Chanur's Legacy (13 page)

She understood what Tiar was getting at. She didn’t particularly want to listen to it.

“If you turn him out on the docks,” Tiar said, “the mahendo’sat are going to pick him up. There’s no question. They’ll assume he knows what they want to know.”

“He’s also not Chanur,
not
involved with us, he’s Sahern crew, they’re coming here, and if we’re holding him ...”

“He doesn’t want to go to them. He wants to stay with Chanur.”

“He’s in love with my gods-forsaken aunt! He’s a fool kid, light-years from home on a notion—“

“A gods-forsaken ticking bomb,” Chihin said. “We have a stsho aboard this ship, a stsho that we daren’t upset. We have a kid with healthy hormones right around the corner from
gtst
honor and the Preciousness
we’re
now supposed to get to Kita—beyond which, there’s precious few choices where we’re going, captain.”

“If they’re Pyanfar’s, she’ll sort it out. If they’re not—and we help them, they’ll cut our throats.”

“What happens if
our
stsho fragments and decides
gtst
is the queen of the gods?”

“We have a problem,” Tarras said, which brought them back to point one.

“Honorable,” Hilfy said, not cheerfully. “I have news.”

A languid wave.
Gtst
was restoring
gtst
body-paint, carefully brushing a pattern down a white forearm.
Gtst
completed it with a flourish.

In strictest courtesy, Hilfy invited herself into the bowl-chair and sat down.

“There has been a complication,” she began.

“Then your honor can surely solve it. Are you not hired to do so?”

“Would your honor care for tea?” She made a slight wave of the hand toward the door, and Fala, with tea-service in hand.

“If your honor sees fit.”
Gtst
looked anxious, waving the newly painted arm, arranging
gtst
draperies.

With a species that tended to dissociate psychologically at grievous upsets—five rounds of tranquilizing tea seemed perhaps a good idea. Especially since it was their stsho and their contract, with the Precious-ness enthroned in its case above their heads.

Five cups, in which Fala contrived not to spill anything on the white cushions, in which their juniormost acquitted herself with commendable self-possession.

“We hope your honor has been comfortable such as our hospitality has been able to provide.”

“We have survived. We are composed. The Preciousness in our possession is unmolested. We could not ask more of your meager circumstances.”

Snobbish son.

“May your honor,”
gtst
asked, “choose to inform us of the matter which troubles your peace?”

“Regarding the intended recipient of the
oji.”

“The Preciousness.”

“The Preciousness. Would it surprise your honor in the least to know that the intended recipient has—em— quit
gtst
post?”

Shocked pale eyes lifted and centered on her face. “Impossible.”

So
gtst
did not know in advance. Perhaps her surmises were unjust and mistaken.

“Quit
gtst
post so far as the mahendo’sat have been willing to inform me. Should they have reason to lie? One of them has been quite forward in asking me to allow him access here.”

“No! A thousandfold no! This is insupportable. This is
unthinkable!”
Paint spilled as
gtst
jostled the bottle. “Oh, where are my servants? The paint, the precious pigments, —oh, my predecessors, oh, my honor, oh, my reputation, oh, I am wounded! I perish, wai! I perish!”

It was blotting furiously—impossible to tell whether the migration of Atli-lyen-tlas was the shock, or the paint, or the reference to mahendo’sat, but
gtst
was highly agitated, breathing in great gasps, and Fala came running, cups rattling on the tray, all the while the honorable was fighting for breath and clear as clear was the possibility of a dissolution before their eyes.

“Be calm!” Hilfy said, unsure whether to lay hands on the creature or not. “Be calm! Your honor is not in question, most honorable, most excellent! Calm yourself, breathe quietly—“

The stsho did listen. Moonstone eyes gazed at her in shock, a paint-spattered hand clutched a paint-stained fold of
gtst
robe to
gtst
breast, and it shook and trembled and lifted and lowered
gtst
plume-augmented crest in high agitation.

“We are empowered to search further!” Hilfy said, reaching for vocabulary. What
was
the ceremonial deferative singular for “personality disintegration” and was it appropriate to use it? “You are in no wise responsible for this, honorable! There is every possibility
gtst
excellency foresaw such an event—we find it in the contract!”

“In the contract.”

“In the contract, honorable.”

“But
gtst
excellency should have confided in me,
gtst
excellency has dishonored me—“

“Gtst
excellency has entrusted you with the Preciousness. Has
gtst
not? Or should we not question that? Should we ask what is in that box?”

Moonstone eyes went wide and horrified. And
gtst
looked up and up and around, where the shipping box sat within its braces.

“Must we not be certain? Would you
recognize
the Preciousness if you saw it?”

“Of course! Of course! Oh, the villainy in your mind!” Tlisi-tlas-tin scrambled to an undignified exit from the chair, trailing paint-soaked robes over the white cushions and the tiles of the floor,
gtst
long fingers sought the shipping latches and undid them, waving Fala’s offered help away in indignation.
Gtst
undid the latches of the box itself, and Hilfy held her breath, unbearably driven to reach out restraining hands in case it should fall.

But there in the plush white liner sat a white, carved—vase, one supposed. Is this it? Hilfy wondered; Fala looked puzzled; but Tlisi-tlas-tin sank down with a sigh and fluttered
gtst
fingers, held a hand to
gtst
chest, and muttered, “I am vindicated. I am vindicated,
gtst
excellency has not lied to me.”

“We had no doubt of your honor,” Hilfy ventured to say, and stood by as Tlisi-tlas-tin picked
gtstself
off the pastel-smeared floor, in the wreckage of
gtst
finery.
Gtst
struck as belligerent and proud a pose as a creature could, that a gust of breath could shatter.

“But this is a pen for
animals!
I cannot possibly abide these circumstances! Look at me! The Precious-ness cannot abide in this wreckage! My honor! My reputation!”

Hilfy thought of another word, but she bowed with great courtesy and smiled. “We are of course concerned. We will act instantly to rectify this unfortunate circumstance.”

“Immediately! I cannot abide this! Oh, the injustice, oh, the cruelty, oh, the perfidy!”

“
What
perfidy, honorable?”

“I
demand
to see the next highest stsho authority, I
demand
to have access to this individual!”

“Honorable, —“

“I am wronged, oh, predecessors and antecedents, I am wronged, most grievously!”

Fala made a glance toward the overhead. But in space there was no direction for heaven.

And the gods were probably busy with aunt Pyanfar.

Potential spies everywhere, Haisi blackmailing them for access to the stsho
they
had contracted to protect, and the stsho in question wailing and moaning and lamenting betrayals on the part of the stsho ambassador to Urtur,
and
of the staff of said ambassador, who did not return calls.

And
the honorable Tlisi-tlas-tin’s quarters were a shambles,
gtst
person was a shambles,
gtst
affairs were a shambles, and in a species that Phased under stress, into new and unpredictable psychological configurations…

The Preciousness might end up in the hands of a completely different individual, for which—Hilfy hesitated even to send the legal program on another search through the contract and the handbook of Compact law looking for legal responsibility.
Gtst
honor was tottering on the edge of dissolution and
gtst
wanted the damage to
gtst
quarters repaired,
gtst
wanted the colors changed,
gtst
wanted new clothing, and a better diet, and entertainments and amenities.

Which meant scouring the market for stsho items, checking through what
they
had in cargo cans;
and
dealing with customs one more time.

“You got problem?” a mahen voice said; and Hilfy turned to find the scoundrel on her track—
following
her, gods rot him. Maybe not even doing the watching himself ... just have some underling do it, and call him for the intercept.

“What do you want?”

“Want make deal. Hear you look for stsho stuff. Hear you want make buy stuff like deck tile, like
‘vuli
cloth, like ...”

“How
nice
you got all these things to sell me! Good price, huh?”

“You funny. Amuse stsho?”

She started to walk away. He got in front of her.

“Hear you try talk stsho embas-sy. Not possible. Stsho shut down. Some go Meetpoint. Some Kita.”

“You’ve had yourself a main proper disaster here, haven’t you? You try to break off trade with the stsho? Try to screw up politic for my aunt?”

“I friend
Pyanfar.” Hand on chest. “My personage friend with Pyanfar, number one try do good for you.” Haisi Ana-kehnandian glanced about as casual traffic passed, and he made an unwelcome catch at her elbow. “You want stsho stuff, I get for you. Easy done. Stuff all over embassy. Nice stuff, number one stsho furniture.”

“Breaking and entering? Pirated goods?”

“Shush, shush, don’t make noise ever’body hear. You come. I fix, you get.”

“You drove the whole gods-forsaken stsho embassy off Urtur, and you want to help me? No thanks! Go talk to the kif, they appreciate a pirate!”

“Don’t be fool. You want clear customs? You want get stuff on ship, same deal you got get customs stamp. Customs don’t let you trade till you cleared, hani, you got figure how things are.”

One could figure how things were. One could figure somebody was in tight with the officials at some level.

“You want stop whole deal for redecorate stsho cabin?” Haisi asked. “That funny.”

“Who said?”

“Funny thing you got real white shopping list. Stsho emissary not happy with decor? Maybe lot stress on this person?”

“Go to hell,” she said.

And walked off, walked and took a lift and a transport bus to the dockside customs office.

And got the official no. No onloading if there was a hold on offloading.

“So what if a ship pulls in here and doesn’t want to sell to you? You’re not going to let them buy?”

Her fist landed on the counter. “I don’t believe that!”

“Not same. Not same. You got hold on you cargo. Not same legal situation. You want deal, you let custom inspector see contraband.”

“It’s not contraband! It’s stsho diplomatic property!”

“Make you appeal stsho mission.”

“There
is
no stsho mission on Urtur! You scared it off!”

“Not us scare off. Maybe this object you got scare them.”

“No way! News of it got here with
my ship!
No way they know about it. You ask Haisi Ana-kehnandian what spooked them, you ask him what in your seventh reprehensible hell he knows about our cargo and who’s pockets he’s got access to. I want to talk to the stationmaster, I want to talk to the personage of this station, I want a legal accounting of every paper you’ve brought against us, and I want my ship cleared!”

“You not yell in this office!”

“I by the gods yell in this office, I yell until somebody contacts the personage of Urtur and
gets my customs slip cleared,
and no more of this talk about invading a stsho emissary’s privacy and searching his baggage!”

There was a disturbance at the door behind her. A mahen voice registered protest in some alien tongue, another joined it before she could even look around. She did look, and there was a handful of mahen spacers
and
Haisi Ana-kehnandian shoving other business out the door.

He shut the door and held it then, with a wall of large mahendo’sat.

She
missed
carrying a gun. Gods, she did. Claws came out. Haisi twitched and she went over the counter, scattering customs personnel left and right. Chairs went over, clerks jammed up in an inner office door and shrieked in panic.

“Hani!” Haisi shouted. “You stop, stop now! You listen!”

Nobody had guns. But they had the door. There were clerks under desks. The group behind her squeezed into the room and shut that door.

“Where’s your authority? Where’s any proof you’re not a pirate, Haisi Ana-kehnandian? Unblock that door!”

“All right, all right.” Haisi made calming gestures. “You not break furniture, Chanur captain. You got important relative, no reason break place up. Don’t be damn fool!”

“I got important relative, same time got real distrust of people who get pushy, mahe. You want I charge piracy? You want I say you try damn underhanded trick with customs? I want to talk to the stationmaster, I want to talk right now, and no more tricks!”

“Stationmaster indispos’”

“Indisposed like the stsho ambassador? Indisposed like run for Iji?”

“You talk wild, hani. No. Indispos’ like not take time talk with every damn’ fool got problem.”

Damn’ fool was close to the point. Something was seriously wrong at Urtur, and the more they suspected she knew the less likely she was to get out of this room, much less out of the port. Far better to have played outraged trader.

“I want my ship cleared! I want customs clearance, I want my record cleared,
I
want to
sell my cargo
when and if and at what price I choose, and I want an end of interference with my business.”

“You want tell what sort object you carry?”

“No, I don’t. It’s none of your gods-rotted business! You get out from in front of that door, you get yourself and your crew out of my way! This is a public office. If I don’t see a badge, an authorization, or a personage, I’m not giving you anything. And if you try to hold me, my ship—a
Chanur
ship—is going to carry a complaint to the Compact.”