THREE
Despite a night very nearly as late as the one previous, two young traders met early for breakfast in a private room bespoken by the elder of the two at the Liaden Trade Bar in the New Main Line. Practical Al’s was closer to Tan Sim’s lodgings, but as the same elder trader argued compellingly, much of what they would require to complete their business fell on the Liaden side of the line.
There was also, as the younger of the two readily acknowledged, Master pin’Aker’s convenience to be considered, as he would be joining their discussions at midday, and Barskalee was absolutely berthed at the new docks.
“When everything is completed,” Jethri said, as the door to their private room slid shut behind them, “we should make both masters our guests for prime at Practical Al’s.”
Tan Sim turned a gaze of wide wonder upon him.
“Be not too bold, my Jeth Ree. You must survive to stand as poor Genchi’s trader.”
“Oh, I’ll survive,” Jethri said blithely, placing his bag on the long table bearing two screens, and above it a mirror of the large trade screen from the room below. “They need me as part of their grand scheme.”
“Ah, but perhaps they do not. They are masters, recall it. Improvisation is not beyond them. Do you desire refreshment, Trader? I see that we are honored with a pot of Thunder Tea.”
Jethri raised his eyebrows.
“Thunder Tea? Someone’s shrewd.”
“Or someone wishes us to keep our wits about us, and has paid catering to insure it.”
Jethri grinned. “Let us not disappoint them,” he said. “I will, indeed, have tea, if you will pour.”
* * *
They paused for more tea and a revivifying pastry after an hour of heavy labor. Jethri was now fully informed with regard to Genchi’s cargo, amended route, captain, and crew. Next order of business was a discussion of the necessities of their partnership, short-term and long.
Jethri finished his pastry and leaned back in the chair. He had some time ago shed his coat, and rolled the sleeves of his shirt. Tan Sim had also removed his jacket, but his sleeves remind fastened at his wrist.
“So,” Jethri said, in wry Terran. “How many steps ahead of us were they?”
Tan Sim tipped his head.
“Do you suppose that we are now caught up?” he asked, seriously.
Jethri sighed.
“No, I’m not quite so much of a fool as that. I’m only wondering when they hatched this scheme between them. Yesterday, over tea? Or is this something pieced together over a longer timeline?”
“Ah! You seek a proximate event.” Tan Sim sipped tea, fair brows drawn.
“I believe Master pin’Aker’s thoughts began tending in our direction when we three met at Tradedesk.”
“And he drew Master ven’Deelin in?”
“More likely she drew him in,” Tan Sim said.
Jethri frowned.
“What makes you think so?”
Tan Sim stared. “Did you not hear her, Jethri? She means you to have the great amethyst on your finger, and soon. Sooner, if one may quote Master pin’Aker, rather than later.”
Jethri stared in his turn.
“Master Trader—me?”
“I believe that the ven’Deelin’s heir is her only other child, and has long had her own ship and routes.”
Jethri took a deep breath.
“She’s—I’m not Liaden.”
“Observably,” Tan Sim agreed. “However, you have achieved the rank of full trader, according to Guild rule, and you do not offend those Liadens who put trade before lineage. Among the Terran traders, you possess both lineage and a Combine key. Thus, you are acceptable to both sides of the table, and Tradedesk’s ideal made flesh.” He put his cup down. “That is what drew Master pin’Aker’s interest.”
Jethri tried again.
“There are no Terran master traders.”
“Clearly Master Trader ven’Deelin feels that this is an error.”
“And Master pin’Aker agrees with her.”
“Master pin’Aker was at Tradedesk and it was not his first conference there. Master ven’Deelin was invited, but found it convenient to send her second and her son to be the face of the ship.”
Jethri closed his eyes. It was as Tan Sim had said, he admitted. The duty of master traders was to the advancement of trade. A master trader who could bargain equally with Terran and Liaden traders? That would serve both trade, and the Liaden idea of Balance.
Gods.
He opened his eyes to find Tan Sim watching him with interest.
“They’re sending me to the South Axis Congress,” he said.
“They are,” his partner agreed. “What is the Terran equivalent of a master trader, Jeth Ree?”
“No exact equivalency. Commissioner’d be nearest,” he said. He paused, suddenly breathless, remembering his conversation on Port Chavvy with Sector Commissioner Brabham DeNobli, and Freza, his assistant, though he’d bet she was closer to junior commissioner.
“Do they want me to be a commissioner?”
“Will it serve trade?” Tan Sim asked. “I believe that is the measuring stick we must apply to such questions. As do the master traders.”
It was, a voice murmured in the back of Jethri’s head, the next logical step, after all. His father had been a commissioner, and there was the Envidaria. Surely, becoming a commissioner would serve trade. The question remaining was—could a man stand up under the combined weight of master trader and commissioner?
Jethri doubted he could, frankly.
“For the nonce, my Jeth Ree,” Tan Sim said, slipping back into Liaden, and tipping his head toward the screen. “We are called to serve trade. What are our necessities? To make money, surely, and increase our legend, but else?”
Jethri took another deep breath, and resolutely put master traders and their machinations aside.
“Else proceeds from has,” he quoted. “Here is what we have.” He leaned forward and opened the inventory file on the screen. “Your advantage, Trader, is that Barskalee has a route. What of our goods will you have?”
* * *
Jethri arrived early at Genchi’s maintenance site, though he rather expected Tan Sim to be late. His partner had been called to Barskalee to wait upon Master Trader pin’Aker, and while the master trader would of course be prompt, and respectful of another trader’s commitments, there was the travel time from the new docks to the old to be added to the equation.
He was therefore surprised—and then agreeably surprised—to see Tan Sim round the corner, accompanied by—
“Samay pin’Aker,” Jethri murmured, sweeping a bow of pleased recognition. “I am happy to see you again.”
“Jethri ven’Deelin,” she answered, answering his bow precisely, graceful despite the case she held in her left hand. “How pleasant it is to see you again, Trader, and so soon.”
“Accountant pin’Aker graciously offers her skills to us as we do a walk-through of Genchi. We are to note all those items which are less than perfectly operable.”
“Also, I will wish a copy of the estimate of repairs which have been undertaken, Trader pen’Akla,” Samay murmured. “The master trader…”
She hesitated. Jethri exchanged a grin with Tan Sim.
“Please, say no more. We have both lately come under the master trader’s scrutiny.”
Samay’s dimples appeared briefly, and Jethri managed not to sigh. He quite admired Samay’s dimples.
“Then we all understand each other,” she said solemnly. “That is good. Trader pen’Akla, if you would—?”
“Certainly,” said Tan Sim, taking the lead. “I warn you that the interior is somewhat less spacious than Barskalee.”
“Nor does she require the number of servants that Barskalee holds as her due,” Samay said, following, with Jethri last in their train. “I am certain she is everything that is admirable.”
* * *
Some time later, having completed a most thorough walk-through—even the crotchety old tea maker was marked for replacement!—the three of them stopped at the office. Samay was introduced to the yard’s accountant, and handed her a letter of credit.
“Barskalee will pay for necessary repairs now underway,” she told the openly astonished accountant. “Additional repairs may also be requested. To whom would those requests best be forwarded?”
“Yard boss,” the woman behind the desk said, her voice slightly slow from, Jethri assumed, the shock. She recovered quickly, however, and added, in a firmer tone. “Copy to me, if you would, too. Just to make sure there aren’t any mistakes. Here, let me give you names and codes.”
This was quickly accomplished, and the three of them found themselves at the edge of the yard, somewhat disheveled, and momentarily at a loss.
“Tea?” Tan Sim said, somewhat faintly.
“Lunch!” Jethri countered, looking about them. He smiled, and turned to Samay.
“I wonder if you will join us for a meal, ma’am? There is a place that Trader pin’Aker and I have a fondness for, only a few halls over.”
“Lunch would be very welcome,” Samay returned. “But I insist that it be among friends. For I will not tolerate ma’am over my meal, Jethri.”
“You make hard terms—Samay,” Jethri said, and glanced at Tan Sim, who was staring.
“Practical Al’s?” he asked, tentatively, glancing at Samay.
“Do you prefer something farther away?” Jethri countered.
Tan Sim’s lips bent. “Put that way…”
“Right,” Jethri said, and nodded to the left. “Just down this way, friends.”