So Zainal mused as he passed on the numbers for the connector units, explaining how important they were to Ferris before he re-sumed his bargaining position. His next client was a burly man named Kierse, a Drassi who had left space for the more secure port life. He had brought with him a list of the items he wished to sell, and Zainal felt a thrill of anticipation as he saw so many FICA listings.
"I do not know what good these Terran bits and pieces will do you, but I have developed a taste for this coffee, and you are appar-ently in possession of many sacks of the cooked beans. They are ready, I understand, to be ground and filtered."
"You understand correctly."
From a pouch Kierse wore on one shoulder, he took out a hand-ful of what Zainal now easily recognized as vacuum-packed plastic sleeves, each containing a bouquet of wires of different colors with tips of different shapes, including several bars of tiny holes on a black plastic strip. As little as Zainal knew about comm sat innards, these looked like the blackened discards that Captain Harvey had pointed to on the floor of the cargo hold. Zainal covered his excitement by asking Floss to fill a cup for Emassi Kierse.
"I am not Emassi," Kierse said with a twitch of irritation to his lips. "I am but Drassi."
"You have the manner, however, and should be treated accord- ingly," Zainal said graciously, knowing that many Drassi were of the Emassi class but had failed some part of their training and thus were unable to use their birth-rank.
"These are useful to you?" Kierse asked, neatly dealing the pack-ets of parts into a line across the table so the identifying part label was clearly visible.
Zainal quickly scanned his eye down the labels, having committed to memory the numbers of the ones he sought.
"Possibly," he murmured discreetly.
"They have the numbers I am told you are seeking," Kierse replied, settling into his chair to haggle.
Zainal wondered who had given that information to the market. Chine and Ditsy were notably close-mouthed. What had Kris been warning him about? Ah yes, Ferris stole. Or were Natchi and Erbri as trustworthy as advertised? No, Zainal reassured himself, Natchi defi-nitely was and he had vouched for Erbri. And here were the connec-tors Captain Harvey required.
"What good did you think these leggy things would do you when you bought them?"
"Wait for someone who needed just such oddities," Kierse replied, then refreshed himself with a sip of the mountain mild that was cur-rently on offer. As Zainal considered his next gambit-the sounds of the marketplace closed around them-the rat-tat-tat of Eric's eternal hammering, the scurry of feet on the dry aisles between stalls, the oc-casional raised voices as people pounded out a suitable bargain.
Zainal hefted one of the packets experimentally. "Not very heavy. Since you like coffee, perhaps beans would be acceptable." He leaned forward. "We have been trading weight of beans for weight of the packets. Is that satisfactory to you?"
"You may weigh them and we will see what the total comes to-in beans and then in the gold I understand you are using for barter."
"Coffee beans have been referred to as 'black gold,' Drassi Kierse." "I thought that was the thick stuff they put into barrels. Oil." Kierse, who was much sharper than he looked-certainly for one of Drassi rank-pronounced the word in two syllables: Oy-yill.
"I have heard the term 'black gold' used for both," Zainal said blithely, "though I believe the barreled stuff is undrinkable."
Kierse chuckled and Zainal worried about the bargaining abilities of this client. Beans he had in plenty, but the gold was in much shorter supply. Still, that standard would be in keeping with the value-to him-of these particular parts and he wanted to conclude a deal with Kierse.
It didn't take long to put the: packets into the weighing pod and the scales swung past and then settled on 50 grams. Zainal did not wish to part with that much gold no matter how essential the parts were to repair the connectors. It would take most of the dust they had in the little safe. And since the man had specified gold, he would probably not consider the lesser ores that Zainal still had available.
"If we deal with the beans, I am willing to throw in a grinder. The filtered bean gives a finer taste and goes further." Zainal hoped this would tip Kierse in his favor.
"I know how one makes this brew," Kierse said, dismissing Zainal's suggestion. "But, in truth, I do not have a grinder. Let me see it working. I prefer the filtered drink to the boiled grounds."
Floss, who had been listening to the exchange, immediately stepped forward with sacks of several varieties of bean.
"Which would you prefer, the milder roast or the hearty ro-busta bean?"
Floss, skilled now at tipping a handful of beans into one of the little saucers, filled two packets, one with the mild mountain and the other with the richer roast and offered each in turn to Kierse. Zainal made a little bet with hirnself and won. Kierse preferred the stronger brew.
"There are, as I am sure you know, Kierse, several methods of ob-taining coffee. The percolator provides a stronger flavor. Grind the beans," Zainal began but Kierse waved off a discussion of the process and the percolator pot, which Floss displayed for him.
"Filtered. And that darker bean."
Floss withdrew the dismissed ones from consideration and reached under the table for the appropriate packages. These she placed in the other scale, casually adding a trickle of beans until a balance was achieved between the product and its payment. Zainal held his breath. Kierse looked longingly at the casket of gold, which Zainal had left on the table. Then he took another sip of the coffee in his cup.
"I have more packages. We will deal with the gold then," Kierse said and extended his hand to Zainal, accepting the barter.
Quickly Floss transferred the bags of beans to a carrier, wrapped the grinder and placed it on top, handing the convenient package to the new owner.
Zainal rose and gave the obligatory courtesy bow, which Kierse mirrored, though there was a smile in the man's eyes that Zainal read as anticipating a return with more valuable stock. As Kierse left, Zainal signaled for Ferris to follow him. He might merely go to his home with such a package, but he might also return to his stall to gloat over what valuable merchandise he still wished to sell to the bean man. Per-haps Ferris could discover exactly what else might be of value to them.
The tone of voices abruptly changed. There was some sort of a fuss coming down the aisle, much shouting and warnings. Zainal was instantly alert but relaxed when he saw what was becoming a daily occurrence, someone with a bloody mouth coming to see the tooth man. The victim had a bloody rag over his face as friends escorted him to Eric's booth. Zainal called out Eric's name for he was busy rat-tat-tatting.
Eric quickly emerged and, taking in the scene in one glance, ush-ered the Catteni into his stall, twitching the curtain across it.
"Good fight?" Zainal inquired, as Catteni courtesy permitted.
"I won," replied a burly man with the ship insignia of a minor duty officer. "Oh, this is where the coffee is. I could certainly use a cup." Zainal gave him a wave toward Floss, who smiled engagingly up at the fellow and put the cup in his hand and indicated the coin pot. "What's it worth?" he asked Floss.
"What you care to put in," Floss replied flirtatiously.
Floss might have learned vocabulary from Peran and Bazil at the Masai camp, but she had certainly not learned how to flirt from them. Clune stepped forward from where he was drying cups and lingered just beyond her. The officer did not mistake the warning in the young man's manner and moved judiciously toward Eric's office space, just as a bellow and a kicking foot stirred the curtain.