Read Online Starpilot's Grave: Book Two of Mageworlds by Debra Doyle, James D. MacDonald - Free Book Online Page B

add dehydration to the rest of our problems. So beer it is.
    Jessan refilled his glass from the pitcher in the center of the table. Tilting back his chair, he watched with half-closed eyes as Captain Portree negotiated for a cargo with a Raametan from somewhere on the other side of the mountains.
    According to the interpreter, the small, dusty-looking man claimed to be Raamet’s foremost dealer in medicinal herbs, barks, and minerals. His claim, Jessan reflected, might even be true. If so, the Mageworlds had come down a long way from the height of their power, when their medical and biochemical technology had been preeminent in the galaxy.
    “Take it or leave it,” Tarnekep was saying, while the interpreter murmured his running translation a sentence or so behind. “But I can’t guarantee a delivery date for your material. The quantities you’re talking about aren’t enough to fill a quarter of my cargo space. I’m not going to go straight on to—what’s its name?—straight on to Ninglin with most of the hold empty; I’m going to hit a couple of closer systems first. Anything that’s perishable, if it’s not too bulky, I’ve got stasis boxes for—or I can carry it frozen, which is a lot cheaper because it doesn’t eat up power like the box does. You still interested?”
    The herb merchant replied in a rapid patter of sentences that the interpreter relayed in accented Galcenian. “I am interested. But it is not me you will be collecting payment from. My associates on Ninglin may not wish to give you the full fee if shipment is delayed.”
    “What delay?” Tarnekep demanded. “You didn’t have a carrier lined up before I got here. If I walk away, you may have to wait another month or so before you find another. I’ll settle up with your buddies, don’t worry. Is it a deal or not?”
    The merchant shrugged and said something brief and final-sounding. “A deal,” relayed the interpreter.
    “Good,” said Tarnekep, and held out his hand. “Done?”
    The merchant met the captain’s grip and uttered what might have been his only word of Galcenian. “Done.”
    Tarnekep nodded. “Have the stuff here before dark so we can get it loaded,” he said as he drew his hand away. “I’m lifting ship first thing in the morning.”
    After the Raametans had left, Tarnekep picked up his untouched glass of beer and drained it, grimacing a little at the taste. He set the glass down on the table and regarded the two empty chairs.
    “I wonder,” he said thoughtfully, “which one of our friends is the spy.”
    “You have a nasty suspicious mind, Tarnekep Portree,” Jessan said. “Slandering a couple of honest businessmen like that. They’re probably wondering the same thing about us.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “My bet’s on the interpreter.”
    “Too easy,” said Portree. “I think the interpreter’s just for show. That little worm of a dealer, now—he understands more Galcenian than he lets on.”
    “You could be right,” Jessan said.
    “I know I’m right,” Portree told him. “Did you see his eyes? He was listening to me, not to the interpreter. But it doesn’t matter—as long as he’s got a legitimate cargo bound for Ninglin, I don’t care who he tells about how much I charge to carry it. Think of it as free advertising.”
    “Out of what we’re charging him for that run, we could put up a holosign over every bar in Gefalon.”
    Tarnekep shook his head. “You’re too soft, Doc. I was earning my living at this job while you were still giving physical examinations to lonesome recruits. Traders like us are all the intersystem carriers the Mageworlds have these days.”
    “The only game in town.” Jessan took another sip of beer, and his dubious expression was not entirely for the taste of the pale yellow liquid. “That’s not going to make us particularly loved by any of our customers, mind you.”
    “I’m not asking them to love me,” Tarnekep said. “Just to pay up