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Colemenoport

Offices of the

Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission


The tone of the meeting had eased considerably.

Merchant zerKilin had several more probing questions regarding the master trader’s probable plans for Colemenoport.

He also questioned her closely regarding the protocol of a whole port inventory. Padi was pleased to share with him the relevant section of the Traders Guild guidelines, for which courtesy he thanked her gravely, before making inquiries into what he might do to prepare for Tree-and-Dragon’s qe’andra.

As their arranged end-time drew near, he took the initiative, closing the meeting gracefully a few minutes early. He very properly asked her to convey his respect to the master trader, as well as his hope that they would soon have an opportunity to sit together and build upon today’s beginnings.

He stood, and allowed her to conduct him to the door, where he paused with a broad smile.

“I hope you will not take it amiss, if I should send ’round a case of wine for the comfort of the trade mission—and some sparkling juice, as well, for those times when wine will not do.”

It was possible that he thought he was buying access to the master trader with his wine and juice—but it was equally possible that he was merely doing what other vendors at other ports had done—making certain that their name was remembered by attaching it to something pleasant.

Whatever his intent, his manner was graceful, and Padi thanked him for his care before bowing him out into the hallway.

Returning to the meeting room, she refreshed herself, reviewed the master trader’s notes for her third and final meeting on the morning, with Luzant Zandir kezlBlythe.

The notes were sparse, and she was quickly the master of them. Rising, she took the used teacups to the little kitchen area behind the main meeting room, refilled the kettle and set it to warm.

She had just arranged the new cups and fresh pot on the buffet when the blue light over the door flashed twice, and a tone sounded.

Her third appointment had arrived.

Padi moved to her place at the table, and remained standing as the door opened to admit a woman with cropped grey hair wearing clothing made in a different style than the port-folk. Merchants and administrators wore a tunic or vest over long pants, and the sort of low sturdy boots favored, so Padi had observed, by those who stood, or walked, for much of their day, no matter the world. The merchants preferred sober blues, greens, and maroons, and a brightly colored shirt beneath the long vest.

Zandir kezlBlythe wore an eye-searing yellow vest decorated with abstract embroidery done in iridescent black cord. The black shirt beneath the vest was some light fabric that rippled and shone like silk; the long flowing pants were scarlet.

Her yellow boots had high red heels, thick soles, and slightly upturned toes.

Padi bowed.

“Ma’am,” she said politely. “I am Padi yos’Galan, trader attached to t—”

“Yes,” the woman interrupted, her voice sharp and high. “I had the master trader’s note. Press of business. Apologies for the necessity of his absence at a prearranged meeting. His second will meet with me instead, and I may deal with her as I would himself.”

She paused there and gave Padi a narrow-eyed stare.

Padi kept her face pleasant—and waited.

“Well,” said Zandir kezlBlythe, sharpness somewhat lessened. “Perhaps it is a fortunate meeting, Trader. I ask you to pardon a bit of temper. I had set some store on coming to an agreement with the master trader today.”

Padi tipped her head.

“I fear the master trader’s notes do not mention an agreement, ma’am. May I serve you some tea, and ask you to amend my ignorance?”

“No tea. The agreement has not yet been reached. I hoped to accomplish it at this meeting.”

She walked over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat. Padi likewise sat—and said nothing.

Zandir kezlBlythe folded her hands together on the table. She wore an abundance of rings. Colemeno port-folk did not wear rings of rank in the Liaden style. But this woman was not port-folk. It came to Padi that she might, indeed, be a representative of the local iteration of a High House.

“The master trader is presently concentrating his attention upon Colemenoport, as he must. What he may not understand is that he will need contacts—dare I say, friends—in Haven City, in order to realize his ambitions at the port. The kezlBlythe family is known and respected in the city. In short, kezlBlythe wishes to extend to the master trader our friendship, and to become his connection with the key players in the city.”

This, Padi thought, was a different order of business than Merchant zerKilin’s eagerness. This . . . was politics. Planetary politics were not for traders to dabble in.

“You may think that the port is the port and the city is not for traders to encroach upon,” Zandir kezlBlythe said, as if she had heard Padi’s thought. “Here on Colemeno, we have seen a creep of regulation from the Council and the city, into the port.”

She paused, her eyes sharp, and her mouth a straight, uncompromising line.

“Tell me this, if you will, Trader yos’Galan—will the trade mission make its final report and appeal to the portmaster or to the Council?”

“To the Council, ma’am. The portmaster allowed us to know that she sits on the Council.”

“So she does. One among twelve. The trade mission will need more than one friend on the Council to carry the day. kezlBlythe is in a unique position to provide Tree-and-Dragon with friends on the Council.”

Worse and worse, Padi thought, taking care not to let even the hint of that thought reach her face.

“The kezlBlythe family is also in a position to connect the master trader with a network of qe’andra and accountants, all expert in the laws and practices of city and port.”

Zandir kezlBlythe sat back in her chair, as if she had, indeed, completed her pitch and awaited an enthusiastic agreement.

“That is a most generous offer, ma’am,” Padi said, “and I am desolate to have wasted your time with this meeting. Indeed, the master trader cannot have understood your intention. I can give you no guarantees; nor am I empowered to write contracts on behalf of the trade mission.”

She expected another flash of temper. Certainly, the other leaned forward sharply, as if about to deliver a scathing reply. Before she could do so, her brows pulled together. She looked at Padi thoughtfully.

“You may enter into contracts in your own right, however. You are a full trader.”

“I am a full trader, yes,” Padi replied, her voice cool despite the flare of irritation she felt.

“That,” said Zandir kezlBlythe, “is good to know.”

She met Padi’s eyes firmly.

“You will tell the master trader that it will be very much to his advantage to come to my office in the city, so that we may reach an agreement regarding a mutually beneficial business arrangement.”

Padi heard a distinct “ping,” quite as if someone had thrown a stone against hull-plate, but Zandir kezlBlythe was rising, her business done, and Padi rose with her, not without a certain sense of relief.

She ought to have escorted the guest to the door, but there was no opportunity.

Zandir kezlBlythe turned without a bow or a backward glance, and exited the room.

Padi went to the door and locked it.


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