of the transport separated by the distances between homeworlds.
The cabin passed through the hole in the air, and in the briefest flash of black, the chill desert afternoon of Sureri turned to a warm spring morning near Kashidur City on Methiem. I
felt something loosen in my chest. It felt good to be home.
PART TWO
Customs
- Official portal grounds are tightly regulated by homeworld customs agents. However, it is impossible to tax all trading on each homeworld, which encourages smuggling. Most illegal goods are local to the world. Pertinent issue for discussion concerns small percentage of goods smuggled through portals between homeworlds. Goods not available or manufacturable on one homeworld will be worth more when sold there. Rare reports exist of maji bribed to pass goods through unofficial portals, though claims are not yet supported. If confirmed, would lead to heavy disciplinary action by the Council of the Maji.
Summary of Great Assembly session topic, third gathering of the second quarter, 997 AAW
If I had my way, I would have driven out of the portal grounds and been to the city in a few minutes. But Methiem is the biggest trading planet of the ten homeworlds, and Kashidur City the biggest trading port. The customs officials were depressingly good at their job, as I had learned more than once when passing through my home planet with goods of a…delicate…nature.
This shipment particularly bothered me, and the assurances of the well-dressed Sureriaj and his grand-dame who had bought my services were starting to lose their ring of truth. But no matter how strange the circumstances of the transaction, I had to believe the time and effort of whichever family was pretending to be the Frente did not simply consist of a plot to land me in a prison in Kashidur City. I wasn’t worth that much. I wiped at my forehead.
“Are you sweating?” Amra asked. We were at a standstill behind a line of travelers, and I had the parking lever crammed upward to keep the transport from rolling forward.
“I’m beginning not to like this delivery.” If everything went well, they’d take a look at the cargo compartment, Amra would give them our bill of lading, and we’d be on our way. I prayed the Sureriaj had finished all their documentation.
Merchants and Maji: Two Tales of the Dissolutionverse (Dissolution Cycle) Page 4