"They fight wars to stop barbaric customs among the tribesmen on their own frontiers," they continued. "They actually expend their own soldiers for an abstract idea of civilization."
"And enslave those they conquer."
"Doesn't every intelligent race before it learns economics? But they allow some of their slaves freedom eventually. They are traders, like us. Real traders. Merchant ships, warehouses, currency, courts. We say these beings actually care about civilization."
"They care about gold."
"So do we. So do you. Those who care about gold we can deal with. But we will say another thing. These beings are resilient. Their barbarians beat them occasionally but they always come back. We have a little time. We can watch them awhile."
Both Jotoki entities were using all five of their linked brains. The argument went on, as the world turned beneath them.
I
AD 2554
"Basically, I am a dealer in exotic slaves." The tall kzin drank with an expression of relish from the goblet of vatach blood his host had offered. "Like that one."
He gestured to the shackled female human who squatted, trembling, at his feet. The creature flinched at the gesture, its wide terrified eyes darting back and forth between the great felinoids as if it was trying to understand their speech. There were drops of skin-excreted liquid on its face, and its chest heaved. Both kzinti could sense its terror, a stimulant to kzinti senses.
The Marquis Warrgh-Churrg, largest landowner of the planet of Kzrral's main northern continent, regarded his guest with a look of moderate surprise. He reclined at ease on a couch, like a smaller, softer, indoor version of the stone foochesth that were a feature of some kzinti parks.
"Between worlds? I would not have thought there was a living in it. We have not found much trade along those lines worthwhile since the war losses to our spacecraft." There was nothing obviously threatening in his words or the tense he employed, but lying half-curled on the fooch his huge bulk dominated the room and all within it.
"It is not necessarily a good living," replied his guest. "These are difficult times. The Patriarch has said that a Hero's duty now is to survive and the duty of us all is to rebuild our strength as a race for the . . . future. Noble and Dominant One, I trade"—the Hero's Tongue carried an inflection of distaste—"in other high-value items too, precious stones, rare elements, W'kkai puzzles, silk from Earth, even bulk gold if there is enough marrgin in it. Liquors, perfumes, and cordials too, at times. I hope that before I leave I may present you with a few samples and recipes in some return for your noble hospitality . . ."
The magnate inclined his great head.
"But rare slaves are the mainstay," his guest continued. "Trained, clever ones. As you are aware, the prime sources of monkeys are lost to us."
"You profit from the misfortunes of our kind? Do you have bulk gold in your ship at this time, then?"
"I make a living from mitigating those misfortunes, enabling Heroes to live as Heroes should despite the worst the monkeys can do. Though we were long ago driven from Ka'ashi, we still have upon some of our own worlds a few breeding colonies of such slaves who were brought there before the truce. It is a trade the humans"—the Hero's Tongue carried an even stronger inflection with that term, black lips drawing back to show a collection of daggerlike fangs—"would not approve if they knew of it. But yes, Noble and Dominant Marquis Warrgh-Churrg, I have a little gold. Largely monkey-minted coins. You may imagine how I acquired them. Not all humans are sufficiently wary of us in these times."
"What if humans should come upon you in space?"
"Space is large. There is little chance of that. And after all, we are in a state of truce. But should they do so, I trust I have not forgotten the heritage of my Sires."
"You have kittens? Surely they would grow old and die while you were between worlds. You would not see them."
"My kits must fend for themselves for long, as in the olden time. As I say, and as we all know too well, these are difficult times for many of our kind. But there are ways to save time."
"You have a hyperdrive?" There was a sudden sharpness in the other's question. There was tense silence for a moment between the two, broken only by the splash of water from the fountain that dominated the court: a great golden bowl, held aloft on the sculpted backs and shoulders of four golden humanoid slaves. The wide-eyed human flinched and sweated. The off-world kzin twitched ears and tail expressively, replying in a tone submissive but urbane:
"Not I personally, Honored Host. You have seen my ship. But yes, your observation is shrewd and correct. My principals on my homeworld have access to one of the few hyperdrive units which the humans allow us and are aware of, though whether they know the use we put it to is another matter. We pay them a large bribe not to take excessive interest in us—monkeys, as you know, have little or no honor—but it sadly inflates all our operating costs. However, it makes long journeys feasible. At present it is parked several weeks away."
"You are not your own master, then?"
"Only as far as ship captains usually are. I report ultimately to others."
"A telepath could show us your superluminal ship's location."
"Only if he could read a mechanical brain. It is encoded in my own ship's computer. And that will self-destruct if tampered with by anyone unauthorized."
"Such difficulties have been overcome before."
"I doubt they would
