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Caleb Tamblyn scratched at some whisker stubble on his thin neck. “If they’re on the edge of a battle zone, I doubt they’ll be in any mood to buy trinkets from us.”

Denn shook his head. “Not trinkets—necessities. If they’re getting hit hard by the hydrogues, then they’ll be desperate for vital raw materials like metals, and especially any ekti. Once we learn what the Ildirans need, we can figure out the best suppliers.”

Before the hydrogue war, clan traders had regularly delivered stardrive fuel to the Ildiran Empire, but after the hydrogue ultimatum, the few drops of remaining ekti had been reserved for the Earth Defense Forces. Until now. With those agreements nullified, the Ildiran Empire should be an open Roamer market again.

“My clan’s in the water business,” Caleb said dourly. “It’s not likely they need much of that from us.”

“Just keep an open mind,” Denn said.

For his own part, Denn wished he hadn’t loaded so much worldtree wood. The Yrekans had taken part of it, but Denn doubted such an exotic novelty item would be of any use to the Ildiran Empire, especially now.

When ornate Solar Navy warliners converged around the incoming Roamer trade ship, Denn requested safe passage. “Roamers and Ildirans were business partners for almost two centuries, delivering stardrive fuel and other commodities to the Mage-Imperator. We wish to renew that partnership.”

“If we can reach equitable terms of commerce,” Caleb added.

Seven of the flamboyant warships hovered in space around the Dogged Persistence. Denn and Caleb stared through the windowports at the finlike solar sails, the sparkling anodized hulls, and streaming antennas that extended like whiskers in all directions. “If I wasn’t so optimistic, I’d be intimidated right now,” Denn muttered. “What’s taking so long for them to answer?”

“I’d be more concerned if those were Eddy ships out there. Ildirans might be weird, but it takes a human to do really malicious things.”

“We will escort you to the Mijistra spaceport,” came a gruff, clipped voice from the lead warliner. “Please follow.”

The warliners guided the Persistence on an approved path down to the sparkling alien city. As they approached under the brilliant sunlight, the curved, polished surfaces threw off flared reflections like beacons. Ricochets of sunshine filled the atmosphere with a firestorm of illumination.

“We’ll need filter goggles out there.” Caleb rummaged through the cockpit storage compartments until he found two sets of protective lenses. “I’ve never been good with really bright lights—never had that problem on Plumas.”

After they landed, the seven warliners hovered above them for a while, as if to make sure the Persistence did not launch some foolhardy attack, then the battleships returned to their system patrols. Hearing no other communication, the two men sitting in the cockpit looked at each other. “I think we’re supposed to go outside. Someone will meet us, I’m sure.”

They checked each other to make sure their clothes were presentable: clan markings clear, jumpsuits neat (Denn’s anyway) and all pockets zipped up, their hair neatly slicked back, Denn’s tied with a blue ribbon behind his head. “I wish you had a new jumpsuit, Caleb.”

“This one fits me just fine.”

Blinking in the dazzle even with their eye protection, they saw a small delegation arriving. Denn and Caleb raised their hands in formal greeting.

A colorfully robed man with reflective strips on his sleeves approached them; his skin was an unsettling shade of greenish gold, and his eyes had strange star-sapphire reflections instead of normal pupils. But he looked passably human, enough that Denn guessed the man must be from the noble kith.

The Ildiran put his palms together and pressed them against his chest. “I am the Ildiran minister of commerce. We welcome the opportunity to trade with the humans again. Only seven days ago King Peter paid his respects to the Mage-Imperator, but he made no offer of renewed trade. You do not represent