Kara saw on the packed dirt roads didn’t even have motors of any kind. Instead, they were drawn by animals—large, slow-moving beasts that looked a little like a giant tortoise from Earth with the head of a Bassett Hound.
The Yi’pisselons themselves appeared to be in no hurry to get much of anywhere either. They plodded along, their lumpy, two-headed bodies almost seeming to move in slow motion. Some of them were bartering in the market square she and Raak were approaching, but even there, the speech was slow and ponderous, punctuated with much wagging of heads and deliberate gestures.
“Where is this amazing art you were talking about?” Kara muttered in Raak’s ear. “All I see are wood huts and primitive vehicles.”
“Look closer,” Raak told her. “Have you noticed the carvings on the sides of the huts or the paintings on the shells of the beasts that pull their vehicles?”
Kara had to admit she hadn’t. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the side of the hut they were passing.
To her surprise, she saw a geometric pattern of multi-dimensional prismatic shapes carved into the simple wood. It was done with incredible precision and accuracy and had a subtle but complex beauty she would never have seen if she hadn’t looked harder at it.
Looking around, she saw that the other huts and buildings had the same kinds of carvings, though no two were exactly alike.
A closer examination of the shell of one of the huge Bassett-tortoises pulling a cart beside them, showed the same kind of thing. The shell was a pattern of grays and greens and browns that Kara had assumed were just the animal’s natural coloration. But now she saw that their real shell color was black and the subtle pattern of colors had been painted on—again in rows and columns of geometric patterns that must have taken ages to do.
“Oh,” she murmured in Raak’s ear. “I see now—it’s subtle but it’s really beautiful in a minimalist kind of way.”
“Exactly.” He nodded approvingly. “Just because something doesn’t scream, ‘look at me!’ doesn’t mean it’s not worth looking at.”
Kara could see his point.
“Got it,” she whispered. “So what kind of art are you looking to buy here?”
“That.” Raak pointed to a stall where a slow-moving Yi’pisselon merchant was standing behind a table filled with carved wooden bowls and serving platters.
“Oh.” Kara stared curiously at the display. “They’re beautiful but why those things specifically?” When he’d said he was looking to buy art, she had imagined a more literal interpretation like a painting or a sculpture.
“Because,” Raak murmured back. “It’s exactly the kind of thing the bored house-mistresses of Tava Prime will go crazy for. They’ve got nothing to do all day but spend their husbands’ credits and compete with each other over who has the most exclusive possessions. I bring them something like this—a set of serving bowls and platters from a closed world that no one else can get—and they’ll start a damn bidding war to see who can get them. The winner will pay me ten times what they’re worth so she can host a dinner party for the losers and make them eat off the plates they couldn’t get for themselves. They’ll all have to pretend to be happy for her while inside they’re eaten up with envy.”
“Sounds like a charming society,” Kara said dryly. “I’m glad I don’t live there.”
“No, you wouldn’t like it at all,” Raak told her. “Bunch of back-biting, back-stabbing females who hate each other and pretend to be best friends. But right now, we need to concentrate on Yi’pisselon, not Tava Prime. After all, we have to get the platters and bowls before we can sell them.”
“And I suppose you’re the master dealmaker?”
“Just watch and learn, baby girl,” Raak told her. “Watch and learn.”
Twenty-Five
Kara kept silent as they approached the merchant with the beautifully carved bowls and platters. She wondered how long it had taken to make each one—for all she knew the intricate carvings could have taken years.
There was another customer ahead of them, so Raak stopped and waited politely, his eyes flitting over the array of dishes while the merchant transacted his business.
“The little missuss might like this one,” the customer’s main head said as he lifted a large, carved serving platter in his first pair of hands.
“Ayup—that she might,” his secondary head said, nodding vigorously.
“That’s a good choice, that is,” the merchant remarked. “Good craftsmanship and built to serve a fair few guests if you’ve got ‘em.”
“That’s so, yes it is,”