Chanur's Venture
by Caroline J. Cherryh
Map of Compact Space
Chapter One
The encounter of old friends was common enough on Meetpoint Station, where half a dozen species came to trade; and one such old friend came walking Pyanfar Chanur's way when she had no more than put The Pride in dock. She was hani, Pyanfar Chanur, maned and bearded in curling red-gold, sleek of pelt. Her left ear bore the gold rings of successful voyages along its rim, and the bottommost ring had a monstrous gaudy teardrop pearl. Her red blousing breeches were silk, with the faintest striping of orange; and wrapped about the waist was a belt whose dangling ties were finished in precious stones and gold and bronze. She was not quiet, this Pynafar. She exuded wealth and dignity, and drew eyes wherever she went.
And rounding a collection of canisters awaiting dockside pickup, she spied a dark-furred, all but naked shape: mahendo'sat — ordinary encounter anywhere on Meetpoint. But this one flung wide his arms. His eyes lit up, his broad mahen face broke into a charming grin that showed blunt primate fangs all capped in gold.
"Pyanfar!" he cried.
"You?" Pyanfar stopped dead in her tracks. "You!" She slapped aside the offered embrace and stalked past at a good clip, to make the mahendo'sat exert himself.
"Ha, hani captain," the mahe called after her. "You want deal?"
She turned about again, planted hands on hips and let the mahe overtake her against all better judgment. A heavy hand descended on her shoulder and the mahe resumed his gilt-edged grin.
"Long time," Goldtooth said.
"Gods rot you, don't grin at me. You want a smile from me, you mahen bastard? How'd you get in port?"
"Just docked. Find my good friend here. Give surprise, a?" He laughed, slapped her on the back, seized her about the shoulders in one lank, coarse-pelted arm and propelled her toward the ship berths. "Got present, hani."
"Present!" Pyanfar dug claws into the deck-plates, resisting this camaraderie, aware of probable witnesses, of a whole row of grinning mahendo'sat lazing in front of a canister-surrounded loading area. A ship access gaped ahead. Mahijiru, doubtless. "You owe me, mahe, owe me for tools and two good welders, for fake repairs, for doublecross-"
"Good friend, Pyanfar Chanur." A powerful arm shoved her ramp ward through the gathered mahendo'sat, and she spun about and cast an indignant look back before Goldtooth wrapped his arm into a tighter grip and hastened her up the ramp. "Good friend. Remember I save your neck, a?"
"Present," she muttered, stalking along the accessway. "Present." But she went, and stopped inside the lock, while some of the mahendo'sat who had trooped after them poured past into the interior corridors. Goldtooth turned sober for the moment, and she liked that less. Her ears were flat. "What kind present, huh?"
The mahe winked, decidedly a wink, this trader who was no trader, who played what he was not, with Mahijiru which was not the slow-moving freighter it looked to be. "Good see you one piece, hani."
"Huh." Her mouth pursed in better humor, in deliberate good humor. She slapped the mahe on the arm, claws not quite pulled. "Same good see you, Ana Ismehanan-min. You still play merchant?"
"We trade sometime, keep us same honest."
"Present, a?"
The mahe looked to his left where the towering black wall of mahe crew parted. Pyanfar looked — and her ears went up and her mouth fell open at the gangling stsho-cloaked apparition in the doorway to Mahijiru's inmost corridors. A mostly hairless face with mane and beard like spun daylight; a face like nothing in civilized space.
"O gods," she said, and whirled about, heading for the airlock, but the mahendo'sat had it packed.
"Pyanfar," the human said.
She turned, ears flat. "Tully," she said in despair, and lost the rest of her dignity as the human hastened to fling his arms about her. His clothes reeked of mahen incense.
"Pyanfar," Tully said, and straightened up and towered over her, grinning like a mahe and trying to stop it, for he knew better. "Py-an-far." In evident delight.
That was the limit of his conversation. That mouth was never made for hani speech. Goldtooth set his hand possessively on Tully's shoulder and squeezed.
"Fine present, a, Pyanfar?"
"Where'd you find him?"
The mahen captain shrugged. "Come all the way mahen trader name Ijir, long time mahen ship, all time want you, Pyanfar Chanur, crazy mad human. Come find you, come find you, all he know."
She looked up at Tully, who stood there with something brimming over in him, who had no possible business where he was, in mahendo'sat transport, light-years from human territory, in a zone where humankind was banned.
"No," she said to Goldtooth. "No. Absolutely not. He's your problem."
"He want find you," Goldtooth said. "Friend. Where your sentiment?"
"Gods rot you — gods rot you, Goldtooth. Why? For what? What's he want?"
"Want talk you. Your friend, hani, good friend, a?"
"Friend. You earless, mangy bastard. I just got my papers clear — You know what it cost?"
"Trade." Goldtooth came close and put his arm conspiratorially about her shoulders. She stood like rock, laid back her ears and grinned into his face in chill reception. "Trade, hani. You want make deal?"
"You want to lose that arm?"
Primate fangs gleamed gold. "Rich, hani. Rich — and powerful. You want this human trade?
Got. -Look this face-"
"Have I got a choice?"
A wider grin. "Loyal friend. Want you do a thing for me. Want you make this human happy, a?
Want you take him to Personage. Want you take him to the han. Make all round happy. Got trade, hani. Profits."
"Sure, profits." She shoved back at arm's length and stared up at that earnest mahen face.
"Profits like last time, like bills up to the overhead, like hani barred six months from Meetpoint and The Pride out a gods-rotted year-"
"Like stsho got lot gratitude hani save their hides, a?"
"Same as the mahendo'sat. Same as the mahe who double-crossed me-"
Black palms lifted. "Not my fault, not my fault. Stsho close Meetpoint, what I do?"
"Snatch the trade, what else? What route you been running?"
"You take him, a?"
"You brought him here. Friend. It's all yours. So's the lawsuit. You explain it to the stsho!"
"Got trade, Pyanfar-"
"And get embargoed? Gods rot, you earless lunatic! You try to do for the rest of my business?
The stsho-"
"Pyanfar." He took her by both shoulders. "Pyanfar. I tell you, one paper this human got, he read for you this paper. They send him, this humanity. They got trade. Big business, maybe much big thing the Compact ever see. You got share."
She drew a deep, long, mahe-flavored breath. "Favors, Goldtooth?"
"A," he laughed, and hugged her shoulder with bone-crushing force. "Promise, hani. I make promise, keep. Got business. Got go. You take this human. Don't I make promise you get share human trade? I keep. This human come to me, I find my old friend Pyanfar for him. You want share, you take.
But you got do this thing."
"Now we get to it. Why?"
"Got business. Got go fix."
"Got business — How'd you get here? How'd you just happen to pull in on my tail?"
"Know you come, old friend. I lie off and wait."
"How'd you know? I didn't, till the papers cleared at Kura."