Freedom's Ransom (23 page)

Other merchants were beginning to open their stalls one by one, pausing in the process to talk to their neighbors and assure waiting customers that they would be ready presently. His team made short shrift of setting up, since they would be buying, not selling merchandise. Even the coffee wasn't for sale, offered only as a courtesy to those who came to show their goods.

“Filter the first water that comes out, Ninety,” Zainal murmured to the heavyset Doyle brother.

“Smart, too,” Ninety muttered back as the tap spat rusty water into the filter material, but there was soon enough to fill the big urn. Bayes nodded assurance that the power conduit was good and they wouldn't need a transformer to handle the electrical current, while Kathy Harvey set out cups, brown sugar, and the Botany sweetener and every spoon from the galley. Kathy had taken it upon herself to be sure the spoons did not go missing.

Zainal hadn't liked milk in his coffee when they'd had enough to use it, said it ruined the full coffee taste, which he preferred dark and sweet. Thinking about it made him pour a cup from the hottle. Second one was nearly as
good as the first, and he could savor the taste. Then Natchi appeared at his elbow.

“Does that smell like I think it does?” the old man murmured, inhaling deeply. “Oh, it does. It's coffee, isn't it?” He was salivating in anticipation.

“Coffee,” being an alien word, sounded the same from Catteni lips as it did from Terran. Zainal had noticed that the Kenyans called it
kahawa.

“I brought my own seat,” Natchi said, holding up a battered crate as he reminded Zainal of the previous day's promise. Zainal poured him a cup.

“Put your seat where you will be comfortable, Natchi, behind the stall where you won't be trampled in the rush,” Zainal suggested when he saw that sharp noses down the line were picking up the unmistakable aroma from his pouring.

“We have a list of items we are looking for,” he said in a carrying tone, glancing down the row of stalls and catching the gaze of several other merchants, “and those who wish to peruse the lists might enjoy a warming cup.”

By then, the others with the dental equipment lift had arrived, with Eric Sachs hovering at the tailgate, anxious that his precious equipment not be harmed. Only if it fell on someone else's toe, Zainal was sure, gesturing for Eric to use the cubicle they had rented for dental work. Ferris and Ditsy had offered to see if they could find men in the drink shops who might need Eric's skills and persuade them to come and see the wonders of tooth repair and restoration. As aids, Gail, who had a gift for printing and sketching, had done a flip chart depicting examples of the dental care Eric could provide, even putting a small diamond in one crown when she had heard that Mike had included some flat-cut stones in their barterables.

“You say you have a list?” asked a low voice at Zainal's side, and he saw a man, ostentatiously wearing a communications badge, standing beside him.

“Yes, we do, please step up,” Zainal replied, remembering
what Peter had told him of the ways of treating prospective sellers.

“Who speaks Catteni besides yourself, Emassi?” (Clune had mentioned during the journey here that no one would ever mistake Zainal for anything but Emassi class, no matter what he did or how he introduced himself.)

“All who are here, merchant. Captain Kiznet, I think list two,” and he held out his hand to Clune for a copy of that list. They had printed up lists of units and numbers, as well as logos of the various manufacturers whose items they were eager to find. “And would you like a cup to sip?”

“The aroma attracted me first, Emassi,” was the unusually candid reply, and Peran was quick to pour another cup from the hottle and present it with suitable dignity to the merchant. “I grew accustomed to this Terra drink, but it is hard to obtain in any quantity.” Zainal chose to ignore the subtle request for more information about his sources.

“It may be stronger than the brew you drank on Terra, merchant, and you may wish to add sweetener.”

The man took a sip and let it drain down his throat with an expression of delight and relief. “No, it is fine as it has been poured, Emassi.”

Kathy was holding out a copy of the list to the prospective trader. She had also put out a little bowl, and totally without shame, she caught the merchant's eye and rubbed her thumb against her forefinger suggestively. “Have as many cups as you desire,” she said very graciously. Zainal watched the man's face, but he showed no offense and, indeed, dug into his pocket and flipped a coin into the bowl, which already held some small change.

“We try to serve only the very best brew. This is called robusta, grown in the mountains of Kenya and considered the best of the best. It is, however, strong and you might prefer a milder brew.”

The man cleared his throat and swallowed. “True, but exactly what is needed to start a chilly morning and a day's trading.” He held out his hand to take the list from Kathy. “Ah, these all seem to be electronic parts from Terra.”

“We are looking for spare parts to repair damaged machinery,” Zainal said cautiously. “Do you know if you have any of these items in your stores?” According to the reconnaissance Chuck had done, this man did.

The man raised one hand over his shoulder, twiddling fingers, and suddenly two younger men were by his side.

“Check our stores and see if any of these items are in stock.” He passed the list over. The clerks ran off but not without a longing sniff in the direction of the coffee.

“Return swiftly,” Zainal added to their retreating backs, “and have a drink.”

“Do not be so quick to offer enticements, Emassi,” the merchant said, “or you will have all the raff and scaff of the market begging.”

“The raff and scaff,” Zainal said, gesturing toward Natchi, who was savoring each sip of his cup, “often know local gossip and fact. Natchi and I have known each other a long time and I find his talk is informed and genuine.”

“I am Zerkay, Emassi,” the merchant said, “and it is right that you should treat him with respect.”

“As a veteran, he is due some preference.” Zainal was not going to get into an argument about the treatment of ex-soldiers when he knew very little about the man to whom he was speaking.

Zerkay had finished his second cup, and when he would have added another coin, Zainal stayed the gesture and beckoned for Kathy to replenish his supply.

“Have a cup of the freshest brew, Merchant Zerkay, and from different beans and grind. Let me know which you prefer,” she said in Catteni. She even had the right inflection of inferior to superior in words and cadence, and Zerkay raised his eyebrows in appreciation.

“Your Terrans speak good Catteni.”

“They practice,” Zainal replied, not without a touch of pride.

“Amazing,” Zerkay said, lifting the freshly made coffee close enough to his nose to sniff appreciatively. “Hmmm. Yes, I can smell the difference. Lighter, milder.”

“Arabica beans, grown on the highlands of Santa Lucia,” Kathy replied.

“Highlands?” Zerkay asked.

“There are many sorts of coffee beans grown in Terra, Zerkay, and nearly as many ways of preparing the cup you drink.”

“Are there? How interesting. I did not know. But then, I have had little chance to enjoy Earth.” He inclined himself first toward Kathy and then toward Zainal, obviously quite eager to be indoctrinated.

“We can supply you with the beans you like best, Zerkay, that is, if we can agree on the items I require.”

“Have you enough coffee to satisfy both your needs and my tastes?”

“That is what we must discover, Zerkay.” Zainal held his cup up to Kathy for a refill.

“Ahhhh!” Zerkay raised his hand, signaled with his fingers for another of his young minions to attend him, and this one placed a stool by the table for his senior to use.

There was a bustle and reshuffle of people at the far end of the broad market corridor, and for a moment Zainal was afraid that the advancing pile of cartons would tumble off the lift that transported them. The cargo had not been tied to the lift bed and Zainal feared for the safety of all the so-irreplaceable items. Then the two young men appeared, one towing the lift, while the second made frequent adjustments to the piled cartons to prevent any from falling off.

Zainal caught Kathy Harvey's glance and the flick of white paper in her hand, doubtless a copy of the list. He
made a flourish with one hand for her to check the items proffered. Most of the cartons were prominently embellished with the Terran Motorola logo, and some were indeed cell phones. Another carton seemed to hold switching mechanisms, vitally needed for the satellites. Zainal had memorized some of the relevant alphanumeric combinations of parts used by the various manufacturers of what he most needed, and these looked right: three letters and six or more numbers with a final letter.

Kathy Harvey was calling out the codes on the boxes to Bayes, who was checking them off.

“Pay dirt, boss,” she said in English. “How about we give the nice man his own bean grinder as a special offer? Bayes hooked one up on an extension and we can give a demonstration. And let him smell the difference in the roasted beans. He has a big enough nose.”

“Not that it'd work with all the stinks around here,” Bayes remarked sotto voce.

“Coffee has its own indescribable smell. He may not catch the nuances, but would he admit that he doesn't when we give him the pitch?” Kathy replied.

“Which cup did you prefer, Zerkay?” she asked at her most deferential.

“The one I just had,” the merchant replied, noting that Bayes had finished checking off the list and handed it with a bow to Zainal. Zainal nodded approval and settled himself on the edge of the stall top to see what was the most vital on this list to bid for.

“We must decide a fair exchange for this merchandise,” he said. “Since you like coffee, are happy to find a supply, would you consider trading in coffee beans?”

“You have the beans themselves?” Zerkay was impressed.

“With great difficulty, but we have managed to obtain a small quantity,” and Zainal thought of the full cargo hold of fragrant beans in their sacks, “which I will offer for the specific goods I have been sent to find.”

“Sent by whom, might I be so bold as to inquire?”

“Why, by Botany, of course,” Zainal replied. Which, at one level, was true enough.

“Ah yes, the planet that you have discovered.”

“No, Zerkay, the planet on which I was dropped.”

This information appeared to stagger Zerkay to the point where Zainal was afraid the man might tumble off his stool.

“You? An Emassi? Were dropped?” “Like a common criminal” was the unuttered qualifier.

“I was dropped, and I stay,” Zainal replied firmly.

“Yes, I see,” Zerkay said, and perhaps, Zainal thought, he really did. One day Zainal would discover who had made sure that a Catteni had been included in a disparate lot to be left to live or die on an unknown planet. However, Zerkay recalled himself to the business at hand, leaning an elbow casually on the stall, glancing at his half-empty cup and then at the list dangling in Zainal's fingers. “And how shall we judge the worth of each carton? For I think your friendly veteran will have already told you that trade has been very slow.”

“Surely not slow for a man of your acumen.” Zainal gestured toward Zerkay's obviously large and expensive stall, with its well-built amenities and outbuildings. “And trading finesse.” Zainal indicated the fine fabric in which Zerkay clothed himself. So, Zainal thought, the initial courtesies were over. He had to play a very delicate balance now between desire and acquisition. His first encounter with a Barevi merchant was all-important . . . at least on what Kathy called their “coffee” standard.

“Is coffee another of those items no longer available on Earth?” Zerkay asked casually.

“What use could you possibly have for these parts?” Zainal countered, flicking his fingers toward the pile of cartons. “We Catteni are an inventive race, to be sure, but . . .” He let his tone drop off.

“But you would surely be searching them out to deliver the units into the hands of those who can assemble them effectively?” shrewd Zerkay replied.

“It is, of course, a tentative venture,” Zainal said, lifting his hand in a diffident manner.

“There is uncertainty all through the system,” Zerkay admitted. “But you have more command of particulars than a minor merchant on Barevi.”

“Minor?” Zainal infused his tone with disbelief. “No merchant on Barevi has ever lacked up-to-date information.”

Meanwhile, some of the younger people in the marketplace were sidling up to Eric's stall. One of them was bold enough to flip over the cards Gail had made. They giggled at the golden teeth. Instantly, Ferris stepped forward to give an explanation of dentistry and to forestall any attempt to make away with the cards in the spirit of mischief. For a little fellow, Ferris had learned from the Masai how to act with imposing authority.

Two pounds a carton was what Zerkay accepted to make the trade a deal. As well as samples of the other grinds, which Kathy packaged up before his eyes, making the measures generous. She marked the bags and advised him to keep track of those he preferred so they could supply him with his preference.

“And then I must produce more cartons for your inspection?” Zerkay was slightly amused. “This is not the way business is ordinarily conducted at Barevi.”

“No?” Zainal asked politely, his eyebrows arched above an incredulous expression.

“Buyers do not set up stalls and woo the sellers to return items collected on another planet.

“Are you the man who brought about the end of the Eosi?”

“I am.” Zainal dropped his voice to a somber tone of regret.

“You have already achieved much. I, as one of many, am in debt to you.”