Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (32 page)

“We
must be careful to avoid passing this way at night.”

“It
would be worth your life to do less,” Belstan heartily agreed, and kicked at a
dog harrying his ankles.

They
located a central area that seemed to be the center of trading. The place
bustled with activity as established merchants opened their booths.

“The
best locations are taken,” Belstan grumbled. “I am afraid we will have to
settle for what is left.”

He
let his load drop and bent to loosen the bindings. Jeff did likewise, saw that
the poles in Zimma’s arms were about to go every which way, and grabbed on.

“Okay,
we got it. Let it down.”

With
a surprised glance at Jeff, she did so. Zimma didn’t know what to say and began
sorting through the poles.

“I
will return to the launch and see to transporting trade goods.”

“That
would be most helpful, Jeffrey. Zimma and I will assemble the booth.”

Waves
of heat shimmered up from the sand, and Jeff took his time. Intrigued by the
hodgepodge of people swarming the area, he moseyed from one point of interest
to the other. Right out of Treasure Island, Jeff concluded, except this bunch
smell like a sewer. Belstan had pointed out Arzaks on the way into town. Jeff
counted fifteen before it occurred to him that he had not seen a single woman.

The
Arzaks radiated arrogance as they swaggered by in loose silken pants, high
boots and multicolored blouses. Dark haired and dark skinned, all were armed to
the teeth. Jeff frowned when an Arzak bulled his way past several traders,
sending one to his knees.

“This
is really going to be sweet. One dildo and a pack of assholes. How in hell are
we ever going to protect her?”

At
the beach, Jeff sent the launch to fetch more help. When they returned he
headed back with arms full of trading goods, cursing the sand. The crew trailed
along behind, likewise encumbered and cursing.

Arriving
soaked with sweat and short of breath, Jeff gratefully set his load down. Their
booth, no more than an elaborate tent with a counter, was assembled. He noticed
that several guy lines were loose and went in search of a hammer. Jeff was
driving the last peg when two brightly robed merchants wearing spiral turbans
approached the counter.

By
mid-morning the area was packed. The air was filled with loud, often aggravated
bargaining as individuals and groups of men moved from location to location.
Adding to the noise, food vendors hawked their wares while wrestling carts
through the sand.

After
a period of standing around doing very little, Jeff decided to break free of
their booth. He was completely out of his element where trading was concerned.
The energy and excited wrangling of the crowd had also proven contagious.

Wandering
the bazaar, Jeff discovered the booths tended to be segregated by nationality.
When he found the Arzak section, Jeff moved from booth to booth fingering
merchandise and listening. Before long the trading patois began to make sense.
He could communicate.

The
glint of steel caught his eye and Jeff hurried to a rambling booth given over
to expansive display counters.

“Well,
now,” he murmured. “A weapons dealer, and it looks like good stuff.”

Jeff
picked up a curved sword similar to his saber and held it out to gaze along the
blade. It was true. Gripping the haft lightly, he found the balance to be quite
good. The blade had every appearance of high-grade carbon steel that had been
carefully forged and annealed.

While
the Arzaks he had seen so far had left a very negative impression, he was
impressed with the quality of their forging. Jeff whistled under his breath
when the blade cleanly shaved a section of his arm without the slightest drag.
The shop’s rotund proprietor watched Jeff flex the blade and try a few passes
before sauntering over.

“Interested
in good steel, Khorgan?”

“You
might say it is a passion of mine.”

They
debated the pros and cons of straight versus curved blades, hilt styles, and a
wealth of other points. The proprietor knew his trade and was also an
accomplished salesman. Before he knew it, Jeff decided to purchase a dirk that
caught his fancy.

Haggling
a mutually agreeable price was a new experience. It became enjoyable when he
realized the hand waving and outrage were no more than part of the process.
While the man was certainly an Arzak, Jeff found nothing to criticize. By the
sale’s conclusion they had developed a certain respect for one another and
exchanged names.

As
the purchase price changed hands, Saafir leaned close to whisper, “Be cautious,
Jeffrey. You are from Khorgan. Not all among us are honest traders.”

Moving
on with a sardonic smile, Jeff muttered, “No shit.”

In
response to hunger pangs he purchased something that looked vaguely like an egg
roll and took a cautious bite. The afternoon was well along when he wandered
back to home base. In spite of the late hour, a number of customers were still
waiting to be served.

Ducking
through the back and into heavenly shade, Jeff sat down on a crate and toyed
with his new dirk. Some time later Belstan bid farewell to the last customer
and dropped rattan curtains into place. He poured the day’s receipts onto a
makeshift table with loving care. Cracking his knuckles to warm up, Belstan proceeded
to sort the take with flying fingers.

Zimma
joined him and tallied the various stacks. She abruptly stopped and pointed.
“That coin is the wrong denomination.” Plucking the coin out of a pile, she
dropped it in another. Belstan appeared embarrassed at his mistake.

Those
two are cut out of the same cloth, Jeff decided with a grin. What a pair of
traders. Realizing he had just had a positive thought about Zimma, Jeff wiped
the grin off his face. He figured it was safe to break the intense silence when
Zimma began scooping money into a bag.

“A
good day, Belstan?”

“A
most propitious day. A few more such and all our trade goods will be sold. If
our suspicions are found wanting, I can assure you we will return.”

Jeff
passed on what he had been told while buying the dirk. “Something is going on
that has nothing to do with trade. The question is what.”

“My
observations agree,” Belstan replied. “Perhaps one out of three Arzaks have any
commercial interest here. However, I have not yet heard or observed anything
that is sufficient to explain their presence. I believe we must stay on shore
this night and see what may be discovered.”

“I
see no other option myself. There’s risk but also opportunity.”

“Considerable
risk.” Belstan directed his gaze toward Zimma. “Although you will not like my
saying this, lass, you must return to the Baktar. While your presence has
attracted a great deal of business, I have also had four offers to purchase
you. They were polite offers, but what will the night bring?”

Zimma
stared at Belstan in open disbelief. “Purchase me? Purchase me?”

“This
is not Khorgan, Zimma,” Belstan replied with an eloquent shrug.

Fire
leaped into her eyes, and Zimma gripped the hilt of her sword. “No such man
shall ever lay hand on me, lest it be as he dies!”

“Proud
words, young lady,” Belstan said, slowly shaking his head. “The opportunity for
self defense is never given. This night you must sleep on board.”

“If
I am to spend the night on the Baktar, you will surely have to first truss then
carry me there.”

After
Zimma and Belstan had been arguing for some time, Jeff decided to risk a
comment. “Milady, even during daylight there is no way we can protect you if
you wander off alone. At night our position becomes impossible. While I know
nothing of the slave trade between Arzak and Borgo, I am familiar with its
history in the country of my birth. You are an attractive woman from a small
trading mission. Can you not see that this is liable to pose an irresistible
temptation to them?”

Her
temper was boiling and Zimma whirled on Jeff, but the hot words rushing to her
lips were waylaid. She paused to wonder, What does he mean by attractive? Eyes
sparking, Zimma stared at Jeff for a moment before abruptly turning back to
Belstan.

“Very
well. I agree. The risk is real and I do not wish to jeopardize our mission. I
will not leave this enclosure unless accompanied by yourselves or members of
the crew.” Although Zimma was still playing with a particular word, she had
made up her mind. “I am, however, going to remain ashore this night.”

The
defiant tilt to Zimma’s chin decided Jeff. He would take his winnings and run.
“Agreed. Let us hope it proves to be quiet.”

The
night started out with a fistfight nearby. Matters rapidly deteriorated as
bonfires were lighted and alcohol started to flow. To a man, the traders that
stayed ashore barricaded themselves behind their trade goods. It didn’t take
long for Jeff and Belstan to give up any notion of poking around. They piled up
a bulwark of crates to block the rear of the booth and lighted a lantern.

Zimma
watched shadow figures leap and stagger around the nearest bonfire accompanied
by instruments that wailed and moaned. Horrified yet also attracted by the
grotesque saturnalia, she leaned over the counter to see better.

A
slurred shout rang out, “Come play, lettle cunt!”

Even
though she was sure they couldn’t see her, Zimma hurriedly withdrew. Belstan
put an arm around her shoulders and wondered how long it would take to run to
the lake. It wasn’t long before they heard the clash of swords from several
directions, screams mixing with drunken songs. The larger moon seemed to spring
over the horizon, lending enough cool light to pick out the larger brawls.

The
moon was about to set and bonfires had died down to coals when a dozen or so
Arzaks stumbled out of the darkness swigging on clay bottles. Belching loudly,
one of them staggered closer and leered at Zimma.

“That
slutch ish too good for you Khorgan scum. Now you will shell her to me, then
she will have a man between her legs!”

Reeling
back, he jerked out a greasy pouch of coins and slammed it onto the counter.
Before any of them could react, the Arzak grabbed the front of Zimma’s light
blouse and yanked her against the counter. Jeff’s arm snapped into a looping
right cross with a lot of muscle behind it. His fist landed square on the
Arzak’s nose with a mushy thud. The man staggered backward and took several of
his companions to the ground in a struggling pile.

Grossly
obese, clothing soaked with grease, the Arzak staggered to his feet roaring
oaths and spouting blood from his nose. Another Arzak ran out of the darkness
with drawn sword and rammed its hilt against the drunk’s head, felling him.
Booting two or three more, he sent them on their way dragging what looked like
a corpse.

The
Arzak watched them out of sight then strolled over to the booth. Without a
word, he stared at Zimma’s chest. Jeff felt a wave of revulsion and moved to
block his view. The Arzak raised his eyes. Jeff was reminded of the first hyena
he had killed, and thought, This guy is fucking crazy. He’s drooling!

Scooping
up the purse, the Arzak stalked off wiping at his mouth.

Things
had happened so fast that Zimma was just starting to react. Jeff turned to see
how she was.

“Are
you…”

The
front of Zimma’s blouse was gone. One up-tilted breast was fully exposed and
gleamed white in the lantern light. As he watched, the other bounced free.
Desperately staring at anything but her chest, Jeff grabbed a towel and draped
it around Zimma’s shoulders. Only then did she look down.

She
gasped, took one look at the blush on Jeff’s face, and her own flamed red.
“I...I…Oh! Gods and demons!”

Furious
at what had been done to her, she also felt such a rush of excruciating modesty
that she could hardly lift her eyes from the sandy floor. It was an entirely
new experience. Clutching the towel across her chest with one hand, Zimma took
Jeff’s with the other.

“Thank
you for defending me.”
 

She
held his eyes briefly then looked away, blush flaming anew. During that moment,
a period that existed in another time and place free of self-deception, some
vital thing passed between them that neither really understood. Letting his
hand go, Zimma hurried to the back of the enclosure in search of a spare
blouse. When she was clothed, Belstan confronted her.

“You
will not spend another night ashore. If necessary, I shall indeed have you
trussed and taken aboard.”

Zimma
was badly shaken and silently nodded agreement. There was little sleep to be
had, but customers began to gather shortly after the sun was up and business
was business. Jeff paused on his way out of the booth.

“We
don’t have a lot of time. I’m going to see what I can find on the far side of
town.”

Belstan
did no more than wave acknowledgement. His attention was focused on a customer
heading toward the booth. Zimma paused from setting up a change drawer to favor
Jeff with a shy smile. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a very nice smile.