“You should check out the City Cash Market,” Lank had told her. “There are a few shops that sell exotic musical instruments there. If you’re ever going to find what you’re looking for, it’ll be in one of those.”
“The City Cash Market?”
Kati had the feeling that she knew the term, but could not place it.
“Your boyfriend mentioned it during one of the discussions about economics that you had with him on the Drowned Planet,” subvocalized The Monk tartly.
She would have liked to have tweaked his nose, but since that was impossible she concentrated on Lank’s explanation of the Market, instead, and on his enthusiastic discourse on how he and his band mates were hoping to be given stage time there to do a bit of busking.
“Would you be willing to take me there with you, sometime when you go?” she had asked when he had finished his exposition.
“Oh, certainly,” he had replied, looking pleased.
So here she was now, in the front of a stall, the back of which was crammed with musical instruments of all kinds. They were all of a size to be carried; no grand pianos in a shop this size.
“Can I help you with anything?”
The proprietress was a tiny woman with skin as pale as a Lamanian’s, and a shock of jet black hair. Kati realized that she was the only potential customer in the store; an odd condition in the Market. Well, this shop was off the beaten path, and selling merchandise that would not be on everyone’s shopping list.
“Acoustic stringed instruments,” she replied. “Something simple, suitable for a non-professional. I have played that sort of an instrument at an amateur level, but I don’t suppose there’s much hope of finding the kind that’s familiar to me, anywhere on Lamania. But if there’s something that I could learn fairly quickly....”
“Why don’t you come closer and we’ll take a look. If what you want can be found on this world, it’ll be right here; you’ve come to the right place.” The black-haired woman sounded totally confident.
Kati suspected that the woman’s confidence was well-placed. The merchandise in this shop was not at all like the goods she had seen in the other music shops. Apparently this collection held nothing that the Lamanians were in the habit of playing; it was an eclectic mish-mash of instruments, most of which were completely strange to her.
The proprietress directed her attention to a portion of her stock.
“Here are different types of acoustic stringed instruments,” she said. “Why don’t you take a look through them to see if there’s anything that interests you?”
Kati made her way around the short counter which divided the shop into two halves. When she neared the corner the proprietress had indicated, brilliant lights came on in it. She was amused by the contrast between the technologically advanced lighting system, designed not to waste energy, and the seemingly carelessly stacked abundance of simple musical instruments, filling the shelves, and hanging from long hooks on the walls. Probably the managers of the city music shops would have been aghast had they seen the apparent lack of consideration for the wares in this shop; yet the shop itself struck Kati as a microcosm of what she had seen of Lamania so far. The world was dependent on a sophisticated level of technology developed so long ago that the people took it for granted. At the same time they allowed, and even absolutely delighted in, aspects of existence that required only a minimal level of technology, or none at all. Maybe that was the way a world came to operate once it had spent more than a millennium as a star-travelling civilization, and had remained sanely intact. Maybe, once people got used to having the benefits of technology, and no longer were afraid of falling back into barbarism, they simply stopped worshipping it, and began to revel in the simple aspects of life.
“Or else, maybe they degenerate into slave-owners like the Vultairians seem to have done,” The Monk subvocalized.
Yeah, the Granda could have a point. But then, the Oligarchy was not by any means all of Vultaire. What sort of suppressed, simmering unrest were she and her team going to find among the masses that formed the underclass beholden to the Four Hundred Families?
Kati returned her attention to the task at hand, and asked the node to help her scan the merchandise around her.
“You might want to take a closer look at the instrument hanging, between two others, on a hook to the left, and above, the most cluttered shelf,” The Monk subvocalized after a moment.
Kati peered at the object the granda had singled out. Hm....
She turned to look at the proprietress who now was talking to a well-dressed Lamanian who had just entered the shop. The short shop-owner was not going to be much help when it came to reaching the object that Kati was interested in. However, there was a stepladder by the counter; Kati took it, checked that it was sturdy, and of an ingenious design that would allow the tiny black-haired woman to reach the ceiling if she wanted to. For this task, Kati did not need any fancy features, just some extra height to reach and retrieve the instrument.
She climbed back down to the shop floor, her mind reeling. She was holding in her hands a simple, inexpensive acoustic guitar in excellent shape! It was not all that different from the one that she had played on Earth, before she had been abducted! How did it come to be here, in this little shop in the City Cash Market of The Second City of Lamania?
Kati ran her fingers experimentally across the strings and the resulting sound was surprisingly sweet. The instrument must have been someone’s treasure, she decided; then noticed that there was a pouch attached to the strap. She opened it to find a few picks and a bundle of replacement strings. Yes, the guitar had been somebody’s treasure, indeed!
“You found something of interest?”
The proprietress and the Lamanian customer had turned to watch her. The sound Kati had made running her hand along the strings must have alerted them.
“Where did you get this?” Kati asked, lifting up the guitar.
“Hm.” The woman looked thoughtful. Her eyes lost their focus for a second; she consulted her node. “A Free Trader brought in that one, along with a few other items, some months ago, saying that it was a thing so rare that I would never see its like as long as I lived. I told him that its rarity wasn’t worth anything to me, rather the opposite. People buy what they can play, or can learn to play; there are those who merely display the instruments, but not many among my customers. So I didn’t pay him nearly what he wanted for the thing, and after haggling for a while he finally saw reason, and let me have it for what I thought a fair price. I’ve sold the other instruments that I bought from him, but that one has been, well, just hanging from the wall.
“If you want it, I’ll sell it to you for what I paid for it, plus ten percent, just to be rid of it.”
“How much would that be?” Kati asked.
The proprietess stated the amount, in the colour-coded tokens of the Market. Kati had no idea whether it was a lot or little, but she figured that the nearest credit machine should be able to tell her whether or not it was within her means. She lay the guitar on the counter and told the black-haired woman that she would return as soon as she had obtained the tokens.
“The nearest machine is just outside the next shop,” the woman told her, and Kati left her to transact her business with the Lamanian while she headed out.
“Tokens are not a problem,” subvocalized the Granda as soon as she had accessed the machine. “The Professional Level of Rewards is a sweet gig. You are surely one of fortune’s favourites when it comes to finances. On the Drowned World the Kitfi handed you and your bud enough coins to travel halfway across the planet in comfort. And now you have lucked into the Professional Level of Rewards, even though you’ve been here only a short while!”
“I did do a thing or two to earn my pay,” Kati muttered under her breath while accessing the machine.
She collected the brightly coloured tokens into the bag that she had brought with her for the purpose. It was the same bag that she had used for coins on Makros III;
she grinned at the memory. Having it full again with what amounted to cash money gave her a nice feeling of power and possibility.
Back at the music shop, the proprietress had brought out a case for the guitar. The Lamanian had gone, and once again Kati was the only customer.
“The case came with the instrument and I got it for the same price so I’m not about to charge you for it, either,” the tiny woman said as she displayed it. “Assuming you want it.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
Gratefully, Kati counted out the price onto the counter from the money bag, and stowed the guitar into its case while the shop owner swept the tokens into a drawer. She thanked the tiny woman, hanging the guitar case jauntily over her shoulder, and left the shop, somewhat bewildered by her luck. She had found an actual guitar in good condition, the very instrument that she could use right away!
A Free Trader had sold it to the shop owner! How had the Free Trader got hold of it?
*****
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the notorious, adventuring Wilder lass.”
Kati had been so absorbed in her thoughts of the mysterious guitar which had just become her property, that she nearly ran into the threesome who were exiting a restaurant, and taking up most of the narrow aisle as they did so. She was still in the alley with the music shop, and the restaurant was an imposing structure for the narrow passage; a large sign announcing that it was equipped with privacy dampers fronted it. Until the morning’s Orientation, Kati had had no idea what privacy dampers were, but now she knew that the bright networks of filaments above the terrace tables kept the customers conversations from being overheard by the neighbouring patrons. A useful addition in a culture where eavesdroppers could have long ears, but they had to be turned off during entertainment since they interfered with such.
So Aris and Maka had chosen to take the dark-haired, olive-skinned, short woman that they had met after Kati had run into them at Stage 17, to a Market restaurant with privacy dampers. The stalls did not have them, nor did any of the other large eateries that Kati had seen. Clandestine business, is that what the Vultairian Exalted were into?
“I recognize the woman,” The Monk subvocalized acidly. “Milla, the Madame Gorsh, has come to Lamania to inquire after her son, no doubt. You better let me ride your ESP and check this out.”
“Fancy meeting you here,” Kati muttered to Aris, even as she sent the Granda on its quest.
She had been instrumental in bringing to justice Slaver Gorsh’s son Joakim, who had tossed a flash bomb onto a Makros III trail along which Kati and her three companions had been riding on runnerbeasts. They had avoided the flattening of all life that a flash bomb causes, thanks to the alertness of The Monk, and the judicious use of Kati’s PSI abilities to direct them to a safe spot, but she had not forgiven the needless destruction that she had witnessed. As far as she was concerned, Joakim could rot in a dungeon for years to come. As a mother, however, she could understand Madame Gorsh’s desire to see and help her child, even though, as she saw it, Joakim had proved himself to be a callow idiot.
“Madame Gorsh, in case you don’t happen to recognize this miss from the Lamanian VidFeeds, she is the one who helped to capture and convict your son,” Aris said. “How much help she was, remains questionable; the Agent Mikal r’ma Trodden is apparently rather sweet on her, so we don’t know if his tales are trustworthy, and she herself has refused to talk.”
“Vultairian Exalted have a talent for being insulting even when they don’t try,” snarled The Monk, back to report: “They’re doing business of some sort with the Madame. I can’t get details but I’d guess that there are human bodies involved, and attempts to spring Joakim from Federation jail. Shall I pass that information on to Joaley? She’s tracking you, you know? She can send it on to further authorities.”
Kati bit her lip. Lamanians and their unobtrusive security systems! So the City Peace Officers had sicced Joaley onto her to ensure her safety at the Market! And she had been revelling in the sensation of being alone in a crowd!
“Your privacy has not been breached,” the Granda objected. “But you have to admit that Gorsh’s wife showing up, here, in the company of two Vultairian Exalted has some serious safety implications! Do I report or no?”
Reluctantly she gave The Monk permission to contact Joaley via the tracer. Meanwhile....
“She seems to have a way with men,” Madame Gorsh was sniffing. “My husband told me that he had intended, before she disappeared from his ship, to bring her home as a second wife. A pity he didn’t succeed. The Estate could have used another able body, and apparently she is fertile, a matter of great importance to my man. I could have shorn her of some of her airs, too.”
Maka and Aris burst out laughing.
“A fate designed for the likes of her,” giggled Maka.
Kati held on to her temper, and turned to stalk off.
“Wife number two, birthing a baby after a baby!” she heard Aris chortle as she left. “While not digging tubers, of course.”
*****
Joaley met Kati where the side aisle joined the main walkway. The red-head drew her into the crowd before speaking.
“I sent Ramha and a couple of others to follow those three,” she said. “We don’t have tracers on any of them, so we have to do this the old-fashioned way. Their descriptions are going around, and whatever it is that they’re up to, we’ll try to find out.
“Lamanian Law doesn’t allow us to arrest Madame Gorsh, since, as far as we know, she hasn’t broken any laws. You can’t be picked up just for being someone’s wife or mother, more’s the pity.
“The Vultairian Exalted couple are Aris and Maka Margolis, attached to the Vultairian Office on the Federation Space Station. What their roles are, I don’t know, neither of them is a Senator or any other Government Official. But a lot of Senators and Diplomatic Offices have paid hangers-on, doing this, that and another thing. It’s not unusual.”
“But they’re consorting with the wife of a known Slave Trader,” Kati muttered.
“Exactly,” Joaley agreed. “Maryse can add this to her list of reasons for wanting an Official Investigation into the Vultairian Oligarchs.
“Oh, and listen to this.” Joaley brightened considerably. “That young man, Lank’s band mate, from whom you redirected the Margolises’ attention, is actually a Vultairian Ordinary Citizen who has residency status here in The Second City. If you could get him to talk....”
“I’ll try, if I get the chance. By the way, Joaley, can you do music, play an instrument, perhaps?”
“Can I play an instrument?” Joaley grinned and mimed playing the pipes. “Can a bird fly? Shall I demonstrate rikah-playing one of these days?”
“Great. I’ll try to find out from Cary if they have buskers where we’re going. Or maybe Rakil has already done so; I did ask him to look into it.”
“She said to remind you that you’re being monitored,” The Monk told Kati after she and Joaley separated. “You’re as safe as the City Peace Officers can make you. Milla and the Margolises will have to content themselves with further insults if they’re in the mood to trouble you.”
*****
“Is Lank really going off somewhere with you, Kati of Terra?” Cary asked when Kati had retraced her steps to what served as the backstage of Stage 17.
The other two Wailing Wilders were already gone. The opportunity to spend time with a VidFeed favourite did not, apparently, trump a couple’s quality time.
“Taryn and Jod are going to be a pain, with Lank gone,” Cary added, sighing. “It’s all kissy-huggy with them, these days.”
“I know a couple of flute players besides me, Cary,” Lank soothed him. “Talk to them, and pick one to replace me, before those two can bring in somebody that they’re tight with.”
“Want to go and talk about this somewhere, and have a bite to eat?” Kati asked. “My treat.”
Cary looked at her and smiled.
“I couldn’t pass by the opp
ortunity of eating a meal paid for by Kati of Terra,” he said. “I’ll be able to brag about it for months.”
“Don’t believe everything they tell you on the VidFeeds,” Kati admonished.
“Come on, Kati,” objected Lank. “That stuff is taken from node-verified records. Nodes can’t lie.”
“No, they can’t,” Kati agreed, adding: “But people can pick and choose what they present, and what they leave out. That can be as effective as lying.”
Cary gave her a long look.
“Intelligent woman,” he said. “Which is exactly what Mikal r’ma Trodden said when he was interviewed. Don’t underestimate her because she comes from who-knows-where. She’s plenty smart, he said.”
“I’m from the backwoods of a back of beyond planet,” Kati added wryly. “But, no, I don’t think I’m stupid, although I’m not well versed in the ways of the Federation, or of Lamania. I still have lots to learn.”
They had left the stage area.
“Did you want to see and listen to what’s on at one of the other stages while we eat,” Cary asked her, ”or should we go into one of the places with tables?”
“I kind of wanted a place where we could be sure of talking privately,” Kati said. “The stage seating certainly doesn’t have privacy dampers.”
Lank raised his eyebrows at her, but for the moment she ignored the implied question.
“I don’t think that most of the restaurants here in the Market provide that service,” Cary said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if there are any such places here....”
“Actually, I walked by a restaurant that had a sign saying that they had dampers,” Kati contradicted him. “When I was walking here from the music shop where I bought this.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 8
