A Rhys Llewellyn story by Maya Kaathryn Bohnhoff

As featured on AnthologyBuilder

Rhys Llewellyn was both ecstatic and agitated when the surveys returned the information that the largest temperate land mass on the planet Pa-Loana was rich in something the natives called "foon."  

He was ecstatic because a rich source of foon, known on Earth and its colonies as "super latex," was sure to revolutionize the manufacture of all manner of clothing, sports gear, space suits, medical supplies—in short, anything that required a durable, flexible, low-care material.  

He was also ecstatic because foon was so plentiful on Pa-Loana; a form of algae, it literally covered the face of the Pa-Loanian waters.  

Then, too, the natives inhabiting the largest temperate land mass of Pa-Loana (the Pa-Kai, by name) were friendly folk amenable to selling rights to exploit what, to them, was a nuisance that had to be strained out of their drinking water.  This was cause for further ecstasy. 

Rhys Llewellyn was agitated because he knew that the Resource Survey Team had returned the same reports to Bristol-Benz and that right now, somewhere in their sumptuous corporate offices, their head Contract Negotiator was studying those reports and feeling both ecstatic and agitated. 

From this point on, it would be a space race to determine who got their negotiating team into the tent of the Pa-Kai Tribal Council first.  Rhys Llewellyn was determined that it would be Tanaka Enterprises.  To that end he and his two assistants arrived at the Tanaka Corporate Travel Park an hour and a half after the reports landed in his terminal. 

They spent the bulk of the five day TAS transit taking SubLearn courses in Pa-Kai language and etiquette, going over the Environmental Impact surveys and discussing strategies to use in case Bristol-Benz appeared on the scene before they had a firm deal.  This last measure turned out to be unfortunately necessary.  Rhys and company arrived at the Pa-Kai Council Tent just in time to join the Council of Chieftains and Elders in greeting the Bristol-Benz negotiators.  

The exchange between the Tanaka and Bristol representatives was barely cordial, a thing which the Pa-Kai Eldest noted immediately. 

"You are enemies?" he asked Rhys in flute-like tones.  His crest of sagittal hair shifted forward in a gesture Rhys knew indicated intense curiosity. 

"No," Rhys assured him carefully, making the "Please do not think that!" face.  "We are...."  There was no word for competitors in Pa-Kai.  "We are grazers of the same field." 

The Eldest nodded sagaciously and herded the two parties of "grazers" into the huge tent.  Inside, the negotiators were accorded side-by-side sets of cushions arranged as part of a gigantic circle.  The remainder of the circle was occupied by the Chieftains of the Pa-Kai Clans, while directly across from the Human delegation was the raised pallet of the Eldest Chieftain.  Just before him on the ground, within a circle of stones, sat a character out of a childhood nightmare. 

Dressed in feathered and furred garb that made the garish robes of the Chieftains look drab, the kneeling form sported a rainbow of cloth strips tied to its crest hair and an equally colorful pattern of ornate lines and symbols painted on its camelid face. 

"Is that the court jester?" whispered Assistant Negotiator Roderick Halfax in Standard. 

Rhys shook his head.  "Shaman," he said. 

"He's certainly ... uh ... bright." 

"She," said Rhys.  "And she holds a very important place in the Pa-Kai tribal hierarchy.  Of all the Clan Shaman, she's considered to be the greatest.  All others are her apprentices."  He indicated the area behind the circle of Chieftains where the Shaman and Elders from each of the nineteen Pa-Kai Clans sat to observe the proceedings. 

When all had been seated, the Eldest took his place on the raised pallet.  At his bidding, a fruit beverage was served, along with small edibles called tso-tso one dipped in a creamy fruit pulp called gua.  Following his lead, Rhys Llewellyn's two assistants dipped, ate and drank the servings given to them on small woven platters, then nodded, smiled and smacked their lips.  The Pa-Kai did likewise and added to the proceedings murmurs of pleasure and musical chatter.  Very quickly the entire assemblage was dipping, eating, smacking and chattering. 

The only exception to this was the Bristol-Benz delegation, which ate and drank in relative silence, watching the rest of the crowd expressionlessly.  After about twenty minutes of socializing, the head B-B negotiator set his speaking frond in the stand before his cushions and pointed his chin at the Eldest. 

All chatter ceased abruptly.  In her stone circle, the Pa-Kai Shaman executed three pirouettes and dropped to her knees staring up at the Eldest.  She made a gesture at the B-B team with the tips of her three fingers, then sat cross-legged on the ground.  

According to Rhys' understanding of Pa-Kai Tribal etiquette, the Bristol-Benz negotiator had just committed an act bordering on the impudent.  He watched with interest, waiting to see the rewards of that impatience. 

The Eldest pointed at the B-B representative and said, "Speak, please." 

On his right, Rhys' second assistant, Yoshi Umeki, glanced at him with obvious concern.  He shook his head very slightly and tapped his ear.  She turned her attention to the Bristol negotiator as he rose and began to speak, hands folded across his flat stomach in a demure gesture reminiscent of a Ninteenth Century priest. 

"We have come to bargain, O Beauteous One," he said in deep, awesome tones.  "You have a thing which is, to you, an itch, but which is, to us, a scratch." 

Rhys nodded, impressed.  He'd been pitted against Vladimir Zarber before and had to admire the man's aura of dignity.  It had, he was forced to admit, lost him a few contracts.  In fact, in a scored contest, he would have to allow that Zarber was ahead by a score of 6-2.  It didn't help that he had that wonderful basso profundo vocal quality or those elegant, understated gestures or that rolling (and authentic) Oxford accent.  Compared to that, Rhys Llewellyn's tenor with its airy brogue (also authentic), sounded downright wimpy.  This, Rhys decided, could be a long, painful process. 

It was the Pa-Kai Shaman who returned Zarber's opening.  "We hear you, O Deep Voice," she replied, her voice a flute to his bassoon.  "We have foon.  It is said you ... need foon?"  This last was said with what passed in Pa-Kai as stifled snicker.  The Shaman followed this by shaking a stick topped with a cluster of bells and uttering several shrill notes before hunkering down to hear Zarber's reply. 

"This is the truth," said the negotiator solemnly.  "We need foon." 

A ripple of musical Pa-Kai laughter washed about the tent. 

"Pardon our grins," said the Shaman, "but we find it difficult to eat the need of foon." 

Zarber blinked and seemed momentarily nonplused.  Rhys Llewellyn wondered if the Bristol-Benz reps had taken the time to study the Advanced Pa-Kai Dialect module of the Linguistic SubLearn package.  Zarber's next comment indicated they had not. 

"We don't intend to eat the foon," he said. 

The Pa-Kai went into toots and twitters of mirth and the Shaman, her shoulders shaking with her own effort not to laugh, said, "We know you do not eat foon, O Humorous One.  But what do you do with it?" 

"We use foon to make another thing called super-latex.  From this, we make many other things." 

The Shaman seemed to find this as amusing as the idea of eating foon.  "You use foon to make a thing to make another thing?  Why not just make the thing?" 

"We ... used up ... the foon on our home world," returned Zarber, lugubriously, making a face that said, "I am to be pitied."  "Then we learned how to save it.   We are letting our foon grow again, but we need so much super-latex, we must ask (pleadingly, his face said) for your excellent foon." 

The Shaman had apparently never thought of foon as being excellent and stifled another display of mirth.  "And you," she pointed her chin at Rhys.  "You need foon too?" 

"Yes," he said.  "We are here to bargain for what you call foon." 

"And you used up all your foon, also?"  The Shaman's snout wrinkled with her effort not to laugh. 

"We are children of the same home world," explained Rhys.  "We represent two different ... Clans.  His Clan wants the foon," —he pointed with all four fingers at Zarber—"and our Clan also wants it." 

The Shaman's semi-circular eyebrows rose sharply, causing her forehead to wrinkle.  "Clans?  You are Shaman, then, are you?  Which of these are your chiefs?  Pardon our eyes, but your clothing is so young and dirty we cannot tell you apart." 

Zarber gave his clothing a secret glance, then said importantly, "Our Chief remains on our homeworld.  He is handling other important business.  We have come to speak for him."  

There was almost a collective gasp from the assembled Pa-Kai.  All eyes turned to the Eldest.  He rose and all the Chieftains rose with him.  Without a word, they filed silently out of the tent.  Zarber gaped.  

Rhys Llewellyn shook his head.  While the lingual lessons had been relatively thorough, the etiquette sections had obviously left some serious gaps.  He'd have to remedy that when this was over, but right now he prayed that notes on business etiquette were not all he came out of this with.

The Shaman had risen and jutted her chin at them.  "Chiefs must be present," she said. 

"But our Chief is on another world," objected Zarber with injured dignity.  "He has many things to do." 

The Shaman was obviously offended.  "And our Chieftains sit on their hands?  You cannot make decisions for your Chief." 

"But I assure you, I can.  I have his full authority." 

"You are Shaman, not Chief," persisted the Shaman.  "Shaman guides Chief, not takes the place of Chief." 

"Pardon my muddiness," crooned Zarber, "but I am not a Shaman.  I am a speaker for the Chief." 

"Not Shaman?"  The horse-like face displayed the "This is offensive/distressing/horrifying/unparalleled news" expression.  She turned her dark violet-blue eyes to Rhys.  "Are you not a Shaman, too?" 

Rhys glanced from the Shaman to Zarber.  "I am a Shaman," he said succinctly. 

The Pa-Kai reacted by carefully opening her circle of stones and mincing across the tent to meet Rhys face to face.  She jutted her chin at him and pointed at his chest.  "You bring your Chief and we talk.  You," she added, with a clipped gesture at the Bristol-Benz group, "bring a Shaman and a Chief, then we talk." 

That said, she flourished her bell-stick, whirled in a rainbow of fabric and trotted from the tent.  The Elders and other Shaman immediately dispersed. 

"Whoof!"  Rick Halfax shook his head.  "That was a quark!" 

"No, I should have anticipated it."  Rhys picked up his brief-comp.  "Let's go retrench." 

"So, Llewellyn," said Zarber's bottomless voice from behind him, "what do you suppose you gained by pretending to be the Tanaka Shaman?" 

"And what makes you think I'd tell you?" 

The older man smiled, looking like a cross between a freshly fed Count Dracula and a cheerful mortician.  "Just checking.  Tell me, you aren't really going to ask Danetta Price to come out here and pow-wow with the natives, are you?" 

"Do I have a choice?" 

"You could use your imagination ... that is, assuming you've got one." 

"Use my imagination.  You mean lie?" 

Zarber shrugged.  "You're already doing that, aren't you ... Shaman?"  He gathered his team and left. 

"Are we going to ask Ms. Price to come to Pa-Loana?" asked Yoshi. 

"If we want that foon, I think we have to." 

oOo 

"Are you sure this is necessary, Rhys?"  Danetta Price looked a little skeptical and a lot harried.  "I'm in the middle of a buyout of Goodyear and the B-B shooters are giving us a hell of a time." 

"Tell me about it," said Rhys.  "I've got Vladimir Zarber at this end." 

"Oh?"  Danetta was suddenly very interested.  "That explains why he's not here.  It also means they think this foon thing is as important as we do...."  She chewed her lower lip, frowning.  "By the way, you have my sympathy ... about Zarber.  But do you really-" 

"Yes, I do think it's necessary.  The tribal etiquette demands that both Chiefs and Shaman be involved in any negotiations that affect the tribal Clans.  I've already established myself as the Tanaka Clan Shaman.  Now, we just need a Clan Chieftain." 

"Lord, this is right up your ethnic alley, isn't it?  Do they wear plaid kilts?" 

"No, more like paisleys and feathers.  Can you come, or shall I pack up and hie home?" 

Danetta Price heaved a gigantic sigh.  "What's Bristol-Benz doing?" 

"I think Vladimir is considering bringing in a ringer.  He's got a backlog of assistants to draw from.  The only problems is, they're all fairly young.  He had his senior assistant and secretary with him today and he's already established that neither of them is the Chieftain." 

"Do you think the Pa-Kai can tell a young Human from a mature one?" 

"I don't know, but I have a suspicion this Shaman of theirs could.  They're humanoid themselves—or pretty much so.  I can tell their young ones from the senior citizens.  Although, I have to admit, that's partly a function of dress...." 

"Get that introspective look off your face and advise me, Rhys.  What do you think?" 

"I think if we don't want to have to purchase all our super-latex from Bristol-Benz, you'd better take the next TAS shuttle to Pa-Loana.  I'm not going to snoot these people with a bogus Chieftain." 

Danetta sighed again.  "Damn your ethical hide, Rhys.  All right, you're the Professor.  Is it nice there?  How's the weather?" 

"It's beautiful.  Lush, green, violet skies, mild temperatures." 

She smiled.  "Sounds like Newscot—except for the violet skies.  You ought to be right at home." 

He returned the smile.  "Well, there aren't any stone circles, but I like it.  When you get here, I'll show you the sights." 

He broke the link and sat for a moment, staring at the blank screen of the com-unit.  Then he went to find the shuttle's Captain. 

oOo 

"I don't understand," said Yoshi, frowning at the colorful piles of cloth.  "Why are you making a costume?" 

Rhys selected a vibrantly green rain tarp and flung it over his shoulders.  It clashed agreeably with the red of his tartan.  "I'm a Shaman, aren't I?  I want to look like one." 

"Count Vladimir is going to laugh his fangs out," warned Rick. 

"Let him.  If his fangs fall out, so much the better for us.  Now, I want you two to do a little reconnaissance work.  Go hobnob with some apprentice Shaman.  Check out what they wear and how they act.  Then, we'll design some costumes for you, too." 

"Are you serious, Professor?" asked Rick, scrunching up his forehead. 

"Look, Roddy, we've already made a not-so-wonderful first impression by appearing in 'young, dirty' clothes.  We need to improve on that, don't you think?" 

Yoshi frowned.  "What does that mean—'young, dirty' clothes?  Why did the Shaman say that?" 

"Take a look around the villages.  See if you can figure it out for yourselves.  Now, get on it."  Rhys adjusted the bright orange fingers he'd cut from a pair of Tanaka OmniClime all-weather gloves into a cockscomb atop his very red hair.  He waggled his head to make sure they'd stay put, then left the shuttle. 

He managed to locate the Eldest's Shaman without too much trouble and approached her, making the "Your humble equal approaches you" face and matching gestures.  He side-stepped the last three steps to stand before her, underlining his appreciation of her station. 

"You have put off your young, dirty clothes," observed the Shaman. 

"That was my costume of travel," explained Rhys lightly.  "We came to you straight from our ship and had no time to put on our proper clothing." 

The Shaman nodded, looking Rhys over carefully.  "You are much prettier," she said, then made the "Listen, I am saying something important" face.  "A Shaman must never forget its dignity," she told him.  "Better you should dress well and be late than appear in the Council Tent in a child's clothing." 

Rhys nodded and looked woebegone, letting his shoulders droop.  "This is so," he sighed. 

The Shaman put her long narrow hand on his shoulder and canted her head to one side.  "You are very young," she told him, "but I feel you have the colors of a good Shaman.  You can learn much by watching your elders." 

"It will be a privilege to learn (most humbly) from you, O Colorful One." 

The Shaman smiled toothily.  "Your praise is singing.  Now say why you have come." 

"I wished you to know, O Bright and Shining One, that my Chieftain will arrive in four of your days and will be honored to sit in the Council Tent of the Pa-Kai." 

The Shaman made a "Have I heard you correctly?" face and said,  "Why does it take so much longer for your Chief to arrive?  You and not-Shaman Rumble Mouth are from the same world, yet he sends an Elder to tell me his Chief will arrive tomorrow morning." 

Rhys wished he could just bring himself to tell the Shaman that was because the Bristol-Benz "Chief" was a fake, but his personal code of ethics forbade that bit of back-biting.  Besides, as far as he knew the Pa-Kai didn't have a word for fake.  He suspected they would after associating with Humans for any length of time. 

He didn't have any way to explain Time Altered Space travel to the Pa-Kai either, so he settled for trying to bill Danetta Price as a conscientious sort of Chief, in Pa-Kai terms.  

"Your wise eyes will easily see why that is," he said.  "My Chieftain is a female and she feels she must see to the needs of her Clan families before she can be free to do business." 

The Shaman nodded approvingly.  "An honorable Chieftain.  I will advise the Eldest that we should wait for her arrival before speaking again of foon.  It would be only courteous to do so." 

"Thank you, Most Splendid Shaman!" exclaimed Rhys, bowing deeply, then capering two steps to one side.  "I am fulfilled." 

"Welcomes, young Shaman.  Now, it would please me if you would adore to see my laboratory/workshop/office/place of colorings." 

Rhys boggled at the rich palette of nuances the last word provided.  He understood clearly, however, that he was being singled out for the Shaman's special attention.  He accepted her invitation eagerly. 

"Your place of colorings will be my School Tent, my Great Tent, my paradise," he said and realized that a deep part of him meant it in more than the polite sense. 

oOo 

Vladimir Zarber was furious when he heard that negotiations would be held up until the arrival of the Tanaka CEO.  He didn't look furious or sound furious—at least not in front of the Pa-Kai.  In front of the Pa-Kai he nodded and cooed and said merely that the Chief of Bristol-Benz would be disappointed.  In front of Rhys and his team, Zarber was considerably more disgruntled. 

"What did you do?" he asked Rhys suspiciously.  "How did you get them to postpone the talks?  I had that Shaman convinced our Chief was honoring them by showing up so fast.  She was suitably impressed." 

Rhys scratched his jaw and gazed cross-clearing at the Pa-Kai's collection of nineteen villages, glowing in the twilight.  "I only told her our Chief had some things to take care of on Jamal first." 

Zarber's eyes narrowed.  "That should have put her off.  You didn't tell her...." 

Rhys could tell he was searching for the appropriate euphemism.  "What, that there was no way in God's great Cosmos you could get your CEO here by tomorrow morning?  No, Vlad.  I didn't make a peep.  Your ... fairy tales are your concern.  I'd only expose one of them if I thought it might endanger somebody." 

"You make me sound like a crass materialist." 

Rhys shook his head.  "You're a businessman, Vladimir.  Neither pure nor simple.  But I do admire your style." 

The older man raised silken brows in an arc of surprise.  "Why, thank you, Llewellyn.  Dare I hope that praise is sincere?" 

"I'm always sincere." 

"Yes, you are," agreed Zarber cheerfully.  "And that, young man, is bound to be your undoing in this business.  You have neither the ability nor the inclination to prevaricate." 

Rhys shrugged.  "I've always subscribed to the belief that, more often than not, honesty really is the best policy." 

"That is a subscription best canceled," retorted Zarber visibly pleased with the glib pun.  "Most developed cultures expect cleverness in business dealings, whereas our primitive hosts here would be offended by what you call sincerity." 

"I'm not sure I agree with your definition of cleverness, Vladimir.  But I think our 'primitive hosts' may be quite offended to discover that your 'Chief' is one of your assistants, and that the real CEO of Bristol-Benz couldn't be bothered to attend the negotiations." 

Zarber's expression darkened.  "Is that a threat?" 

"No.  I've already told you I have no intention of pulling your covers off." 

"Then the point is moot, isn't it?   Since there's no one else around to pull my covers."

"I suppose so....  Look, it's getting dark and we've got a state dinner to attend."  Rhys glanced toward the tent village again. 

"Oh, yes, of course.  And I suppose you're looking forward to it." 

"Yes, I am.  Now, if you'll excuse me...?"  Rhys gave his competitor a slight nod and headed back to the shuttle.  

He really was looking forward to the banquet, he realized as he donned his flamboyant Shaman's garb.  His afternoon in the company of the Pa-Kai Eldest's Shaman, Pa-Lili, had been interesting and productive.  Pa-Lili had given him a tour of her workshop, performed several characteristically Pa-Kai magics for his edification and taken him on her "rounds," explaining certain spells, tonics and cures as she executed them.  In turn, he had demonstrated the Workings of both his communicator/ recorder and his brief-comp and shown her what Humans made with foon.  He'd used his own purple dress unisuit by way of example, as well as the waterproof fabric of his "cape" and the fluorescent splendor of his head ornaments.  Pa-Lili had been very impressed, although a bit disappointed to hear that his dress kilt was fabricated from the wool of a creature that thrived only on Earth and one or two of its colonies.  

She'd made such delightful noises over his entire outfit that he had promised to make a gift of some similar garments.  His preparation for the evening's festivities had included the careful folding and wrapping of those gifts, which now reposed on his bunk-side unit next to the little pile of Shamanistic fetishes and charms Pa-Lili had insisted he have to fill his sporran (which she had taken to be an empty medicine pouch).  He smiled at them, feeling a genuine fondness for the Pa-Kai Shaman, and put on the lulac stone necklace with its small pendant spirit bag.  It clashed wonderfully with the rest of his outfit and he knew Pa-Lili would approve.  And so, he thought, might his ancient Celtic ancestors. 

His assistants, on the other hand, did not approve. 

"Do we really have to wear these crazy get-ups?" whined Rick.  "I look like an neo-deco Franciscan monk." 

"No, you look like a Pa-Kai apprentice Shaman," said Rhys.  Franciscan monks didn't wear that particular shade of chartreuse." 

"Aren't we taking this 'when in Rome' stuff a little too far?" 

"Not if it makes the Pa-Kai more comfortable with us." 

"But why are we pretending to be Shaman?" asked Yoshi, peering at him from beneath the nest of colorful cloth strips that festooned her hair.  "I thought you said we should always be honest in our dealings with indigenous cultures." 

"Who said anything about pretending?  All three of us are the product of cultures in which Shaman played an important early role.  We're just reaching back to our own roots."  Rhys studied the two dubious faces for a moment, then sighed.  "Look, I realize this is a bit different from our usual negotiating style.  Normally, we'd just throw on the dress clothing, behave in what is generally accepted to be a civilized manner and offer the sought after goods and technologies.  And I realize you two are out of your element here.  But consider this:  We know that as far as the Pa-Kai are concerned, there are two parties necessary for official, binding negotiations—the Chieftain of the Clan or Tribe and the ranking Shaman.  If our CEO is the equivalent of their Eldest-" 

Yoshi nodded.  "Then you're the logical equivalent of their Shaman and the Shaman must have apprentices and we have to look and act the part." 

"Exactly.  And when it comes to looking and acting the part, there is a ... slightly different measure of decorum among the Pa-Kai than we're used to.  The clothing we consider businesslike, they consider ... unworthy." 

Yoshi continued to nod, her dark eyes lighting.  "Yes.  Our clothes seemed dirty to them—drab like the clothing worn by their children—little color." 

Rick blinked at her.  "Is that what that was all about?" 

"Didn't you notice?  The young Pa-Kai wear drabber color than their elders.  I would say you earn your colors on this part of Pa-Loana.  It's a sign of status.  The more colors, the greater the status." 

Rhys was pleased.  The girl had the makings of a good cultural anthropologist.  He wondered what either of them were doing in a negotiating team for a major corporation.

Rick nodded.  "All right.  So, we looked young and dirty.  And since we want to impress them as mature and capable-"  He shook his colorful habit. 

"You've got it.  But don't forget the behavior part of the equation.  A Shaman is obviously expected to use the full range of body language to communicate.  Our mannerisms probably seem ... weak or even secretive to them." 

Rick's eyes glinted with a sudden spark of realization.  "Then, Count Vladimir, with his dress blues and dignity fetish...." 

"May find that what were once assets are now liabilities," finished Rhys.  "At least, that's what I'm hoping."  He crooked his finger at them.  "Let's go." 

"But," said Yoshi, falling into step beside him, "what if Zarber catches on?" 

"I'm hoping he won't.  After all, he accused me of the same thing you did—pretence." 

Yoshi blushed.  "Sorry, sir." 

"No apologies necessary.  Now, think Shamanistic thoughts and smile." 

oOo 

The Tanaka contingent arrived at the collective village circle to find that the Bristol-Benz party had preceded them.  Dressed in a midnight blue full-dress unisuit, Vladimir Zarber's expression went from arch to stunned to incredulous to amused and back to arch again in remarkably swift succession.  He strolled over to Rhys with all the swagger of a nineteenth century buccaneer and looked him over from head to toe with a scathing, chuckling glance. 

"What in the name of creation are you made up for, Llewellyn?  Have you gone completely mad?" 

Rhys smiled.  "Not that I know of.  I'm just trying to fit in with the other Shaman." 

"Really?  You could have just explained that where we come from, Shaman don't dress like that.  That's what I intend to do if the subject of my 'youthful' garb comes up again.  After all, Llewellyn, in our common culture, it's the immature who costume themselves in garish abandon." 

"That's true.  But this isn't our culture, common or otherwise." 

Zarber shook his head.  "Honestly, I can't imagine what Danetta Price was thinking of to hire a Professor of Anthropology over someone with Ph.D.'s in Business Psychology and Diplomacy.  You are completely unqualified for this line of work, you know.  You belong in a dusty little museum somewhere pottering about with bones and poring over hieroglyphs.  It astounds me that you've enjoyed as much success as you have.  I can only credit it to your beleaguered support staff."  He flicked his gaze to Umeki and Halfax, who met his eyes with cool insolence.  "You're an archetypal nerd, Llewellyn," he said flatly.  "And you're turning your assistants into nerds too." 

"So there!" muttered Rick when Zarber had stalked off again.  "I guess that put us in our place.  What was that about Price picking an Anthropologist over a Doctor of Biz-Psych?" 

"I don't know," said Rhys thoughtfully.  "Curious comment, wasn't it?" 

A gong sounded just then, announcing the arrival of the Eldest and his Shaman.  There was a general clearing away of Pa-Kai along his preferred route as he was carried to his place in the banquet circle by four hefty specimens, each bearing a corner of his carved and ornamented pallet.  He was preceded by Pa-Lili and followed by a standard bearer whose pole-top pennant blazed with the Eldest's Clan emblem. 

Rhys and his assistants bowed and bobbed along with the Pa-Kai, then went to greet their seated host.  The Shaman showed them to their seats.  She put Rhys to her right and Zarber to her left. Each set of apprentices sat flaking their Shaman. Rhys felt intuitively that the arrangement augured well, if for no other reason than that by placing him so, Pa-Lili seemed to be expressing a preference for his company. 

She heightened his suspicion of favoritism by addressing him with great familiarity during the ensuing meal.  At one point, having told what passed among the Pa-Kai as a joke, she even slapped him sonorously on the back. 

Zarber, on the other hand (quite literally) she treated with pronounced decorum.  She referred to him always as "Shaman Tsar-Bar" and never once slipped from the Pa-Kai formal pronouns into the more familiar address she used with Rhys.  Rhys was pleased with that, but he was the slightest bit uneasy about the fact that Zarber seemed as pleased with her formality as he was with her familiarity. 

Just as bemusing was the title "Shaman" being accorded to a man who, earlier that day, Pa-Lili had referred to as "not-Shaman Rumble Mouth."  Taking advantage of Zarber's distraction by the food and entertainment, Rhys turned to Pa-Lili wearing the "Question?" expression. 

"Pardon my nose, O Radiant Pa-Lili, but may I ask why you refer to Zarber as a Shaman?  I thought I heard him say he was not a Shaman of the Bristol-Benz Clan." 

"Ah."  Pa-Lili nodded.  "Yes, that one was a little confused.  He said he did not understand what was being asked of him.  The word 'Shaman' was not familiar to him.  He said among the members of his Clan he is called 'Doctor.'"  Her violet eyes gazed at him very directly.  "You had no trouble with the word." 

"We are from different Tribes," explained Rhys.  "Our training was very different." 

"He has more age than you, Reeslooelen."  The name rolled off Pa-Lili's long slender tongue with a fluidity Rhys had thought possessed only by native speakers of Gaelic. 

He smiled and nodded.  "Yes, he's quite a bit older than I am." 

Pa-Lili displayed a most Human frown of bemusement and commented, "He dresses very young.  Perhaps he is not comfortable enough with age to admit to it." 

Rhys swallowed a chuckle.  "May I also ask why you are so formal with Shaman Zarber?" 

"I do this because he likes to be addressed from a distance," said Pa-Lili.  "It strokes him.  You would be put off with such formality." 

Rhys bit the inside of his lip.  He'd been wrong.  Pa-Lili was obviously very sensitive to the personality quirks of other beings.  As she was "stroking" Zarber with formality, she was "stroking" him with intimacy. 

"And besides," Pa-Lili said, after a moment of thought.  "I like you." 

Rhys quite nearly blushed.  He felt a rush of pleased surprise.  "I like you, too," he told her. 

She blinked and made the "This pleases" face, her crest hair rippling visibly.  She patted his hand.  "You wear my gift spirit bag," she noted. 

"Oh, yes.  Thank you, Many Hued Pa-Lili.  Your gifts were most generous.  My medicine pouch is full." 

"What spell do you weave—or is it a secret one?" 

Rhys mind went blank except for the entirely irrelevant thought that no one had ever asked him that before and was this what it was like to attend a Sorcerer's Convention. 

"I would like to weave a spell of good will and complete honesty," he said.  That sounded innocuous enough and seemed to please Pa-Lili.  

"And what, then, are the contents of your bag?" 

"I, uh....  It's empty."  He knew that was wrong and gritted his teeth, waiting for Pa-Lili to register her offense at his ineptitude. 

She merely shook her head and clucked at him from somewhere deep in her throat, her long face saying, Poor baby.  "No spell may be drawn from an empty bag," she told him with the air of one repeating ageless advice.  "You must place the spell weaver within." 

Rhys blinked, sensing his apprentice's eyes hot on the side of his perspiring face. 

"A spell-weaver?" he asked limply.  

Pa-Lili clucked again.  "What do they teach you on your world, Reeslooelen?"  She began a rhythmic recitation: "Within the bag must live/the fetish that will power give.  Within the bag must dwell/the talisman that weaves the spell."  She raised a long finger.  "If a thing is to be tagged, a piece of it goes in the bag.  If a person is to be touched, a bit of their life will serve as such." 

She finished the musical little chant and nodded once, then turned her eyes to Rhys.  "They do not teach you this?" 

"Not exactly, but I think I understand." 

"I don't," said Yoshi unexpectedly.  She colored as both Rhys and Pa-Lili turned to look at her.  She pressed her hands together before her chest and bowed her head deferentially.  "Pardon me, Most Wise Ones, but what does it mean—'a bit of their life?'  How can you put a bit of someone's life in a bag?" 

Pa-Lili deferred to Rhys.  "Will you explain to your apprentice, Reeslooelen?" 

Rhys nodded.  "Certainly."  He turned to Yoshi and crossed his fingers under the billow of his cape, hoping that Pa-Kai Shamanism followed the same rules as the ancient Earth cultures he'd studied—his own included.  "What the Sagacious Pa-Lili means is that something pertaining to the person for whom the spell is intended must be placed in the bag to—ah—to bind the spell and to ... point it in the right direction."  

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhys could see Pa-Lili twitching the end of her camelid nose in agreement.  He heaved a mental sigh of relief. 

"Well spoken," said the Pa-Kai Shaman. "The bag contains the pointer to the spell, for the spirits/angels must know where the spell is to go—to what or whom it must be bound.  So, you give them a twist of hair, a drop of blood, a slice of skin.  If many people are involved—many bits of life go into the bag." 

Yoshi looked queasy.  "Blood and skin?" 

Pa-Lili gave an artless Pa-Kai shrug.  "Eh, those things are needed only for the most potent of healing or educational spells." 

"Educational spells?" Rick echoed. 

Pa-Lili looked at him sternly down the length of her nose.  "You don't know about educational spells?" 

"They are very young apprentices," Rhys defended them.  "Also, on our world Shamanistic apprentices tend to—um—specialize." 

"A serious mistake, Reeslooelen," remonstrated Pa-Lili.  "If everyone specializes, there will soon be no masters of the total discipline.  A Shaman is by nature a General Practitioner—a Knower of All Knowledge.  How else are we to intelligently advise our Chieftains?" 

"So true," said Rhys with a Sigh face barely hiding a smile.  "I have often felt that on our worlds the knowledge of each successive generation of Shaman is narrower than the one before.  These children would benefit much by your knowledge, O Flamboyant Pa-Lili." 

Pa-Lili's crest danced.  She raised her elongated head and gazed fondly at the "children" through her sweet eyes.  "An educational spell is used when the student is too dense to learn the normal way.  It is a great restorer of law and order for those who cannot control their behavior." 

"You mean, um...." Yoshi began, then stopped in bemusement.  She turned to Rhys.  "How do they say 'criminals?'" she asked in Standard. 

"Actually, they don't seem to have a word for them."  Rhys made the "How surprising!" face at Pa-Lili.  "Do you mean that when people, er, misbehave or do wrong things you put a spell on them to ... instruct them?" 

"To instruct and enlighten, yes.  These are our educational spells." 

"Do they work?" asked Rick incredulously—for which Rhys would have cheerfully kicked him, if he could have reached that far.  

"Of course, they work!" hooted Pa-Lili.  "What good is a spell that doesn't work?"  She turned to Rhys and murmured, "This apprentice needs much remedial work.  You might consider using a bit of an educational spell on him." 

Rhys chuckled.  "You may be right, O Wise Pa-Lili." 

"I would wager the Wise Pa-Lili is seldom, if ever, wrong," said Vladimir Zarber's voice. 

Rhys was pleased to note the fleeting expression that crossed Pa-Lili's face before she turned to include the Bristol-Benz negotiator in the conversation.  The Advanced Lingual Base had translated it as, "An insect has just landed on an unreachable part of my anatomy." 

oOo 

In the next three days, Rhys and his two "apprentices" spent much time in the company of the Pa-Kai, taking tours of the nineteen Clan villages and "talking shop" with every Shaman they could collar.  Pa-Lili's personal apprentices were eager to display their knowledge to their Human counterparts and gave a good deal of their time to do so. 

"Today," said Rick at the end of day three, "we learned three different ways to cure crest hair loss and a couple of incantations for Pa-Lili's so-called educational spells."  He set his recorder down on the table in the shuttle's small passenger lounge and peeled off his crestcap. 

Rhys nodded at the recorder.  "You put them on disc?" 

"Sure, why not?  I figured you'd be interested in their anthropological value ... Prof," he added, grinning.  "And besides, I think they're pretty hooky tunes.  Put a band behind 'em and you've got some real hits.  Here, give a listen."  He turned the recorder on. 

A melody of fluid grace cascaded out of the tiny machine accompanied by the rhythmic beat of a tuned drum and the crystalline ching! of some native chimes.  Rhys was charmed.  Yoshi smiled with delight, humming along. 

"That's wonderful!" said Rhys when the chants were finished.  "You were right—I think it's absolutely fascinating.  What instrument was that Hi-Pok was playing?" 

"A padachi," said Yoshi.  She searched the medicine pouch Thuili, Pa-Lili's female apprentice had given her and came up with what appeared to be a tiny tympani with a handle.  At the end of the colorfully wrapped handle was what looked like a green glass ball with a grinning mouth.  Within the ball was a smaller ball made of some bright, golden metal.  "She even showed me how to play it."  Yoshi rolled into a sweet rendition of a soft, dreamy chant. 

Rhys smiled, settling comfortably into a lounger to listen.  The little piece made him think of hot cider and glowing fireplaces and vivid, soft plaid blankets.  

He pulled himself from the drowsy reverie when he realized Yoshi had stopped singing.  "That was—that was exquisite.  What was it?" 

"Thuili called it a rulurulu—a cradle charm.  They use it to put sick or restless children to sleep." 

The warm wash of his own amazement brought Rhys fully awake.  He glanced at Rick, ready to admit laughingly that the charm had certainly worked its magic on him.  But his apprentice was fast asleep, curled cozily among the voluminous folds of his chartreuse robes. 

Yoshi giggled.  "It had the same effect on him when Hi-Pok chanted it today." 

"It did?" 

"Well, he didn't fall asleep, but he got pretty dozy."  She handed Rhys the padachi.  "I guess it's all that late night feasting and dancing we've been doing, huh?"  Her face said she wasn't sure she believed that. 

"Yeah, I guess that must be it," agreed Rhys, turning the little drum over in his hands.  The little ball-chime sounded musically and Rick stirred, smiled and cuddled further into his habit. 

"Makes me sleepy just looking at him," yawned Yoshi.  "I think I'll turn in.  What time tomorrow is Ms. Price due in from Corporate?" 

"Uh, sometime in the late afternoon, if she's on schedule." 

"Oh, good.  Well, goodnight, sir." 

"Goodnight, Yoshi."  Rhys got up, wondering if he should wake Rick or let him sleep.  In the end, curiosity got the better of him.  He crossed the cabin and shook the other man's shoulder. 

"Huh?"  Rick blinked, brought his eyes into focus on Rhys' face, then struggled to sit up.  "What-?" 

"You fell asleep." 

Rick made a disgusted face.  "That damn cradle tune, again." 

"You think it works?" 

Rick shrugged, coloring.  "It's certainly a relaxing little ditty." 

"Just out of curiosity, what were you thinking about just before you ... succumbed?" 

The color in Rick's face heightened.  "You'll laugh." 

"Only if I was thinking similar thoughts." 

"Well....  When I was a kid, my mom would read me books in one of those old flotation chairs.  She'd turn the heating unit up just a bit and I'd sit there bobbing up and down in her lap drinking hot chocolate and about the middle of the second story...."  He shrugged.  "She never once let me spill the chocolate." 

Rhys chuckled.  "I was having hot cider before a roaring fire wrapped in my favorite blanket."  He looked at the padachi again, shaking his head.  "Old wives' tales and folk magic—they've done well by humanity for millennia." 

"This isn't the beginning of a lecture on folklore, is it, Prof?"  

Rhys caught the look on Rick's face and laughed.  "No, Roddy, I'll spare you that.  Go ahead and get some sleep.  We have a big day tomorrow." 

He picked up Rick's recorder, popped the tiny disk out and slipped it into his sporran, tossing the recorder back to its owner.  "See you bright and early, apprentice Roddihalfs." 

oOo 

They breakfasted at 0700 hours planetary time in a pleasant glen hard by the shuttle and still dressed in their shipboard "drabs."  Rhys Llewellyn drank five cups of coffee and jotted notes on his pocket recorder. 

"You look tired, sir," observed Yoshi, then smiled shyly.  "Did the lullaby wear off?" 

Rhys shook his head.  "I had some preparations to make for the negotiations tomorrow morning." 

"But you have all day to do that, don't you, sir?" 

"Today, we'll need to make strategic and physical preparations.  I figured I'd get the computer work out of the way last night." 

"What physical preparations?" asked Rick, munching a piece of native fruit. 

"We'll need a banner, for one thing." 

"Pardon?" 

"Haven't you noticed that whenever a group of Chieftains gathers they each have a Clan banner behind them?" 

"I noticed.  But we don't have a Clan banner." 

"No.  We have a corporate logo.  And your job for the day is to see that that logo is put onto a banner.  A very colorful banner.  There's still a good supply of those OmniClime tarps, which fortunately come in a myriad of designer colors.  By the by, there's also the matter of Ms. Price's pallet for banquet.  The Pa-Kai will supply the wooden frame, and set it up in the banquet circle, but it's up to our Clan to provide proper ornamentation.  Yoshi, you're the ornamentation committee.  See if you can determine what the well-turned out Chieftain is supposed to deck his or her deck in." 

Yoshi nodded eagerly, her eyes kindling.  "I've already got a pretty good idea.  It seems to be related to the goods a particular Clan produces....  This is fun, sir." 

Rick snorted, whether at Yoshi's comment or the approaching visitor, Rhys wasn't sure. 

"Don't look now, but here comes the Count and he doesn't look happy." 

That was an understatement, Rhys decided.  Zarber looked incensed.  In fact, if smoke had been curling out of his ears, it would have seemed completely natural. 

"To what do we owe this pleasant-" 

"I have no intention of making this pleasant, Llewellyn," he said in his most profundo basso.  "You are a scoundrel; an underhanded, sneaky, spineless individual-" 

"Yes, I know what a scoundrel is, thank you," said Rhys mildly.  "How does it apply to me?  I thought I was an archetypal nerd." 

"You," returned Zarber, "have been fraternizing with the natives.  Sucking up to that Pa-Kai medicine man all week, putting on your silly costumes, clutching your pouches, dangling your spirit bags.  You've been working on a deal behind my back!" 

Rhys sat up, his own temper on a sudden rise.  "What kind of a half-assed accusation is that?" 

"Rather more than half an ass, I think.  Neither my assistants nor I have been blind to your dark plottings.  You've monopolized not only the Shaman's time, but its apprentices, as well.  We haven't been able to get so much as a ten second audience." 

"'Dark plottings?'  Don't be so melodramatic.  We're just being friendly and trying to win their respect.  There's nothing sneaky about that." 

"You're doing more than being friendly, you're currying favor.  You're-" 

"And what are you doing with the Eldest in the meantime?" asked Yoshi unexpectedly.  "You and your so-called Chieftain have been having teapots with him every morning and bringing him little imported goodies every afternoon." 

"We were invited." 

"So were we.  Pa-Lili invited us to fraternize.  It's only courteous to accept the invitation." 

"Is that what you call this silly masquerade—this shamanizing nonsense?  Courtesy?  You're making fools of yourselves." 

Rhys' mouth puckered thoughtfully.  "Maybe you're right ...  but would you like to bet on it?" 

Zarber's eyes narrowed, making him look as if he'd just bitten into a lemon (or into someone who'd just eaten one).  "What do you know, Llewellyn, hm?  What privileged information have you weaseled out of that Pa-Kai wind bag?" 

Yoshi gasped.  "You're a very rude man," she told Zarber indignantly.  "That's a terrible thing to say about Pa-Lili.  She's nice!" 

Rhys smothered a laugh.  Yoshi reminded him strongly of a certain little girl from Kansas facing down a certain Cowardly Lion.  All she needed was to be clutching a little black mongrel.  The impression was obviously shared by Zarber. 

"Are all of your associates as gullible as Dorothy, here, or is that just an act?" he asked. 

"I think Yoshi is right," said Rhys.  "The only wind bag around here is you.  Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a lot to do before the negotiations begin tomorrow morning." 

Zarber glared at Rhys, iron faced.  "I'll just bet you do.  Well, I can play charades, too, Llewellyn.  Probably better than you can." 

"Ooh," said Rhys, clutching at his collar.  "I'm scared." 

Zarber flushed a deep scarlet and left with long, dignified strides. 

"If he could arrange to turn that color in front of the Pa-Kai, he might score some points," observed Rick.  "Geez, he's slick.  Slick as a wet rock."  He turned an admiring eye on Rhys.  "You handled that beautifully, by the way....  Are you scared?  Of losing this one to the Count, I mean." 

Rhys nodded.  "Terrified." 

"I'm not," said the stalwart Dorothy.  "I know you can out-maneuver him, sir."  

Rick snorted.  "I just hope he's not better at playing charades than we are." 

"Who's playing charades?" asked Rhys.  "I'm not.  I hope you're not.  And if Zarber is, then he might just sabotage his own position." 

"We could help," suggested Yoshi.  "Just let me get a lock of his hair." 

"Good God, what for?" asked Rick, staring at her. 

"Don't you pay any attention to Hi-Pok and Thuilu?  You put the hair in the spirit bowl, immerse it in pure water and lay the curse.  Then, you put it in the spirit bag so the spirits will know what to do and you wear the spirit bag over your heart so you can help direct their efforts.  Very simple." 

Rick ogled.  "You don't really believe that stuff." 

"Why not?  The rulurulu worked on you—twice." 

"I was exhausted and the melody was soothing.  Big deal." 

Yoshi shrugged.  "So, don't believe.  Laugh at your ancestors.  I'm sure they don't care." 

Rhys watched the exchange with quiet amusement.  For all his study of the cultural lore of a thousand civilizations, both major and minor, he'd never come to a definite belief about magic.  His own ethnic history was saturated with it—tales of the Druids, the Ancient Ones, the Elements; legends of Merlin (Myrddin to his Gaelic and Welsh speaking forebears), tales of stone circles and moonlit rites of power-dark sorcery.  Yet his beliefs were nebulous—much less studied than the dry-paper facts and academic theories that were the meat of the twin fields of Anthropology and Archaeology. 

Belief.  He believed in a Deity, he knew that.  And he'd always supposed that Deity communicated with Its myriad creatures in whatever way was comprehensible to each kind.  Magic, spells, prayers (curses, even) could certainly qualify as the creatures' response to that communication.  He tried to keep an open mind into which evidence like the effects of the rulurulu could freely fall.  And, when the evidence hit bottom.... 

"Come on, Professor.  Tell her she's being brain-washed," Rick was insisting.  "She thinks you're going to put a curse on this guy." 

Rhys shook his head.  "No, I'm surely not going to do that.  That would be ... unethical, un-Shamanly ... downright scroundrelly.  I don't believe in putting curses on people, Yoshi.  But I do appreciate the thought."  He stood and stretched.  "Okay.  Everybody up.  We've got work to do." 

 oOo 

Danetta Price's shuttle arrived about two hours before sunset, setting down gracefully next to the other Tanaka vessel.  The first thing she noticed about the small camp set up by the negotiating team was the colorful banner that flapped in the breeze, suspended on the crosspiece of a tall metal pole.  It was emblazoned with the same stylized rendering of the Tanaka logo that adorned the two TAS shuttle craft.  She admired it briefly, then went to the neighboring shuttle to find Rhys.  She didn't find him, but she did find Yoshi Umeki and Rick Halfax going over the Environmental Impact reports in the passenger lounge. 

"Ms. Price!"  Rick saw her first and rose quickly to greet her.  Yoshi followed suit shyly. 

"Hello, Roderick, Yoshi."  Danetta shook their hands firmly.  "Where's the Professor?" 

Rick nodded toward the airlock.  "He went over to the village to visit with his buddy, Pa-Lili, and make some last minute arrangements for the feast tonight." 

"His buddy, Pa-Lili?" echoed Danetta. 

"The Pa-Kai tribal Shaman and head negotiator," explained Yoshi. 

"Ah, yes.  Of course."  Danetta nodded, her eyes falling on a bright pile of fabric draped over one of the loungers. "What are those?" 

"Ah, well....."  Rick eyed the robes dubiously.  "I think we'd better let Dr. Llewellyn explain-" 

"Well, speak of the devil-" said Danetta, staring over Rick's shoulder.  Then she broke into peals of laughter. 

Rhys watched her paroxysms silently from under his crown of orange fingers, his splendid green cape clashing eloquently with purple unitard and multi-hued tartan plaid.  "Hello, to you to," he said cheerfully.  "You're just in time for a briefing before the cielidh." 

"The what?" 

"The party tonight.  Ah, well, banquet, I suppose you'd call it, except it's a good deal more than that.  There'll be food and song and storytelling—the Pa-Kai are quite good at all that.  As good as the old Celts, come to it.  But, excuse me for a minute, I have to go clean up.  I got a little something on my cape." 

"That looks like blood," said Yoshi.  "You didn't hurt yourself, did you, sir?  I have some quapai ointment."  She pointed at her medicine pouch, slung over the arm of a side chair. 

"Oh, it's not mine.  It's poor old Vladimir's." 

Three pairs of eyes assumed saucer-like proportions. 

"Oh, sir, you didn't!" breathed Yoshi awfully. 

"Good Lord, Rhys," said Danetta.  "I know the man is your arch rival, but-" 

"I didn't lay a hand on him, I promise.  There was some hullabaloo going on in the village commons—a lot of party preparations and what not.  Vlad just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got rapped by a piece of flying timber.  They were trying to hoist this little tower affair for the fireworks tonight and he just got in the way."  He grimaced and flapped the bloodied bit of cape.  "I guess I was sort of in the wrong place at the wrong time, too." 

"Was he badly hurt?" asked Danetta. 

"Well, it got him in the mouth.  May have chipped a tooth.  Pa-Lili insisted on taking care of it, so he's in good hands ... whether he knows it or not."  He studied the stain for a moment, then grinned.  "And there he stood, thirsting for my blood.  Van Helsing lives."  He disappeared in the direction of the cabins, humming a tune. 

Danetta Price stared after him, a bemused expression on her face.  "Is it my imagination, or has his brogue gotten thicker since you left?" 

"It sort of thins and thickens," said Yoshi.  "The better he feels, the thicker it gets." 

"You can say that again," muttered Rick. 

 oOo 

"So, it seemed to me that the best way of besting Zarber was to negotiate with the Pa-Kai on their own terms.  If they believe a Chieftain and a Shaman must both be present to negotiate a deal, then we provide a Shaman and a Chieftain as they know them.  And we bring them a real Chieftain, not a mock up." 

Danetta nodded.  "Which is what Zarber is giving them, I take it.  I happen to know that William Benz is on his way to Earth even as we speak.  He's going to be taking a nice little transit nap for the next couple of weeks." 

"He's hand picked one of his tall, dignified, male acolytes to play the part," said Rhys.  "The young gentleman has been spreading his dignified presence around the Pa-Kai villages for the past three days schmoozing with the other Chieftains.  Meanwhile, in the absence of our own Chieftain, we have been keeping company with the Shaman and her associates." 

"Who dress like this?"  Danetta lifted the freshly laundered hem of Rhys' cape. 

"Exactly." 

"Dare I hope that Chieftains do not also dress like this?"  Her hazel eyes were imploring. 

"Oh, the Chieftains are a much drabber lot," Rhys assured her.  "They seldom wear more than two shades from opposite color groups at the same time and their crest adornments are much more —ah..." 

"Understated?" suggested Rick. 

"Well, they're not fluorescent and they generally hang down the back as opposed to sticking out in all directions." 

Danetta raised her eyes to Rhys' head.  "I'm delighted to hear that." 

 oOo 

They arrived at this evening's banquet just at sunset when the torches and fires in the tribal commons were beginning to compete with the Pa-Loana Sun for brilliance.  Except for her very un-Pa-Kai features, Danetta Price looked the epitome of Pa-Kai Chieftain-hood.  The robes she wore over a bright burgundy unisuit were Pa-Kai originals, procured from a village merchant who catered to the fashion whims of Chief and Shaman alike.  It was, he assured them, the latest in royal garb and drew their attention to the way the head gear draped a vivid azure tail over the shoulder of the deep amber robe. 

"I'm a regular work of art," murmured Danetta as she and Rhys marched side-by-side into the Pa-Kai village.  Behind them, arrayed in shamanistic splendor, walked Rick and Yoshi, while bringing up the rear was a borrowed steward from one of the shuttles carrying the Tanaka banner on its tall pole. 

"Wait till you see the other Chieftains," said Rhys.  "Believe me, you'll fit right in." 

She did that, creating quite a stir among the Pa-Kai as they gathered to greet her and admire her finery.  Rhys, meanwhile, kept his eyes open for the Bristol-Benz party.  He couldn't have missed them if he'd kept them closed.  As the horns blew announcing the arrival of the Pa-kai Eldest, the Bristol-Benz "Chieftain" arrived at the entrance to the tribal commons carried on a pallet by four crewmen, each hefting a lit torch.  The Eldest's pallet reached the same spot at the same moment.  For a second the two passengers stared at each other, then Zarber's ringer made a cool, sweeping gesture for the Eldest to precede him. 

Rhys watched Pa-Lili closely, catching the telltale shake of her head and the sour face she made.  He smiled and relaxed.  Trust Zarber to overplay a scene. 

When Danetta had mounted her own tastefully decorated pallet and everyone was seated about the huge central bonfire, two things stood out in plain relief—one was the elevated pallet of the Pa-Kai Eldest and the other was the equally elevated pallet of the Bristol-Benz impostor.  For a second time the two Chieftains looked at each other—one cool, the other at least seeming to be.  

Rhys glanced over at Zarber, who, in an obvious effort to play Rhys at what he believed was his own game, had affected a bright red sash and matching beret for the occasion.  Zarber gazed back, an impossibly smug, albeit dignified, expression on his bruised and lacerated face.  He smiled, displaying a black hole where once an incisor had been. 

The Pa-Kai Eldest spoke.  "Tell me, O Chieftain Benz," he said, "When did you develop this infirmity?" 

The other "Chief" blinked and glanced down at his "Shaman."  Zarber shook his head, still watching the Pa-Kai for some clue. 

"Pardon, O Eldest One," said the impostor coolly.  "Your meaning flies by me." 

"You are carried here on a tray.  I ask what infirmity you have sustained since earlier today which causes this?" 

Rhys had to admire the way Zarber slipped smoothly into the awkward silence.  "My Chieftain was so distressed upon hearing of my own accident earlier that he attempted to hurry to my aid.  He slipped on the entry ramp of our ship and fell, spraining his foot."  He finished the narration with a face that said, "How noble is my Chieftain.  How humble am I." 

Rhys wanted to guffaw.  The only thing that kept him from doing so was his native sense of courtesy ... and the fact that Zarber's quick thinking had retrieved Bristol-Benz from what should have been an embarrassing situation.  Hell, he'd done better than retrieve it.  "Chieftain Benz" now looked like a sensitive, noble being and one hell of a nice guy—in Pa-Kai terms, a hero.  Zarber's dignified bearing had finally made a favorable impression—it made him seem humble in a twisted sort of way.  

Rhys glanced around at the solicitous expressions on the mobile Pa-Kai faces.  Their sympathy was neither disguised nor feigned.  The Eldest leaned toward the injured stalwart and engaged him in private conversation, the gist of which was lost on Rhys, who could only hear the fluting trills at the ends of certain phrases.  Zarber was nearly grinning.  

Rhys gritted his teeth.  Maybe that old adage was true; maybe nice guys really did finish last.  Maybe he should learn to play people like Zarber by their own rules. 

He barely noticed the food being served, but sat pondering his next move until he felt someone nudge his ribs.  It was Danetta Price. 

"Hello there," she said, peering at him inquiringly.  "Where have you been?" 

He smiled ruefully.  "Just wool-gathering." 

"Wool ... what?" 

"An old rural expression.  Star-gazing." 

"Ah.  So, Prof, tell me what's my next move?  How do I pry the Eldest away from 'Chief Benz?'" 

"I'm not sure.  I...  Danetta, will you tell me something." 

"If I can.  What?" 

"Zarber made a comment the other day about you preferring a Professor of Anthropology over a Doctor of Biz-Psych.  Any idea what he meant?" 

She nodded.  "Sure.  It's no particular secret.  Zarber was one of the applicants for your job.  We hired you—he went on to B-B." 

Rhys was stunned.  "You hired me?" 

Danetta eyed him humorously.  "I do imprint your pay account, don't I?" 

"But, why me instead of Zarber?   He already had a reputation as a crack negotiator." 

"Yes, he did.  On Earth and in the colonies and among the few cultures we've connected with that were, shall we say, of the same mind about business.  But he had no experience with non-urban cultures.  Not even the ones on Earth.  This man thinks a peace pipe is an odd bit of scrap metal.  If someone handed him one, he'd probably put the wrong end in his mouth.  He knows the psychology of Human business, Human psychology and only a narrow band-width of that.  And in my experience, it's not the Urban society that has the most valuable resources to offer.  I can handle the deals with urban Humans myself—in fact, I like doing it.  What I needed was someone who could deal with divergent cultures in their own language and in their own element.  You can do that.  It seems to come naturally to you."   She waved the blue tail that hung over her left shoulder.  "Do you think Zarber would have thought of adapting to Pa-Kai culture like this without your lead?" 

Rhys shook his head. 

Danetta smiled.  "I know you have trouble understanding Twenty-third century Urban Man, but you're damn good divining what makes someone like your friend Pa-Lili tick.  Am I right?" 

"I hope so," said Rhys.  He sounded dubious, but realized he felt much better about the whole situation.  "Then you don't mind this rigmarole?"  He gestured at their combined adornment. 

"Mind?  This is a vacation, Rhys.  Besides, how often does a woman in my position get to dress up like this?...  Now, how do I get the Eldest's attention?" 

Rhys eyed the Pa-Kai leader.  "Wait for a break in conversation, then compliment him on the feast and the colors of his dress.  End your leading sentence with praises like:  Most Elegant One, Most Vibrant One.  Refer to the color of his dress a lot.  How varied the hues, how vivid.  Then, apologize for being here four days late and explain that you had Clan business that had to be taken care of.  They set great store by conscientious leadership.  You have an advantage in that you're female.  The Pa-Kai believe females make the best leaders because they have a natural tendency toward the nurturing arts." 

"Really?"  Danetta glanced up at the B-B surrogate CEO.  "Then why would Zarber choose a male Chief?  He has quite a few female staff members." 

"But they're all in subordinate roles.  Besides, he probably accepted the obvious evidence that the Eldest was a male.  I have it on good authority that that's a fairly rare occurrence.  The last Eldest was female.  About sixty percent of the other Chieftains are female and so are a majority of the Shaman." 

Danetta nodded.  "How important is the Shaman?" 

"A lot more important that Zarber seems to think ... I hope." 

"Could he be right?  Is approaching the Eldest 'man to man,' as it were, a good tactic?" 

"He could be right.  My intuition says not, but-"  He shrugged.  "Even if this Eldest feels personally more comfortable negotiating with another male, he'll be more respectful of a female.  Maybe even a little in awe of her." 

"Ah.  Six of one, half-dozen of the other.  I could be an advantage or a break-even ... or a disadvantage." 

"I doubt that.  For one thing you're older than Zarber's assistant." 

Danetta grimaced.  "You had to remind me." 

"No, no.  I mean, that's a real advantage.  An older Chief is a more experienced Chief—a more colorful Chief.  That's why the oldest Clan Chieftain is automatically made the Tribal leader." 

"Can they tell an older Human from a younger one?" 

"I don't know." 

Danetta turned back to observe the subjects under discussion.  "Okay.  Let's see how I do with the great Chief," she said and waited for a break in the conversation between Chieftain and charlatan. 

She did fine, all things considered, but the Eldest seemed more threatened by the Tanaka CEO than he did awed by her.  Since the Chieftain in line to take his position if his health failed was a middle-aged matron of the Lupao Clan, that was understandable.  He was obviously more comfortable with the youth and inexperience of Zarber's Chieflet, Rhys suspected, because he could treat him with fatherly condescension. 

It didn't help that Shaman Zarber dropped not-so-subtle hints throughout the feast that Rhys had somehow been responsible for his mishap earlier in the day.  He implied that the rivalry between them was more than just simple competition over a contract (Rhys now knew the truth of that).  His insinuations brought to Rhys' mind a vivid picture of two ancient tribal Magi, slinging curses and lightning bolts at each other through all eternity.  It was like something out of one of those holographic role playing games that seemed to be the constant rage among teenagers. 

The Eldest seemed impressed with Zarber's macabre little remarks, but Pa-Lili was openly disdainful.  "This Shaman Tsar-Bar is a rude fellow," she said, echoing Yoshi's sentiments.  "Such slithering accusations are beneath a Shaman's breath.  What sort of training did he receive?  What feathers has he earned?" 

"Well, actually," said Rhys, "he has, er, earned feathers in, ah, Business Thinking and the Speaking of Diplomacy." 

"Business?" tooted Pa-Lili.  "What does a Shaman have to do with business?  A Shaman is a caretaker, a preserver.  It is a shame my Eldest is so taken with their freshly hatched Chieftain.  But the Old One loves those he can impress.  Your Chief Tanaka is too impressive to be impressed....  Perhaps you should lay a curse on this Shaman since he seems to believe you already have."  She gave Rhys a hard look. 

He shook his head, making his crest of orange fingers bounce and wave.  "I couldn't do that." 

"You have the means," she pressed, her gaze becoming conspiratorial. 

He wondered if he was being tested.  "Perhaps I do, but it would be ... a great sin." 

Pa-Lili nodded.  "True, it is not good to wish others ill.  But it is an equally great sin to lie."  She looked pointedly at Zarber.  "You had nothing to do with his toothlessness." 

No, Rhys thought, I didn't.  But if an accident pulled one fang, I sure wish I could pull the other. 

 oOo 

In his dreams, Rhys Llewellyn was Myrddin.   Powerful, he was, and ancient and hoary with green-ice eyes and a great ground-sweeping beard.   He was pitted against a sinister black-clad figure that was part Mordred, part Dracula and preponderantly Vladimir Zarber.  

They hurled spells at each other.  Zarber's magics were flashes of ruddy fire that fell to the ground, sizzling, to become horrid black lumps of living ooze.  They moved, rippled like dying slugs and then began to crawl inexorably toward their target.  Rhys parried them with blazing balls of white light and desperately prayed he could win the battle without drawing on the bottomless pit of black magic the Adversary was sucking up.  

Somewhere in the morass of pulsing, claustrophobic dark and blood-flame, he seized upon the idea that he was fighting not one, but two Adversaries:  Zarber/Mordred and the darker side of Rhys/Myrddin.  He indulged in that briefly; the ancient allegory of light on dark, the rationale of deeply buried evils and cinder-core morals, then he put an abrupt stop to it. 

No, he thought.  Stop that.  That's not me.  I'm not tempted to use Black Magic, I only think I should be.  I've no intention of changing my nature.  None!  And, like a petulant playwright, Rhys Llelwellyn appeared from behind the dream proscenium and rewrote the scene.  The "Tempting of Myrddin" was replaced with a straight-forward duel to-the-death.  

He awoke in a barrage of blood red magic and lay sweating and wondering if he knew enough White Magic to save Arthur Pendragon's kingdom ... or was that Danetta Price's company? 

Oh, hell! he thought, his head throbbing with suddenly acknowledged pain.  Go soak your ego.  It's not even the company; it's just a damn contract!  An important contract, though, he had to admit.  If it wasn't important, Danetta Price would still be on Jamal. 

Plagued by dour images of nice guys finishing dead last, he pondered his alternatives and wondered why, in Human history, it seemed that, by and large, ethical businessmen had to struggle against being sucked into the undertow generated by their less scrupulous (and often more successful) competitors.  Why did it rarely (except perhaps in the presence of a Divine Revelator), work the other way around?  Why couldn't the good apples cause the bad ones to bob to the top of the barrel? 

His mind foundered on the mixture of metaphors, making his headache seem suddenly much worse.  He got up and groped for the medicine dispenser at the back of the bunk-side unit.  His hands collided with the little pile of fetishes, talismans and herbal concoctions Pa-Lili had given him during his last visit.  He growled irritably and gathered them up, intending to put them away in his sporran. 

"Light," he said, and the cabin's VA dimmer obeyed immediately.  He was tucking the little pouches and vials away into the various pockets when he remembered that one of them was supposed to be a headache remedy.  He peered into the bag. 

"Okay, Alice.  Is it the mushroom, the cookie or the small bottle?" 

It was a small purple bottle.  He studied it momentarily, recalled the three word incantation that was supposed to accompany the administration of the cure, and put three droplets onto his tongue.  He grimaced.  If it didn't work any better than it tasted, he was in for a bad night. 

He called out the light and rolled back onto his bunk, quite literally falling asleep before his head hit the pillow.  His remaining dreams were decidedly more positive. 

oOo 

"You're awfully perky this morning."  Danetta Price studied Rhys' glowing face curiously.  "Nice dreams?" 

"After I took one of Pa-Lili's herbal cures.  Before that, I was having nightmares." 

Danetta raised ash blonde brows.  "What about?" 

Rhys nearly blushed, recalling his grandiose self-image.  "I guess it boils down to a fear that I was going to have to become a Zarber clone in order to compete with him." 

Danetta nearly choked on her coffee.  "God forbid!"  She glanced at him sharply.  "Do you think that's necessary?" 

"No, I don't." 

"Good," she said, but continued to look at him, eyes looking for some discrepancy between word and manner.  "Are you sure?" 

He smiled at her.  "Absolutely.  Why should I change to accommodate him?" 

She shook her head.  "You have a funny look on your face." 

Rhys laughed.  "You knew I had a funny-looking face when you hired me." 

"That's not what I meant," she started to say, but was interrupted by the arrival of Rhys' apprentices, already decked out in their Pa-Kai finery. 

Rhys steered the conversation to the negotiations.  "The key to success here is flexibility," he said.  "We need to be ready to react both to the Pa-Kai and Zarber, but not appear to be reacting to Zarber at all.  The last thing we need is for this to degenerate into one-upmanship between Tanaka and Bristol-Benz.  Zarber is used to dealing with people who are as wily as he is.  The Pa-Kai are...." 

"Simple?" suggested Rick, munching a fruit bar. 

"No, not simple."  Rhys suspected he was wearing what Hi-Pok had called his "Teacher Face."  "You can't assume simplicity, Roddy.  I don't even think you can make a good case for naiveté.  They're ... honest.  Honesty is highly regarded among the Pa-Kai.  So, we have to be honest.  To a fault."  He pressed the plastic table top with his fist. 

"Zarber isn't going to be honest," observed Rick. 

"Zarber also thinks the Pa-Kai are simple and he'll probably offer them trinkets and beads." 

"Excuse me?" said Yoshi. 

"When white settlers first met the Native Americans, they assumed them to be simple savages.  When the Indian held out his hand in friendship, the white man put a trinket into it.  That's pretty much been the dominant society's track record in its inter-cultural relations ever since.  When asked for friendship, we offer useless things."  Rhys shook his head.  "Sorry, I'm lecturing again.  Old habits die hard.  Anyway, who knows?  Maybe the Pa-Kai will bring out the best in old Vladimir." 

"Huh!" snorted Rick. 

"What are we going to offer them that won't seem like trinkets?" asked Danetta. 

"Returns on their investment.  We sell them super-latex products for the stuff from which super-latex is made." 

"Ah," said Rick.  "Simple and elegant.  And we already know that certain, colorful super-latex products are very much in demand in this part of Pa-Loana."  He tweaked his own verdant green waterproof cockscomb. 

"And if Zarber offers them more?" asked Danetta. 

"We offer to show them how to manufacture their own super-latex products." 

"That would eventually make them independent of our production facilities." 

Rhys nodded.  "It might eventually even put them in competition with our production facilities ... or in cooperation, which is more likely, given the Pa-Kai nature." 

"You're putting a lot of trust in Pa-Kai nature," observed Danetta.  "Do you think that's wise?" 

"If I didn't-" 

She nodded.  "You wouldn't be doing it....  You seem very sure of yourself." 

"Of myself...?  I guess I am."  Rhys shrugged and sipped his coffee, wondering how long that would last. 

 oOo 

The Tanaka banner waved gently in the breeze that lapped at the Council Tent and spiraled around its braces.  Danetta price looked as elegant as any Human could in Pa-Kai clothing.  Her Shaman and his apprentices looked smart and Shamanly and her pallet was decorated with embellishments of Tanaka manufacture: Super-latex gloves for work in water, weather and zero atmosphere, a boot or two for equally extreme environs.  It was a tasteful display of a tiny part of Tanaka's product line and it was obviously of interest to the Pa-Kai.  So were Pa-Lili's new cape and unisuit, also latex derived.  Rhys thought it quite auspicious that she'd worn them today. 

Just as he was beginning to relax, a trumpet sounded (at least he thought it was a trumpet) and through the wide entry came the Bristol-Benz train.  And it was a train.  

The B-B "Chieftain" entered first, flanked by a smug Vladimir Zarber.  The Chief was not riding his pallet, but limping courageously along with a tragic expression on his face.  He was dressed every bit as elegantly as any other Chieftain in the tent and Zarber was made up in Shamanly splendor, his black unisuit over-laid with a stole of bright fuchsia.  Behind him, came the standard bearer, waving aloft the Bristol-Benz logo—two stylized inter-locked B's in bright red, rampant on a purple field. 

Behind the standard bearer marched every assistant Zarber possessed and, very probably, every member of his shuttle's flight crew.  Four of them carried their Chieftain's pallet. which was gaudily attired in every ambient color known to man. 

Rhys grimaced.  Zarber was as good as his word; he was obviously prepared to play what he perceived was the Tanaka game, and to play it well—right down to making a stunning entrance.  He settled in to his pillows and smiled at Rhys toothily. 

"Shuttle medical unit not working," asked Rhys sotto voce, "or are you promoting missing incisors as a new fashion trend?" 

Zarbers's sleek, black brows winged upward with bat-like grace.  "Why Llewellyn, that was a slight worthy of me.  The med-unit is working fine, thank you, I simply couldn't find the tooth.  I don't suppose you saw where it went?" 

"Do you think I'd tell you?" 

Zarber gave him a scathing glance that said, "O thou idiot."  What he actually said was, "Yes, I do.  But it's all right.  I still have enough teeth left to chew you to bits." 

Rhys faced front hastily, ostensibly to give his attention to Pa-Lili's opening chant, but his innards felt like a chilled pudding.  He cursed the fact that Vladimir Zarber could make him react that way and tried to relax his grip on the spirit bag that hung from his necklace. 

"Uh ... sir?"  Yoshi Umeki was leaning toward him from her position on his right hand.  "Sir, you ... you have a spot, sir," she whispered.  "On your suit, sir." 

He glanced down at the stain that spread across the front of his unisuit.  "Oh, uh, I guess I was clumsier than I thought at breakfast."  He let go of the spirit bag.  It hit his chest with a moist thump, then dangled in the perfect position to hide the stain.  "There, that ought to cover it."  He gave Yoshi a reassuring smile, then turned to throw one over his shoulder at Danetta Price.  

Pa-Lili finished her chanting.  "The Great Being is now attending our discourses," she informed the assemblage.  "We may begin." 

The Eldest spoke.  "Now that we are gathered like to like, the speaking after foon may proceed.  Tell us what good is foon, that you wish to have it."  He gestured at Pa-Lili who spun twice, then hunkered down to point at Zarber. 

"You," she fluted.  "Speak of foon." 

Just once, thought Rhys, gritting his teeth.  Just once let going first not be the advantage he always makes it.  Just once, let him be hoist on his own petard. 

Zarber rose and made a sweeping bow—his concession to a Shamanly caper.  "Foon," he said lugubriously, "is a small thing (very small, said his fingers) from which we make a stretchy fabric which some people (he made the "I speak of silly things" face and a muted gesture) like to wear.  We sell them these shiny, stretchy things (of no import) and so we seek foon, which is so plentiful (and disagreeable) here." 

Rhys' lip curled.  Belittling the importance of the resource.  Next came the beads and trinkets. 

"So, you say this foon is of little worth to you?" asked Pa-Lili. 

"It is of some worth to those who wear it." 

Pa-Lili stroked her new unisuit and made a thoughtful face.  "Not worth a whole lot, huh?" 

She actually said "huh" in such a Human tone that Rhys laughed out loud.  He turned it quickly into a cough, but caught the gleam of humor in in Pa-Lili's bright eyes. 

Zarber, meanwhile, disguised his own smirk behind a head wag that said, "Oh, a little—a little." 

"Then why did you come all the way to Pa-Loana to speak of this (worth very little) subject?  Star travel is very costly and so must be the time of your Chieftain."  Here, she jutted her long jaw toward the surrogate CEO.  "The time of our Chieftains is very precious." 

Zarber stiffened visibly.  He made a minute gesture of apology.  "I did not mean to belittle the importance of foon.  I only meant that it is not, ah...." 

"Is foon important to you, Shaman Reeslooelen?" Pa-Lili asked abruptly. 

"Very important.  As you know, our clothing is largely made from it.  Also medicinal supplies, survival equipment and enjoyment things ... equipment for games of sport.  Wherever Humans go and the environment is harsh, things made from foon are necessary to our survival.  There are so many, many things we Humans use that have (wonderful) foon in them."  Rhys glanced sideways at Zarber.  Liar, he thought.  

"How say the Chiefs?" asked the Eldest in his dry-reed voice.  His jaw designated the Bristol-Benz Chief as the first speaker. 

The young man blinked dark, almond-shaped eyes and cleared his throat.  He looked uncertain.  He wasn't.  "We find foon exactly important enough to come all the way to Pa-Loana to the Pa-Kai Council.  We find it important enough to offer great wealth to you and your people."  The words were issued with calm, quiet (and dignified) authority leaving no question in Rhys' mind why he was Zarber's pick for the role of Chief. 

"Great Wealth?" cooed the Eldest. 

"Oh, wondrous wealth.  Brilliantly colored wealth.  Wealth such as you have never seen on Pa-Loana-"  He cut off and glanced at Zarber, who was making a little cutting gesture at his own throat. 

The Benz Chieftain cleared his throat again.  "You will be pleased, I guarantee it." 

"And you, Chief Tanaka?"  The Eldest's chin pointed at Danetta. 

"Yes.  Foon is very important to us.  Our Clan manufactures products made with the essence of foon for billions of our fellow Humans and for men from other worlds, as well." 

"Worlds like Pa-Loana?" 

Danetta smiled.  "Some like, some unlike.  But I must say, I've never met a people quite as colorful as yours." 

The Eldest's crest rose proudly.  "And do you also offer us Great Wealth, as does Chieftain Benz?" 

"We are prepared to offer whatever we agree between us is a fair exchange of goods and services."  She paused, then said, "I'm almost certain that what we regard as great wealth would seem trivial or foolish to such wise beings as the Pa-Kai." 

Rhys heard Zarber chortle under his breath.  No matter, the Eldest was pleased by the comment, as the slight bobbing of his crest clearly indicated.  Zarber could chuckle all he wanted.  Bring on the baubles, thought Rhys.  Bring out your dark magics and your thunderings and your spirit bag of gizmos.  I'm ready for you, Mordred ... I hope. 

The negotiations began in earnest then, with Bristol-Benz being accorded the first volley.  At the arch nod of his pseudo-Chief, Zarber laid out a veritable hors d'oeuvres tray of exotic foods and goods from all over the known Galaxy.  The Pa-Kai tootled questions about this and that and nodded and made various faces of surprise and excitement and curiosity. 

It was then Tanaka's turn.  Danetta made a sweeping gesture to Rhys, but her eyes were on the Eldest and a wide, gracious smile played across her lips.  Rhys then made his offer: such products of foon as the Pa-Kai desired would be available to the Pa-Kai merchants in perpetuity.  As long as there was foon, they could have the product of foon. 

Zarber stared at Rhys, dumfounded.  Then he smiled (nearly grinned).  "Is that all?" he asked regally. 

"That is our opening offer," said Rhys.  "You may make a counter-offer if you wish." 

"I doubt that will be necessary."  Zarber turned to Pa-Lili.  "Do you wish to hear a counter-offer?" 

"Do you wish to have the foon?" 

Zarber turned a lovely shade of crimson.  "I meant only, is there a need?  We are offering so much more-" 

"Yes, so it would seem.  Let us hear your counter-offer." 

Zarber nodded as if he had just seen a pattern emerging from a broken piece of ancient pottery.  "Of course," he said and proceeded to replace the hors d'oeuvres tray with a smorgasbord of exotic items, entertainments and technologies.  Enough junk to put the Pa-Kai through what would make the sufferings of Earth's aboriginal peoples at the hands of their more "civilized" brethren look like a kiddy story. 

Rhys gritted his teeth and felt grey and husk-like as he watched the Pa-Kai react to the descriptions of this entertainment or that technology like children hearing their first news of a carnival.  With their simple way of life it must all sound like the play of gods, he thought.  Ground cars and trundle-buggies, synthovens the size of a melon that brought forth an amazing variety of hot, ready-to-eat food, discams the size of a cup with which you could take three dimensional images of your loved ones (why bother going to the Clan artists for portraits?).  

Yessir, thought Rhys, there's enough in that offer to devastate the environment, destabilize the economy and completely undermine the balance of power among the Pa-Kai for ever and ever, amen.  Not to mention what it would mean to the other peoples of Pa-Loana to have such suddenly wealthy neighbors. 

It took everything he had to generate the enthusiasm he had once felt for his own counter-counter.  He smiled, he made his gestures big and broad and encompassing, he even twirled and capered as he offered the Pa-Kai one technology: the simplest, most basic method of refining foon and using it to produce the products of their choice for themselves and for barter to other peoples.  

"You could then," he explained to the assembled Pa-Kai, "even sell the refined foon—the super-latex—to the Tanaka Clan, as well as the raw stuff.  You might be able, someday, to barter the finished goods for sale on other worlds.  You might even, someday, be able to receive the goods those worlds had to offer." 

The Pa-Kai nodded and hooted and cooed, but they showed none of the child-like excitement they had evinced over Zarber's offer.  While the Tribal Council considered the offers in the privacy of their voluminous tent, Rhys stood outside in Pa-Loana's fresh, fragrance and felt something roughly the size and shape of the proverbial millstone settle in the pit of his stomach.  He looked up at the pale, violet-blue sky overhead (and through it and past it) and thought, Was it too much to ask that today White Magic might win one?  Was it too much to hope that the spirits of the Pa-Kai would be stronger than the technologies of the Human?  He heard an abrasive sound behind him and cringed.  

"Foon derived products in perpetuity?" chuckled Zarber.  "Really, Llewellyn.  What do you take these people for?  They may be simple-minded, but they're not fools.  I'm offering them tomorrow and you're bargaining with nuts and berries." 

"But whose tomorrow are you offering them, Zarber—theirs or ours?" 

"Ah, that must be the philosopher in you speaking ... or perhaps the theologian—more concerned with musty ideologies than solid realities."  He glanced across Rhys to Danetta.  "An academic to the core, isn't he, Ms. Price?  But then, you knew that when you hired him."  His eyes moved back to Rhys, faintly pitying.  "I'm winning this one on points, Professor.  If you start packing now, you can leave in time to avoid the humiliation."   He turned and strode away, his purple cape billowing behind him in the breeze. 

Rhys felt Danetta's hand on his shoulder.  "Don't let him get to you," she told him.  "In a situation like this I'd take your philosophy over his any day of the millennium."  

"But he's right, you know.  He has won on points.  The Pa-Kai were in conniptions over his offer.  I just can't conscionably make them that kind of a bid.  It would be like giving them Pandora's box ... without the user's manual." 

"I understand.  Notice that I'm not pressuring you to sell them the moon ... or its manmade equivalent.  This is a big deal, Rhys.  A very big deal.  I don't like the idea that we may have to depend on Bristol-Benz for our supply of foon—super-latex, or whatever.  But, well ... you're the Professor."  She tucked a lock of just-going-grey and gold hair back up under her head-dress and crooked a finger at Rhys' apprentices.  "Come, children.  Let's get back to work.  I see by Pa-Lili's urgent gestures that they're ready to start." 

The trouble with the Pa-Kai, Rhys decided, worrying his spirit bag and gazing moodily into space, was that they were so expressive.  As a negotiator, he was used to sitting opposite poker faces of every description, but the Pa-Kai, with their encyclopedia of facial expressions and gestures, were quite disturbing.  They were obviously a joy to Zarber, who could read his success on their faces, but for Rhys it was hard to maintain his own facade of self-confidence.  

An ancestor of his might have conversed with Zarber at knife point and forced him to own his lies.  But then, an ancestor of Zarbers' would have simply turned into a bat and taken Rhys' ancestor out for lunch.  Ah, but if Myrddin had been one of Rhys Llewellyn's forebears.... 

Rhys snapped to attention as the Eldest and his train entered the tent.  He studied them for some encouraging sign, but saw none.  Pa-Lili didn't even glance his way. 

When all were seated, the Pa-Kai Shaman stood before her Chief, facing the Humans across the Council Circle.  "We have pondered and come to a (pleasing to us) decision." 

"And quickly, too, I must say," murmured Zarber, just loud enough for Rhys to hear. 

"We thank the Shaman Zarber very much for his Great Wealth offer, and accept...."  The violet eyes moved to Rhys' face.  "....the offer of the Tanaka Eldest and her vivid Shaman." 

"What?"  Zarber was, to all appearances, thrown beyond stunned into shock. 

Rhys was thrown for a loop.  Grinning from ear to ear, he capered and twirled in quite sincere abandon, then returned to his seat, beaming at Danetta, who gave him a "thumbs up."  

"You have made us most radiant," he said.  "Your wondrous colors overwhelm us." 

Pa-Lili gestured that this was understandable, then turned to a now coolly fuming Vladimir Zarber.  "Thank you for coming," she said in musically accented Standard.  "It has been interesting." 

"I don't understand!"  The words burst from Zarber's mouth as if he couldn't control them.  He shifted quickly back to Pa-Kai.  "Our offer was vastly superior to theirs." 

"We did not see this," returned Pa-Lili in Pa-Kai.  "It was your eye problem." 

"My-?  No, friend, it is your eye problem.  The making stuff things and foods and playthings we offered are worth much more than what this-this Shaman has offered." 

"To you, perhaps.  Not to the Pa-Kai."  Pa-Lili stared down her long nose at him.  "Please, you may go.  We have things (many) to discuss with the Tanaka Eldest and Shaman Reeslooelen." 

Zarber blinked and gaped as if Pa-Lili's words were incomprehensible to him.  Behind and around him, his "Chieftain" and the rest of his team echoed the expression. 

Rhys was struck with a sudden childhood memory of viewing a school of groupers through the glass window of the sea-quarium in the Earth habitat on Jamal.  He burst out laughing.  Zarber ceased making fish faces and herded his entourage out of the tent.   

What followed was half celebration, half negotiation.  The Pa-Kai would receive catalogues of latex-derived products and the knowledge and training to help them produce products of their own and, as an added bonus, Pa-Lili requested that books on Human Shamanistic practices and magics be translated into Pa-Kai.  Danetta deferred to Rhys on that point and he cheerfully agreed to make sure the translations were done. 

The negoti-bration went on into the early evening, ending only when someone noted that it was dinner time.  The assemblage quickly dispersed to prepare for the evening meal.  

Rhys expected that Zarber would have flown off without so much as a snarl or hiss.  He was surprised to find that gentleman waiting for him as he strolled the short path to the Tanaka shuttles. 

"Well, Vladimir!  Is this where you thump me over the head in revenge for some imagined wrong, or where you tell me you've learned your lesson and are going to turn over a new rock?" 

"Cute, Llewellyn.  Very cute.  But actually, you're half right.  I came to congratulate you on a well-played match and to say, I suppose, that you would seem to be right—honesty is sometimes the best policy." 

Rhys was sincerely astonished.  "I'm—I'm astounded, Vladimir.  Thank you." 

"Hmmm."  Zarber grimaced slightly.  "I hate to admit it, but I learned something from you this week." 

"Oh?" 

"I learned that you can't judge a culture by its trappings.  These Pa-Kai were ... not what I expected them to be." 

"Simple, but greedy and easily bowled over by Human technology?" 

"Something like that.  I have to admit, your line of expertise can be quite useful ... given the right set of circumstances, of course." 

"Of course....  Does this mean you're planning to study Cultural Anthropology?" 

"Good God, no!"  If Zarber's nose had wrinkled any more, Rhys was sure it would have shattered.  "It means I'm going to confine myself to dealing with Benz's more ... sophisticated prospects." 

"Oh.  Keeping out of my way, then?" 

"Don't flatter yourself too much, Llewellyn.  This is just not my métier—dressing up like a Circus clown's nightmare, cavorting about and flapping my arms like some idiot fowl.  I felt like an utter fool." 

Rhys laughed.  He laughed so hard he couldn't muster breath to tell Zarber it was his wild description of his very decorous behavior and not his humiliation that was so amusing.  He grabbed Zarber's hand and pumped it, finally choking out, "Believe me, Vladimir, it looked like you never broke out of a Waltz." 

Several days later, as the remaining Tanaka shuttle prepared to take flight on a return voyage, Rhys made a point of giving his private farewells to Pa-Lili. 

"I have to ask you," Rhys said tentatively, "why you chose our offer over Bristol-Benz's.  What they were bargaining with really was worth more." 

"Not to us, Reeslooelen.  This is not (your) Homeworld, nor is it Planet of Human Origin, nor is it any other planet of your acquaintance.  You know this.  And as your Chieftain rightly expected, we were not impressed with Clan Benz's many making-stuff things or their playthings or their food stuff.  Their food stuff would make Pa-Kai stomachs hurt, while your growing-things package will give us foods from Pa-Loana soil.  And as for his 'tek-now-low-gis,'" she stumbled distastefully over the word, "we will not want them until we can understand them.  What we wanted, you offered—the knowledge that something we thought useless is not, that it can become the most colorful of things.  We will learn how to make our own colorful and useful things.  This way, it will be our tek-now-low-gi." 

She made the "I am fat and content" face and gesture, folding her long hands over her stomach.  She squinted her eyes at him.  "We were also not impressed with Tsar-Bar's manner.  His gestures—so small, so uncertain.  It isn't nice to judge someone by their gestures, but-"  She shrugged eloquently.  "I'm only Pa-Kai, after all....  He lies, you know," she added in a confidential undertone.  "He is not a Shaman.  He is a sham.  And so is his puppy Chieftain.  The Eldest met with them privately to admonish them not to wear adult colors until they are full-grown.  Such childishness!"  She made a dismissive gesture. 

"You knew he was lying," Rhys marveled.  "How?" 

"The spirits told me.  They made him give himself away with glances and speak disrespectfully to his so-called Chieftain during the Trade Speaking.  I distinctly saw him tell his Chieftain to shut up!"  She made the throat-cutting gesture, then shrugged in that uniquely Pa-Kai way that made Rhys wonder what their bones were made of. 

"The spirits told you," he repeated. 

Pa-Lili waggled her head.  "There is one other reason," she admitted.  "We liked you better."  She put her face close to his and lowered her voice.  "Do you know what Tsar-Bar reminded us of?  There is a small animal in the northern forests that likes to suck Pa-Kai blood.  That is what he reminded us of."  She shivered and made several gestures of distaste. 

Rhys laughed and walked with her to the Tanaka shuttle's passenger ramp. 

"It has been good to know you, Reeslooelen," she told him, her violet eyes misting.  "You will come back?" 

Rhys looked around and saw a fair land inhabited by fair people.  A veritable Paradise.  "You couldn't keep me away.  I have a vacation coming up.  I think I'd like to spend it here." 

Pa-Lili nodded.  "I would be pleased.  And you will bring me books of Human Magic?" 

Rhys smiled.  "I'll translate them myself.  But I don't expect you'll learn anything from them you don't already know." 

"Oh," said Pa-Lili, making a wise face, "one learns new tricks from unexpected teachers." 

"One does, indeed." 

"You know," she said, eyeing him judiciously, "you are a very good Shaman.  Your routines are a little dull, but your Magic is very sound, very colorful.  When you come back, I will teach you how to present your case more eloquently.  Your gestures are pretty good, but your capers and twirls could use some work." 

Rhys bowed, nearly sweeping the ground with his head-dress.  "I would be honored to receive your (excellent) instruction."  He straightened, then, and gave Pa-Lili's bony frame a solid hug.  She responded so enthusiastically, she left him winded. 

Later, in his cabin, as the shuttle sped toward Jamal, he chuckled over Pa-Lili's parting shot.  He'd definitely have to work on those capers.  He tried one, nearly upended in the diminished gravity and laughed, feeling quite as light within as without. 

He took off his cape and head-dress and folded them away in a below bunk receptacle, then stood, feeling the spirit bag thump lightly against his breast bone.  He grinned, hefting its insubstantial weight in one hand.  Pa-Lili was right, you did learn new tricks from unexpected teachers.  

He pulled the little pocket of fabric open and emptied its contents into the palm of his hand.  A shred of bright but brown-stained material and a tooth gleamed under the cabin's sham-sun lighting.  Both went into a tiny, wooden fetish box which, in turn, Rhys tucked into an inside pocket of his sporran.  

The spirit bag stayed where it was, on its long, vivid necklace.  In Human company he might tuck it away beneath the fabric of modern life, but he would keep it next to his heart.  He was a good Shaman. 

He relaxed on the bunk and wondered how Vladimir Zarber was weathering his homeward flight.  Maybe, he thought, maybe someday I'll tell him what happened to his tooth....  

The End

Originally published in Analog Magazine 

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