Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [14]
“Oh,” she said. “That’s right—sorry. I forgot you were … what did you call it? Color-blind?”
Riker nodded. “A small flaw in an otherwise perfect human being.”
Teller laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You said it, not me. Now, are we going to get acquainted with those lovelies or what?”
“You go ahead,” said Riker. “I want to talk with Norayan.”
Teller eyed them with mock suspicion. “Something going on that I don’t know about?”
“Impossible. You know everything.”
His friend sighed. “Well,” said Teller, “if I can’t get any moral support, I’ll have to handle this mission on my own.”
And smoothing his uniform, he headed toward the ladies in yellow.
“He’s one of a kind,” Norayan said affectionately.
Riker grunted.
She turned to him. “Now, do you really want to talk? Or do you plan to whisk me away to someplace romantic?”
“Perhaps later. Right now I want to know if you’ve heard anything.”
“From my father? About the trade agreement?” She shook her head. “You would probably hear before I would. I’m just a madraga-dzin’s daughter—for now. Nobody tells me anything.” She paused. “Why? Have matters taken a turn for the worse?”
He used his eyes to point across the room at a large Impriman dressed in the black of Madraga Rhurig. The man was loud and arrogant, but he was holding a group of green-robed Ekarians in thrall.
Norayan followed his gaze. “Kelnae?”
Riker nodded. “Looks as if Rhurig’s first official is gaining a following in Ekariah. Rumor has it he won them over today. Convinced them that the Federation isn’t interested in the industries they control.”
“But the Federation is interested,” said Norayan. “Ekariah owns a bunch of dolacite mines.”
“I know that. You know that. But Kelnae has told them that the Federation has other sources of dolacite—cheaper sources—and that the Ekarians can’t compete. Judging by that crowd, I’d say they bought it.”
“Spiteful old man. Just because his madraga doesn’t have anything to interest offworld traders—”
“Doesn’t mean he should deprive other madraggi of the opportunity. I agree. But that, apparently, is just what he has in mind. And Kelnae can be persuasive, especially when he goes into his ‘Imprima for Imprimans’ speech.” He bit his lip. “In the end, it may not be a choice between us and the Ferengi. There may be no offworld trading at all.”
Norayan shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about Kelnae if I were you. Madraggi like Rhurig are in the minority. Almost everybody makes a profit from offworld trading, and profit is their main concern. They may remain with the Ferengi, but there will be a trade agreement with someone.”
Riker looked at her.
“Sorry to have to put it that way,” she said. “Did you have any luck with Larrak?”
“I don’t know. Terrin could do better with the Federation, but it could also do worse. And he’s got a pretty sweet deal right now. Why should he take a chance?”
Norayan smiled. “You don’t understand us, Will. Not as your friend Teller does. We’re a greedy bunch. If there’s a possibility of amassing greater wealth, we’ll always take a chance.”
She entwined her arm in his. “Come on. Wipe that flown off your face and get me a drink. Then we can watch Teller make a fool of himself with those girls from Alionis.”
Riker chuckled as he let her guide him to the bar.
“Riker? I asked you a question.”
Will looked at Lyneea. “I think Teller would have avoided this place like the worst variety of plague.”
She accepted the assessment with equanimity. “Nonetheless, this is a known meeting place for smugglers. In fact, my information—which you dispute—is that Conlon himself used to come here when he had something to sell.” She tilted her head to indicate the crowd. “You’d be surprised at how many of these seemingly innocent workers are actually agents of offplanet interests—one of the hazards of opening your world to galactic trade, I suppose.”
Riker ignored the bait. It was becoming plainer and plainer that Lyneea wasn’t Imprima’s biggest xenophile.
“So no matter what Teller’s involvement is, someone here may know where to find him. And