“All right,” the local said. “Let me 'ave a couple of jars of the perfume, and maybe two-three bolts of silk. Sounds like a pretty good deal.” “You . . . have the money?” Menedemos tried to hide his astonishment. “I'll be back directly,” the Kean replied. “Don't you go away, now.” Off he went, no faster than he had to. He did come back, and started piling Athenian owls in front of Sostratos. “That should do it,” he said when he was done. “Why, so it does.” Maybe the local couldn't hear how amazed Sostratos was. Menedemos could. But, at his cousin's gesture, he gave the man the perfume and the silk. “Thank you kindly,” the fellow said. “You got anything else?” “Well...” Menedemos hesitated. “Come on. Spit it out. I'm not going to buy it if you don't tell me what it is,” the local said. “If I want it, though, I will. I've got the money. You've seen I do.” “So we have,” Menedemos said. “All right, then, most noble: the other thing I have is a single Egyptian emerald.” “Now, that's something that doesn't come along every day.” The Kean held out his hand. “Let's see it.” Reluctantly, Menedemos produced the stone, half expecting the local to run off with it. But he didn't. He held it in the sunlight, murmuring, “Isn't that pretty?” When he returned it to Menedemos, he asked the right question: “How much?” Without blinking, Menedemos said, “Ten minai.” The Kean handed back the emerald and spoke in mild protest: “That's a lot of silver, friend.” But he didn't turn on his heel and walk away. Instead, he said, “I'll give you six.” Menedemos felt like shouting. Beside him, Sostratos inhaled sharply, but he didn't think the local noticed. He tossed his head. “I'm sorry, but I can't sell it for that without costing myself money.” The money he was talking about was all profit, but the Kean didn't have to know that. “Well, six minai, twenty drakhmai, then,” the fellow said. In a quick, neat dicker, they settled on eight minai, fifteen drakhmai for the stone. That was even more than Nikodromos had paid on Aigina. The more I ask for emeralds, the more I seem to get, Menedemos thought dazedly, and kicked himself for letting others, earlier in the trading run, go so cheap. “See you soon,” the Kean said, and strolled away. Menedemos hated to let the man out of his sight. Would he really come back? Some of the sweat pouring down the merchant's face had nothing to do with the beastly weather. In due course, the Kean did return, this time with a bigger leather sack, which he handed to Sostratos. “Count 'em out, friend. If I'm one or two light, I'll give 'em to you.” Count them Sostratos did. “As a matter of fact, best one, you're one drakhma over,” he said, and handed the Kean an owl.
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