of sales genius. She had bundled them into groups of fifty and stashed them in our cargo duffel. She would bring out a bundle and stand out near the edge of the booth and hawk them to the people walking by. She worked every angle, like the old get-em-while-they-last routine or calling them good luck stones. She hollered that they were fresh from the mines in Margary and just thirty creds each or four for a hundred. She even claimed they were blessed by a St. Cloud shaman. She had this whole bit going.”
“Wait! She was hawking them for thirty creds each?”
“Don’t look at me. She asked me what to sell them for and I just told her, ‘Whatever you can get.’ Rhon was killing herself laughing.”
“Where is she now?”
“She came in early and got some dinner, but she said she needed to get back to her shawls, so I suspect you’ll find her on her bunk. At the rate they’re going through yarn, I bet they’ll run out before we hit transition.”
“If you see Sean or Tabitha, you might tell them there’s a lot of really nice cotton yarn up in the flea. I bet they could shift to lacework and the mass on some of that cotton would be really low for the length.”
“Good idea. I’ll tell ’em.”
I sat there for a tick in stunned disbelief. “So, how much did we make?”
“We got two hundred fifty for the yarn we sold to the co-ed crochet team and three thousand six hundred twenty-five for the stones, after commission.”
I laughed. “That was money well spent! We’d have been lucky to make two kilocreds and it would have taken us three days!”
“That’s what I thought, too!”
“So, we’re clear on mass?”
“Yup.”
“We’ve got a balance on our partnership of over five kilocreds again?”
“Yup,” he said again.”Something close to it.”
“You know this is insane, right?”
“Like you being dragged out of Jump! by Alicia Alvarez isn’t?” He laughed some more.
“She didn’t drag me. I went willingly. But to remain on subject…trading…that is. You’re going to go talk to the batik guy? Chuck?”
“Yeah, I didn’t get a good sense of what that was on the digital, but what I saw was interesting.”
“I bought some samples. Brill liked it, too.”
“Okay, sounds good. You wanna go with me? I’ll wait until you wake up. I’ll want to go in the afternoon.”
”Better deals in the afternoon!” We chanted together and laughed.
It suddenly dawned on me that this was the first time Pip and I were not on opposite port-side watches since I had been aboard. In the past we never could leave the ship at the same time. Obviously it occurred to Pip first. “That could be interesting. I’ll see if Bev wants to go. She’s on night watch tonight, too.”
He went back to start evening cleanup while I finished the last of my spiced beefalo and rice. I had eaten most of it without noticing. Pip’s news was just so startling. I checked the tablet, just to make sure I had not missed any alarms from environmental, but I had only been gone about a quarter stan. It seemed much longer.
A small icon flashed in the corner of the screen, letting me know I had a message—not a standard intra-ship notification but an incoming one from the StationNet. I looked at for perhaps a full tick before I opened it. It read:
It’s beautiful. Damn, you’re good.
—AA.
It was another tick or two before I could close the message and take care of my dishes.
One thing bothered me about Sarah’s little performance. I stopped at my locker for a tick and pulled the two stones I had gotten from the pile and stuck them in my pocket before I headed over to deck berthing. Pip was right and I found her crocheting on her bunk. “Hi, Sarah,” I said from outside the quad.
She looked up and smiled. “Hey, there! Everybody on the ship is talking about you! I didn’t know you were a celebrity.”
I chuckled. “Well, I didn’t used to be. Things just got out of hand.” I stepped into the quad and leaned against Pip’s bunk. “I wanted to thank you for selling those stones today.”
She grinned. “Oh, you’re welcome. I had so much fun. People were so nice and I even had some patter that seemed to help. Patter? That’s the correct phrase?”
“Yes, that’s right. You learn fast.”
“Thanks!” Sarah beamed and seemed much younger than when we first met at the shuttle docks. Not physically. She still carried her age, but it looked almost painted on. I wondered how old she really was, but I was more than a little afraid to ask.
“Can I ask you something about your patter, Sarah?” I asked gently.
“Sure.”
“Rhon told Pip that you were saying the stones were blessed by a St. Cloud shaman.”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands. “I did. I fibbed a little bit about how rare they were, but Rhon seemed think that was okay.”
“I see. You didn’t think telling the people that the stones were blessed was a fib?”
She shrugged a little shrug and focused on her crochet work. “Maybe a little.”
“Only a little?”
She worked the yarn for almost a whole tick before speaking, “Did you know that shaman is often a hereditary position?”
“I’ve heard that it is in some cultures, yes. But how do they do it on the south coast?”
“The post is almost always passed from father to son. The son inherits the gift from the father, you see. Sometimes you find a shaman when somebody’s been sick…really sick. When they recover, they discover they’ve received the shaman’s gift. But most often it’s inherited.” Her fingers never stopped moving and her eyes never looked up.
“I see, and did the shaman in your village have a son?”
She shook her head. “No, my mother died having me,” she said it so softly that I could barely hear her.
“And you blessed the stones.”
“Yes. I blessed the stones.”
I pulled the two from my pocket and held them up by the thongs. “Would you bless mine?”
“Why do you want me to bless them?” she asked, looking up for the first time. “You’re not a follower.” There was something akin to anger in her eyes.
I shrugged. “A lot of people thought it was worth it today. Who am I to argue?”
“But I’m not really a shaman,” she spat. “I’m not a boy.”
“Maybe so,” I agreed. “But you’re not on the south coast any more, either. You’re on a ship that carries the spirit of a great woman. The captain of this ship is a great woman. Maybe the ship needs a great woman to be her shaman.” I shook the thongs, making the stones rattle together.
“You don’t believe that,” she said flatly. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun of you. I’m in no place to be ridicule anybody. And to be a shaman, maybe, you only need somebody to believe in you.” I held the stones higher and offered them to her again. “It doesn’t matter to me what you believe in. The important thing is that I believe in you.”
She swallowed hard and looked at the stones like they might burn her if she took them.
Neither of us moved for a long time. Finally, she reached out and took the stones from me. She looked at me once more, then she closed her eyes and I could see her lips moving ever so slightly as if reciting to herself. She kissed each stone and handed them back to me.
“Thank you, Sarah.”
“Thank you, Ishmael,” she replied and with a little smile and a deep breath she went back to her crochet work.
I stepped out of the quad and almost bumped into Pip who had been standing just out of sight. “Clean up
