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“Flame babies—get your flame babies here!” the merchant with blue scales called.
A huge, lumpy looking buyer who had a body like a rhinoceros standing on its hind legs came lumbering up.
“Flame babies is my favorite!” he bellowed in a deafening voice. “How much, then?”
“Three creds apiece,” the merchant told him.
The lumpy customer dug in a pocket and thumped down a three-cred chip on the seller’s counter. Then he chose one of the fire animals or “flame-babies” from the assembled torches. Seline wondered if he was taking it as a pet. And if so, how did you feed and house a being made of fire? How—
Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as the rhino-customer raised the flaming torch to his mouth and sucked it between his lips. There was a hissing sound like fire being extinguished and when he pulled the torch out, it was completely bare.
“Oh, no!” Seline couldn’t help exclaiming.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Nox was instantly on high alert. He had been walking behind her, since she was supposedly ‘leading him’ on his leash, but now he stepped in front of Seline protectively as he scanned the crowded room.
“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Only—he ate that adorable fire pet! That flame-baby,” she explained, nodding at the stall with the living torches and the lumpy customer who appeared to be choosing another one to eat.
Nox frowned.
“What did you expect he would do with it? Flame food is a Wazikan delicacy. I don’t recommend you try any, however—unless your oral cavity can withstand extreme temperatures.”
“No, I don’t want to eat one—they look like little animals. Like pets,” Seline explained.
Nox’s frown deepened.
“The flames are, indeed, living creatures but such a pet would be extremely impractical—especially within the confines of a space ship.”
“I just feel bad for them,” Seline murmured, as they moved past the stall. “They look so cute—in a fiery kind of way.”
“Unfortunately, one cannot save everyone and everything at risk,” Nox told her. “Which is why I am concentrating all my efforts and energy on protecting you, Seline. Do you see anything practical you would like to try to buy with our cred chips?”
“Oh, um…”
Seline looked around the various stalls. A number of them seemed to be selling food items and she loved trying new things. Plus, she’d had a light breakfast that day, knowing that folding space would make her nervous, and now she was getting hungry.
“What about that one?” she asked at last, pointing to a stall where they appeared to be selling some kind of exotic purple fruit about the size of a plum wrapped in white, chewy dough.
“A flur’fa? Are you hungry?” Nox asked.
“Oh, well…” Seline shrugged. “A little peckish, I guess. I didn’t have much for breakfast because folding space always makes my stomach upset.” Then she had another thought. “Is it safe to eat things from this universe, though? I mean—they won’t be poison to us, will they?”
“I should think not,” Nox said. “Very well—let’s see if we can get you a flur’fa.”
They walked over to the stall which was being manned by an enormous alien as purple as the fruits he was wrapping in the chewy white covering. He had six hands and all of them were busy. Three were picking fruit out of a bin, washing and drying it, while the other three were rolling out the white doughy stuff, placing the fruit inside, and sealing it up with an expert twist of his pudgy fingers.
“Hello,” Seline greeted him, since she was supposed to be the Mistress in this situation. “I would like to buy one of your flur’fa.”
The alien barely looked up from his never-ending task.
“Five creds,” he muttered, lifting one of the white balls—which was about the size of a large peach—and placing it on the counter.
Seline slid a five-cred chip out of the pouch at her side and placed it on the counter, watching to see what the merchant would do. One of his hands stopped plucking the purple fruits out of the bin to pick up the chip and examine it. The overhead glows flashed on the golden edge and Seline thought she saw his small, piggy eyes widen.
“Is it all right?” she asked, hoping desperately he would say it was fine. If their money was no good in this universe, how in the hell would they be able to buy the other half of the Far Box? Assuming that Mistress Lendrex had it in this universe, that was.
But it wasn’t the flur’fa merchant who answered—it was the man in the stall beside his.
“Holy Mother who made us all!” he exclaimed, coming over to stare at the gold-edged five-cred chip. “Is that a chin’di chip?”
“A what?” Seline frowned at him.
“They’re so rare!” the other merchant exclaimed. “Pardon me for butting in,” he added, speaking to the flur’fa merchant, who was glaring at him. “But I deal in rare coins and chips and I’ve not seen one of these in ages! Why—it’s worth four times its actual value!” he added, looking at Seline. “Did you know that?”
