"Sounds good!" Poertena headed for the bar.
"I made a deal with the guy," Koberda said. "We all eat free for one of those Eterna-lights."
"Ayah!" The new scummy clutched his head. "That I didn't need to hear! I'll go see if I can negotiate being included in it!"
Denat laughed and picked up the jug in the middle of the table. He shook it, took a sip, and grimaced.
"Pah! Shit-sitter piss!"
"Better than that rotgut you served," PFC Ellers said with a laugh. The grenadier took another bite of meat and sipped more beer. "At least you can taste something of the beer."
"Hey," Cranla, the third of Cord's nephews, protested. "We just expect some taste in our drinks."
"Taste, sure," Ellers agreed. "But did you have to add the turpentine?"
Poertena turned back up with a large platter and put it on the table. The table was long, constructed of a thick slab of almost black wood taken from a single trunk. The humans had occupied one end, and the tribesmen gathered around them, snatching at the hot slices of meat on the platter. There were also slices of fruit, and a sliced root the humans didn't recognize. It was good, though—somewhere between a sweet potato and a white potato.
"Smells good," Denat said, popping a piece of the highly spiced meat into his mouth, then choked. "Ayeeeeii! Peruz!" He grabbed for the beer jug as the spice kicked in.
"Pock!" He took a huge gulp of beer and gasped. "Whai-ee! I guess that beer's not so bad after all!" he wheezed.
"Where are you, Koberda?" Kosutic asked over the communicator.
"Ah, my squad is just finishing up lunch, Sergeant Major," the NCO replied, putting down his cards and looking around.
The squad was sprawled around the tables, taking it easy. The heat of the day had been building, and most of the Mardukans had beat it for cooler climates. But it wasn't really all that bad under the tent: no more than 43 Standard, or 110 on the old Fahrenheit scale.
Poertena had started up a poker game. He'd apparently taken the old Mardukan merchant for a ride dickering over a couple of Eterna-lights and lighters. Now the old guy was trying to get his own back... in a game he'd never played before.
Koberda picked his cards back up and looked at them in disgust. Poertena had let him exchange some of his imperial credits for a few pieces of the local silver and copper. He knew he should've kept them in his pocket.
"Fold."
Poertena looked over his cards at the old Mardukan. The merchant looked at his cards, then at the pot.
"I raise you," the Mardukan said. He thought about it, then tossed one of the Eterna-lights into the pot. "That should be worth more than that pile."
"Yeah," Poertena agreed with a smile. "Or lunch for twelve."
"Ayah! Don't remind me!" Pratol snapped.
"Pace it," the Pinopan said. "Koberda got taken!"
"Well," the squad leader said, wondering just how much the little Pinopan had squeezed out of the obviously experienced pawnbroker, "somebody did."
Poertena gave his cards another glance and shook his head.
"Fold."
"I like this game!" Pratol gave a couple of grunts and reached out with all four arms to scoop in the pot.
"Yeah, yeah," Poertena said as he dealt the next hand. "Just you wait."
"Hah!" Tratan said suddenly. He had gotten sense and dropped out while he still owned his weapons. "Look at those shit-sitter pussies!"
A group of five armed scummies was passing the eatery. The Mardukans were armed with swords, which they carried in the open, rather than scabbarded. The swords were long, straight, and broad; they would have been two-handed weapons—at least—for any of the humans.
Unlike other guards the humans had seen, these wore full coverage leather armor, with plate patches on the shoulders and breast. They were obviously guarding the lone unarmored scummy in the middle of their formation, who carried a small leather purse slung on a strap around his neck. Apparently, he had less than total confidence in the stout-looking strap, since he also clutched the purse in both true-hands.
"What's t'at?" Poertena asked. He picked up his cards and stayed very, very calm.
"Gem guards," Pratol replied. He tossed in two for draw.
"Pussies," Tratan repeated. "They think all that fancy leather makes them immortal."
"I wouldn't mind some armor." Koberda picked up the beer jugs and shook them, looking for one that wasn't empty. "If Talbert'd had some armor, she'd still be here."
"Yeah," Poertena agreed as he drew two cards. It was down to three players, and that was too few for a good poker game. Denat was still hanging in, though. He'd traded a couple of nice gems to Pratol for some silver and credit on goods. Now he was trading on some of Tratan's silver and the edge of his credit. Poertena glanced up at him as he looked at his draw, then set his cards down in disgust.
"Fold."
Poertena looked at his own cards and didn't smile. Fortune favored the foolish.
"Raise you." He looked at his pile, and flicked over a tiny lapis lazuli. It was an exquisite royal blue, shot through with lines of raw copper.
"Hmmm." Pratol pushed over a pile of silver and added his own lapis, slightly larger and polished into a large oval. "See you and raise."
Poertena looked at the pile and rolled over a ruby.
"See you an' raise, ag'in."
Pratol tilted his head to the side suspiciously, then pulled out a tiny sapphire like a flick of blue fire, and placed it carefully atop the pile. The blue and red gems were of a piece, dark but translucent. The gems of the region were its greatest treasure, and watching them glow in the center of the table made it abundantly clear why that was true.
Poertena picked up the sapphire and the ruby and put them side-by-side. Then he looked at the rest of the items.
"I t'ink the pot's light," he said.
"Okay." Pratol tossed a few pieces of silver and a small citrine onto the table. "Now it's not."
"Call," Poertena said. "Four sevens."
"Crap!" The merchant slammed down his cards. "I still like this game."
"I'm out," Denat said. "I want to keep my weapons."
"Why, young tribesman?" a new voice asked. "I'd be happy to sell you more."
Kosutic and the merchant she'd stopped to talk with were both smiling as they watched everyone else jump. They'd approached the group so silently that no one had noticed them coming, and Koberda cleared his throat.
"Ah, Sergeant Major, we were just... uh..."
"Gathering energy for the coming march?" she asked. "Don't sweat it, Koberda. But you need to keep at least one person alert at all times. We're still not out of the woods here. Clear?"
"Clear, Sergeant Major," he said, and then an eyebrow crooked as he noticed the oddity sticking up over her shoulder. "Is that what I think it is?"
"Yep." Kosutic drew the sword over her shoulder. The ripples of silver and black were muted in the overcast gray sunlight, but it was clearly a work of art. "I like it, but I actually got it for the prince. It was designed for the child of a king, so it's human-sized."
"Yeah." Koberda nodded. "I can understand that. But what about other weapons?"
"Alas," the hook-handed merchant replied, "this isn't a good area in which to look for large supplies of weapons or armor. The weapons available here have mostly been made elsewhere. They're from T'Kunzi, or even relics from Voitan, as is this one."
"Folks, meet T'Leen. He used to be a trooper until he lost the arm. Now he sells swords."
"Spears and knives also. Anything with a blade. Mostly to the guards of the gem merchants and the occasional group of mercenaries," T'Leen said, fingering one bronze-capped horn. "Or the House guards, occasionally. There are both independent gem merchants and those of the Houses in the town. Although," he added, "the House merchants sometimes make it... hard on the independents."