“That’s all right, we got some in Carmakville, in Ithcar,” Joaley replied, and Kati said that she’d fetch some from her pack.
“Were you in Carmakville?” she heard Morrin ask in a wistful tone as she headed indoors. “I’ve heard it’s really nice there.”
“Well, I’m sure glad that you decided to stop in our dusty little town to put on a show,” he was saying when Kati returned with a pad of creamy paper and the ornate fountain pen that she had also purchased in Carmakville.
“The pen’s full; I checked it,” she told Joaley as she handed the supplies to her. “Do the best bargaining job that you can. But we’ll put on the best show we can, no matter how it goes.”
“Lukik was by just now,” Lank said. “He’s going to round up the boards for the stage and then ask around to see who can lend chairs and benches for audience seating. I told him that Rakil and I would help him put together the stage when we got back from The Maroc’s, and that you and Jock would be around in the meantime.”
“Good.” Kati nodded at him as Morrin led him, Joaley and Rakil off. She then turned to Jock: “Want to come to the Town Square and figure out the best place for the stage?”
*****
Morrin returned from The Maroc’s house shortly, and, with his mother’s permission, came to the Town Square to help erect the stage. A few young townies showed up, too, and others brought benches and spare chairs from the families who had been willing to donate. The stage went up quickly since the components were numbered and many of the helpers had dealt with them on previous occasions. Once it was up, Jock and Kati hauled out the lights that were part of their cart equipment, and attached them to the poles that surrounded the stage, and to the struggling trees behind it. Meanwhile the locals arranged the seating in a semicircle about the stage, trampling the ubiquitous weeds.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The physical setting was ready for the show before the other half of the Troupe had returned from their errand.
It was almost noon when Joaley, Rakil and Lank arrived, coming directly to the Town Square, where Kati and Jock were entertaining a handful of the locals, including Morrin and his mother, (clearly business was not booming at the Inn), with stories of their travels in Ithcar. Kati had also added a few tidbits from the Troupe’s time in Port City, and even the odd snippet about off-world life. She tried to not worry about the Team members at The Maroc’s, reminding herself that all three of them had pocketed stunners before leaving the Inn, and that Joaley, besides being an expert bargainer, was an experienced Peace Officer, perfectly capable of looking after herself as well as the less experienced Team members.
Nevertheless, she breathed a sigh of relief when the three marched into view, with Joaley visibly fuming.
“That dratted greedy piece of shit!” she snarled when she reached the side of the stage where Kati was seated on the edge. “No matter what I said I couldn’t get him down below twenty-five percent! That arrogant jerk wants twenty-five percent of our take for doing exactly nothing! I couldn’t get him to budge from that, not with cajoling, nor threats, nor even insults!”
She threw the piece of paper in her hand onto Kati’s lap. Kati checked it; it was a hastily written contract, signed by The Maroc and the three musicians, agreeing that the Troupe would pass on a quarter of their take from any and all shows that they performed in Marocville to the members of the Maroc Family. She glanced at Rakil and Lank; Rakil shrugged nonchalantly, and Lank grinned, clutching the pad and the pen that he had apparently taken from Joaley, to safeguard them from her fury, no doubt.
“Relax, kiddo,” she said to Joaley. “Didn’t I tell you to just do your best and not sweat it? Our earnings have been good so far, so this town’s take won’t affect us much.”
“But he’s taking that much money for nothing! That shouldn’t be legal!” Joaley was not ready to be humoured.
“Are you saying that The Maroc agreed to take only a quarter of your take?” one of the local helpers said, staring at her. “Generally, he insists on a half, whenever entertainers stop by. Which means that we don’t get very many, and none return for a second performance. What did you do to get him to agree to take only one quarter?”
Rakil burst out laughing.
“You should have seen her!” he exclaimed, turning to look at the questioner. “She started with sweet-talk, and ended with some insults that made me blush, although I do believe they went right over The Maroc’s head! At least he did not react to them.”
“Which was a good thing,” added Lank. “That way Rakil and I didn’t have to fight for her.”
“One of these days, Joaley, you’re going to push too hard. Watch yourself,” Kati sighed.
“It’s just insane, that’s all,” Joaley protested. “Why should The Maroc get a cut of what the hard-working people of this town pay for entertainment, when he doesn’t lift a finger towards earning a single penny of it?”
“Because he owns this town and all the land around it,” replied one of the young townies.
“And how did he get the rights of ownership to it?” Joaley snapped back.
The fellow shrugged.
“As far as I know the Marocs have been the owners of the estates, the goods, and the chattels, in these parts, as long as anyone can remember. They are the Family of the Four Hundred who were given charge of this area, and they can choose to administer it as they please. The Marocs choose to regard everything as their property, which leaves us Ordinary Citizens—well—exactly where we are.”
“That about sums it up,” the Granda subvocalized. “It’s about as good a statement as any of how this world is run. By an Oligarchy run amok.”
“Leave it Joaley,” Kati said firmly, before the red-head had a chance to get into a further tirade. “We entertain, we don’t foment open rebellion. Don’t forget—our aims.”
Joaley opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
*****
The evening’s show went very well. The area residents threw themselves into the audience-participation segments whole-heartedly. Kati had no trouble persuading them to sing along with the Troupe. Rakil’s juggling had the children oohing and aahing; then oh-oh-ohing when he did his fumbling act. Even the adults could be heard sighing with relief when he recovered his skill and, once again, made his balls dance in the air while he recited Borhquan poetry. Jock’s ballads and Joaley’s piping created quieter interludes in the, at times, raucous, proceedings, and at the end of the night everyone seemed to agree that they had had a good time.
The Ordinary Citizen attendees filed by the collecting bowl at the end, each one dropping a little something in, even the children, who, Kati was certain, were giving up their treat money for days. Meanwhile the small group of Exalted who had kept separate from the other audience members, stood by, laughing among themselves. Joaley was keeping an eye on them, Kati noted with amusement, even though the group had shown no aggressive tendencies.
“We’ll take the stage apart tomorrow morning, before we leave; right, Kati?” Rakil was saying as Morrin came by on his way back home.
“I’ll be here with a few friends to give you a hand,” he offered, grinning.
“What about the money?” Lank asked after the last straggler had dropped her offering into the coin bowl. “Do we figure out The Maroc’s portion right now, or shall we take the dish to the Inn and count the money there? If we do that we can take the Maroc’s quarter to him in the morning—but maybe he wants it tonight?”
Jock, carrying his rhyele, came to stand beside Kati who was putting her guitar in its case. He chuckled to see Joaley slip her pipes into their sack, and hurry to the edge of the stage to grab up the coin bowl.
“The Maroc can wait for his money until tomorrow morning as far as I’m concerned,” she stated flatly. “I’m not interested in counting all this here and now. The wind is rising up and it feels like there’s going to be rain.”
Kati looked around her; for the first time since the start of the show
she was truly aware of her surroundings beyond the stage and the audience. The townsfolk were hurrying off for a reason; Joaley was right. The wind had picked up, clouds had obscured the stars and the one moon above the horizon, and there was a dampness in the air.
“You’re right,” she said. “It does feel like we’re about to get a dose of bad weather. We’ll have to get our instruments inside. I guess The Maroc will have to wait ‘til tomorrow for his share.”
“Not so fast.”
Two of the male Exalted had hurried to the edge of the stage. Everyone in the Troupe turned to stare at them.
“What do you want?” Kati asked brusquely, anxious to get her guitar under a roof before the rain broke.
“We want the Maroc Family’s half of the profits tonight,” the man who had spoken answered coldly. “If you’re not prepared to divide the money now, we’ll be happy to take the bowl and do the counting ourselves.”
“Like Hell!” Joaley’s face turned nearly as red as her hair was. “If you think that I’m going to pass the bowl over to you just like that, buster, you’re dreaming! Besides The Maroc and I agreed this morning that his take would be twenty-five percent, and having a signed agreement to that effect, I’m holding to the deal!”
She handed the money dish and her pipes to Lank, beside her, and whipped the contract out of a pocket, straightening out its creases, and displayed it for the Exalted to see. Short as she was, she looked slightly ridiculous holding the sheet up towards the much taller Vultairian men, especially since she was standing at a distance from them. But she knew, as they all did, that the Exalted could node-enhance their vision, and easily read the document. However, the Vultairian demurred.
“Closer,” he said. “I can’t read it from this far.”
He reached for it with one long arm.
Joaley did not move.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “That won’t work with me. I know perfectly well that you can read this paper from there; ask your node to enhance your vision, if you haven’t already, and just read it.
“I’ll bring The Maroc’s quarter to him in the morning while the stage is taken down, never fear. We’re honest people, all of us in the Troupe, which is more than I’d say for some other people.”
The Exalted shook his head.
“I want half of the money you’ve got in that bowl, little girl. You earned it on Maroc property and that means that the Maroc Family gets half. I don’t give a rat’s ass what kind of a deal you made with my uncle; I want our proper share, and I want it now.”
The two men came closer, to loom over the shorter off-worlders. Four more Exalted men were breaking away from their women, and approaching the stage.
Jock stood next to Kati.
“This is not good,” he muttered.
“No, it isn’t,” Kati agreed. “And the money’s not worth fighting for.”
She sighed. “I guess I’ll have to pull rank on Joaley,” she added. “She isn’t going to want to bend, and, unfortunately, I fully understand where she’s coming from.”
“But we have bigger fish to fry,” Lank muttered, having crossed over to them with his burdens.
“Start counting the take, please, Lank,” Kati said to him, and obediently he squatted down to the stage and began to separate the coins into piles on the stage floor.
Seeing this, Joaley stepped over, looking furious.
“What are you doing?” she demanded of Lank. “Why did you start counting those, when we have to get our instruments under cover?”
“That’s what I need you and Jock to do, Joaley,” Kati said, before Lank had a chance to respond.
She handed her guitar to the other woman, and picked up the pipes and the flute that Lank had laid on the stage floor. She handed these over, too; Joaley took them reluctantly. Meanwhile Jock had stepped over to Rakil, and collected the Borhquan’s drum set, and the bag of juggling balls, while having a whispered consultation with him.
“Come on, Joaley,” he said when he was done. “Let’s get out of this miserable weather, and into the Inn. I’ll give you first crack at the bath tub.”
“Git,” Kati snarled at Joaley as she hesitated, looking like she was about to protest.
Kati shook her head when Rakil came over to stand next to her. His presence felt reassuring to her; broad and muscular as he was, even though he did not come close to the Vultairians’ height. She had no doubt but that he could have handled two or three Vultairians at once, and not even thought it tough exercise. However, she was not naive enough to think that the Exalted had come to this meeting without some off-planet fire-power, and no amount of Vultairian coins were worth the risk of having one of the Team lose his or her life. Even if some of those coins had been given to them by children who had chosen the entertainment over the sweets the coins might have bought.
“I wouldn’t have minded a little scuffle with those idiots,” The Monk subvocalized wistfully. “But then, you’ve only that little stunner, and I wouldn’t put it past those brave men to be carrying laser guns.”
“Which is partly why we’re conceding this one,” Kati subvocalized back. “Besides the fact that, as Lank stated, ‘we have bigger fish to fry’.”
“So you decided to be sensible and send the little fire-brand away,” the cousin acting as a spokesperson for the Marocs’ group said to Kati. “Conceding that we’re in the right?”
“No,” Kati replied bluntly. “I’m conceding that the numbers are against us.”
“And that while we’re peace-loving people, there’s no telling what you are,” Rakil added in a lazy tone.
The Vultairian looked at him and laughed.
“A smart ape,” he said.
Rakil did not bother to respond. Instead he turned to check how Lank was getting on with the count. The Tarangayan had just divided the coins into two equal piles of each kind, Kati heard Rakil sigh with relief. The wind had picked up further, and the first large raindrops splattered down, smearing the planks of the stage, and causing everyone to shiver.
Lank gathered half of the counted coins back into the bowl, and stood up.
“Let’s go,” he said, heading for the Inn side of the stage, and jumping off.
Kati and Rakil followed.
“Hey, shouted the Exalted spokesperson. “Are you leaving me to grub on the floor for the money, you assholes?”
“It’s the least you can do to earn it,” Kati shouted, running across the grass towards the warmth of the Inn.
*****
Joaley was in the bath when they arrived at their rooms. By the time she joined the others in the larger room for a nightcap of the local cider, her anger had dissipated, and reason had returned.
“Yeah,” she said, watching Jock pour glasses of the spirit, “I’m realize that my desire to wash the stage floor with those arrogant Marocs could have caused a lot of problems that we don’t need. I guess, once again, it comes down to, that’s why you’re the Team Leader, Kati, and I’m not. I know that I’m going to have to learn to keep the big picture in mind, even when my blood is boiling. It’s just really hard sometimes; the Exalted can be such bastards.”
“Don’t forget that what we’re up to is eventually going to be their comeuppance,” Kati responded. “That might make keeping your cool easier.”
“That little scenario may help you folks to understand the state of this town,” Jock said as he handed Joaley a cider glass. “People lose hope when the fruits of their labour are taxed at such a high rate—by lazy layabouts at that. And, much as I hate to run down my world, I’ve seen way too much of it.”
“Hey, you’re here, with us, doing something about it,” Kati pointed out. “Whereas you could have been like the Marocs—at least according to the privileges accorded to your birth caste—and looked for amusement, while all around you the planet rotted. I don’t doubt but that the Marocs would call you a traitor to your class.”
Jock brayed, a short, unamused laugh.
“Oh we Carma
ks, and our ilk, have borne that epithet for generations. Yet, when it comes to buying paper, ink and other useful items that Ithcar produces in abundance, and no-one else on this continent manages to make enough even for local consumption, they’re first in line, claiming class privilege, to get at what we sell outside of our borders.
“Which reminds me, Kati, I meant to mention it to you; if you can spare one of those pads of paper you bought in Carmakville, would you be willing to make a present of it to the Innkeeper? I noticed when I walked through the lobby this morning that the paper she was using was pretty rough. I bet she would appreciate having a few sheets of quality Ithcar product on hand.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Kati agreed readily. “I bought a number of pads when I saw them in Carmakville, and we don’t really need much—having node-assisted memories, as we do. I just like paper, and I hadn’t seen any nice stuff since the Port City, where—I’d bet anything—people ask their friends off-planet to send it to them.”
*****
“So did The Maroc keep his end of the deal?” Morrin asked Lank, Rakil and Jock when, after breakfast they headed for the Square to dismantle the stage.
“Well, we don’t know what The Maroc himself did,” Rakil answered, “but his young relatives accosted us, demanding half the money we had earned.”
“They got it?”
“Yeah. Kati thought that it wasn’t worth making an issue of, although I think Joaley would have taken those guys on single-handedly, if Kati had let her.” Rakil grinned at the memory. “Fortunately for Kati—and the health of the rest of us—it was starting to rain, and Joaley won’t let our instruments get wet any more than the rest of us will. So it was easy to get her out of the way while Kati, Lank and I diffused the situation.”
“We made the jerks gather their half of the coins off the stage in the rain, though,” Lank added with evident satisfaction.
Morrin laughed. Then he sobered.
“They’ll make you pay for that,” he said. “The first chance they get.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 43