FOUR
“I wonder about this clause here,” Jethri said, highlighting it on the screen.
Master pin’Aker glanced to the screen, then Jethri’s face.
“This is the clause that names you as Genchi’s lead trader for a period of three Standard years, under my auspices,” he said. “It seems extremely clear to me, Trader Jethri. Unless you feel that three Standard years is too short a time?”
Jethri took a careful breath. That he was negotiating personally with Master Trader pin’Aker was something out of the ordinary way. He had expected to be dealing with Barskalee’s qe’andra, only seeing Master pin’Aker when it was time for the lines to be signed—and possibly not even then. Surely, a master trader on-port had more important matters to tend to than sitting beside a new-made trader in a rented office within the Liaden-side trade bar, going over a personal services contract, clause by clause.
“I find three Standards to be wholly reasonable,” Jethri said. “As Genchi’s trader, I will be exploring possibilities so that I may suggest a new route—or several—to the Master Trader. Three Standards will provide sufficient time to find if I am suited to the task and to Genchi, and if Genchi is suited to me. There is the standard language covering early termination, and contract extensions. I am content with everything here, save one thing.”
“You have me enthralled, Trader Jethri. What is this one thing?”
“The date,” Jethri said, “the specific date on which I am acknowledged as Genchi’s trader, able to accept goods, order repairs, reassign crew—”
He stopped. He hadn’t meant to mention that last, but his recent conversation with Tan Sim regarding Genchi and, specifically, her crew was still fresh in his memory—“Every one of the under crew is excellent, Jethri, as you will have seen during our tours. Captain sea’Kera, though—is of a fixed temperament. The traders before me were content to allow him to set the route, the result of which you have heard me lament. He deplored a system where the trader guided the route, and my changes were by necessity modest. The projected scope of Genchi’s new duties—it may be more than he can bear. Be aware of this.”
Jethri’d blinked.
“I recall your lamentations, but—what ought I to look for? Is it likely that he will—damage the ship?” The thought of that was enough to cramp Jethri’s stomach.
Tan Sim gripped his shoulder.
“No, gods, nothing so dire! Only, he may become obdurate, which I have seen happen, and this will disturb the others, and you will need harmony among your crew.”
Tan Sim sighed. “I had spoken to Master pin’Aker of the matter, so he is aware. I wished to do the same service for my partner. Once on Meldyne—even Captain sea’Kera cannot find fault with our delivery arrangements at Meldyne!—you may wish to visit the job fair, and take on a first mate. Right now, the captain is prime pilot, and dea’Lan—both as engineering and cargo master—is his back-up.”
Jethri sighed. “Personnel…” he muttered, and Tan Sim laughed.
“Indeed! And yet one cannot run a ship without personnel!”
“Yes,” Master pin’Aker said in the here and now. “I quite see your point, Trader Jethri. As you are aware, Trader Tan Sim is today relocating to his quarters on Barskalee. How if we make your date today, as well? Genchi need not languish without a trader for even an hour.”
Jethri drew a careful breath. “That is acceptable,” he said, and did not add, “Thank you,” which would have weakened his bargaining position.
“Very good,” said Master pin’Aker making the change, and affixing his initials. He handed the stylus so that Jethri might do the same. When that was done, he sat back in his chair and tipped his head at the screen.
“Is there anything else, Trader Jethri?”
“Two more things, sir.” Jethri flipped the screen to the appropriate page. “This sentence here…”
* * *
The contract had been signed. Master pin’Aker had poured them each a glass of wine so that they might seal the contract with goodwill, and now they sat together in an windowed alcove overlooking the trade floor.
Jethri sipped his wine carefully, and resisted the lure of the extremely comfortable lounge chair.
“I wonder if you might give me a little more of your time, Trader Jethri. I wish to discuss a…personal matter.”
Personal? Jethri was inclined to be unnerved, but there—not only was he a master trader, but Rantel pin’Aker stood as his sponsor to the Guild. In either melant’i, he might well have something to say to a new trader about to stand up as lead trader for the first time. And Jethri would do well to listen closely to everything the master wished to say.
“Certainly, sir,” he murmured, at a loss for a more graceful phrase.
Master pin’Aker inclined his head.
“I know you for a modest young man, Trader Jethri, and I will therefore exert myself to spare your blushes. Merely know that I unreservedly admire your accomplishments, your wit, your geniality, and most of all, your intelligence.”
He paused to sip his wine.
“In fact, you are so accomplished, so good-natured, and so very intelligent, that you may have led your elders into error.”
Jethri blinked.
“Sir, if by any fault of mine, you—”
Master pin’Aker raised a hand.
“Please, Trader Jethri. There is no fault. There is merely—how best to say this? Custom? No! Culture. You have been taught—well. And you have learned—surpassingly well. One could almost forget that you were not Liaden from your cradle—and there lies our error—I speak for myself and for Master Norn, who has learned so much while overseeing your education that she believes you to have access to information and nuance that you cannot have.”
“Because at core, I am Terran-born,” Jethri said, quietly.
Master pin’Aker shot him a sharp look.
“Do not repine, Trader Jethri. You have heard my opinions on the core philosophy of Tradedesk. To be clear, I approve. As I approve of you. Plainly you are not a Liaden trader, though you have been taught to trade in the Liaden mode. Turnabout, I am not a Terran trader, and much less apt than yourself, yet I have been able to carry trade to Terran markets.”
He leaned forward slightly, looking directly into Jethri’s eyes, which wasn’t the Liaden way. Jethri held his gaze, and Master pin’Aker smiled.
“I am a Master Trader. My duty is to the betterment of trade. I take this to mean all trade, as does my good friend Norn. There are those of our colleagues who consider that we are unnecessarily broad in our understanding of duty.” He leaned back, smiling still. “And those others, who consider that we are dangerously deranged.”
Jethri managed to stifle the laugh as he inclined his head.
“Yes,” Master pin’Aker murmured. “Exactly.”
“You will be pleased to learn that we are approaching my topic,” Master pin’Aker said after a moment. “I must ask you, Trader Jethri, if you understand—if you entirely understand—what we two masters are about on behalf of trade.”
Jethri tipped his head, looking down at his hand, at his trade ring. Three purples. Full trader. Yet there were those within the Liaden Trade Guild who were opposed to admitting a Terran to the guild, no matter how well he might trade. It could be, Jethri thought—it could well be—that Master pin’Aker’s sponsorship of “ven’Deelin’s Terran” had been—rebuffed.
And the master was waiting for his answer.
“I understand,” Jethri said slowly, “that you are the objective master who has certified my status as a full trader, under Guild rule,” he said slowly. “I understand that, though you have reviewed my files, rectified the accounting, and certified my worth, the Guild may still not accept me as a full trader.”
“Ah.”
It was a soft exhalation. Jethri looked up.
“I had feared it,” Master pin’Aker said. “Well, indeed, that I asked. Trader Jethri, attend me, I beg, while I repair my error.”
He raised a finger.
“Firstly, you need have no fear that you will be denied your earned rights as a full trader within the Guild. The guiding documents are written to mean that anyone who has satisfied the requirements set out by the Guild and approved by the membership may stand up as a trader. This proposition was tested several times in the past, when politics arose, and the result is that the Guild is most wonderfully firm on this principle. Anyone who has satisfied the requirements may—indeed, must!—stand up as a trader in the Guild.
“You will in good time receive your acknowledgment from the Guild. You will be accorded your rights and held to your responsibilities. This is not in doubt.”
He paused to sip his wine.
“Even should the Guild rewrite the charter—which was tried during those times of politics that I mentioned—Even then, those who had fulfilled the former requirements would qualify, until the new requirements were set into place.”
Well, that was certainly clear. Jethri inclined his head.
“If that is the case, Master,” he admitted, “then I am—uninformed regarding your efforts on behalf of trade, which involve myself.”
“I will enlighten you,” Master pin’Aker promised him. “It is really quite simple, Trader Jethri. As anyone who fulfills the Guild’s requirements may stand up as a full trader, so must anyone who fulfills a further set of requirements stand up as a master.”
Master pin’Aker tipped his head.
“You do not appear shocked, Trader Jethri.”
“If I do not, it is because Trader pen’Akla had speculated regarding your intentions and shared his thoughts with me, his partner.” Jethri smiled. “Which makes your point, sir.”
“Regarding culture—yes. Having failed to shock you, I must yet inform you of the process. I promise that we are almost through, for I know the markets are calling.”
Jethri inclined his head.
“I hear,” he said formally.
“Excellent. Once you are established as a full trader in the Guild, I will propose you as a candidate for the amethyst. This is a simple application, signed by myself and two other masters of like mind.
“Very rarely, a master trader is certified upon application. The last time this happened was, I believe, seventy-six Standards ago. You must therefore be prepared to receive a denial from the Guild. Do not allow it to distract you. Everyone is denied upon application. It is expected.”
“I understand,” Jethri said.
“Good. The next step requires your sponsor to appeal, and to produce evidence of widespread support of your candidacy. All of the effort of this falls to me. There is nothing for you to do, save go about your business. I have sponsored five worthy traders to the amethyst, and I am confident that you will be the sixth.
“Once in receipt of the evidence of support, the Guild has two options—one is to accept the expanded application, which is not so rare, and we may hope that you will also enjoy victory at this point.”
He raised his hand.
“However, there is another option. The Guild may declare itself swayed, but not won over, and allocate the final determination to itself. In this case, there will be a test.
“Such tests are crafted by the Guild Masters; we cannot know what form it will take. All I may do is explain the procedure, which is this—
“The candidate will be called to a particular guildhall at a particular date and hour. Twelve masters of trade will witness. If you pass the test, you will be certified as a master. If you fail the test, you may make another application Standards after the first was filed. Failure to arrive at the testing site will mean the same to the masters—you will have failed the test. In such an event, you are permitted to re-apply for testing twice more—in total, three times.”
He paused.
“Do you understand this procedure, Trader Jethri?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Jethri said. “May I ask a question?”
“I insist upon it.”
“Why me?”
“Because, as you sit there you are the proof that the assertion made by Tradedesk—that trade falls outside the lines of culture, and that traders must come together as traders, to learn from and assist each other—thus improving trade for all.”
“So, I’m a symbol,” Jethri said.
Master pin’Aker sighed.
“Trader Jethri, that is not worthy of you,” he said, gently chiding. “I fear that my long prosing has dulled your sharp wits. Go! Go out into the markets and practice our art to the best of your considerable ability! That is the tonic that will revive you!”
Jethri hesitated.
Master pin’Aker rose and bowed his permission to go.
And that was a hint blatant enough for even a dull-witted trader.
Jethri rose, and bowed in return—gratitude to the elder.
“Sir,” he said, and left to seek the markets.