Tanager's Fledglings (The Tanager Book 1)

by Cedar Sanderson

  Pushing through the swinging doors into the station was always an experience. The wristband he wore allowed him free access since he was cleared through customs, and there were no guards here. Beyond the doors, it was warm, well-lit, and there were people. Jem took a deep breath and headed for Mahoney’s.

  Nothing wrong with people. It wasn’t that he hated all people, not like Walter had. It was just that… there were so many of them. Altressa was the most populous station on his route, and as he wove through the crowds, Jem slowly realized that this was busier than it had been two seasons ago on the last trip through here.

  He paid attention to the mood of the crowd in the corridor, walking slowly down and scanning with his eyes, not moving his head. To move his head would make him look like a tourist, a gawker, and that would mean vulnerable to those who were watching with hostile eyes. The people seemed to be happy, in a holiday mood. Couples strolled arm in arm. There was a family, the littlest child up on her father’s shoulders, the whole group laughing.

  Jem felt his shoulders tense and he quickened his steps a little. Mahoney’s wasn’t far from the docks, and it was never full. He’d be there soon enough.

  Chapter 3: Norms and Procedures

  Mahoney’s Fine Jewels and Gifts was a familiar place. Jem slipped through the door, slim brushed aluminum case in hand, without a backward glance at the crowded corridor he’d just come from. He felt some of the tension ease as he looked across the small, quiet shop. There was a customer at the counter, looking down at what old Abe was showing him. He didn’t look around when the bell tinkled for Jem’s entrance.

  Abraham Mahoney looked up and met Jem’s eyes. He nodded without breaking rhythm in the sales patter, and Jem wandered over to look into the display cases. He’d talk when Abe was ready.

  Abe kept this little shop near the docks and away from the main marketplace on the station, but there was always one, never more than three, customers inside. Jem had wondered at that, his first trip here. When Walter had turned into the small doorway with the subdued sign, he’d hung back, confused. It wasn’t until perhaps the second or third trip that he had learned the sign was wood, handmade, and that the wares Mahoney’s offered were exponentially more highly priced and valuable than those in the common market. Only the richest shopped here, and if you didn’t know about Mahoney’s, you couldn’t afford it.

  “Jem! Dahling…” Abe swooped down on him and air-kissed both cheeks. Jem hoped his blush didn’t show. “Let me look at you…”

  Jem patiently stood still, letting Abe sweep him from head to toes and back again with bright black eyes. He knew he was smiling, because he was making the effort. The man made him jumpy, but he trusted Walter’s take on him. ‘It’s an act, boy. There’s no harm in it, it makes his clientele happy, and he wears it like a second skin. He’d no sooner hurt you than cut off his own hand.’ That would have been the second trip, when Jem had hesitantly asked to not go into the shop. Walter had looked sharply at him and then offered the reassurance gruffly.

  Abe’s voice broke the memory. “You are all grown up, a young man of means. Is Walter…?”

  Jem shook his head mutely, feeling the smile fall off his face. Abe’s face shattered into grief.

  “Come…”

  Jem allowed himself to be pulled into the back room, which was surprisingly well-decorated. “Sit, sit…” Abe waved at the low table.

  He disappeared for a long few minutes, leaving Jem feeling uncomfortable and fidgety. Abe came back, his face a little damp like it had just been washed. He was carrying a tray with a tea set.

  “I don’t know if you drink tea?”

  Jem nodded. He was very interested that the affected high note of Abe’s voice had gone away, leaving a pleasant even tenor. Jem had been taught to drink and enjoy many things. It was part of the protocol of negotiation on some worlds.

  “What happened?” Abe asked after he’d poured out two cups.

  “Old age, sir.” Jem looked into the golden liquid. Green tea, or some herbal brew. He sipped at it, finding it light and citrusy. “He knew it was coming, spent the last season we were together getting everything just so, and then…”

  Jem hadn’t told this part of the story to anyone but Peter, and he took a deep breath. “He just didn’t wake up one morning.”

  Abe looked into his eyes for a long moment, his face solemn. “But he had you, the son of his heart, with him at the end.”

  “I, er…” Jem knew he was blushing, now.

  “Pshaw.” Abe had a little of his accent back. “I know what I saw. Walter was not a man to take a young lover, and you were more to him than simply an apprentice. He was proud of you, boyo.”

  Jem choked. He’d certainly thought that a toy was what Walter wanted, when the big man had plucked him from the gutter. It had been the one thing Jem hadn’t tried yet, but he knew it was that, or death. Walter had looked horrified and had roared ‘stop thinking with your pecker, lad! Life is about more than sex.’ And the yelling had oddly reassured Jem, who correctly read it as genuine anger, but not directed at himself. Walter had stomped out of the shipping bay with a curt command to stay put. He’d returned a little later with bloodied knuckles, and then they had lifted off planet to the safety of outer space and Jem had relaxed for the first time he could remember.

  “Thank you.” He said now, whether to Abe or Walter he wasn’t sure.

  “I’ll miss him.” Abe put his cup down. Jem took this as a signal that the personal moment was past. Time for business.

  “Will you be continuing your trading route?” Abe asked, looking for the first time at the silvery case beside Jem.

  “I shall. I promised him I would continue with no changes in schedule for no less than two seasons, but after that I am free to do as I please.”

  “Wise, wise. And what have you brought me?” Abe looked like a child with a gift as he reached for the case Jem was turning toward him.

  “Peter, Walter’s brother, thought you might find these worth your time.” Peter hadn’t specifically mentioned Abe, but Abe was Altressa’s arbiter of fashion. If he liked the tiny lizards, then they would sell and sell well.

  Jem keyed the stasis case and let the lizard free. It was a shimmering cobalt blue at the nose, shading back to a sea-green at the tail. With a wingspan not wider than the palm of his hand, and bright gold eyes, it looked as though it was made from metals and gems. But it was alive, and it ran to his fingertips as he stretched an arm out to Abe. Abe put out a finger and the lizard cocked his head, peering nearsightedly at the new thing in his sight.

  “They can be harnessed and worn as brooches or shoulder pets.” The lizard stepped daintily to Abe’s hand and wrapped itself around his finger with a contented sigh.

  “What do they eat? Do they bite?”

  “They are engineered to eat insects or tiny bits of meat. They will only void in a specific place, and only once a day. They have no teeth large enough to bite – they don’t chew their food, but swallow it whole and they are very sleepy while it digests. Perfect for a pet.”

  Abe nodded, holding his finger up straight and inspecting the tiny creature. “So beautiful, and alive! Boyo, this is the thing…” He stopped speaking and almost went cross-eyed.

  Jem chuckled, he couldn’t help it. He’d had the same reaction to the lizard’s little trick. “They, ah, purr…”

  Abe nodded. “Couldn’t have warned me, could you?”

  Jem shook his head and presumed the sale. “Will you warn your customers?”

  Abe tipped his head back and laughed so loudly that Jem was afraid he’d frighten the little lizard. “Here, and I was going to worry about you, trying to make it on your own without the old man watching over you.”

  Abe wiggled his finger and the lizard arched his back and spread out his wings. “Jem.”

  Now he had Jem’s full attention. He didn’t think the other man had ever used his name before.

  “I will buy this lizard. With one condition.�
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  Jem felt his heart sink. He had two dozen of the wee beasties to move, and selling just one… “What is the condition?”

  “That you go exclusive with me on the lizards. I take all your stock, and you don’t mention them in the market.”

  Abe lowered his hand to the table and let the lizard slip off. He leaned forward, his face serious. “Can’t even mention they exist, got it?”

  Jem blinked. “How much…?” It was a tempting offer, it would certainly speed up his stay here, and he hadn’t been looking forward to a night alone in a cheap crash pad.

  Abe waved his hand in irritation. “Whatever you were asking, plus fifteen percent.”

  Jem sat up straighter, feeling his heart sink. “I will not accept charity.”

  “What? No!” Abe laughed again. “Boyo, these are going to be hot ticket. How many do you have?”

  “I have twenty-three more than this one.”

  Abe nodded. “More than I thought, but less than I could sell. Perfect. I can start wars over this little fellow.” He leaned forward and crooned the last few words at the lizard. “Dragons, dragons for the elite effete and profits for me!”

  “Wars? Dragons?” Jem was confused.

  “They look like dragons, straight out of some vid fantasy. Perfect.” Abe repeated himself. “Not literal wars, bidding ones. Just the kind of thing we like, eh?” He winked at Jem.

  “Ah. Yes, and by you buying all of them from me, you avoid that.” Jem caught on.

  “Augh! You’re killing me.” Abe clutched at his heart, leaning back in the chair melodramatically. “All right, twenty percent over your asking price. But you can’t…” He drew his fingers over his lips in a gesture for silence.

  “I get that. And agreed. When would you like delivery? I have four with me.” Jem pulled the other cases out and Abe sat up again.

  “Cases included?” He picked one up and peered into it. “They aren’t all the same color!”

  “Cases not included.” Jem said firmly. The dratted things were expensive. “And they are engineered to come in pleasing combinations, but they aren’t unique to each specimen, I was told.”

  “Tsk,” Abe clucked. “That would have been too much to ask. Another five percent for the cases to be included. Ladies dislike having their jewelry need too much maintenance.”

  “Deal.” Jem held out his hand, and Abe shook on it, his eyes twinkling.

  “I can deliver today…” Jem started.

  Abe held up a hand. “First, you will go to the market with whatever else you have to sell. And not talk about the lizards, of course. Then, I will have a man call tomorrow morning very early for the rest of the lizards.”

  He pulled out a comtablet and tapped on it. “The same account as before?” He asked without looking up at Jem.

  “Yes.” Jem had been added to the business account two seasons before, when Walter had known what was coming. He wasn’t going to argue with a client who had just written him a blank check. Abe pushed the tablet across the table to him, making the lizard… no, dragon, Jem corrected himself, skip out of the way. Jem tapped a number into the blank field and Abe nodded. He’d read it upside down.

  “Good thinking. Cheat me, and you’d never do business on this station again.”

  Jem wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed or grateful for the subtle business advice he was getting. He settled for appreciating it. A business was built on trust, Walter had taught him from the beginning, and the trust went both ways. Jem needed Abe, and Abe needed the exotic goods Jem could bring him.

  Jem got to his feet. “Thank you.”

  He left the lizards on the table, the three in their cases and the one still loose, although asleep at the moment. Abe stood and sketched a little bow toward the younger man. “May the winds be ever in your favor.”

  Jem left the shop and returned to the ship to leave the aluminum case and get the woolies’ fiber samples. He felt a little blown away, all right. Winds he didn’t have, but the profit he’d already made would buy the fuel he needed, and leave him a good cushion for Tas. After the quiet luxury of Mahoney’s shop, the corridor seemed tinny and too full of people. He could feel his tension level ratcheting back up.

  By the time he was on the way to the market, all his earlier euphoria was gone, and a crawling sensation between his shoulder blades had him resisting looking over his shoulder to see who was watching. If he had a watcher, it would be Abe, checking up on him. Jem couldn’t blame him if he did; as much as Abe had paid for the little dragons, he would make ten times as much if he could make them into a very limited commodity. The customs officer who had handled one wouldn’t talk, and Jem wouldn’t… but he had to earn trust.

  So he relaxed his muscles with a slow roll of his shoulders, pretending to look around and take in the noisy market. Altressa had modeled their marketplace, as had so many other stations, after Old Earth bazaars. Permanent shops lined the vast rectangle, and there were little oases of greenery sprinkled across the open area, where shoppers could rest at a little table while sampling the wares of the many temporary booths that had sprung up like fungus all across the station’s open space. Very colorful fungus, with billowing synthsilk roofs.

  Jem looked all around him slowly, letting an outward appreciation of the market serve as an excuse to catch a glimpse of his watcher. He strolled toward the food vendors, following his nose to find them. Sweet and savory odors drifted freely. He knew the big filters high overhead were working overtime, but they couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd. He was reminded of his earlier observation that a holiday must be going on. The Altressa market was more crowded than he’d ever seen it before.

  He stopped at a stand that was selling skewers full of meat. They were taken from raw, in a stasis field, to flash-fried and served with a drizzle of brilliant green sauce. Jem held up two fingers when it was his turn, and while the man nodded and flew into action, the younger man used the clear sanitary shield between them to watch the crowd behind him. There… a man who he’d seen earlier. It was the same man, he was sure, with a blunt, bald head and a pale yellow wrap-top that clashed with his skin tone.

  Jem took the skewers and paid the vendor with a cheerful grin. Spotting his tail made him feel better. If he knew there was one, it wasn’t just his paranoia kicking into overdrive. He ate while he walked, enjoying the chewy meat and tart, spicy sauce. He wondered if the autochef in the ship could be persuaded to spit out something like this.

  He stopped twice more. Once for a sweet to chase down his lunch, and again just to look at lengths of cloth that were draped over tables and hanging from the booth structure itself. He’d fingered several, unaware that he wore a frown while he considered the weight and texture of it. Jem sauntered on, knowing where the other was, that he was tied to him with an invisible string of the watcher’s line-of-sight. Jem had no intention of losing him. That would be unkind to a man who had a job to do.

  Jem found himself deep into the area where rugs, clothes, and cloth was sold. The right person had not yet caught his eye. There were brilliant colors everywhere, and everything he’d touched had been soft. Silky textures seemed to be in, this season on Altressa. A trader, he’d learned very quickly from Walter, must know a little of everything, from food to fashion.

  Procedure was king, in a trader’s world. To sell, you had to speak to the right person. Which followed that everyone wanted to talk to that person. Jem smiled at a pretty young lady who was showing fabrics to a well-dressed older woman. The girl fluttered her lashes and laughed. She was not the person he wanted to talk to, but it never hurt to be friendly. The buyer would have gatekeepers.

  He walked further into the booth, which was really four spaces all under a massive tent of cloth. Almost hidden behind one of the curtains made by a huge rug, he bowed slightly to the woman who was sitting there.

  “Greetings, Wise Mother.” He murmured, to her amusement.

  “Young man. You come for a rug, perhaps?”

&nbs
p; “I come to offer wares. And perhaps for two rugs.” He grinned at her, showing his dimple. Jem knew that it was a good feature, even if it embarrassed him.

  She smiled at him, her face a mass of wrinkles, her eyes almost vanishing with her cheeks lifting into the smile. “Two rugs! High spender!”

  He shrugged. “They are lovely, and would be exotic indeed on another world. The craftsmanship…” Jem ran his fingers lightly over the back of the one hanging beside him, the tiny knots nubbly under his touch. This one was elaborately patterned in rich reds and golden yellows.

  She grunted in approval. “Each takes at least two months for a team of weavers to complete. The fabric is easier, of course, but the rugs…”

  “Are special.” He smiled down at her, casually holding the case by his side. She wasn’t the person he needed to show it too.

  “Wait here.” She stood up slowly, her age showing in her slow movement. She lifted the corner of a hanging rug and vanished. Jem amused himself by looking at rugs, and watching the crowd through the slits afforded between their edges. Here surrounded by all the fabric, the crowd noise was muted and it was oddly hushed inside this tent, like the world was far away.

  He did hear the small noise of the rug swaying back and forth because of this. He turned to meet the buyer. She was middle-aged, motherly, and he was certain that the warm brown eyes that met his while she extended a hand for a trade-style forearm clasp were mere fronts for a cold and shrewd mind.

  “Madam,” he bowed slightly while still holding her arm, then released it as he straightened. “I am Jem, of the Tanager.”

  “Such formality.” Her lips crooked upward at the corners. “So refreshing to meet a young man with manners.”

  She did not offer her own name, he noted, and the reference to his youth made him wince internally. Already, this was not going well. She continued speaking, “I understand you are interested in rugs?”

  Perhaps the old lady hadn’t heard the bit about wares to offer. Jem moved the case slightly, and saw her eyes flicker just a little. “I am interested in two, perhaps three, depending on price.”