“They bring No’shto-shti-stlen. Where oji?”
“So how do we do this? Meet halfway?”
Haisi stretched out his arm to the left. “Halfway there, you bring oji.” And to the right: “Same halfway there, No’shto-shti-stlen. We take, you take, all fine.”
“Fair,” she decided, and touched the pocket com. “Tiar, they’re coming. Did you follow that? We’re to bring the oji out and put it down on the dock at about the same pace they bring No’shto-shti-stlen to a similar place some little removed. You can bring it as far as the gate, now.”
Haisi was talking to his own crew, and then, apparently to the stsho, saying much the same thing.
There was the chance of a switch. But it was not a time to argue. It was highly unlikely one stsho would place gtstself in jeopardy by posing as another and it was unlikely the stsho with gtst would risk their lives by bringing a substitute. And if she slowed down the proceedings Haisi would do exactly the same, at which point everything could come unraveled. People could get shot. Including
No’shto-shti-stlen.
Which was still a possibility, once Haisi had the oji, which was one reason Tarras was up there, in a high position relative to the dockside.
One thing she would bet on: no one in the han could read stsho signatures. She couldn’t, with any certainty. It was within the realm of possibility they would have shown the marriage document to stsho, to Haisi’s stsho, for verification … so it was within possibility that the Llyene stsho knew that Atli-lyen-tlas was a holiness: signatures did indicate Mode, Phase, and Gender, among other Life Events of significance. It was within possibility that the Llyene stsho recognized the identities of Tlisi-tlas-tin and Dlimas-lyi, and their relationship. And the negotiations had still gone as they had gone, which didn’t prove one way or the other that the stsho had told everything they knew to Ana-kehnandian … but by all she knew of stsho, Tahaisimandi Ana-kehnandian was in their estimation not to be confided in. Nor wholly in power over the situation: therefore not to be confided in.
Perfectly logical stsho reasoning, who held self-preservation and tasteful behavior paramount.
She knew just enough to know how much she didn’t know. But there was no choice, absolutely no choice. She’d done the best trading she could with the goods she had. She thought she’d come away as best she could—but she never thought that Ana-kehnandian was going to play fair.
Not by the gods likely, Haisi.
Haisi gave her a nod and walked off to stand at the appointed spot to receive the oji, where others of his crew showed up, armed … of course: they replaced the kif as station police.
Shewalked off toward the stsho, to receive No’shto-shti-stlen. And she said, into com, which doubtless was being monitored on Ha’domaren, by electronics the mahendo’sat had had time to install around the dock, “Is it in position?”
“Aye, captain.”Tiar said.
“Everything’s on schedule. Bring it on out, down to the dock. They start walking, we start walking, that’s the way it works. I’m going out onto the dock to wait for No’shto-shti-stlen. When you carry it out, go toward Ana-kehnandian and his crew at the same rate you see No’shto-shti-stlen going toward me. When gtst reaches me, you set down the case and go back to the lock.”
“Got that,”Tiar said. The instructions were for Fala. But Tiar understood. “She’s coming out now.
You’d better see them moving, captain. “
She didn’t turn to see. She had her attention divided between the stsho, who did begin tentatively to move, and Haisi and his lot, and the possibility of snipers somewhere about the dock—which was a fearful lot of real estate to monitor. At a certain point one just hoped to the gods.
“They’re moving,” she said.
Stsho were not going to dash into possible danger. It was a nervous, sometimes halting advance. She could see Fala now, doing almost pace for pace the same thing as the stsho, with the black case within her arms. And she could pick out the one she thought must be No’shto-shti-stlen, among the gleaming gossamer of the others, a figure no less richly dressed, no less adorned and painted, but less interested in the surroundings than looking toward her, only toward her, as if she were the destination of hope.