Her throat stopped working. She extruded a claw and nudged the cup. The attendant hastened to fill it, and No'shto-shti-stlen's.
"Is there some difficulty?"
No'shto-shti-stlen asked.
"By no means. If — I hesitate to impose upon your excellency's already considerable generosity, but I have consignments to pick up here for Hoas port. — I might perhaps arrange a transfer of those orders — I've no contractual problems…"
"No difficulty. None at all. I take it these were open market contracts."
"Open market, nothing illegal about an interline, but your excellency must understand, I have bonds requiring that delivery…"
"A trifle, a trifle. My personal guarantee. I personally will put a bond on the interline carrier for your entire and unexcepted protection."
Too good to be true. "My ship certainly has the engines to make the jump, at low mass. But a million, while most generous as an offer… does the contract enjoin us from carrying other cargo?"
"Absolutely not. Whatever you can carry safely. And certainly— certainly we can assist you with priorities. Even — hm — information on low-mass stsho goods. I have a contract already drawn up." From an alabaster box by the side of the bowl-chair No'shto-shti-stlen whisked a sole spot of blackness, a data-cube. "This has both the contract for transport and the authorization for the disbursement."
"Cash at undocking."
"Cash at undocking. The whole sum to be paid to the bank on signature of the contract, with no restriction on withdrawals once the oji is aboard." A waggle of long fingers. And a tightly sewed-up set of conditions. "Of course one so honorable as yourself would need no contract. But for our mutual protection."
"Of course."
"Please accept three cases of the tea, to salve the inconvenience of diverting your ship."
"I do not of course guarantee signing the contract. Please make the gift contingent on our agreement!"
"Your honor is impeccable in my eyes. No such stipulation. Please. Take it for your help in an additional difficulty."
A sip of the tea. Definitely. Two sips. "Additional difficulty."
"A matter in which your honor might, if you will, be a solution."
"In what way might I be the solution of a problem so difficult?"
"A matter of delicacy. A member of your species is stranded here at Meetpoint — clearly an oversight on the part of the ship in question. But we are most anxious to see this resolved."
"They left her."
No'shto-shti-stlen took a sip of tea, and fluttered eyelashes. "Him, if I may be so entirely forward."
Him. Gods. Hilfy did a rapid resorting, with a distinct sense of alarm. "A hani ship? Left a crewman?"
"There was — your honor will please be understanding — a slight intoxication, a breakage of insignificant items of extremely bad taste— most of all— an altercation with a foreign national of— em— higher status— which I assure your honor had been harmlessly resolved."
"The nationality offended, excellency?"
"Kif."
Gods.
"A simple misunderstanding, a few hours detention and filling out of forms… but through some inadvertency, his ship— simply claimed a cargo priority and left without our office— em— aware of the oversight. We are excruciatingly embarrassed. We believe that perhaps they believed he was already back aboard, as did — em — an individual in traffic management, who cleared the undock."
"Did no one advise them?"
"They were unalarmed. They sent back word that it was unfortunate, but they had a contractual commitment and they urged us to send him along by the first hani ship that might consent. Your esteemed aunt, of course, had already left. Handur's Rainbow, which came in afterward and preceded you out… did not have a berth available."
A contractual commitment?
Read that Rainbow had refused to burden itself. Damn their down-the-nose attitude.
But— gods— hit a kif of rank? Did one want to take aboard a hani with that kind of grudge?
"Can we prevail upon your extreme generosity? His presence here is an embarrassment. How do we care for him? How do we lodge him?''
"I quite understand." Think fast, Hilfy Chanur. "What was his ship's course?" Fifty-fifty it was…
"Hoas, as happens. But everything passes through Urtur."
"In any case—" Gods, how did I get into this? But, damn it to a mahen hell… you don't even ask his clan. He's hani. He's lost. He's been dumped here, gods rot them— if the kif claim him, the stsho can't resist that pressure. Small wonder they want him out of here before there's an incident.
"We can pay his passage," No'shto-shti-stlen said.
"No. No. Forgive my unseemly distress. I could not possibly accept payment. This is a question of…"
Stsho had no equivalent for species-honor."… Elegance."
"Another case of tea."
"Please." On the other hand. At three thousand the case. "On the other hand—"
A flutter of distress.
No'shto-shti-stlen wanted this lad gone very badly. Very badly. And feared he would have to pay heavily for it.
Which he might deserve to do… except Hilfy Chanur was not dealing in hani hides, under any circumstances.
"Your esteemed and wise influence might clear any legal obstacles, any defect in his documents, that sort of thing. That would expedite matters."
"We are delighted to assist. There will be no impediments."
"No entanglements. No pending charges."
"You have my word. I have so enjoyed this meeting. Please give my regards to your esteemed relative.
Advise her that No'shto-shti-stlen admires her exceedingly."
"I shall." There was a civilized way and a barbaric one to quit a bowl-chair: the left foot on the unpadded line, the right onto the rim, no trick at all. She made a small bow, the datacube in hand, and No'shto-shti-stlen nodded with a graceful swaying of gtst white center-crest and gtst feathery, cosmetically augmented brows.
"Most, most pleasant," No'shto-shti-stlen said.
"A memorable hour, most memorable."
Never underestimate a stsho.
So, so, she had a passenger — but he was an inconsequence; the other question, what was in the contract, took momentary second place to the heady thoughts of a million credit haulage fee for some trinket she could juggle one-handed, and with the hold, after discharging their cargo, altogether free for what she could buy outright at Meetpoint for resale in a port whose fairly recent futures and shortages list Legacy had in file?
Far too good to be true, was what it was. She had gotten too far into this. Her disclaimer that she might not sign had not been early enough or forceful enough, and it needed no kifish guards to upset her stomach on the way out.
"All went well?" one had the temerity to ask her.
"Ask the one who feeds you," she retorted, and the kif who had presumed, retreated, hissing.
No love lost, no. The kif knew an implacable enemy; but they had to let her pass back to the dockside.
And how did one at this point refuse the governor who sat at the junction of virtually all trans-sector trade — even if one's aunt was the mekt-hakkikt of the known universe?
Appeal to Pyanfar's influence?
By the gods, no. Not Hilfy Chanur. Not if she wanted to face herself in the mirror. Not if she didn't want the story spread on every ship that dealt with No'shto-shti-stlen.
And the stsho would spread it. Not strike a blow in anger, oh, no, not the stsho. Their daggers were all figurative and theoretical. Or wielded by kifish hire-ons.
But, dear, featherless gods, if the offer was on the up and up…