The man pointed at the gap in his teeth. “My toof.”
Kris managed not to grin at his lisp. “How could a slender lad like Ferris steal your tooth?” she asked, managing to retain her Evansian pose.
“It was on the floor,” Ferris said, as if that conferred legitimacy on his action.
“And that’s where you found it?”
“Yes. On Sicrim’s floor. This morning.”
“But the toof is mine,” the fellow insisted, becoming more agitated.
“I was just taking it to Dr. Sachs,” Ferris said, looking penitent and put- upon.
“But it is mine!”
“If it was left on the floor since last night, sir, it may be presumed that you had abandoned it,” Kris pointed out. “Therefore, the lad has not knowingly stolen from you as an act of bad faith. He was, in fact, bringing it to the one man on this planet who can replace it in your jaw.
“He can?” the man exclaimed.
Now Ferris shoved his hand in his pocket and displayed a tusk neatly bagged in one of the little plastic envelopes that Eric had brought with him.
“That’s mine!” The fellow lunged to repossess it.
“A lot of good it does you in the bag,” Ferris said contemptuously, recovering some of his usual impudence, and he folded thin arms across his chest. “I cleaned it off, which Eric says is necessary, and put it in the bag for safekeeping. I did not know who it belonged to.” Ceremoniously, a look of creditable innocence on his face, Ferris handed it over.
“It belongs to me.” The man slipped the item into his pocket, leaving one hand protectively over his tooth, as if Ferris might somehow regain it.
Kris swiveled squarely to face Kapash, who had been listening and watching the proceedings with an odd expression on his face.
“How could Ferris have known the owner, Manager Kapash?” Kris asked earnestly. “Now that he does, he has returned it. No theft has occurred. There has been honorable restitution of a missing object.”
“But he took what does not belong to him,” Kapash said, his face severe and threatening. “He is a thief. Nor did he properly attempt to find out who owned the tooth.”
“But Sicrim said I could have any teeth I could find,” Ferris said plaintively. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Ask Sicrim.”
“Is this Sicrim present?” Kapash asked after briefly mulling that over.
He is trying to be reasonable, Kris thought, in these ludicrous circumstances, but Sicrim was not among those who crowded around the office.
“He is a thief!” the tooth owner said unforgivingly, pointing down at Ferris with a dirty, broken finger.
“He is a boy,” Kris said, giving the plaintiff a long and sour look for his bullying attitude. “And the sooner you get to the dentist to replace that tooth, the better. The longer you wait for treatment, the less chance you have of getting it back into your jaw, you know”
“Aha!” Kapash said, pointing at Kris. “So this is how you get business for that expert of yours?”
“What? I’m not the one knocking teeth out, Kapash. He has to get that done for himself,” she said, jerking her thumb at the plaintiff. There was a ripple of amusement from those so avidly listening to the discussion. She wished she’d thought to bring some packets of beans, although dropping some on Kapash’s desk would have been too obvious a bribe. But, to judge by the onlookers’ attitude, she also sensed that she had made a good argument.
“Let it be, Kapash,” someone from the crowd said.
The faint wail of a siren was audible after that remark. “Besides, there’s the riot alarm. That’s your business, Kapash.”
Kapash held up his hand to silence those in the office. Plainly heard were aggressive shouts and calls as well as the bray of the siren.
Clearly Kapash had to investigate, and with a glare at Kris, he rose and stalked out of his office, gesturing to his guards to fall in behind him as he went in search of more culpable and lucrative targets. Most of those gathered followed him to see what amusement the new diversion would provide.
Kris held out her hand to Ferris and led him out of the office.
“I did have Sicrim’s permission, Kris, I did. I know you won’t believe me.”
“But I do, Ferris. You have more sense than to get us into any trouble with your taking ways. Especially after this,” she said as they walked as quickly as possible out of the square.
Whistles, more sirens, and startled, hurt cries could be heard, and served to hurry them out of the vicinity.
They met Zainal, hurrying in their direction, in the main corridor of the next square.
“What happened? What’s happening?” He pointed in the direction of the audible disturbance.
Kris gave him a quick summary while Ferris hung his head in shame for having caused the emergency and bringing trouble to his friends.
“I think Kapash would have loved to press charges, but…” Chuck added.
“It was a good notion, Ferris, but you see how careful we have to be here, do you not?” Zainal said, one hand jiggling the thin shoulder, making the boy meet his eyes.
“Yes, Emassi, I do. I will not cause you more trouble.”
“Good lad. Now, we will not mention this to Eric,” Zainal began when a stranger intruded on their circle. Ferris quickly took refuge behind Zainal because it was the toothless man who had barged into them.
“You!” He pointed severely at Ferris. “You will take me to this man who can put my toof back in my jaw!”
“Of course,” Zainal answered pleasantly and gestured in the proper direction.
“I heard of this fellow,” the man said amiably, as if he hadn’t nearly caused Ferris considerable bodily harm. “But first I needed my toof.”
The word still came out with a lisp but no one dared grin.
“The procedure takes a little time, does it not, Ferris?” Zainal said, since he knew very little about such matters whereas Ferris had been in constant contact with Eric, absorbing everything the genial dentist said.
“It does,” and there was a little gleam in Ferris’s eye that suggested to Kris that it was not all pleasant either. “But I washed it as Eric told me to do, and kept it safe in that little bag.” He pointed to the man’s pocket, where he had seen him deposit his errant tooth.
“I am indebted to you, young man,” the fellow said, “and I apologize for the market manager’s zeal.”
“It has been well resolved,” Kris said.
“I am Mischik,” the Catteni said, and the others were required by courtesy to name themselves. “You are the Botany folk.”
“We are,” Zainal said proudly.
“And you are truly a Lady Emassi?” Mischik said, lisping more than ever on the double sibilants.
“I am.”
“Remarkable,” he said.
“I know,” she replied equably.
By then they had reached their own aisle and Ferris ran ahead to tell Eric of a new customer. Zainal and Kris hastened to the stall since there seemed to be quite an influx of clients wanting to sample the coffee. More likely, Kris thought, to see if the Botany lad had survived the confrontation with Kapash.
“Nothing like a mild emergency to spread the word,” Kris murmured to Zainal as they served coffee as quickly as they could pour it.
o~O~o
Word indeed had spread—though the riot Kapash had gone to suppress had not—and Eric had many inquiries about his services. He had ministered to Mischik and arranged for him to come back the next day and see if the tooth was settling in. Eric was forth-right in saying that the sooner he could restore a tooth the better the chances of success, but Mischik was happy enough to be able to speak without the annoying lisp. Eric assured him that failing the natural reestablishment of the tooth, he could make a bridge to close the gap.
Everyone was tired when Zainal announced that they had better close and, after today’s episode with Kapash, everyone was determined not to arouse any further attention from the market
commander.
Chapter Nine
Among the many goals Zainal had set for himself, gaining entrance to the port commander’s office and the port commander’s files —to access the information on the destinations of the slave carrying ships was topmost on his list. He needed only to get into the facility and find an empty office with a control board to access the information. Another ransom to be executed. It was his responsibility to right that massive wrong done to Kris’s people, even if she felt he was carrying responsibility too far. These Terrans should have been allies, not slaves, to the Catteni. There was the unassailable fact that unless he did something, he doubted those enslaved would ever return home, and with all those captives exiled from their home world, would Humans ever be on good terms with the Catteni?
He was glad that Kris had managed to save Ferris. The boy had been invaluable for discreet reconnaissance and had already saved Zainal from spending time with sellers who had nothing he wanted. Any excuse to waste time and have the chance to drink the fine coffee obviously motivated some of their visitors.
o~O~o
Trading continued briskly all morning and well into the afternoon, when the more prosperous merchants retired for the noonday meal, leaving their goods and stalls in the charge of their seconds. A few came to buy a cup of coffee when their masters had safely disappeared. Zainal hoped it would escape Kapash’s notice that coffee was now for sale. He thought privately that it would take many busy days for what they earned for the beverage to make a substantial profit.
He had to discard that opinion later, after Floss, with Clune very close to her, took over from Kathy Harvey at the coffee bar. Kris had breezily told him that’s what they had invented: the first Barevi coffee bar. There were also rumors that complaints had been issued to the market manager that people were obstructing the way to and from other stalls by gathering thickly in front of the “coffee bar.” By late afternoon, however, they had enough money to rent another stall, which came equipped—for a price—with tables, chairs, and a proper catering area. Floss, safely ensconced behind the “bar,” dealt capably with the flow of customers and ignored the laughs and remarks from the idlers gathered at Eric’s office.
By early evening, Zainal began to watch for signs of the usual rampage of guards and spacemen who would have spent most of the day drinking. When he felt the time would soon be upon them, and he noticed that other merchants were beginning to close their stalls, he called a halt to the day’s work. Ferris chattered away to Eric as he and Bazil helped pack away the dental office, adding the coffee urn and cups from the main stall. Zainal had seen to it that all the goods they had bartered for had been taken to the BASS-1 as soon as the deals were completed. So it was a relatively simple matter to pack up and return to the KDM.
Everyone was hungry and exhilarated by the success of the day, and full of ideas about how they could accomplish more the next.
Even Eric was in good form, having acquired several clients, besides Luxel, for gold crowns. Ditsy had said he should hire the man with the golden smile who had so fortuitously been there when needed.
“If word gets around, Zainal,” Eric said, waiting until Kris could fill his plate again, “I will need an assistant. My clients do not strike me as patient men.”
“Gino and I aren’t doing anything much,” Ninety Doyle said. “If it’s just muscle work you need …” He made a pantomime of tapping a hammer.
“Well, not exactly muscle work, but it does take time to pound even the softest gold into a malleable foil.” Then Eric perked up. “Old Natchi, what a talker. I understand about three words out of a dozen. I could fit him with a set of dentures that would do him better service than what he has left in his mouth.”
“Most of the time in the drinking places, when people get their teeth knocked out, it’s after market hours,” Ferris said. “For emergency treatment, do I give them this berth number?”
Zainal did not like that idea, for he wished to be as private as possible on BASS-1, but he countered with a suggestion. “You can present yourself, and your qualifications, to the local medical men. Then, if they think your services are necessary, they can make an appointment for the patient to see you. Preferably at the market. As soon as we can, I will try to find a better place in which you can work, Eric.”
“That would save us from being a raree-show, certainly,” Eric said, accepting Zainal’s offer.
“Does Floss have to go back?” Clune asked plaintively. The pair of them were holding hands under the table.
“I don’t mind, dear,” she said, soothing him with a hand on his much bigger one. “At least they can’t pinch me when I have the coffee bar in front of me.”
“Do not take any overt action, Clune,” Zainal felt obliged to warn him.
Clune snorted. “I’m not crazy, Zainal. Every one of them there today outweighed me, and a lot would have had the reach on me. Stupid I ain’t. Taking on one of those guys would put me out of action. I gotta stay on duty, pet.”
“You could lick ‘em one-handed,” Ditsy said with misplaced loyalty. “You got skill! And Chief Materu taught you some dandy moves.
“There will be no competitions with Catteni brawlers,” Zainal said, eyeing Clune, who nodded willingly enough, and Ditsy, who finally settled as far back in his seat as he could, as if trying to make himself less visible.
“I know it was a wearing day,” Kris said, “but we have to pack more coffee beans for tomorrow. Having them on hand is very useful.” She nodded toward Kathy Harvey, who had put forth the suggestion. Everyone groaned but even Ferris and Zainal’s sons roused themselves from the table to attend to the chore, packing the beans in bags they had taken from a deserted Terran Starbucks cafe.
“We’re running out of the sacks we brought with us,” Ferris remarked. “They ought to pay us for universal advertising rights.”
“Can we find anything as useful here as these bags, Zainal?”
“Quite possibly. You boys, see what you can find tomorrow morning once we’ve set up the stalls. And look around for something that will suit Eric’s requirements. Usually private stalls are at the head of the blocks.”
“You mean we can prowl?”
“Just keep order, Dits,” Zainal said.
“We can look, too, Father,” Peran volunteered eagerly.
“Perhaps, after your lessons with Brone, you may take a walk.” He nodded at Brone, who accepted the suggestion with a nod.
Zainal was loath to let his sons loose since, as Catteni boys, they would come under the scrutiny of all male adults, but with Brone in attendance, he could be sure that their natural high spirits would not lead them into trouble.
“We will think Masai and ask ourselves if the chief would permit his band to do whatever it is we think of doing.”
“Chief Materu was very strict but fair,” Bazil said helpfully, “but by the Gods, he could scowl something fierce and that always meant extra duty.” He wrinkled his nose in dismayed remembrance of such disciplinary frowns. “A question, Father?” he added, raising a tentative index finger. When Zainal nodded, he went on. “In most African tribal lands, if things get stolen, they get stolen back right fast. I mean, we all know the market’s full of things stolen from Earth. Couldn’t we just steal them back without all this bartering?”
Zainal cleared his throat. In some of the very primitive societies he had seen as a scout, the stealthy reclamation of stolen goods was considered part of training. The idea being to get in, get the purloined things, and return unseen. The Turs had made that into an art, and many had died following that tradition elsewhere.
“We abide by the laws of the planet we’re on, Bazil. And, however tempting, theft is brutally punished on this planet, and Kapash would relish a chance to apply the full measure of the law against any one of us.”
“Oh!” Ditsy and Ferris echoed Bazil’s stunned response faintly.
“But if they didn’t know it was us?” Bazil persisted, jabbing his thumb in his chest.
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“Who else would they suspect, Bazil?” Chuck asked, frowning darkly as he leant weight to Zainal’s comment.
“However, you may wander but just within the market area,” Zainal replied. “And check in hourly with me or Kris,” he added, pointing to their comm units.
“I got offered gold coin for mine,” Bazil replied.
“Accept nothing less than forty,” was Ferris’s fast response until he noticed Zainal’s frown.
“Do not suggest they are for sale,” he said firmly.
“I saw where we can get more,” Ditsy said, hauling a scrap of paper out of his pocket. Zainal leaned forward eagerly. “Iridium hand units, Stall Seventy- two-K. At least I think it’s a K.” Ditsy passed Zainal the scrap, a dirty finger pointing to the logo.
“Right. Good for you, Dits,” Zainal said. “I wonder if Kapash will tell me who rents the stall.”
“If he doesn’t, Natchi will,” Ferris said. “He knows everything there is to know about the market.”
At that, Kathy wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about the male facilities, but the ones for us are deplorable. Really, what does stall rental go for if not cleaning up the toilets?”
“Repairing the damage the drunks do,” Ferris replied with contempt.
Zainal gave Kathy a little nod. Such negligence could be a useful talking point in his next discussion with the market manager. But then, Kapash might have little interest in amenities for women. Zainal was certain Kapash held the traditional Catteni views on women: they should be grateful for what they get.
“I volunteer to do some cleaning there tomorrow,” Floss offered. “I can’t stand the stench, and who knows what I’d pick up from it.”
Zainal wasn’t sure why Kris looked so pleased by Floss’s offer, but she clearly approved of the girl’s willingness.
“Let’s fill those sacks—”
“Tote dat barge, lift dat bale,” Clune sang in a deep, rich bass that startled everyone.
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