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“He calls himself Jan Keter and is the captain of a faster-than-light merchant starship from something called the Hegemony. I tried to get him talking about it, but he was cagey. Wouldn’t give me any place names, but from his answers, it sounded like something run by folks not much different from our rulers here in Mazaber, despots who control every damn thing and shoot those who dare disagree. Speaks understandable Anglic, by the way, not like the Saqqarans do nowadays. Said he was traveling through the old imperial wormhole network, whatever that is, looking for trade opportunities. I got the feeling he wasn’t exactly on a trip approved by his government.”
“Why?”
“Search me. He was nervous, sure. Alone on a fallen world, far from home, but there was something else bothering him.”
Rianne mentally nodded at herself. Crimple must have a bit of the talent that allowed Friars, and especially Sisters, to keep their feelings hidden behind impenetrable walls, which was why she sensed little. Perhaps his abilities were strong enough that he might be a sort of minor truth-sayer, someone with an innate instinct for people. He wouldn’t be the first wild talent she’d encountered. It would certainly explain how he became the most successful and feared merchant in Mazaber.
“One fine day,” Crimple continued, “this Keter shows up in town riding a large, powered ground car, something no one ever saw before. Though I didn’t manage a close enough inspection, I’d wager it was both armored and armed. Otherwise, a lone visitor wouldn’t dare show up unannounced in what could be hostile territory.”
“What did this car look like?”
He shrugged.
“A big black box on eight wheels, say four meters long, over two meters wide, and about the same in height. Made little noise. He stopped right outside my door, climbed through a side hatch that slammed shut behind him, and came in wearing a weapon somewhat like the town sentries’ pistols on his hip.”
“How did he figure you were the one to see instead of your competitors?”
An amused snort.
“He may come from off-planet, but he’s a trader and knows the same tricks as Captain Fenrir and me. A port’s most powerful merchant will always own the largest, best maintained, and most strongly built godown right by the main pier. There’s a hierarchy, you see, and I’m the number one Mazaber merchant.”
His tone was sufficiently matter-of-fact that Rianne knew he was making a simple statement, not boasting.
“Fair enough. What happened then?”
“He introduced himself, said he carried samples of advanced technology wares he was selling in his ground car, and would I like to examine them. So I followed him out, and he opened one side of his vehicle. It had a very fancy protection system, a sort of transparent, shimmering curtain. He could reach in and take stuff out. I couldn’t. A lot of it wouldn’t do much good around here without a power source. But what came with solar chargers interested me, especially the railguns.
“We dickered around for a long time. He’d ask so much for a dozen of that or that, and I’d counteroffer until we agreed. I’m sure you can imagine how it is. He was really interested in the items I bought from Theban merchants like my friend Lars Fenrir, medical instruments and tools that presumably come from your homeworld, so I sold him my entire stock. That, and a lot of ancient imperial artifacts. Keter left town in his wheeled monster and returned the next day with the trade goods. We exchanged, and that was it.”
Rianne studied Crimple with an air that was half amused, half skeptical.
“Surely you sent someone to follow Keter out of town.”
Another snort, this time resigned.
“Both times. The first day and when we concluded the deal. Keter landed a spacecraft in a valley about ten klicks south of town, where there are ancient ruins. Plenty of those around, most big enough for something like Captain Fenrir’s ship and more. The craft was approximately six or seven times the size of his vehicle, and on both occasions, he drove it up a rear ramp. Both times as well, the thing jumped straight up into the sky with an eerie whine and vanished from sight within moments.”
“You didn’t try to seize it?”
A bark of laughter echoed across the room.
“Are you crazy, Sister? A visitor from the stars with advanced tech who goes around armed won’t neglect his security. It would have been more than my men’s life was worth. Besides, I figure I snagged the better part of the bargain, and if he’s of a mind to return, I’ll gladly deal with him again. Made a mint off his wares, I did, not least from Captain Fenrir.”
“Can your men show us where he landed his shuttle?”
Crimple’s wispy right eyebrow crept up.
“Is that what you call it? A shuttle? Yes, my men can do so, but they don’t enjoy walking, and that means you’re on the hook for renting transport.”
“Which would be?”
“Argvags,” Crimple replied, naming native, equine-equivalents with often nasty tempers and even more offensive odors. Thebans used them as plow animals on farms and not much else. “I figure taking an argvag cart is uncomfortable, and the round trip will take the rest of the day. Riding argvags is a lot faster, but even more uncomfortable. Your choice.”
Rianne turned to Fenrir with a questioning glance.
“We ride,” he replied without hesitation. “The beasts aren’t as bad as that. I’m sure Mister Crimple will gladly rent us a herd for a price.”
The latter nodded.
“One hundred gold Theban marks.”
Fenrir winced theatrically but reached into his pocket and pulled out a purse from which he withdrew five coins.
“This goes on your tab, Sister.”
“Naturally.”
He placed the twenty mark pieces on the counter.
“There, you old pirate.”
The coins vanished in the blink of an eye, swept up by Crimple.
“Can you show us the items you bought from Keter you’ve not sold yet?”
Crimple squinted at Rianne as if evaluating her request. Then he nodded and flipped up a section of the countertop.
“Follow me.” He led them to a heavily barred door at the back of the room, where he fiddled with several locks before pushing it open. “My secure storeroom. I don’t let just anyone in, but as I said if you can’t trust Void Brethren...”
Sunlight streaming through several barred windows high up on two walls lit a grimy room lined with rickety wooden shelves. As they entered on Crimple’s heels, the musty odor of partially decayed organic material assaulted their nostrils.
“There’s not much left, you understand. Sitting on inventory won’t make me rich.”
“Any more railguns?” Fenrir asked. “Because if you’re selling, I’m buying.”
“Are you kidding me?” Crimple grimaced at him over one shoulder. “I couldn’t get rid of the things fast enough once I realized my mistake. For one thing, the town’s boss would have confiscated them if he’d found out. Ordinary citizens better armed than the government always ends in revolution. And for another, no one in his right mind wants the local enforcers equipped with off-world advanced weapons. Balance of power, right? So I sold them to you and your fellow Theban captains. Let your lovely republic deal with the problem.”
Crimple walked over to a tarpaulin-covered pile of what looked like small crates, and Rianne realized the rotting canvas was responsible for the storeroom’s unpleasant miasma. He flipped the tarp up, exposing slick, plasticized oblong boxes with Anglic letters and numbers printed on the sides.
“What are those?” Rianne asked.
“You tell me.” Crimple lifted one of the boxes up onto a nearby shelf and stepped back. “Since I can’t find a buyer, I’ll make you a good price.”
Rianne gestured at Horam, and the Friar stepped forward to examine it.
“May I open the container?”
“Sure.”
Horam studied the box for a few seconds.
“Packaging doesn’t seem much different from what we use back home. Simple but solid, proof against even the nastiest environments.” He unlatched the cover, opened it, and peered inside. “No wonder you can’t find a buyer, Mister Crimple. That looks like a portable fabricator.”
“Which is what Keter called the damned device. Except it doesn’t fabricate a thing.”
“Of course not. You need a power source and input materials.” Horam extracted a rectangular metal object from the packing materials and turned it in his hands, examining the various sides. He peered into the box once more. “Neither of which are included.”
“And for that, Jan Keter owes me a good discount on his next offerings. If he ever darkens my door again, I’ll be having a few words with him.”
“How many of these did you buy?” Rianne asked.
“Three. Make me an offer for them, and maybe I won’t rip your fellow off-worlder another orifice.”
She and Horam exchanged a brief glance. Then Rianne reached into her bag and withdrew two plastic cylinders, each a different color but of the same shape as the antibiotic container now sitting in Crimple’s vest pocket.
“The red jar contains two hundred doses of a powerful analgesic. If you suffer from joint pain, are hungover, or suffer from clogged sinuses, among other bodily aches, it’ll do wonders. The blue jar contains medication that cures insomnia, also two hundred doses. One of those pills, and you sleep like a baby.”
“That buys you two of the — what did he call them, fabricators?”
“And you’ll sit on the third one forever? Consider that you can make a huge profit on the antibiotics, seeing as how you exchanged mere information for them.”
Rianne concentrated another wave of positive emotions on Crimple’s mind, and he nodded, scowling.
“Done. Take those things out of here, and I’ll be happy. Any other off-world wonders you’d care to trade?”
She gave him a pleasant smile.
“Not now, but if you find the medication you bought useful, let one of the Theban captains know. Given the right conditions, we might set up an Order of the Void house in Mazaber, and you could enjoy direct access to those off-world wonders.”
“I shall take it under advisement. So long as I enjoy a measure of exclusivity.”
“Can we leave our purchases here while we scout out the location where Jan Keter landed his shuttle?” Horam asked.
Crimple shrugged.
“Sure. And I won’t charge you extra. I suppose you’d like me to round up a herd of argvags and the men who followed Keter?”
Rianne beamed at him again.
“If you’d be so kind.”
Less than an hour later, the landing party found itself bouncing in hard saddles strapped to four-legged creatures whose gait reminded the Brethren of nothing so much as a ship in a storm. The argvags — whose long rubbery faces, floppy ears, and large, sparkly compound eyes made them resemble horses designed by a madman suffering from hallucinations — did have a distinct odor. But the Brethren no longer noticed it by the time they crossed Mazaber city limits.
Both of Crimple’s men, wiry street toughs with mean, narrow faces, were taciturn to the point of mutism. One rode point while the other trailed the group. They were clearly used to argvags and sat easily in the high saddle, undismayed by the constant swaying.
Horam noted their watchful eyes and the way they held short-barreled shotguns across the saddle horn. When he’d asked the point man if they were expecting trouble, the latter merely grunted and said, “Can’t be too careful out in the hills. If you carry weapons, keep them clear and ready.”
As the sun rose higher in the sky, it became much warmer but no less humid, increasing their discomfort. After two weeks with a constant sea breeze keeping them cool, they’d almost forgotten Mazaber was near Hatshepsut’s equator, just like Thebes, but didn’t enjoy the latter’s constant trade winds. The stifling heat eased a little when the ancient imperial road, still in excellent condition, took them into the tree-covered hill country.
Shortly after the midday hour, they emerged in a narrow valley whose center was curiously devoid of vegetation. As they moved forward, the cracked road became a broad, smooth surface, untouched by both war and time. Familiar markings etched into the tarmac caught their eyes, and a slow grin split Horam’s face.
“Figures. That’s an old landing strip. Those overgrown humps over on the far side must be ruins that were once part of a commercial or private complex. Dendera’s killers probably decided it wasn’t worth the ammunition expenditure, and this Keter character saw it clearly from orbit.”
Rianne nodded in agreement.
“We really should do better surveys before landing on a fallen world. Otherwise, we’d know there was an intact strip south of Mazaber.”
A shrug.
“Until the government authorizes satellite constellations for places without a Lyonesse security presence, there’s only so much the Void Ships can do. How about we check out the ruins before heading back into town?”