Fortune's Light - Michael Jan Friedman [50]
“Riker? You’re being awfully quiet.”
“I’m catching up on my beauty sleep.”
“Well, catch up while you’re looking at a rug or something. We can’t just stand here and gape.”
“No,” he said, “I suppose not.”
The nearest booth was that of a pet merchant. The man peered at passersby from behind a corgodrill—something like a small ape with luxuriant rainbow-colored plumage covering its neck, shoulders, and arms. The corgodrill, known for its pleasant disposition, was sitting on the table picking parasites out of its fur.
As they approached, the merchant straightened. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“Not really,” said Lyneea. “We’re just taking in the sights.”
“Then look no further,” he told them. “The greatest sights in the entire world are on display at Griziba’s booth.” His grin was so ingratiating it made Riker’s teeth hurt. “Now … was it the corgodrill that caught your eye? He’s a wonder with children.” The man pointed to a plump, cobalt-colored lizard. “Or perhaps a nice menigirri. It eats very little, and its scent has been known to help the digestion—”
“That’s very nice,” interrupted Lyneea. “But we’re just looking. Really.”
The merchant nodded. “I understand. You wish to see something less docile.” He leaned toward them over the table. “Something you can train to dissuade unwanted visitors. I have just the thing.”
“It’s all right …” Lyneea began, but the merchant had already disappeared under his table.
Riker was keeping one eye on Kobar, so he really didn’t pay too much attention when the fellow came up again. Nor did he notice what he came up with.
“Here,” said the merchant, pushing a cage in their direction. “As you know, one so very young is not easy to come by. It will give you many long years of loyal service.”
Suddenly something small and dark lashed out through the bars of the cage. Probably it would have gotten Riker’s attention even if it hadn’t been inches from his hand.
Just in time, he withdrew the endangered appendage. And as if in parody, the dark thing snapped back into its cage.
Riker inspected his hand. He found tiny rents in the back of his glove, but no damage to the flesh beneath.
“Many pardons,” said the merchant. “But as you can see, he is quite effective. Imagine him guarding your domicile someday.”
Then the animal pressed its small black muzzle against the bars in front, and Riker realized what it was the man was peddling.
“An isak,” he said. He recalled his experience in the tavern, not without a certain amount of apprehension.
“Of course,” said the merchant. “What else can strike so quickly? And with such strength?” He smiled. “A couple of months from now, he would not have fallen short of his mark.”
Riker grunted, eyeing the beast even as it eyed him. “How reassuring,” he remarked.
“Indeed,” said the petmonger. “Then you will take him?”
“Look,” Lyneea cut in. “They’re moving away from the booth.”
Riker looked. Sure enough, Kobar and his compatriots had finished their business with the weapons merchant. Judging by the package beneath Kobar’s arm and the smile on the merchant’s face, they had come to terms on some item or other.
“Let’s go,” he told Lyneea.
“Just a moment,” she said. “We mustn’t follow too closely.”
“That will be fifty credits,” said the petmonger. “And a bargain at that, if I may say so.”
“Perhaps some other time,” Riker told him. “When I’m feeling masochistic.”
“Ah,” said the merchant, “but he will not be here some other time. Isakki are rare at any age, and as I have indicated—”
“Now,” advised Lyneea, and started walking.
“You do not understand,” said the petmonger, still appealing to Riker. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! You cannot pass it up.”
“No doubt we’ll live to regret it,” said the human, and using his long strides to advantage, he caught up with his partner.
“I have a good feeling about this,” decided Lyneea. “A very good feeling.”
“You think he’ll lead us to the seal now?” asked Riker.
She nodded. “If we can believe our tailor friend, Kobar loves