Merchants and Maji: Two Tales of the Dissolutionverse (Dissolution Cycle)

by William C. Tracy

  Saart’s bright blue eyes watched me behind his glasses. “Anything you say.” He went to start the steam engine.

  I secreted my collection of glass jars in a blanket in my bunk so they wouldn’t rattle, and went to the pilot section. I let the others know we would be stopping for the night and making the delivery in the morning.

  Saart kept the engine going, and Bhon and Kamuli rode in their usual place in the living section. Amra, of course, was beside me in the co-pilot’s chair. We rode in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon, and the gaslights started to flicker on in Kashidur City, lighting our way. We had our own lamps on top of each section. Two more on the transport’s nose spilled illumination before us.

  Halfway around the city, Amra spoke.

  “I’ve been noting down our expenses.” There wasn’t an overt question attached, but I knew what she meant.

  “I gave the last of our upfront bonus to the majus,” I told her. “Seven percent. You should add that to the total.” I was contemplating numbers in my head, and I didn’t like where it was going. I could be wrong.

  Amra calculated for a few moments, peering at her ledger in the dim light reflected from the front lanterns. “Don’t tell me the number,” I said. “We don’t have enough to even think about buying a shop.”

  “We wouldn’t have enough even without these expenses. You keep going on about our shop. You know I’m happy to travel in the transport for now. Did you ever mean to buy a place?”

  Saart’s warning flashed through my mind. He was right. It was time to change things.

  “No.” I glanced over to see her mouth set, eyes fixed on her accounts. “Not at first. But I do now, Amra, I really do.” She raised her face, but still didn’t look at me.

  I thought about my discovery with the jars. “I’m done with the traveling game,” I told her. “After the last four months on Loba, and the week on Sureriaj, I’m done trying to scrabble for a living, taking what we can from the maji, and the homeworld governments, and their customs bureaucracy. Make the customers come to us, if they want what we have. We’ll have a little garden out back of the shop, and grow our own food, and have a couple pigs, or some pulluus from Kiria for eggs. And a little girl.” Amra finally looked up at that.

  “What if I don’t want a child? What if it’s a boy?”

  I shrugged. “Then just us, together.”

  “And what about Saart, and Bhon and Kamuli? If we invest so much into a shop, how can we pay them?”

  “You know we can hear you.” Amra’s face darkened in a blush as Bhon’s voice floated in the cabin, tinny and remote. I had forgotten to switch off the speaking tubes.

  “They have a switch at the other end, too,” I said into the air. Nosy interfering…

  “We know,” Saart said, and I sighed. The conversation was over, but Amra watched me for the rest of the ride.

  We stopped on the other side of Kashidur City from the portal ground, the evening glow of the city overwhelming the stars. The taller buildings even blocked one of the rising moons.

  There was a park we had used before, frequented by those with no permanent place of residence. We turned the transport into a ‘U’ shape to give us shelter. Tonight wouldn’t be relaxing. We still had work to do.

  Once we were set up, I found Kamuli Balion. The large woman seemed to know what I was thinking. She had the sample jar she had taken from the crate.

  “There’s more,” I told her, and led her to my and Amra’s bunk.

  Kamuli had a small set of chemical reagents, a few beakers and testing vials, and a couple larger pieces of equipment including something she called a ‘masseous spectrum-analyzer.’ When we were in a friendly town, and she wasn’t needed on guard duty, she would often help Saart with the coal mixture we fed to the engines, or cook up a few handy mixtures for when one of us encountered a local ailment we had not yet run across in our travels. None of us had expected to be able to catch the Lobath head-tentacle fever when we were on Loba, but the disease had proved surprisingly adaptable. Fortunately, Kamuli had been able to rework a local treatment into a reagent than worked for both Methiemum and Festuour.

  Kamuli stared at the pile of jars on my bunk and then at me. “I will get my equipment,” she said. “Meet me outside with these. I will need the campfire to help break down the pills into their components.”

  The others had finished setting up camp, and Saart had a healthy blaze going, seats from the transport placed around it, by the time Kamuli’s equipment was set up—all polished metal rods and glass beakers. There were a few leather tubes and strangely shaped glass constructions, with a small pile of carefully labeled chemicals. I didn’t know what the equipment did, only that it was among my doctor’s prized possessions.

  The sun set. We talked for several hours into the night while Kamuli worked. Saart made us a meal from whatever he had left lying around. I didn’t taste it. I had shared my suspicion of the Baldek family’s motives in sending medicine and we were all twitchy to discover Kamuli’s results.

  There was a gang of children who made their home in the bushes around the park. I’m sure they were thieves by day, but they came up to us openly as the night grew, their numbers larger than the last time we had been here.

  Amra tsked. “There must be orphans from the Shudders epidemic joining them.” She got up, gripping a change purse and reaching for the pot of Saart’s stew. “They look like little crows, all skin and bones.”

  I didn’t interfere, but I didn’t help, while Amra doled out portions of stew and a small coin each for the urchins, her red wrap tucked in close. She had no problem helping others, but when it came to the uncertainty of raising one of her own, she balked.

  Bhon held the pot as each child took a mouthful from Amra’s ladle, and I tightened my jaw as each padam left her hand. I loved her generosity, even if I wanted to tear my hair out sometimes. Each of those children needed a good home, and a few coins wouldn’t help that. I hoped the medicine in the delivery was clean. Maybe we could keep more orphans from joining this group.

  After the children had departed to their leafy beds, the large doctor sat back with a sigh. Her headwrap was coming unpinned, though she didn’t notice it. In the past few hours she had accumulated a pile of detritus around her—discarded jars and pills, samples of the crate packing material and even a small bit of the wood, and sheets of notes in her tight handwriting. Bhon had a cup of tea heated by the fire and brought it to her mate as she finished. Kamuli took a long draught of the hot liquid before she spoke.

  “All of this medicine, despite which family manufactured it,” she began in her round tones, “is anti-seizing medication which will work to reduce the effects of the Shudders.”

  I felt my shoulders relax a little, until I saw she wasn’t finished.

  “Each family has a slightly different chemical concoction in their pill, likely a formula each family’s scientists have discovered and not shared with the others. All of them include only the basic materials needed to assuage the fever.” She felt around for one of the jars, inspecting the side in the firelight for the tiny maker’s mark. “Except for these, from the Baldek family.” My shoulders tightened again.

  Kamuli held up one dark finger. “For a pregnant sufferer of the Shudders, when taking certain other medications commonly supplied by the Sureriaj, this pill can cause stillbirth. Specifically for Methiemum, it also has the ability to cause permanent sterility, if one takes multiple doses.” Her brow was furrowed tighter than I had ever seen it on the normally placid woman. “I would never make this connection if I were not looking for something wrong with this medication. Given the fraction of the jars from the Baldek family and how they may be distributed on Methiem, I doubt any scientist will be able to discover this connection once the effects are realized.”

  “That’s appalling.” Amra stood, looking as if she would throw down her ever-present ledger. She looked to the bushes at the perimeter of the park. �
�I won’t be any part to this.”

  “They can keep their dirty money, I say,” Bhon added, incensed. “I ain’t gonna be sterilized!”

  I involuntarily looked at her choice of life mate. So did the others.

  “I still have a choice!” she defended grumpily. “These crazy Sureri have got to be stopped. I say we take the price of this out of their ugly hides.”

  “But was it deliberate?” I asked. It could still be a manufacturing error. Vish let it be so. Even with all the other strange setbacks in customs.

  Kamuli shook her head. “The additional compound could not be a simple accident. This was purposeful sabotage. My mate talks sense, even if she may not have as much at stake as she thinks.” She threw an apologetic glance at Bhon, who bared her pointy teeth at Kamuli. “However, the only affected people would be those with the Shudders, who take a pill made by the Baldeks and who have not yet reproduced.” She also spared a look for the bushes. “It may even help combat certain…ah, unfortunate social conditions.”

  Saart was as practical as always. “So can’t we just deliver it and take the money?” He was leaning against a padded seat, his furry three-toed feet stretched out to the fire. “No, no. Stay with me.” he explained, as everyone stared at him in shock. “There’s a limited amount of medicine. The Baldek’s tainted a fraction of the cargo, right? This stuff’s only administered to certain people who have the Shudders, Kamuli tells us, and it will still cure them?” He waited for the doctor’s slow nod. “Whatever the greasy gargoyles are planning, it can’t be that effective. This sounds like a desperate plot by one family trying to lash out wherever they can. They’ll hit the rare individual—probably less than the infant mortality rate. Deliver it, and get our money. Alert the officials later if you want.”

  When he explained it that way, it made sense. I could see the others considering it—even Bhon. The Baldek’s plan didn’t seem an effective strategy. I looked to Amra, who was still standing. The money from this delivery wouldn’t be enough to buy a store, but if we didn’t fulfill the contract, who knew how long until we climbed back out of debt? We would be traveling from homeworld to homeworld for cycles to come, until we were both old and gray.

  Amra’s face hardened, and I knew she was thinking the same thing. She opened her mouth. Perhaps the best thing was to deliver it anyway.

  “Could the ingredients that make us sterile be added to other medicine?” she asked.

  There was silence.

  Kamuli bowed her head in thought, then picked up a few sheets of her notes. She spent a few minutes comparing her results.

  “From my chromatography data, I would say…yes.” There was shuffling around the campfire as the members of my crew shifted positions nervously. Slowly, Amra sat back down in her chair. She looked pale.

  “I had not thought of this.” The sheets trembled in Kamuli’s hands, casting flickering shadows. “You are correct. The Baldek family could have—might have already—appended this concoction to almost every other medicine they are known to make, with little effect save some lessening of the potency. It would be just as difficult to find in other pills or reagents. They may be able to affect thousands of Methiemum families, over time.”

  Even Saart was frowning now.

  Do the right thing. The Colonel’s words came back to me. His strange promise. Had he sensed the contaminant in the pills? Had he heard of other shipments? It still didn’t invalidate the money we needed from the delivery.

  “Well, what are we supposed to do?” I asked my crew. “Go after the grand-dame who contracted me?” I didn’t even know her true family, though I could guess. “Go after the entire Baldek family?” That was like trying to attack an entire government. Were they all in on it?

  “We…could just tell the authorities in Kashidur City,” Saart suggested, but his heart wasn’t in it.

  “And then these ruffians we’re supposed to deliver to scatter like cockroaches under a light, and we still don’t get our money,” Bhon said. She hit one furry paw into her other palm with a meaty smack. “I want to take them down.”

  “This isn’t a smuggling run,” Amra put in, “it’s a war, in all but name. Can we alert the maji?”

  I thought about the flouncy woman who had been running the portal ground. “We can’t trust this to someone else,” I said. My heart was hammering, my mouth suddenly dry. “We have all the information here, now, with the contact waiting to receive their medicine in a few hours. Once the medicine is distributed, who’s to say the pills will stay in their original jars? Each hospital might divide them up into different containers, all signs of the Baldek family erased.” I cut the air with the side of my hand. “We have to deal with this delivery ourselves. Later we can bring in the authorities—” I nodded to Saart, “—and the maji.” This time to Amra.

  “And when we capture those bastards, then they will give us news on their employers,” Kamuli said. There was a disturbing gleam in her eye.

  We made plans, and got a few hours of fitful sleep before the sun rose.

  PART THREE

  The Delivery

  - In the last five hundred cycles, more civil wars have been fought on the ten species’ homeworlds than all the wars fought between species combined. I direct you to the census taken by adjunct to the Etanela Speaker recorded in 975 AAW. But have all wars truly been recorded? What defines a war taking place between planets separated by unknowable distances? I propose to the Assembly to study our histories for those wars never recorded, or hidden as ‘trade disputes.’ I think you will find much more conflict between the species than previously indicated.

  Transcript of a section of a speech given to the Great Assembly of Species by Speaker Otuvari Thientect of Kiria, 982 AAW

  The warehouse could have been a twin to the one on Sureri; similarly run down, dark windows shaded in the morning sunrise. No legitimate medical delivery would happen here.

  I parked the transport in front, then sent Bhon around back to scout, her small form silent on her padded feet. Kamuli was with me, tucking her headwrap tight in anticipation. We made a show of checking the cargo to give Bhon time. I was sure there were eyes watching from the windows.

  “We are not going to give them the medicine, yes?” Kamuli asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want these boxes to leave our hands, but we need proof of what the Baldeks are really doing.”

  Before long, Bhon returned, keeping to the shadow of the building. “I just about put my nose into it,” she said, halfway out of breath from her jaunt. “I’m a frog if there ain’t a whole herd of the hairy gargoyles out back, sitting around, playing cards and such. A couple new ones arrived while I watched. Looks like they put word out for reinforcements.” She waved a furry paw to the dilapidated warehouse.

  “Insurance if we’ve discovered their plan?” Saart asked.

  “If they’re even planning to pay us,” I said. “We go in armed. Kamuli and Bhon in front, I’m in the middle, and Saart guards the rear. We need to capture at least one of them.” I fixed my love with a steady stare. Her wrap was emerald green today, the bottom pinned up so she could move quickly. “We may need to leave this place in a hurry, and I need someone ready to pull the transport around if we come running with angry Sureriaj hot on our heels.” I didn’t say that this would keep her safe. She was not a trained fighter like Bhon and Kamuli. Neither were Saart and I, but we had been in our share of scraps.

  Amra nodded, face serious. “Give those child killers what they deserve and get out quickly,” she said.

  Kamuli pushed the mold-encrusted doors open, her long knife at the ready. A mace and Bhon’s crossbow hung low at her side. Bhon had both handcannons out. With their long reloading times, she would have to switch to a differently destructive weapon after a few rounds.

  “Anyone here?” I called into the gloom. “We have cargo to deliver.” I stopped behind a line of boxes and metal scrap. More piles lined shelves to either side. T
his warehouse was more crowded than the one on Sureri. High windows stained with dust let in limited light. A shape detached from the back of the warehouse, and came toward me.

  She was Methiemum. My people.

  The woman could have been from any of the cities on the southern continent. Three more men and a woman came forward to join her, just as unremarkable. All wore dark clothes, the better to disappear into unlit spaces.

  Bhon raised her handcannons and Saart primed his contraption. What he held was technically a welder, or at least its ancestor was. What it did now—well, I wasn’t completely sure. Kamuli was to my left, a little in front, her face stony.

  I adjusted my plans.

  “How much did they promise you for taking the medicine?” I asked. “Where are you taking it? To a hospital, or to some other dodgy warehouse?”

  “You’re not being paid to ask any questions,” the woman in front growled. “And neither are we.” She was large, with thick arms, probably from moving goods in warehouses like this. I saw hands drift to pockets, and put one of mine out to the side, palm down, to keep my crew from overreacting.

  I held up my other hand, palm up, the broken pieces of the lock in it.

  “But why would they need to secure ordinary medicine with one of these?”

  The woman peered forward. “What is that?”

  “An artifact prepared by a majus to lock the crates. How often have you seen one?”

  The group looked at each other. A grumble came from the back. “I was only supposed to deliver a box, Wima. Weren’t nothing said about the maji gettin’ involved.” The one who complained glanced over his shoulder, to the Sureriaj in back, no doubt. If I played this right, it might be nine of us against the Baldeks instead of four.

  “I don’t think your employers told you everything,” I said, moving one step toward the woman in charge—Wima—hand still out in front. “Did they tell you which families the medicine came from? Did they tell you some of the pills could permanently ster—”