Watchers of the Dark (14 page)

“What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t any choice. I’ve got to show Rhinzl that my bark is worse than my bite.”

Gud Baxak, wan from his bout with high fever and hallucinations, came timorously to Darzek with the latest industrial bulletin. “I suppose I should give up reading these, Sire,” he said humbly, “but I did happen to notice this, and I couldn’t help wondering—”

Darzek glanced at it. A textile firm on the world of Terlbs had developed a new fiber from a vegetable sheathing. Cloth woven from this fiber could be worn by animates with the most ultrasensitive epidermises. The market was vast and virtually untouched, and production in commercial quantities was expected in the near future.

“I can’t keep you from wondering,” Darzek said, “but before you buy any more bark I’d suggest that you make inquiries.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Careful
inquiries.”

Gud Baxak went away and made careful inquiries. Before he had quite completed them a pharmaceutical notice came to his attention. A certain bark that had been successfully made into a textile fiber that did not affect sensitive skins was being tested for its medicinal qualities. The firm making the tests was guardedly optimistic. Gud Baxak made inquiries about that, too.

“It seems to be true, Sire,” he exulted. “It’s the same bark. The textile firm informs me that it has enough on hand for experimental purposes, but will be buying stock for production very soon.”

“In that case your bark venture may prove highly profitable.”

“But—what shall I do?”

“Nothing,” Darzek told him. “We have title to the bark. When they’re ready for it, they’ll call us.”

At Gul Halvr’s symposium that evening Darzek did some exulting of his own. “Never saw anything like it,” he remarked. “Certainly the lad has a touch of genius. We control the entire supply, and yet we don’t have a sliver of solvency tied up in it. Until the market develops, our sources are obligingly storing the bark under optimum commercial conditions and at no cost to us. Eventually there’ll be an unlimited market, over which we’ll have absolute price discretion.”

“Amazing,” Gul Azfel murmured, and offered his congratulations. The other traders, being envious, were less enthusiastic. Gul Azfel’s enthusiasm may have been genuine; he was still cultivating Darzek as a potential son-in-law.

The conversation took place within earshot of the dark room, and Darzek was mildly disappointed to learn later that Rhinzl had not been present. It did not really matter; he would know everything Darzek had said before the next midday, and in a way his absence was quite as gratifying as his presence would have been. It meant that he had something on his mind other than symposiums.

Bark, perhaps?

“Schluppy,” Darzek said when they were alone, “did you by any chance bring a genuine silk handkerchief with you?”

“I think I have a couple of them. Why?”

“My phony textile firm has had a request for a sample of its new miracle-type bark cloth.”

“Rhinzl?”

“Not directly, but we both know where the sample will ultimately end up. My study of textiles has been rather hurried, but I did notice that there are no listings of any made from anything approximating insect fibers. Earth’s fiber-producing insects may be unique in the galaxy. Even if they aren’t, Rhinzl’s experts will have had very little experience of silkworms. I’ll cut a circular sample from one of your handkerchiefs, and we’ll save the trimmings to present to Rhinzl at a later date.”

“Tsk. Let’s not be vindictive about it.”

“Of course not. Rhinzl is simply playing the game, and because I haven’t time to start building my reputation all over again I’m cheating a little to beat him at it. He won’t lose anything except solvency, of which he has plenty. What I’m wondering is how long it will take him to realize that even in this enlightened civilization possession is nine points of the law, a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, and so on. We have title to the bark, but he’s
got
it. He should be doing some very serious thinking about that.”

Darzek waited with increasing uneasiness and finally risked a cautious message to one of the smaller trading companies, advising it that he would soon complete his purchase of the optioned bark. Gud Baxak brought the reply, trembling with anger.

“They say they sold it—by mistake!”

“Indeed,” Darzek said. “Do they apologize?”

“They offer a per centum settlement in compensation. A per centum!”

“That doesn’t sound particularly generous. Ask them for twenty, and settle for ten.”

“But it’s a trap, Sire! If we settle for ten on this option, all of our other options can be settled for ten. It’s the
doctrine of equal preference.”

“It’s a trap,” Darzek agreed with a grin. “Act as tough as you like, threaten whatever iniquities you can legally threaten them with, and hold out for fifteen if you think you can get it—but not too long. I’ll be perfectly satisfied with ten.”

“But, Sire—”

“Unless you have a special craving to eat bark, do as I say!”

Gud Baxak returned the next day and said bewilderedly, “I settled for fifteen per centum. I asked for twenty, and they
offered
fifteen!”

“Good. Now listen carefully. When you receive the next cancellation, I want you to refuse a settlement and demand the merchandise. Tell ’em they’ll have to buy the bark back and deliver it according to contract. Let
them
bring up this doctrine of whatchamacallit, and fight that a little, too. It’s a trap, but until we’re out of the bark business I’d rather friend Rhinzl didn’t know who trapped whom.”

An undertrader brought the message and delivered it with a politeness so studied that it seemed rehearsed. Gul Rhinzl earnestly sought an interview with Gul Darr, at the latter’s convenience.

“Make him come and see you,” Miss Schlupe suggested.

“Let’s not be vindictive,” Darzek answered. “He’s an interesting person, he’s charming company, and he has a lovely herb and flower collection. He also has all of his bark back, plus what he bought to unload on Gud Baxak, and now he’s learned that my dummy textile and pharmaceutical firms encountered unexpected problems in their bark processing and are no longer in business. Probably he’s sitting there in his dark room crying all of his eyes out. He rarely goes anywhere, and we wouldn’t be equipped to entertain him if he did.”

“Is it safe to go there?”

Dazek laughed. “You aren’t seeing this in the proper perspective. A transaction large enough to wipe out Trans-Star is piddling stuff to traders who control sizable hunks of trade with hundreds of worlds. Rhinzl wouldn’t willingly lose that much solvency—he wouldn’t willingly lose any—but he’ll still show a profit for the term.”

Darzek sent back word that he would call on Gul Rhinzl when convenient, and treated himself to a pipeful of Miss Schlupe’s tobacco before he left so as not to appear too eager.

As he stepped from the transmitter, Rhinzl’s lilting voice called from the remote corner of his unlighted office. “Gul Darr! I had that room illuminated for you, thinking that you would be more comfortable there.”

“I don’t really mind an absence of light,” Darzek said, and moved on into the office until he stumbled upon a chair.

“There you have the advantage of we nocturnals.”

“How is that?”

“The darkness is only an inconvenience to you, but the light is an intensely painful experience to many of us.” An arm telescoped out of the gloom to wave something at Darzek. “What can you tell me about this, Gul Darr?”

Darzek peered at it unsuccessfully, and had to step forward and touch before he recognized it.

A circle of silk.

“Very little,” he said.

“Where does it come from?”

“Would you be offended if I refused to tell you?”

“Not
offended
. . . no . . . every trader is entitled to his secrets.”

“Thank you. I can tell you this much. The sample you are now holding represents almost the entire available supply, and there is no possibility of obtaining more.”

“That is information enough,” Rhinzl said. “I am sorry to hear it—very sorry. It is an interesting fabric. It would find a good market if you could supply it in commercial quantities.”

“I’m sure it would. Unfortunately, I can’t.”

“In fact,” Rhinzl’s soft voice went on, “it might be the very fabric to satisfy the needs of animates with sensitive skins.” Suddenly he laughed. It was a gurgling, giggling sort of laugh, and in the darkness Darzek could only imagine telescoping arms waving and a grotesque body jerking with merriment. “Gul Darr! We are even. You are more than even—you, at least, have made a profit. Shall we call it quits?”

“It suits me,” Darzek said.

Rhinzl laughed again. “Gul Darr! You are a terror!”

“It takes one to know one,” Darzek murmured.

“I asked Gul Rhinzl to have available the anticipation manifests of the past two terms,” Darzek said. “The interstellar lists. If you don’t mind, Gill Rhinzl—”

The ceiling screen flickered on, and a moment later the anticipation manifests began to flow across it—dim patterns in a dim room, but they were legible.

“There!” Darzek exclaimed.
“Hsof
crystals; E-Wusk, Yorlq.” The manifests flowed on. “There. Kiln-dried
fren
leaves, pressure packed; E-Wusk, Yorlq. E-Wusk had twelve such entries, scattered over two terms.”

The incredulity quickly changed to bewilderment. “What could E-Wusk’s anticipated needs possibly have to do with his trading with the Dark?” Gul Azfel demanded.

“Think!” Darzek said.
“Hsof
crystals,
fren
leaves—there’s another,
wkelm
shells, cut and polished.
Every one of those listings concerns a product that is unique to a world the Dark has taken.
Is that not correct?”

“As far as I know,” Gul Azfel admitted hesitantly.

“It is correct. You may take my word for it—I spent several days investigating the matter.”

A long silence followed. The manifests ran on to the end, but no one was looking at them. Finally Gul Meszk spoke. “You must pardon my obtuseness, Gul Darr, but I should think that the manifests prove exactly the opposite—that E-Wusk is
not
trading with the Dark. If he were, why would he publish anticipated needs in these products and ask for bids? He could obtain all he wanted. Rather than publishing them as needs, he would be asking for bids of purchase.”

“Any trader who is familiar with the worlds of the Dark might experience a need for one of their products from time to time,” Darzek said condescendingly, “but E-Wusk has never before published an anticipation for even one. Why would he suddenly need twelve? Even as a coincidence it would be extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary,” Gul Isc echoed. “But I still have difficulty in seeing it as proof that E-Wusk is trading with the Dark.”

“I have a suggestion,” Darzek said. “Suppose one of us were to go to E-Wusk and say to him, ‘I know where a quantity of
hsof
crystals can be obtained. What are you willing to pay?’ Would you do that, Gul Isc?”

“I? I have no such knowledge.”

“I have,” Darzek said. “Perhaps as much as half a shipload. Would it not be interesting to know how badly E-Wusk wishes to obtain these products for which he has posted needs?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Gul Isc demanded. Darzek smiled and turned to the others.

“I’ll ask him,” Gul Azfel said. He slithered from the room, and the click of the transmitter sounded a moment later. He returned almost immediately, seated himself, and announced, “E-Wusk has no interest in bids of less than shipload quantity.”

“Surely if E-Wusk had a genuine need, half a shipload would interest him,” Darzek said. “Are you convinced?”

“Gul Darr,” Rhinzl said, “It is difficult to concede that you have proved your point when we are not certain what your point is. Would you mind explaining?”

“Someone
is trading with the Dark,” Darzek said. “Can you refute that?”

“Can you prove it?” Gul Meszk asked politely.

“Only by logic. The worlds of the Dark have needs. The Dark, whatever else it offers to them, cannot supply them with products that are available only on worlds the Dark has not touched. They must trade for those products, or starve, and they can trade only if someone trades with them. So I say that someone must be trading with them. Can you refute it?”

Again they stirred uneasily, but none of them said anything.

“Supposing that a trader such as E-Wusk made contact with the Dark and arranged to trade. The most urgent needs of those worlds would be made known to him, and he would be asked what he wanted in return. He would compile a list of the products he thought he could handle most profitably. They would be products unique to the worlds of the Dark—why suffer the difficulty and risk of such trade to obtain things that are more easily available elsewhere? They would be products with an established market and a high value per volume unit, since the trade must be conducted on a small scale and he would want to realize a maximum profit per shipment. All of the products E-Wusk lists satisfy these requirements. Finally, to gain the highest immediate profit he must select products of which all available stocks have been exhausted. He can do this most quickly by publishing his full list as anticipated needs, and asking for bids. If he receives any he will find a pretext for declining them, and he will trade only for those products on which no bids are received. And therefore I conclude that E-Wusk is trading with the Dark, or is about to do so.”