This was the third bazaar the team had found, and it was of a piece with the others. The majority of the market was permanent, wooden stalls set side-by-side on narrow alleyways. There were also occasional open areas where temporary carts were set up, selling everything imaginable, but most of the trade was in the back alleys.
Kosutic had initially entered those with care. She’d been on enough planets and around enough alleys to know that they contained both the best and the worst available on worlds like this. The Marines had dispensed with armor, and if she gave them the chance, these Mardukans could be a nasty proposition at close quarters. So she was slow. And careful.
As it turned out, the alleys were generally the best part of the market. The small shops were very old and established, and had not only the best items, but better prices. Unfortunately, the products weren’t what they wanted.
The region was a supplier of raw material and gems. There was more than sufficient food and leather goods available for their purposes, but what they really needed—pack beasts and weapons—were expensive and hard to find.
She stopped at one of the small booths selling weapons as a sword on its back wall caught her eye. The Mardukan running the booth squatted on a stool, and still overtopped her. Even by Mardukan standards he was a giant, and it appeared that he might not always have been a merchant. His left true-arm ended in a stump at the elbow, and his chest was an Escher painting of scars. Both horns had been capped with bronze points that were wickedly sharp, and a hook depended from the arm stump.
He looked up at what she was staring at, and slapped his hook with his remaining true-hand.
“You know that?” he asked.
“I’ve seen it before,” she said carefully. “Or something similar.”
The weapon was unlike the others she’d seen in the bazaar, for the steel was damascene. The black and silver water pattern was clear as day. The blade was long for a human, short for a Mardukan, and curved to a slightly widened end. It was neither precisely a katana nor a scimitar, but something in between.
And it was flat out beautiful.
She’d seen swords of that type on several worlds, but all of them were much more advanced than this one’s tech level. Or than the local tech level, at least.
“Where is it from?” she asked.
“Ah,” the merchant said, clapping his cross hands. “That’s the sad part. This is a relic of Voitan. I have heard of you visitors, you ‘humans.’ You are from a far land, so do you know the story of Voitan?”
“Some of it,” Kosutic admitted. “But why don’t you tell it to me from the beginning?”
“Have a seat,” the local invited, and reached into a bag to extract a clay jug. “Drink?”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Kosutic looked over her shoulder at the small group which had been following her around. Besides Koberda’s squad, it consisted of Poertena and three of Cord’s nephews. “You guys go circulate.” They’d each been given an Eterna-light and a lighter. “Do a little trading. See what they bring. I’ll be here.”
“Do you want someone to stay with you, Sergeant Major?” Sergeant Koberda asked. His tone was mild, but the orders had been fairly strict.
Kosutic raised an eyebrow at the merchant, who grunted in reply.
“No,” she said with a headshake. “I’m just gonna sit here and shoot the shit for a while. I’ll give a holler when I’m ready to head back, and we can link up.”
“Aye.” Koberda gestured at his squad; he’d seen a place that looked a lot like a bar a few alleys back. “We’ll be circulating.”
Poertena followed Denat down the alleyway. He figured that three of Cord’s nephews counted as “a group,” and the Mardukan swore he knew the best pawn shop in the city.
The shopkeepers and artisans to either side of the narrow way looked up with interest as he passed. Word of the humans’ arrival had spread through the grapevine, but he was surprised that there wasn’t more overt curiosity. On most human planets, there would at least have been a group of children following him around, but not here. For that matter, he didn’t see any children or women, and hadn’t since they arrived in the area.
“Where are tee women?” he asked Denat as the Mardukan took another turn. Poertena decided that if they got separated he would be in trouble finding his way back.
“The shit-sitters lock them away,” the tribesman said with a grunt of laughter. “And the children. A stupid custom.”
“Well, I’m glad you got pocking respect for tee locals,” Poertena said with a bark of laughter of his own.
“Pah!” Denat spat and made a derisive hand gesture. “Shit-sitters are for killing. But if we kill one, it’s the knife for us, as well.”
“Yah.” Poertena nodded. “I guess they probably give a fair trial and slit your throat.”
“No.” Denat stopped for a moment to get his bearings. “The town law doesn’t apply to us. If we violate a town law, we’re turned over to the tribe. But for a killing, the tribe will give us the knife as quickly as the town. And any townsman found violating our laws is turned over to the town. Just as our tribe judges us more harshly than the town would, the town judges its people very harshly.
“Ah.” He’d obviously located the landmark he sought. “This way. It’s close now.”
“Put why do tee town kill t’eir folk for breaking your laws?” Poertena was confused.
“Because if they don’t,” Tratan said from behind him, “we’ll burn their abortion of a shit-city to the ground.”
Denat grunted in laughter but clapped his hands in agreement.
“They dare not offend us too greatly, or we’ll attack them. Or camp outside Q’Nkok and pick them off in the open until they don’t dare step outside their gates to relieve themselves. But they can also attack us, attack our towns. We had a war soon after this city started to grow, and it was terrible on both sides. So we keep the peace.”
“For now,” Tratan said with a hiss.
“For now,” Denat agreed. “And here we are.”
The shop was similar to all the others, if a bit smaller. Made of some hardwood, it was abutted on both sides by other shops and looked to be about five meters deep, but the opening was half covered with a leather curtain that shadowed its interior. Inside, dim shapes of piled skins and containers could be barely discerned, but there were more goods piled outside on a leather ground cover spread out into the narrow alley.
The products were a magpie’s nest of gewgaws. There were a few spearheads, some jewelry (ranging from decent to quite bad), tools for wood and metalworking, cups and platters, candle holders of ruddy brass, leather and wood boxes (some elaborately decorated), spice containers, and a myriad of other items piled haphazardly.
Squatting in the midst of this disorder was an old scummy. His right horn was broken at the tip, and the mucous covering his body was patched and dry, but for all that, his eyes were bright and interested.
“Denat!” The merchant got creakily to his feet. “You always bring such interesting things!” he continued, eyeing Poertena.
“Time to do a little trading, Pratol,” Denat laughed. “I brought a few things, and my friend here wants to show you some others.”
“Of course.” The merchant pulled a bottle and some cups out of one of the boxes. “Let’s see what you brought. I know you’ll cheat me, as you always do, but if you promise not to take too much of my money, perhaps we can bargain!”
“T’at sounds like we goin’ to tee cleaners,” Poertena observed with a chuckle of his own. It felt like home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
