“Just a moment,” Lakuviv said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “How did you know what Yoponek called you? He implied you didn’t speak Cheunh.”
“They don’t speak it, but they understand a little,” Yoponek spoke up, sounding puzzled. “There are a number of other aliens who are the same way. The Paataatus, some of the Pathfinder navigators—there are many historical anecdotes of travelers outside the Ascendancy—”
“Of course, of course,” Lakuviv again cut him off, feeling a bit embarrassed. The boy was right—not speaking Cheunh didn’t necessarily mean a person couldn’t understand it. One of the occupational hazards of his position: Once he got into judge mode, searching for discrepancies and inconsistencies, it was sometimes hard to get back out. “Please continue.”
Haplif looked at Yoponek, got an affirmative nod in return, and again faced Lakuviv. “Our group of Agbui are cultural nomads,” he repeated. “For thirty years the fifty of us have traveled throughout the Chaos, seeking knowledge, making new friends, and expanding the width and breadth of our lives. Our new friend Yoponek suggested Celwis might be a place where we could borrow a small tract of land for a short time to grow the spices we sell in order to fund our journeys.”
“I see,” Lakuviv said. The Ascendancy had seen occasional refugee groups come through its territory over the centuries. Some of those groups had petitioned the local Patriels for new homes, and nearly all of them had been turned down and sent on their way. Cultural nomads who weren’t looking to settle on Chiss soil but merely wished to borrow some was something new. “How much land would you need, and how long would you need it?”
“Not much, and not long.” Haplif held his long-fingered hands about a meter apart. “A tract twenty of these on a side would be sufficient.” He lowered the hands again to his sides. “A place nearby to ground our ship would also be helpful, though that land need not be useful for other purposes. As to time, five or six months is all we would need.”
Lakuviv tapped his chin thoughtfully. It could be done, he knew. Four hundred square meters was hardly anything. Moreover, Redhill province included several rocky hills, most of them with an encirclement of barely arable land that was good for little except animal grazing. If that was good enough for Haplif’s spices, there should be a plot that could be pulled out of service for a few months.
At least now he knew why Yoponek had come to him instead of any of his own family’s Councilors. The Coduyo’s Celwis territory was exclusively city and homestead, with no farmland to speak of. “What kind of spices are they?” he asked.
“I bring a sampling.” Haplif reached into his robe and pulled out a small plastic envelope with four smaller envelopes inside it. “They have been tested many times, on many worlds, and none has posed a threat or malice to local plants, animals, or sentients.”
“We’ll have them tested,” Lakuviv said. Senior Aide Xodlak’ji’iprip was standing at her customary place a respectful meter from his right elbow. Beckoning her forward, Lakuviv handed her the envelope. “Have these sent to Vlidan Labs. Tell them I want an analysis as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” Lakjiip said. With a brief but penetrating look at the aliens, she turned and left the chamber.
“They also make jewelry and art objects,” Yoponek spoke up helpfully. He dug into his hip pouch. “I have one here I can show you—”
“Nay, my young friend,” Haplif said, putting a restraining hand gently on Yoponek’s wrist. “That was a gift. Permit me to offer our host his own.”
He dug into his robe again, this time coming up with two thumb-sized objects. “For you,” he said, stepping forward and holding them out.
Cautiously, Lakuviv took them. They were a pair of brooches, he saw, one a mirror image of the other, shaped rather like stylized leaves made of intertwined strands of silver, blue, red, and gold metal. They were also considerably lighter than he’d expected, suggesting the metals weren’t real silver or gold but something cheaper.
Still, intrinsically valuable or not, they were genuinely pretty. More important, they were the sort of design that would probably appeal to a fair number of Chiss buyers. If the spice thing didn’t work out, Haplif and his nomads ought to be able to raise enough with jewelry sales to refuel and be on their way within their six-month timetable.
But there were other possibilities here, as well. Possibilities that might make it work even better for the Xodlak and for Lakuviv himself. “Thank you,” he said to Haplif, putting the brooches on the armrest table alongside his questis. “You—Yoponek.”
“Yes, Councilor?” the young Chiss said.
“Are you willing to make this an official request from the Coduyo to the Xodlak?” Lakuviv asked.
Some of Yoponek’s youthful exuberance faltered. “I’m not sure I can do that. Can I? I mean, I’m not anyone official.”
“You’re a member of the Coduyo family in good standing,” Xodlak reminded him.
“Yes, but …” Yoponek paused, still clearly puzzled.
“Let’s make it simpler,” Lakuviv offered. “Are you willing to make it an official request from you?”
“Oh,” Yoponek said, brightening. “Yes, I can do that. Will that be good enough?”
“Absolutely,” Lakuviv said, smiling reassuringly. A lot of family business on Celwis ran on favors and owings, and if he couldn’t get an official Coduyo stamp on this one, at least the family name would be on it. Good enough to be useful somewhere down the line. “Haplif, where is your ship currently parked?”
“In the southern landing field,” Haplif said.
“Berthing Strip Twenty-Nine,” Yoponek added.
“Excellent,” Lakuviv said. Close at hand in case he needed to talk to them again, but not tying up Redhill’s main cargo or passenger landing facilities. “Return there and wait. I’ll be in contact soon.”
“Yes, Councilor,” Yoponek said, bowing again. “Thank you for your attention to this matter.”
“And the Agbui thank you as well for your kindness,” Haplif added, also bowing. “I trust you will find gladness and value in our humble artwork.”
“I’m sure I will,” Lakuviv said. “And welcome to Celwis.”
He watched until the group had left the chamber. As the door closed behind them, Senior Aide Lakjiip returned through the side door. Once again Lakuviv beckoned her over. “You sent the spice packet?” he asked.
She nodded. “I also talked directly to the Vlidan supervisor. He said they’ll start an analysis immediately.”
“Good.” Lakuviv handed her the brooches. “Add these to their list.”
Lakjiip peered closely at the jewelry. “Also from Haplif?”
“Yes,” Lakuviv said. “I have the feeling this is their fallback funding plan in case we don’t grant them a temporary land use.”
“Interesting metal,” Lakjiip said, hefting it experimentally. “Are they four different types, or just different colors of the same one?”
“That’s one of the things I want Vlidan to find out,” Lakuviv said. “It’s too light to be gold or platinum or anything else valuable. I want to know what the things are worth, so that I can make sure the Agbui don’t gouge their customers when they start selling them.”
“And if they do, you’ll put an extra tax on their profits to compensate?” Lakjiip suggested.
“Perhaps,” Lakuviv said. “Or I could go ahead and let them overcharge in order to get them off our planet a little sooner.”