Story #294 - Music Man

Music Man

“You want how much for it?” Dallen Friss was interested in the ollenium-plated instrument, but couldn’t let it show. The first rule of any business negotiation for customers was to appear less impressed with the goods than their quality demanded, and the first rule for any trader was to make them seem more appealing than they actually were. The sleek music-maker for sale was worth every credit the shady dealer was asking for, and Dallen was almost certain it was stolen.

He was also fairly certain he could live with that.

“A pittance!” Qular Ido smiled – Dallen had told the Urdian on several occasions to stop smiling at his customers, since three rows of needle-sharp teeth suddenly bared in their faces tended to drive off all but the most dedicated deal-buyers, but Qular seemed determined. His business was booming, regardless, with the demand for luxury items skyrocketing after the peace treaty’s signing. It had been a hard few years for the Feds, but things finally appeared to be settling down – and with that settling came the desire for goods that hadn’t been available during the war, goods like musical instruments. “This synth-trumpet is worth three times what I’m asking.”

Dallen frowned and made a show of considering the merchant’s offer. Qular was known for having access to some of the rarest goods in the quadrant, and charging prices that made them seem the rarest in the galaxy. The amount of credits he wanted for the trumpet were actually quite reasonable – likely because the shifty, green-eyed being knew little about music. His species had poorly developed ears and had created some of the worst music on the known worlds. Scholars studied their combinations of notes and tones as examples of how a species tried to mimic those it came in contact with, sometimes with little success. Of course, other peoples under Fed control tried their best to mimic the Urdians, but there was no duplicating their ability to deal, their skill in finding the best deals for themselves and marking up prices for others. To Dallen’s benefit, trumpet was the wrong thing for Qular to try and sell – he couldn’t properly set its value.

“Perhaps,” Dallen said as he picked up the glossy instrument and turned it over in his hands. It was heavier than it looked, something most amateurs would chalk up to a problem in the manufacturing process. Standard musical teaching held that lighter synth-trumpets were better for player posture and the spine, and while that was true for beginners, heavier instruments could produce a far superior sound. “Or maybe you’re just trying to gouge me. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Gouge!” Qular’s tone was offended. “How could you suggest such a thing, friend Dallen?” I have always dealt honestly with you!”

“Really?” Dallen couldn’t help but smile at the merchant’s indignation. “What about those duo-drums you sold me? The ones that phased out after three gigs? Or the set of sheet music I bought that not only changed every time I played it, but contained coded Imperial messages? I almost lost my head for that!”

“Trifles, trifles,” the merchant waved his hand. “I cannot be responsible for the phase of any items when sold – perhaps you encountered a pocket of piled space. As to the music, that it contained such important coded messages could only have been a boon to you and your Federation. I was merely doing my part.” The grin came out again, a Dallen did his best not to grimace in return. Qular was impressive in defense of his own inventory and moral cleanliness, a remarkable trait given his profession.

“Of course not, master merchant.” Dallen bowed slightly at the waist. “I apologize if I have slighted your honor. Now, to the matter of your moderately interesting musical instrument.” It took all of his willpower to hand the trumpet back nonchalantly; thoughts of it against his lips were hard to resist, but he knew as soon as he tried to play, Qular would consider the sale complete, and the guards in the city would agree with him.

“Ten thousand.” Qular said flatly as he took the trumpet again. “No less.”

Dallen sighed. “Eight would be the most I could offer, I’m afraid – we’ve had few bookings recently.”

“You cannot be serious! Nine-five is the least I could take, with barely enough to cover my expenses.”

“Nine,” Dallen said firmly. “More than I can afford, and less than you want.”

Qular squinted beady eyes and flexed tri-fingers hands, then nodded sharply. “Very well. Because you are a friend –and because you will come back, yes?”

“Always, Qular. You find some of the most interesting things in your travels.” Dallen reached into his jacket and pullet out a small credit-holo, then held it up to Qular’s own. In seconds, he was nine thousand credits poorer and the proud owner of the best instrument he’d ever seen.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Qular said, but Dallen didn’t bother to reply. Trumpet in hand, he moved back into the city, and away from the merchant and his men. He had practicing to do.

***

“Impressive.” Unpo grunted after the musician had left.

“Adequate.” Qular replied. “He is not so stupid as he appears, but I knew his desire for the instrument would overwhelm him. I am just glad to be rid of it.”

The massive green alien starting down at Qular barked a laugh. “Of course you are – the foul thing has killed everyone who owned it for the past ten generations, always violently, and always unexpectedly.”

“I know that,” Qular bit off the words. “You were the one gracious enough to sell it, after all.”

Unpo smirked. “Your own fault, master merchant – you should have asked more about the instrument before buying it. Not everything that appears innocent is in fact so benign. And who knows? Perhaps you were able to divest yourself of it before it could visit its curse upon you.”

Qular grunted sourly. He felt bad about passing the thing off to Dallen – but death wasn’t something that could be paid off.


- D