They Are Rarely Spontaneous And Invariably Detractions
The crowd almost converged when Poiskops Bodan-Tin gasped, but his action was recognized as a theatrical gesture before anything regrettable occurred. “Oh, why must age and memory be enemies? They have so much to offer each other. I should have thought of this while Deuani Paspaklest's daughter was still here so we could have her opinion, if we could entice her to give it. You know, Sajaitin, I love my country almost as much as I love my town. That's why I want to see it improved. Forgive me, Drastlifars, if I say Greater Enloffenkir might have outdone us in a few, a precious few areas. Men's business, women's business, what a proliferation! It's all business. Don't you think it's exactly that way?”
Fortunately for Dirant, Mercantile Fundamentals did not have any alarms attached to it, or else he, the oligarch, and everyone within a mile of Koshat Dreivis would have been deafened by frenzied clanging. As it was, the ability warned its possessor alone of an imminent bilking attempt. He ran through an inventory of his three finest allies: Mercantile Fundamentals itself, the local deference given to Ritualists in certain matters, and his merely Basic proficiency in Drastlimez, which was ready to have its limitations exaggerated the moment he decided on a complete shutdown of negotiations. “It is so, and the evidence is that my salary is lost regardless of the cost's type.”
“I have the same problem. We all do, and the text says money is money whatever form it's in, but everyone refuses to accept the implications. They'll take miskhanenar and ipapobar as readily as our own coins because they understand it when it suits them, but the principle, that isn't held to at all. Labor and money are the same also, if words mean anything, and therefore labor is labor, absent any restriction. Now, trade secrets are inviolable, and I've given instructions to keep people away while the installation is done. Your ready agreement to the timeline is heartening. But then, as you said, delaying you here is unreasonable.”
Dirant made out that last part despite getting a bit lost in the middle, though he recalled saying something slightly different from that. While mulling over whether he ought to insist upon the point, he lost his chance.
“What would go wrong if Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin alone were responsible for operations during the upcoming get-together? I believe he and you have become acquainted. He's been our overseer as far as your profession for a long, long time. Sometimes I worry it's been too long, but how could I judge?” Poiskops lowered his voice. “This has nothing to do with anything, but what was your impression of his capability?”
The gambit was not so irresistible as Dirant's Mercantile Fundamentals had feared. Just as Onerid's earlier analysis suggested, Stanops Bodan-Tin by his nature sought advantage in something as trivial as popcorn, and that was the extent of it. Dirant was to express full confidence in Posmeterin Igwodan-Tin out of professional courtesy and by doing so deprive himself of his best excuse not to instruct the Bodan-Tin's Ritualist in the maintenance procedures if not the ritual itself. Possibly a contribution to Dirant's personal treasury might remove any other reservations he expressed, particularly after his mention of the impositions made on his salary. Then the Bodan-Tins would suggest to other parties that if they had Stadeskosken handle the initial setup, their own Ritualists would be available to handle maintenance and, possibly, corn. It was a minor sideline, but money was money, and Poiskops must have been confident his people would figure out the ritual with that much access.
What the oligarch did not know was that the only maintenance required by the popcorn stand consisted of two components: a sign that read, “Don't Break the Box,” and literate people of a conscientious disposition. Failing a prevention of accidents, the ritual itself must be reapplied; there existed no auxiliary repair ritual to teach Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin. There was no profit there.
Dirant did not want to tell him even that much about the ritual. Necessity might demand it, but first he attempted evasion. “Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin is doubtless an accomplished Ritualist too burdened already with the responsibilities of his position for anyone to impose upon him the chance of incurring a violation of a license agreement,” Dirant could not possibly say in Drastlimez. He adjusted as well as he could. “I don't want to make Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin the enemy of the other group in the agreement about the ritual.”
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“Just that little bit might be enough?” The Stanops may or may not have been feigning surprise. “Which part exactly would cause the breach?”
Dirant was definitely feigning chagrin. “To reveal that is also not allowed.”
“Really! You do things with iron up there, just as the poet said.” Poiskops shrugged and chuckled. “I suppose there's no way to find out who these other parties are. Your company can't want anyone to reach a separate agreement.”
“Ah, there is no problem there. Two . . . sajaitins . . . are involved. The bigger is Donnlink Espahalpt. The smaller is Dirant Rikelta.”
When the Stanops stopped as suddenly as a storm can start at sea, the crowd began to close in. He waved them back. “I can't say which answer would surprise me more, but is that Sajaitin Rikelta the same young man in marsh-won Dreivis this very moment?”
“The answer is both yes and no for legal purposes.”
Poiskops resumed walking and laughed as he went. “Adabans are supposed to be straightforward in all their dealings. Everyone says so, and it's a way to measure ourselves and make sure we're ahead. Do we have to give up our questionable practices now, beaten? I'm too old for that.”
They soon, and would have much sooner if not for the obligatory finagling attempt, reached the spot, a small pavilion in a corner of the clock park covered by a narrow but tall conical roof which violated good Adaban sense by not having a spire jut from it higher still. An iron railing shaped into a parade of drummers and flautists around most of its circumference permitted breezes and pleasant sights to pass through and enchant anyone who relaxed there. In the center was an enclosure accessible through a single door and a counter under a window into it ideal for commercial transactions. “I want it here,” Poiskops said as he rapped on the counter and pointed through the window. There was a shelf on one side, out of the non-snooping customer's sight. “Is that enough room? We can add in anything necessary, but what I need to know is if we have to have remodeling done.”
Dirant checked, more to assure the client he was paying attention than because he had any doubt. “The dimensions are sufficient, Stanops. There are other conditions I must investigate before I begin.”
“Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin said something about interference, and that was my warning not to interfere myself. You may give a message to anyone on that bench if there is a problem.” He pointed to it, and already someone Dirant recognized as a guest at the previous night's dinner occupied the spot. “All those sad words about parting might apply to us if we stay together one more minute, Sajaitin, and so I go. Well, after one last question. Were you joking before about our earlier subject in any respect?”
“No, sir.”
“That means an entity, forgive me, Sajaitin. A person other than Stadeskosken can enter negotiations?”
“Yes. Our lawyers insisted on it. The details are very complex and I cannot remember them. Do you wish to have the address of the lawyers, Stanops?”
> Ability Negotiating Fundamentals Gained
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> +1 Bonus to Sticktoitiveness Gained
Dirant's status believed the negotiation period to have ended, and Poiskops Bodan-Tin concurred. “Not for me is that signal proud to be hoisted, but if you had it ready for when my nephew arrives, it might result in something for both of you. Good luck, Sajaitin.” With that enigmatic statement, he left Dirant to his work.
Fetching his bag was perhaps not what anyone would think of first if asked what Ritualists did, but experts considered it essential regardless. From it Dirant extracted the broom with which he swept the area, and next the sacred broom with which he also swept the area, this time to remove the potential influence of certain monstrous abilities. His professors at Todelk University would have offered a few criticisms of the term “sacred” if invited to comment, but the framework which held a Ritualist's implements to be anything other than symbols of the gods no longer impressed him.
He saw nothing recognizable as an existing ritual either to him or his Ritual Judgment in the closet, the gazebo, or anywhere near enough to matter. The professional, however, did not rely on a casual examination. He opened a pouch of soot, labeled “Soot,” into which he dipped a finger to make sure it contained soot. Such was the thoroughness of a Todelk-trained Ritualist, a product of the sixth-most-prestigious school of ritualism in Greater Enloffenkir. He dumped a bit on the floor and spread it around to see if it would stick to any lines of ritualistic import made difficult to see either by time or artifice. Methods which produced disguised designs had become common in recent years as Ritualists moved toward an aesthetic of extreme efficiency which held that the best work was the least noticed, and also as they tried to make money off licensing agreements. Dirant intended to use some of those faded lines himself. The soot however moved without impediment. He swept that out as well.
Another pouch held silver shavings to detect those premium rituals that would never be seen in a sooty part of town. Those he rolled around the floor with greater care and picked back up when they stuck to nothing. Even an Adaban can run out of silver, as the saying went among Riks, Ottkirs, and Mabonns, though less among Adabans. The thought unnerved them. Afterward he employed the sacred broom again in case the silver had entrapped some monstrous power such as the detection fields of the eyeless toklestlikir.