The Foundling

Chapter 6: Touring Xenos

He-ne approached the tour boat stall hesitantly, clutching the large bundle of fabrics closely. The old man sitting behind the counter looked up. He sighed and reluctantly tossed a battered green book on a stack of papers on the floor behind him. The stack teetered dangerously far to the left. The pillar toppled over, scattering papers all over the dirty floor.

The man sighed audibly. He rounded on He-ne with a sour expression on his face.

"The next boat doesn't leave for another [45 minutes], tickets cost 40 nis each."

"Oh no, I'm not-" Protested He-ne weakly.

"Children under 5 months are free." The man continued gruffly, scratching the base of one horn.

"I'm not buying tickets." The man eyed her skeptically. "I was just hoping--if it's alright with you--to, um, allow me to sell my work near your booth."

He-ne held up one of the colourful pieces of cloth, which seemed brighter than ever in the midday sun. The man's face softened; a strange expression came over it. He closed his eye, and his face became hard once again.

"Yeah," he said turning, away from her, "That's fine." The man crouched down painfully, rubbing the knee on his right foreleg. He began gathering up the papers closest to him.

He-ne tossed the folded tarp on the ground and placed her bundle on top of that. She bent down beside the man and silently picked up the remaining papers.

"Hey," he said, abruptly, "them tourists will buy pretty much anything. Be sure to get your money's worth." He finished straightening the stack of papers and went back to his book.

He-ne nodded. She spread the tarp a little ways from the crowd of waiting tourists and began laying out her work, arranging them tastefully. She'd made about 35 separate articles in total, including several shawls and ponchos, a few tablecloths, throws, two large lightweight blankets, napkins, and quite a few intricately embroidered triangular handkerchiefs.

Now came her least favourite part. "Traditional Ma'anin weavings and fine clothworks, all hand-made. Very cheap, very good!" Her strong high voice rang out and grabbed the attention of a few of the tourists. A pair of thin insectile xenos with black and orange exoskeletons strolled towards her. He-ne had no idea what part of the galaxy they came from. But these two made Ta-lei look positively adorable by comparison. The insects stood examining her wares; they made horrible clicking noises between themselves, discussing. He-ne swallowed. The larger one wore several bright gems across what He-ne suspected was its face. Both had simultaneous translators wrapped around one of six limbs. Other than that, they wore no clothing. At least they seemed rich.

The creature pointed at a cream coloured throw emblazoned with orange and blue flowers. It activated the translator and directed a series of indistinguishable clicks towards He-ne. A moment later, a flat mechanical voice followed.

"Excuse me. Did you make it?" He-ne nodded.

"It is very nice. How much is this cloth?"

"1050 nis," replied He-ne. That was a lot, more than enough to feed a large family for several weeks. The two creatures clicked for several moments.

"This is acceptable," concluded the smaller one finally. He-ne's jaw nearly dropped. They had not tried to negotiate at all! She carefully wrapped the over-priced souvenir in a thin semi-transparent white paper. He-ne counted the money as the two wealthy Xenos wandered away.

She slid the hexagon-shaped coins onto a string: 500, 300, 100, 100, 100. The insects had over-paid too! He-ne briefly debated whether to chase after them. They were far away now so it would be awkward, but she already felt a bit guilty for over-charging them so much. Decided, He-ne rose quickly and called out after them, nearly tripping over her own feet.

The insects turned around, the smaller one cocked its head. "You paid 50 nis extra!" She fumbled with one of the strings attached to her belt that had been concealed by her outer robe.

The smaller one made a series of identical clacks. It was laughing at her!

"Do not worry about it funny child." the other said through the mechanical translator. Involuntarily her nostrils flared. She fumed inwardly, how they insulted her! Outwardly she only thanked them and bowed politely.

He-ne sat down again and calmed herself. Maybe they hadn't meant it; some translators were notoriously awful for conveying what the user actually meant. Besides, it was hard to stay angry with eleven hundred nis dangling on her belt.

A bit later, two Mangi girls approached shyly; they couldn't have been more than a half cycle old. The Mangi were related to the Ma'anins and inhabited a planet in the same solar system. They tended to be shorter, darker and had larger rounder ears. The girls examined a row of colourful triangular scarves solemnly, whispering.

"Its all right," He-ne told them, "You can touch them if you like." Both faces lit up immediately, the younger picked out a small blue one with fish swimming in opposite corners. The girl held the scarf but didn't seem to know what to do with it. He-ne showed her how it could be worn around the shoulders or pulled up like a hood and tied under the chin on chilly days.

"How much?" asked the older one. She handed over the money, while the younger one skipped away to show her new prize to an old woman who He-ne assumed was the girl's grandma. The scarf trailed along behind her like a cape. When they got on the pontoon a few minutes later, the girl was still wearing it. She felt better about selling her work to Mangi even if they wouldn't pay as much.

Not that she would ever tell Mavrek, but the off-worlders weren't all bad. And it was rather pleasant to sit on the wharf and watch the gulls and the boats come and go. Most of the customers were quite polite, more than a few were on edge. There were fewer people here, overall, the city was much quieter than she remembered. She'd expected to see transport ships travelling back and forth between the ground and the atmosphere but there were none. It was strange. She guessed it was something to do with the explosion the previous day.

Around noon, there was a lull in the number of tourists. The old-man from the boat stand hobbled over to He-ne.

"How much for that scarf? The one with the red ibis on it?"

"How does 200 nis sound?" she suggested

"I'll give you 120."

"160, even for one of my countrymen, that's as low as I go."

"150."

"Okay, deal."

"Is it for a daughter?" guessed He-ne while wrapping the old man's purchase.

"No," he paused, gathering the words, "I had a daughter; your work reminded me of hers."

"I'm sorry," said He-ne, subdued. He said nothing, only nodded and returned painfully behind the counter.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. By the time the old man pulled a cover over the window of the boat stall, shadows were lengthening, and she had only four items left. This day had been more of a success than she could have hoped for. The three weighted strings pulling at her belt were a testament to that. Thank the gods! They'd have no problem dealing with that confounded generator now.

The man locked the cover. He rolled his shoulders, picked up a battered knapsack, and hefted it over his shoulder.

"I'd be heading home soon if I was you." said the man.

"Why?"

"The city put a curfew and a no-fly order in place last night, starting at sunset, on account of that explosion. They still haven't caught the guy who did it."

"A curfew?" responded He-ne. "Wasn't it an accident?"

He shrugged. "Not from what I heard." He did not elaborate and began limping away.

After the man left, He-ne hurriedly folded her remaining goods and bundled them in the tarp. There was probably only an hour until sunset. She wondered if her brother would know anything more from his position as a low-level bureaucrat at the City Council.

He-ne set off across the now mostly empty wharf. Not an accident. She tried to ignore the sinking suspicion niggling at the back of her mind. She tried to concentrate only on finding Mavrek and Ta-lei.

Ta-lei