"Patrick Welch - Unfair Trade" - читать интересную книгу автора (Welch Patrick)

UNFAIR TRADE
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Especially when you don't realize who your
competition is.

PATRICK WELCH

The wind tore across Gren's face, ripping away at his lips and eyes. He snarled, but it couldn't be
heard long above the storm. The Aldian pulled the fur collar tighter around his neck and checked xo see
if his companions were all right. Inside a copious pocket the Llyl trilled softly and burrowed deeper into
the warmth. He closed the flap with a swift tug—it would be secure the remainder of the journey. Bre,
just behind and to his right, was almost hidden by the swirling snow. He flicked his tail and kicked his
mount. forward. Fjen, the last, waved and adjusted the packs on his back. Ordinarily the three felines
would not be out in weather like this. It was not good for hunting or traveling; such times were best spent
drinking stek and fornicating before a warming fire. But it was time for the Trader, and they had been
chosen to take the furs to him.
Gren couldn't see it now, but somewhere on the plain below stood the six-foot cube the Trader
called home. He cursed and thought of the warm lodges and his friends' activities. Still, someone had to
go. Just their luck the gods had decided to storm. Gren's mount shook its head and ice fell from its name.
The cherae did not like such weather either. Gren kicked it in the ribs. The animal squealed, then
continued into the frozen blastfurnace.
One moonset later the travelers stood in front of the Trader's ship. Gren had seen it before, but still
the vessel amazed him. The ship was no taller than he, gold and smooth-walled. Yet he knew that inside
it was as large as two of his people's lodges. The Trader had said something about "non-Euclidian space"
when questioned; then he had laughed and admitted most of his people didn't understand it.
Bre and Fjen looked at Gren for orders. He nodded and they dismounted. He tied the animals
securely to a nearby tree while the others removed the packs, jogged quickly to loosen cramped
muscles, and finally guided them through the opening that appeared suddenly on the golden wall before
them.
Inside it was as warm as summer. Bre and Fjen had never visited the Trader; they stood in wonder at
the doorway. A thick red carpet ran from the door twenty feet to the spacious banquet table
manufactured from rare alien woods. Art works dotted the walls, and the table was piled high with
delicacies; all from planets the Trader frequented. Gren was used to such miracles; he calmly doffed his
traveling clothes and bid his fellows do the same.
"Welcome, my friends. I hope you found your journey not too unpleasant," the unseen Trader's voice
called in their tongue. "I shall be with you in a moment. Relax yourselves."
The Aldians sat and hurriedly sampled the banquet. Gren had learned long ago that anything the
Trader offered was safe and oftimes delicious. He first tried a round, red fruit. It tasted like toasted
sawdust. He spat and threw the offending vegetation on the floor. The carpet closed over it and seconds
later the litter vanished. Bre and Fjen started; Gren merely grabbed some green and gray berries. They
were more to his liking; he munched contentedly until their host made his appearance.
He arrived with the whistling of an opening panel. The Earthman, John Ma-lud by name, was five feet
tall, fat and greasy. His hair hung in perfumed braids; rings sparkled on each stubby finger. His gold
embroidered indigo robe stretched to the wall even as he sat at the table. The Aldians towered over him,
six feet of gold-furred claw and muscle. But he was not intimidated. "Welcome again my friends," he
began cheerfully. "I hope you have not waited too long?"
"Not too," Gren purred softly. The others ignored him.
"I trust your village had a very prosperous year. Very prosperous."
 "Thank you." Gren continued eating, waiting for the Trader to open negotiations.
Ma-lud decided the time was not yet right. "I see you have brought some new friends. Tell me, what
do you think of my humble home?" Bre and Fjen made no acknowledgment. His smile did not quiver.