According To His Abilities

'You can if you want to, some of the xenologists did though I never had the nerve. There is nothing in it to cause anything worse than a bad heartburn, though I'm told the taste is loathsome beyond imagining. It is also an important social custom, no business is ever transacted except over a meal.'

'Bring on the chow,' Briggs said resignedly. 'I only hope this Zarevski is worth it*

One of the other aliens put down his weapon at a hissed word and went to a darkened corner of the. building, bringing back a gourd with a wooden stopper and two cups of crudely fired clay. He placed the gourd on the ground and one of the cups before the visitor and the other in front of the seated chieftain. Briggs squatted on his haunches, and reaching out he took up both cups and raised them at arms' length.

'Great cups,' he said. 'Great workmanship. Tell him that. Tell him that these ugly pieces of mud are fine art and that I admire his taste.*

DeWitt translated this, and while he did Briggs put. the cups down again. Even DeWitt noticed that he had changed cups, so that each of them had the other's. B'deska said nothing, but pulled the plug from the gourd and filled his cup with dark liquid, then Briggs'.

'Oh God, that's horrible,' Briggs said, taking a small sip and shuddering. T hope the food is better.'

'It will be worse, but you only have to take a token mouthful or two.'

The same native who had brought the drink, now appeared with a large bowl brimming with a crumbled grey mixture whose very smell provoked nausea. B'deska tipped a handful of it into a suddenly gaping mouth slit, then pushed the bowl over to Briggs who scooped up as small a portion as was possible. DeWitt could sec a tremor shake his back as he licked it from his fingers. No amount of coaxing by the alien could force him to take a second sample. B'deska waved the bowl away and two smaller bowls of food were brought. Briggs looked down at his on the floor before him and slowly rose to his feet.

'I warned you, B'deska,' he said.

Before DeWitt had finished translating this Briggs stamped on the bowl, crushing it, then ground the contents into the floor with his heel. The alien who had served the food was running towards the door and in sudden realization DeWitt grabbed for the control unit on his belt, but this time he was too slow. Before he could touch the radio control that would prevent Briggs' gun from firing the gun went off with a booming roar and the alien fell, a gaping hole in his back.

Briggs reholstered the gun calmly and turned back to B'deska who had raised his sword so that the point rested on the box next to him, but who otherwise had not moved.

'Now that that's out of the way, tell him I'm willing to talk business. Tell him I want Zarevski.'

'Why do you want the man Zarevski?" B'deska asked, his manner as unmoved as Briggs'. The dead alien lay crumpled, bleeding slowly into the dirt, and they both ignored him.

'I want him because he is my slave and he is very expensive and he ran away. I want him back and I want to beat him.'

'I can't say that,' DeWitt protested. 'If they thought Zarevski was a slave they might kill him. . '

His words were broken off as Briggs reached out and lashed him across the back of the face with his hand. It staggered him, bringing tears of pain to his eyes.

'Do what I tell you, you idiot," Briggs shouted. 'You were the one who told me they kept slaves, and if they think Zarevski is a slave that will give them a chance to get a good price for releasing him. Don't you know that they think you are a slave too?'

De Witt had not realized it until that moment. He translated carefully. B'deska appeared to be thinking about this, though his eyes were on the box of trade goods all the time.

'How much will you pay for him? He committed a bad crime and this will cost a lot.'

'I'll pay a good price. Then I will take him and beat him, then bring him home and make him watch while I kill his son. Or maybe I will make him kill his son hin> self.'

B'deska bobbed his head in agreement when this was translated, and after that it was just a matter of bargaining. When the agreed number of brass rods and paste gems had been taken from the box B'deska climbed to his feet and left the room. The other aliens picked up the ransom payment and left after him. De Witt gaped after them.

'But — where is Zarevski?'

'In the box of course — where else did you think he would be? If he was valuable enough for us to come and get him B'deska wasn't going to allow him out of sight, or someone else would have made a deal with us. Didn't you see the way he had that pigsticker ready to stab down into the box. One wrong move of ours and he would have put paid to Zarevski.'

'But wasn't your killing one of his men a wrong move?' DeWitt asked, tearing at the strings that sealed the box.