Waterstrider

Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Thirdmonth, 1634 PTS

There is something unique about each city’s black market. It manifests differently according to the culture, the resources, the way the local government goes about cracking down on crime whenever the officials need to boost their reputation.

But there are also similarities, small methods of going about things born from practicality and simply shared modes of thought. Any culture similar enough to my own to birth a black market would share some of these.

Of course, I was a Seiyal, and so rather than track down its location through a sea of alien contacts, it was easier to start with my own people. Rachel likely already knew where I could find it, but I had thoughtlessly left the slate in the townhome and did not feel like returning to pick it up. Rachel had in practice been constantly shadowing me, and it would nice to be free from that for a time.

I spoke to various shopkeepers, passerby and merchants, slowly gleaning more information with pointed questions. I asked about rare goods, offhandedly mentioned goods I might be looking for buyers for, and passed serite here and there as bribery. I had brought a reasonable amount of the currency with me to the station, acquired when I had passed by Staive itself.

It took hours to find the information I was looking for, but by midnight I had what I needed.

The man who had told me was a middle aged mortal farsei. His hair was starting to gray at the roots and he had developed a bit of a stoop, presumably from some condition he had. I squinted my eyes at him.

“So the procedure is so complicated?” I asked.

He nodded, responding with an odd pidginized Bountian drawl.

“Hye, master refiner. ‘S the best market ‘n the station, I’ssure you. They got what ye need, no matter.”

“I see. Thank you for your assistance.” I tossed him a couple chips worth one hundred serite each. He grinned, blackened teeth displayed widely. Each one was inscribed with the swirling designs that were the mark of the Saayan religion. I left the inn I had found the man lounging in and returned to the empty streets of Canvas Town.

As it turned out, Tseludia had multiple black markets, but the largest one was located in the 8th district. I was in no particular rush, and I had not yet bothered to figure out the method of summoning one of the flying machines that served as both porters and palanquins for the city’s populace. I began walking steadily for the 8th district.

The eighth district was one of the poorer districts, but this one included the stacks where most of the Staiven poor lived. As such, it was quite visually uninteresting just like the spaceport was. Odd stenches drifted through the air, and oddly patterned blobs of what seems like clay stuck out from the windows and walls.

It was not only Staiven who lived here, though it would be difficult to tell that based upon how few non-Staiven I saw among the few passersby bothering to walk around at this time of night. While the station itself was artificially lit, most races remained accustomed to the planetary lifestyle, and so the light of the dome was shut down at daily intervals to mark night. It would be another five hours or so before dawn was scheduled.

I was wearing a scarf over the lower half of my face to make me harder to recognize. It would have been better if Rachel were to use her illusions on me, but I would have to return to the fifth district to contact her, and this would do.

I had been directed by the informant to knock on the third door in the second alley of the second highest floor of stack 8-78, and I did so after spending far too long tracking down the location.

I was greeted by a crimson-eyed Staiven man wearing an old and worn set casual attire. He inspected me for a moment with an unmoving expression before asking for my business.

“I’m looking for financial advice.” I had needed to memorize the line, for I had not known the Staiven word for ‘financial’ until I had looked up the meaning of the phrase.’ The man before me squinted his eyes.

“Who sent ya?” he asked.

I had to think back to my conversation with the rumpled Seiyal drunkard I had met earlier in the night.

“Ines.” He nodded.

“That’ll do. Come in.”

The hatch slid fully open, revealing an expansive hallway. There were several doors, but one was clearly larger and more finely decorated than the rest. The Staiven gestured towards it. I nodded in response, not needing to question him to understand what was expected of me. I approached the fine door and it slid right open, revealing a set of stairs that led upwards. I began climbing.

At the top of the stairs was the most active area I had seen all night. There were nearly fifty different stalls, and the various merchants haggled with customers of all possible demographics, from Tovus to Korlove to a slim, dark form that could even be a Reth.

This black market was very clearly located within the interior of a warehouse that had been secretly connected to a townhome on the lower level of the stack. Its design was eerily similar to the one that had been destroyed by the enforcer during our fight the week before. It even had offices on one end. Here however, they were guarded by a pair of martial artists who flanked the doors.

I paused for a few moments to take in the ambience of the place. I had spent a good deal of time in the markets of my hometown, both black and otherwise, and this gave me a similar feel. Many of the customers were wearing disguises as well, though I could see some who were very clearly wearing uniforms that marked affiliation to various powerful underworld organizations such as the Hadal Clan, Umrak, and the Heirs.

In cities like Tseludia Station where the government rarely bothered to try and crack down on organized crime, black markets barely had to hide themselves. So long as a modicum of discretion was followed the black market would be allowed to exist. As I understood it, the idea was that this allowed them to keep better tabs on what goods were being moved around.

As a result, illicit merchants could openly set up shop in places such as this and display stolen and otherwise illegal wares for purpose. The host of such black markets would take a cut of every transaction in exchange for protecting the merchants from thieves and guaranteeing the veracity of the wares for the customers.

I perused the goods set out amongst the various carts. Most of the merchants had goods ranging from different weapons to machine parts and circuitry, all likely stolen from the Staiven and quite valuable to the right buyer. I ignored the arms dealers. Those who practiced their trade in the 8th district would be those selling firearms and other technological weapons. The best weapons suited for martial artists would all be found in Canvas Town, and when the time came to outfit our organization we could just steal it from others.

The stands selling natural treasures I found more interesting. All the most valuable miasmic treasures of many worlds could be found here, from Jankari soulfire to Canvas’ treasures such as verdant origin grass. All of the treasures I saw were incredibly valuable, each one more than qualified to serve as the seed for one of a martial artist’s cores, should they be of the right path. Sadly however, I was having little luck with what I needed. None of the qualifying treasures I had seen so far had been of the formless domain.

Formless treasures were one of the harder types to find, second only to the nigh impossible to acquire extant treasures. Due to their formless nature, they often failed to coalesce into a stable shape that could be collected. Back in the Downpour region we had needed to wait for the marshfiend mating season that occurred once every thirty years in order to acquire the pearls we needed to propel just three disciples past core formation.

Annoyed at my hopes being dashed, I picked one of the carts whose vendor wasn’t entertaining a customer, and approached it.

The proprietor was a chubby Telaretian woman who was leaning relaxedly on all four of her elbows. She was selling various natural treasures, among other things, and she inspected me as I approached.

“Do you speak Seiyin?” I asked. If not, I would need to go to another cart. I really did have to find time to finish learning the Staiven language.

“Some,” she replied, with a shrug. Her words were quite thickly accented but easily intelligible. “What might I do for you?.”

“I have some treasures to sell, if you’re interested,” I said. She narrowed her eyes.

“What sort?”

I showed her the treasures I had stolen from the warehouse, which I had carried here in a different sack than the one I had stolen them in. It was best to be careful. The vendor lit up upon inspecting the goods.

“Very good! I can buy this.”

I smiled.

After haggling for a time on the prices of the items were set, and I traded them for a small fortune of serite chips. While the treasures from the warehouse were certainly so rare, valuable, and in demand that I had immediately received a good price for them, I had little expectation of being able to use them myself. This was a far more effective way to receive value from them.

As we finished up the sale and I began moving the chips into my pouch for safekeeping, I idly asked the woman if she knew whether any of the vendors were currently selling any formless treasures.

“Formless? I’m not sure, you could ask Otvar. I don’t have it stocked.”

She pointed to another stand, run by a Korlove. For a moment I considered the risk of approaching the Celan, but decided that the upside would be worth it. I would simply have to leave the district immediately after the discussion ended.

I made my way toward them.

Telaretian: [One of the earliest and in its prime, advanced of mortal races to ever roam Telles, the Telaretians were once a powerful empire that controlled multiple star clusters, and went into a slow decline as they had never run into any other sapient races. Telles itself acquired its name from that of the once-great Tellesian Empire. They created the first Osine, an event which led to the immediate fall of their empire and their role shifted to that of a subordinate race of the Osine, who steadily grew in number over time. Telaretians are tall humanoids with mottled scales in shades of blue and red, four arms, and large, bulbous eyes. While they once held a technology base among the peak of the galaxy, the Osine have stripped much of that from them, leaving them with a technological base roughly on par with that of the Staiven.]