Read Online Trading in Futures by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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not a breath less than two cantra."
"Two?" The Liaden's shoulders moved
again--not a shrug, but expressive of some emotion. Amusement,
Jethri thought. Or anger.
"Your elder mis-instructs
you, young sir. Perhaps it is a testing." The buyer tipped his head
slightly to one side, as if considering. "I will offer an
additional quarter-cantra," he said at last, accent rounding the
edges of the trade-tongue, "in kindness of a student's
diligence." Wrong ,
Jethri thought. Liadens did nothing for kindness, which he knew
from the tapes and from crew-talk. Liadens lived for revenge, and
the stories Khat told on the subject kept a body awake on
sleep-shift, praying against the mistake that would earn him
nitrogen in his back-up oxy tank in payment of a Liaden's
"balance".
Respectful, Jethri bowed, and, respectful,
brought his eyes to the buyer's face. "Sir, I value your kindness.
However, the distance between three-quarter cantra and two is so
vast that I feel certain my elder would counsel me to forgo the
trade. Perhaps you had not noticed--" he caught himself on the edge
of insult and smoothly changed course--"the light is poor, just
here..."
Pulling the bolt forward, he again showed
the fineness of the cloth, the precious irregularities of weave,
which proved it hand woven, spoke rapturously of the pure crimson
dye.
The buyer moved his hand. "Enough. One
cantra. A last offer."Gotcha, thought Jethri, making a serious
effort to keep his face neutral. One cantra, just like Uncle Paitor
had wanted. In retrospect, it had been an easy sell.
Too easy? he wondered then, looking down at
the Liaden's smooth face and disinterested brown eyes. Was there,
just maybe, additional profit to be made here?
Trade is
study , Uncle Paitor said from
memory. Study the goods, and study the
market. And after you prepare as much as you can, there's still
nothing says that a ship didn't land yesterday with three holds
full of something you're carrying as a luxury sell.
Nor was there a law, thought Jethri, against
Honored Buyer din'Flora being critically short on crimson
cellosilk, this Port-day. He took a cautious breath and made his
decision.
"Of course," he told the buyer, gathering
the sample bolt gently into his arms, "I am desolate not to have
closed trade in this instance. A cantra... It is generous,
respected sir, but--alas. My elder will be distressed--he had
instructed me most carefully to offer the lot first to yourself and
to make every accommodation... But a cantra, when his word was two?
I do not..." He fancied he caught a gleam along the edge of the
Liaden's bland face, a flicker in the depths of the careful eyes,
and bit his lip, hoping he wasn't about to blow the whole deal.
"I don't suppose," he said, voice edging
disastrously toward a squeak, "--my elder spoke of you so highly...
I don't suppose you might go a cantra-six?"
"Ah." Honored Sir din'Flora's shoulders
rippled and this time Jethri was sure the gesture expressed
amusement. "One cantra-six it is." He bowed and Jethri did,
clumsily, because of the bolt he still cradled.
"Done," he said.
"Very good," returned the buyer. "Set the
bolt down, young sir. You are quite correct regarding that crimson.
Remarkably pure. If your elder instructed you to hold at anything
less than three cantra, he was testing you in good earnest."
Jethri stared, then, with an effort, he
straightened his face, trying to make it as bland and ungiving as
the buyer's.
He needn't have bothered. The Liaden had
pulled a pouch from his belt and was intent on counting out coins.
He placed them on the trade table and stepped back, sweeping the
sample bolt up as he did.
"One cantra, six dex, as agreed. Delivery
may be made to our warehouse within the twelve-hour." He bowed,
fluid and unstrained, despite the bolt.
"Be you well, young sir. Fair trading, safe
lift."
Jethri gave his best bow, which was nowhere
near as pretty as the buyer's. "Thank you, respected sir. Fair
trading, fair profit."
"Indeed," said
"Two?" The Liaden's shoulders moved
again--not a shrug, but expressive of some emotion. Amusement,
Jethri thought. Or anger.
"Your elder mis-instructs
you, young sir. Perhaps it is a testing." The buyer tipped his head
slightly to one side, as if considering. "I will offer an
additional quarter-cantra," he said at last, accent rounding the
edges of the trade-tongue, "in kindness of a student's
diligence." Wrong ,
Jethri thought. Liadens did nothing for kindness, which he knew
from the tapes and from crew-talk. Liadens lived for revenge, and
the stories Khat told on the subject kept a body awake on
sleep-shift, praying against the mistake that would earn him
nitrogen in his back-up oxy tank in payment of a Liaden's
"balance".
Respectful, Jethri bowed, and, respectful,
brought his eyes to the buyer's face. "Sir, I value your kindness.
However, the distance between three-quarter cantra and two is so
vast that I feel certain my elder would counsel me to forgo the
trade. Perhaps you had not noticed--" he caught himself on the edge
of insult and smoothly changed course--"the light is poor, just
here..."
Pulling the bolt forward, he again showed
the fineness of the cloth, the precious irregularities of weave,
which proved it hand woven, spoke rapturously of the pure crimson
dye.
The buyer moved his hand. "Enough. One
cantra. A last offer."Gotcha, thought Jethri, making a serious
effort to keep his face neutral. One cantra, just like Uncle Paitor
had wanted. In retrospect, it had been an easy sell.
Too easy? he wondered then, looking down at
the Liaden's smooth face and disinterested brown eyes. Was there,
just maybe, additional profit to be made here?
Trade is
study , Uncle Paitor said from
memory. Study the goods, and study the
market. And after you prepare as much as you can, there's still
nothing says that a ship didn't land yesterday with three holds
full of something you're carrying as a luxury sell.
Nor was there a law, thought Jethri, against
Honored Buyer din'Flora being critically short on crimson
cellosilk, this Port-day. He took a cautious breath and made his
decision.
"Of course," he told the buyer, gathering
the sample bolt gently into his arms, "I am desolate not to have
closed trade in this instance. A cantra... It is generous,
respected sir, but--alas. My elder will be distressed--he had
instructed me most carefully to offer the lot first to yourself and
to make every accommodation... But a cantra, when his word was two?
I do not..." He fancied he caught a gleam along the edge of the
Liaden's bland face, a flicker in the depths of the careful eyes,
and bit his lip, hoping he wasn't about to blow the whole deal.
"I don't suppose," he said, voice edging
disastrously toward a squeak, "--my elder spoke of you so highly...
I don't suppose you might go a cantra-six?"
"Ah." Honored Sir din'Flora's shoulders
rippled and this time Jethri was sure the gesture expressed
amusement. "One cantra-six it is." He bowed and Jethri did,
clumsily, because of the bolt he still cradled.
"Done," he said.
"Very good," returned the buyer. "Set the
bolt down, young sir. You are quite correct regarding that crimson.
Remarkably pure. If your elder instructed you to hold at anything
less than three cantra, he was testing you in good earnest."
Jethri stared, then, with an effort, he
straightened his face, trying to make it as bland and ungiving as
the buyer's.
He needn't have bothered. The Liaden had
pulled a pouch from his belt and was intent on counting out coins.
He placed them on the trade table and stepped back, sweeping the
sample bolt up as he did.
"One cantra, six dex, as agreed. Delivery
may be made to our warehouse within the twelve-hour." He bowed,
fluid and unstrained, despite the bolt.
"Be you well, young sir. Fair trading, safe
lift."
Jethri gave his best bow, which was nowhere
near as pretty as the buyer's. "Thank you, respected sir. Fair
trading, fair profit."
"Indeed," said
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