"None?" Kapash seemed genuinely upset.
"We have the last of the roasted beans." Which was certainly true of the beans they had acquired from Kenya and Santa Lucia. Kapash continued to look dismayed, but a flicker of thought be-hind his eyes told Zainal that, not only was the man fond of his cof-fee, but he would also wish to enjoy it without stint.
"What standard would you use to trade for more of the hand units?"
Zainal hefted his. "Equal weight of beans for the unit seems fair." Kapash turned toward the stall, saw the scales, and peremptorily gestured for Zainal to bring the unit over. He did and Kapash put it on one side of the scales. Zainal gave Kathy the sign to pour beans in the other side. She was scrupulous in making up the weight, even to the last bean, which edged on the side of generosity. Then she spread both hands out to indicate it was up to Kapash.
He looked at the beans, picked up a handful, and sniffed them. "They make a rich cooked coffee," Kathy said winningly. She used "cooked" for "roasted" since there was no equivalent Catteni word to describe the exact process.
"How many cups of coffee would that lot make?"
"If you grind properly, this should make four large pots of good, strong, black, rich cooked coffee. You probably have a nut grinder at home." She showed him the one she had brought from the BASS-1.
"Is that what those are used for?" Kapash remarked, lifting his eyebrows.
Zainal wasn't sure which he meant but it had been a wise precau-tion to bring along grinders and what was left of the glass drip-filter cafetiers. They even had a carton of the glass insets on board the BASS-1.
"A special brew requires perfect equipment, as I'm sure you have discovered, Manager Kapash," Zainal said suavely. Peran was begin-ning to jiggle in front of his father, restless now that the adults were so obviously absorbed, but Zainal tightened his hand on the boy's shoulder to remind him of the respect due Catteni adults.
Kapash's coffee was now cool enough for him to take a bigger swallow, which he seemed to be rinsing around in his mouth, savor-ing. "This is different from other brews I have sampled."
"You are currently enjoying a mild roast of arabicas," Kathy Harvey said and reached for another pot she had recently made and a clean cup. "Now this is from robusta beans, which give a much stronger taste."
Kapash's eyes widened with appreciation as he smelled the steam and, blowing on the liquid, attempted a sip of the new coffee. "Mmmm, much stronger and far more to my taste."
"There are many different types of beans, and combinations of them, Manager Kapash, for those subtle and sophisticated enough to appreciate the finer flavors," Zainal said. "What else have we brewed, Captain?"
Kapash actually seemed to have sophisticated taste buds because he was able to distinguish the milder roasts that Kris had made from the stronger robusta. He summoned a minion and sent him off to col lect the proposed merchandise. Of course, the handsets on Botany would be of no use unless they could put up the satellites, but Zainal was encouraged by the possibility. Leave it to the market manager to have set aside choice trading items.
Meanwhile, Eric was already at work on Luxel, pouring a sub-stance into those wide jaw trays he had insisted he must have, and making Luxel open his mouth so wide it looked as if he might lock his jaw hinge. Then Luxel had to sit, those things in his mouth, while Eric consulted his wristwatch and fingered a little blob of the green substance he had placed in Luxel's mouth.
What a bizarre way to regain possession of the spoils of invasion! Zainal wondered exactly what deal Eric had fashioned with Luxel. Four teeth to be replaced? How could they get Luxel to give them items from eight cartons, instead of only four? How many had Eric bargained for? And then there were the larger necessities: the frame-work on which the individual units would be hung as well as the thermal protective material. That didn't come in a carton but was as necessary for the satellites as the major units that powered, controlled, and directed them in orbit. There were moments when the magnitude of the task he had committed himself and the others to com-plete overwhelmed him. Sometimes, he thought, very privately so he couldn't hear it himself, that his success as executioner of the malig-nant Eosi was leading him to think he was invincible. He could be vincible on another mission, but not this one! So much depended on his success here on Barevi. It would certainly set a precedent.
"There." Zainal pushed the six bags of coffee beans toward Kapash. "You will deliver the hand units tomorrow?" Kapash blinked, and at first Zainal thought the man considered the beans a bribe. "We shall be looking forward to your messenger." He had completed a subtle bribe with Kapash, giving him the coffee beans before taking owner-ship of the hand units that had been the object of the trading. They could also expect more business from Kapash: he was definitely a cof-fee addict. There were more sacks of coffee beans in the capacious hold of BASS-1, and they knew where to get more. Then he saw Captain Harvey trying to get his attention and he strolled over to her.
"We'll need more beans, Zainal." Her eyes sparkled with this evi-dence of success. "While you were gone, we had a coffee fiend who has delivered us five Motorola crates of orbiting controllers. We defi-nitely need more beans."
"Do we have any coins to pay for a hire lift?"
Harvey thrust a hand into a pocket and emptied the contents into his hand: small coins, to be sure, but sufficient in number to pay Natchi's modest charge. He signaled the veteran from his box and then looked around for Peran.
The boy materialized beside him. "Return to the ship and ask Floss to come back with ten sacks of assorted beans. Here are tokens for Natchi's lift."
The veteran was almost as prompt in attending Zainal as Peran had been. "May we hire your lift again? Peran, my son, requires it for an errand."
"Such a sturdy lad, Emassi. Surely he will captain ships when he has finished his training."
Peran was agreeable to having such a future assigned him, and he straightened his frame to make himself appear taller, more worthy of such rank.
"Indeed, when his tutor approves his lessons," Zainal said, and Peran's face fell. "Now he must go about his father's errands." Zainal slipped Peran the tokens, which when he had offered them to Natchi, the old one-armed man had cheerfully waved aside.
"I owe you service for the many fine cups of coffee I have re-ceived, Emassi. I also need to walk. I will accompany your son." "My thanks, Natchi, for your courtesy."
Natchi performed a maneuver more salute than bow. Then, with smartness reminiscent of other days, he turned and followed Peran to where he had stored his lift.
Chapter Twelve
By the time they reached their stall the next day, a goodly crowd was waiting. So they scurried to get the next urn of coffee started and poured out what was in the bottle for the impatient customers. Among them were interested sellers, and Zainal and Chuck began again checking their lists against the proffered items. Much coffee was consumed: Zainal was beginning to think that he was getting all Barevians addicted to the beverage. Well, there was nothing wrong with supplying a desired substance.
About mid-morning, when Zainal was winding up a good deal with someone who had twenty-volt truck batteries to trade, Bazil ap-peared, a very anxious expression on his face. Unwilling to interrupt Zainal at what was obviously a crucial time, Bazil approached Kris, pulling her sleeve urgently.