Power Play - Anne McCaffrey [73]
She knew they were adults and much wiser and stronger than she. She knew she was being wicked and disobedient to crowd her way aboard. But Coaxtl was her friend and did not speak to others here.
She stuck out her chin and lowered her brows and tried to look defiant and invisible at the same time, but felt a pair of hands lift her over the heads of the adults seated on the floor, and found herself dragged into Loncie’s lap.
“So you come with us, eh, Pobrecita?”
“Sí” ’Cita said. “I do.”
“Bueno,” Loncie said, patting her back.
The copter set down and the doors opened. People poured out. Not many, compared to the people on the ground. Only seven passengers, plus ’Cita and Johnny.
The newcomers stayed well back of the rotor blades until Johnny shut them down. Then they pushed forward, a handsome golden-skinned man with black hair and black, hooded eyes at the fore. All of the people were carrying things ’Cita couldn’t see clearly.
“Sláinte,” Johnny said. “This lady is Lonciana Ondelacy, the regional administrator of the southern continent. This is her husband, Pablo Ghompas, and these here are what you might call the county council.”
The man made a slight bow in the direction of Pablo and Loncie. “How kind of you to greet us.”
Loncie inclined her head slightly, cautiously. “What brings you here, señor?”
“A mission of mercy, madame. My name is Zing Chi. I am of the Asian E and E Company Limited. We have been sent to collect certain substances to heal the sick and ease the ravages of age. Many of these things are obtainable only here. But we had no transportation until you arrived, and no way of finding what we seek. You can help us?”
’Cita did not like his smile and hung behind Loncie’s broad back.
“We’ll be pleased to, honored guest,” Pablo said, before anyone else could say anything. “If only you will tell us what you seek.”
Zing Chi reached into his pocket and pulled forth a written list. Pablo accepted it, handing it to Loncie, who could read, having once been in the employ of the company.
“What is this?” Loncie asked, anger rising in her voice as she read. “The whiskers of orange cats? Unicorn horns?”
“Oh, my goodness me,” Pablo said, before she could tell them what she thought of their list. “What does it all mean? Gentlemen, whatever would you use such things for?”
“Unicorn horn is well known as an aphrodisiac and a preventer of poisonings, good sir,” Zing Chi said with another bow. “Most valuable. The whiskers of the orange cats are said to prolong youth and good health.”
Pablo shook his head. “Not here, I’m afraid. Someone has misled your informant.”
“Is that true?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. The unicorn horn you find on Petaybee is no good at all for aphrodisiacs.”
“Is it not?” Zing Chi asked politely.
“You have been misled,” Pablo said. “That is understandable, sir, since undoubtedly your information could not have come from anyone who actually had harvested the worthless horn of one of the Northern curly stags in the winter. The horns are good for cutting ice, which is what the curly-corn uses it for. No more than that.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” Zing Chi asked with apparent courtesy.
Pablo sighed and hung his head. “You may ask my wife.”
Loncie shook her head sadly. “It is true. We had Captain Greene fly us down the horn of a curly-coat killed in an avalanche so that Pablo could try the cure, but, alas—it was no good. Nothing did any good, in fact, until he ate the polar bear balls.”
“Polar bear balls?” several of the men gasped inquiringly.
“Ah, sí. When I finally recovered, I was muy macho in a way that only the polar bear balls of Petaybee can make a man who has lost his will to . . .” Pablo made what was often considered a rude or lewd gesture.
“I will add that to the list, then, sir,” Zing Chi said.
“Of course, with all Petaybean remedies, there is a secret in the gathering as well as in the mixing, you understand,” Pablo said.
“What secrets would those be, kind sir?” Zing Chi asked.
“If I told, they wouldn’t be secrets, would they?”