Talaren frowned as he looked around. He'd been through security for well over half an hour, and there was still no sign of Basil. As if on cue, an nondescript door opened and disgorged him, looking about ten kilos thinner thanks to the sudden flatness of formerly bulging pockets all over his greatcoat.

Talaren's lips twitched briefly, but he schooled his face into graveness as he rose slowly from his uncomfortable curved seat and moved forward towards his cousin.

As Basil saw Talaren, his expression flashed from anxiety to relief.

"Ah, thank goodness you're still here," he said as he staggered over with luggage that looked quite light for its size. "I was afraid that you'd have given up on me and left already!"

Talaren noted that the unfortunately chosen burgundy shirt was gone; in its place was a well-worn green t-shirt. Basil noticed his gaze and sighed heavily. "They took all my best shirts! Said they didn't
like the looks of the circuitry in them. I tried explaining that it was just temperature controls, but they wouldn't listen. I tried asking them about just what the basis of all the controls was, but it seemed like the more I tried to figure out what was allowable and what wasn't, the more things they took away. The stun glove was no surprise, I only brought that along because my last manager had this phobia about making sure you had protection, and he insisted I bring it. But they took all my vid equipment, datapad...they took my shaver of all things. And the body search..."

He shivered. "That only happened after they learned I was going to Bahlmis House. They didn't believe I was a Bahlmis; all my old papers just say 'Basil Mederes' on them. They seemed to think I was running guns; I don't think our family's reputation is doing too well."

Talaren listened, admirably concealing any amusement he might feel. He even managed to shake his his head in sympathetic disbelief at one of two points in the narrative.

Basil paused. "As things stand now, clearly only low-tech items are going to work for trade. Even those items which can get past security require a power source, some sort of infrastructure. Finding a way to legally get power generation here is going to be important for long term development, I think."

"Indubitably," agreed Talaren, regarding Basil with unmingled interest. "And ... er ... you think Bahlmis House is going to be the best place for the birthplace of a technological revolution on Aquila?"

Basil shrugged, more of a quick twitch of the shoulders, really. "Trade and tech are intertwined. It's the flow of information that lets science advance...and the flow of money that gives it reason to advance. And it goes the other way, too, natch. The better the tech, the faster we can trade, the further we can trade and the more things there are to trade. Bahlmis' traditional responsibility has een trade, after all...it's why Mother was married to the Mederes, not some politico, about which I've heard more than enough through the years...the only House that'd be better suited to improving tech would be a military one, and they'd only be after the flash-bangs, not conducive to general well-being or profit at all. Not to mention that the local saber-rattlers--say, they probably really do rattle sabers around here, don't they?--seem to have decided that the best way to deal with advanced weaponry is to pretend it doesn't exist. They'd better hope the planet doesn't catch the eyes of any particularly ruthless types, is all I can say." Basil apparently saw no irony in ending with "all I can say."

"I think you'll find it already has," saud Talaren, with lazy amusement. "Didn't you notice the insignia of the guards who searched you?"

"The KLO ... Ky Lasse Organisation. The Lasses hail from Aquila originally ... for all that their cime - I'm sorry, commercial - empire covers half the galaxy now. And Ky Lasse still lives here with her family. I understand from Aunt Rosalor that about fifty years ago, the Lasses took on the security contract for Aquila Spaceport. Since then - nothing gets in or out that the Lases don't want. And they want a nice rural retreat - with no risk of assassination."

On hearing the name, Basil pales. "They're from here?" he manages to squeak out.

Talaren shrugged. "The Aquilans are happy to stay a backwater, the Lasses want a peaceful home. It seems to suit both sides. And, while not wishing to upset your plans, I do feel that even leaving the politics out of it, the fact that the biggest crime lords in the galaxy are guarding the place could put rather a damper on the import-export business."

"Which, I suppose," he added thoughtfully, "is why Bahlmis has done relatively little off-world trade over the last few decades. Although I'm pleased to hear we are held in respect by the Mederes family."

It takes Basil a moment to digest this morsel of information. Finally, he gives another quick, twitching shrug. "Well...this is certainly going to be rather more difficult than I'd imagined. I think I'm beginning to understand the grin Vice-President Sakura was wearing while she was listening to my proposal. And here I'd thought it was just amusement at youthful energy and ambition." Though his face is still rather pale, he's able to manage a workable grin. "We'll just have to find an approach that appeals to them as well."

He ponders for another moment, then goes on, mostly to himself. "Hmm. I suppose we...the Mederes, that is...must have been just about the only contact for the Bahlmis, then. I'd looked at the old records, and had figured we were only one of several, which was why the volume wasn't that great. Hmm. The Mederes pride themselves on going everywhere, even if only as the most minor of players; monopolizing the trade must have been the only way they could clear a profit here...and the marriage to set the arrangement. Everybody happy. Mother shaking the dust of home from her shoes and tasting the life she wanted, Father gaining credit with the upper-ups for going along with it, Bahlmis getting a dedicated buyer, Mederes controlling the meager flow."

He looked off into the distance and spoke in an oddly detached tone. "I've been balancing accounts since I was five, but it's a bit depressing to find the equation that added up to me."

Basil looked around the spaceport, eyes flickering from one new thing to the next. "So...have you gotten that carriage you mentioned yet? I may seem slow, but it only just occurred to me that you don't mean a carriage like we have running down the central axis of Alice Station. What sort of carriage are we talking about, here?"

"That, said Taleran imperturbably, "rather depends on Tomin. I left him to sort out luggage and transport. He's really rather good at it."

As he spoke, he was gently guiding Basil down the long corridor that linked the spaceport area to the outside world of Aquila. They emerged into pale late afternoon sunlight, and a curved gravelled drive that led off between neatly tended and landscaped garden towards a forest. In the distance could be seen the glittering towers and turrets of Aquila, the city.

In the drive were several carriages of various descriptions, most enclosed to protect the passengers from bad weather. Talaren glanced along the line of these, his eyes narrowing consideringly. But he was not assessing the vehicles - rather he was considering the horses who stood in the shafts of each one.

Tomin stood by the third of the carriages, and Talaren nodded approvingly.

"Good choice."

He moved forward and went to the heads of the two bays who were harnessed to that carriage. He seemed to speak to them, stroking their long noses as he did so and they, from the tossing of their heads, seemed to be listening and responding. At one point he reached into the long pocket of his jacket, produced something on the flat of his hand, and let each horse in turn mouth it off his palm. Then he wiped off their slobber unconernedly on the side of his trousers as he strolled back to Basil.

"A nice pair of hacks," he said calmly. "I wonder what's left in the Bahlmis stables - I imagine our enemies had a field day there. Well, Tomin has a good eye - and I'm not so bad myself. It could be amusing to build up the stables again."

Basil stared unabashedly at the two horses. He circled around them, slowly, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Oh. My. It's just like the vids, isn't it? Still, I hadn't expected them to seem so...big. I should have, I suppose, since they've got riders to show scale." He continued his ogling, humming a tune under his breath that Talaren almost certainly wouldn't recognize, the theme from "Janos of the Flames," a supposedly historical vid series that had trouble remembering that Earth had only one moon.

Basil reached out and lightly touched the side of one of the horses, only to pull his hand back with a jerk when the horseflesh twitched at the contact. He looked over at Talaren, grinning broadly. "They're gorgeous! I'm...I'm speechless!"

Unfortunately, he gave the lie to that statement a moment later. "There certainly weren't any horses on Alice Station. There weren't any animals for that matter. It was an old regulation from the days when the life support was only barely enough to handle humans, and it had ossified into tradition long before I was born. I desperately wanted some kind of pet when I was a child...I'd seen them on the vids, and read about them in books, you see. I briefly saw animals on some of my trips to other stations, but the only time I was ever able to even touch one was when a ship I was working on had a cargo of tortoises. I had to sneak into the cargo bay and look at them on the sly, but apart from the risk of getting caught, they weren't very exciting. This, though..." He shook his head, finally mute.

Talaren looked at Basil thoughtfully. "You'd best let Tomin or me choose your mounts too for a while," he said. "I daresay horse trading of this kind might be a new thing to you."

"Shall we go?"

Basil paled. "Mounts? I...you mean ride one?" He looked at the horse again and panic warred with excitement for several seconds before finally settling into a sort of shy grin. "Yes, please do pick for me. I wouldn't have the faintest idea of what to look for. And yes, let's go; I'm anxious to see more of what we have to work with!" As they entered the carriage, he was humming "Janos Flame-Rider" again, a faraway look in his eyes.

Talaren watched him with a smile as he settled himself at his ease among the cushions of the coach. "We can't very well bring a horse into the carriage," he said at last, "but I think I can beat a tortoise."

He felt very carefully in the loose pocket on one side of the large leather holdall he had, and then reached all of his large hand inside, withdrawing it with a delicate care that seemed almost strange in so large a man. Then he stretched out his hand towards Basil and opened it.

Basil's stare isn't quite as stupefied as it was with the horses, but it's still notable. "What...what is it?"

Tomin, seated in the corner of the carriage, gave a hollow groan.

"Shut up, Tomin," said Talaren, without rancour.

He smiled at Basil. "It's an Aquilan Dwarf snow owl. Barely fledged. They must have bred it from the egg ... "

"Here, you can hold it if you like. The claws are soft still, it will perch on your finger. Rub ... very gently ... at the feathers on his chest ... he likes that."

Basil followed the directions carefully, wondering at the fragility of the thing. The bird was about six inches tall, a perfect owl in minature, and it was regarding Basil with a dark and curious eye. Basil returned the regard with interest.

"He was on sale in a market on Kalkan," Talaren said. "They'd given him too much water ... not enough roughage ... they'd have killed him within a week. I decided he should come home with me."

"Tell them how you got him past the guards then," said Tomin sourly.

Talaren grinned. "With your help, of course. I simply left him at one end of the room, and when I reached the other ... whistled."

He reached to a chain on his neck, a lifted a small gold cylinfder to his lips. There was no sound as such ... just what could be called a tightening in the air, and the little owl swivelled its head around to look at Talaren fixedly.

"I'm told it sounds like a mouse in distress," he said. "It was certainly enough to persuade him to fly to me ... "

"While muggins here had to distract the guards by asking them to verify that a load of fishing rods were to be allowed through," added Tomin sourly.

Talaren smiled. "Look on it as a tribute to the homeworld, Tomin."

Tomin snorted again in response.

"You can keep him if you want," said Talaren to Basil. "As long as you follow my instructions for his care. Some people hunt with owls, but I think he'd be too small even when full grown for anything but the smallest rodents ... I daresay there's a mews at Bahlmis House, if you want to try real hunting."

Basil looked up briefly. "Keep him? I...yes. I...just tell me what to do with him. Thank you, but..." His expression went blank, and his eyes flickered around looking at nothing that was actually there, until suddenly he snapped out of it. "Ah, I think I know."

With one hand still cradling the owlet, his other hand dove into his luggage. Pawing around briefly without looking, after a moment his hand emerged with what appeared to be a gold bracelet which was, ever so faintly, glowing. Basil offered it to Talaren. "Here. This is one of the few things they let me keep; I think they didn't even notice the residual glow. It's not really gold, I'm afraid; it's a copper base with a polymer layer. If you expose it to sunlight for a day or so, it'll glow bright enough to read by for the following night."

Talaren took it, looking a little baffled - although whether that was at the sophistication of the devise ... or at Basil's clear need to reciprocate ... was unclear.

Basil paused, considering his words. "They were a fad on a few worlds for a while, and the Mederes still have stocks of them; I thought they might make good trade items, though for more practical reasons than simple decoration--though that's always good--since there's no electric lights. While there were plenty of cheap knockoffs, these are top of the line, and they'll work for a good two or three years, as long as you don't run a current through them--no danger of that around here, right?--that makes them flare up really, really brightly for a second or two, but then they're burned out."

His expression turned anxious. "I hope you can accept it. I don't really understand deliberately restricting your technology, but this is pretty innocuous, right? I mean, this is something the KLO might let through, don't you think?"

"Thank you," said Talaren gravely. "You have given a heirloom to our house."

Tomin coughed suddenly.

Basil started to protest that it wasn't all that much, but as he opened his mouth, he suddenly caught on. He closed his mouth, and the corners quirked up in a hint of a grin.

The coach, by now, was deiving through the outer suburbs of Aquila, towards the large mansion that was the City home of the Bahlmis family. Talaren sat back in his seat with something of a frown until they turned in through the great iron gates and swept around the semi- circular carriage drive.

"I believe we're here," he said. "Now for Aunt Rosallor."

Basil took the structure in with a glance. "More elaborate architecture than I'd expected for a low-tech world, actually. I'm not sure what I was expecting, though." He looked down at himself. "Ah, I'm a perfect mess! I can't even do a quick shave, since they took my shaver!" He rubbed at the five o'clock shadow which was, in fact, becoming obvious. "Well, it can't be helped, I guess, unless there's a chance to change. First impressions are important, but we're all family here, right? Right?"

"Indeed," said Talaren. "And that will just be the start of our problems, I suspect."

Basil looked at him, puzzled. After a moment, his expression slid into a thoughtful frown and a nod. There was a certain amount of infighting among the Mederes, but ultimately they hung together in the face of the competition. He'd have thought there would be even more solidarity on a world like this ... but then again, the Mederes weren't the sorts to go trying a coup d'etat, either.

End of Chapter 4