Chanur's Legacy by C. J. Cherryh

arms and suddenly realized she was far along the Rows, she had spent longer than she intended collecting her odd items, and a mahendo’sat with religious enlightenment or a crackpot scheme either one was not going to get her home any sooner.
    “I know, I know, too many come you ship talk crazy. Not me.” A hand larger than her head applied itself to approximately a mahen heart.
    “Good friend, name Tahaisimandi Ana-kehnandian, ship name Ha’domaren, dock right down there—“
    “I’m late. Cap’n’s going to skin me as is. Send a message.”
    “No, no.” Said mahen hand landed on her arm, and it was drop the packages or listen. As a third alternative, she laid back her ears and stared up at the owner of said hand, who protested, “Important you listen.”
    “Important I get back, mahe.”
    “Call me Haisi.”
    “Haisi. Get the hand off or I’ll give it to you on a plate.”
    “Very serious! Listen. What you name?” “Never mind my name! You got a message for the
    Personage, save it for her! My captain’s got her own troubles!”
    “You take stsho deal?”
    She shouldn’t have reacted. But she had, she did, and she stood staring at the mahendo’sat. “Where’d you hear that?”
    “Got ears.”
    “Got ears. Great. You want a word with the captain? I’ll get you a word with the captain, you just go right down to berth 23 and use the com, like any civilized individual.” “What you name?” “Tiar Chanur.” “Ah! Chanur officer!”
    “Chanur officer, gods-rotted right, Chanur officer! You want to stay friends with the Personage, you get down to 23 and say what you’ve got to say—“ “I carry package for you.”
    “I’m doing fine! Get! Don’t walk with me! We got enough gossip!”
    “You lot worry, Chanur officer. All fine. Name Haisi. Respectable, long-time come and go this station.”
    “Get!” She aimed a kick. Haisi escaped it. But Haisi went.
    “So where did you hear about this deal?” Hilfy asked, as the mahe sipped expensive tea and lounged in her shipboard office, foot propped.
    “ When did you hear it?”
    “What deal you want know?” A large mahen hand balanced a tiny cup, and the mahe regarded it closely. “Nice porc’lain. Tiyleyn province, a? You got good taste.”
    “What do you want?”
    “You so ab-rupt. So ab-rupt. How you deal with stsho?”
    “I don’t think you know anything. I swear to you, if you’ve talked your way onto my ship for some gods-rotted sales pitch, you can take yourself right out—“
    Hand on throat. “You insult me?”
    “I’m too busy to insult you! I have a ship to turn around, I have cargo all over my dockside because I can’t get enough gods-rotted transports! If you know something, spill it!”
    The mahe leaped to his feet. “I leave! I don’t sit be insult!”
    He might be serious. She regretted that, just long enough for him to reach the door and look back.
    “You stupid hani let me walk out.”
    “I stupid hani let you sell me some damn deal! All right, all right, sit down, have another cup of tea.”
    “You say nice.”
    Rubbing salt on it. She pursed her mouth in pleasantness, pricked up her ears and made a gracious gesture toward the abandoned chair.
    “Do sit down, Ana-kehnandian.”
    “Nice.” The mahe, gods rot his hide, sauntered over to the chair and sat down again, leaned far back and crossed his foot over his knee. “Nice you ship, hani captain.”
    “What deal?”
    “You so sudden. I like more tea.”
    “Sorry. My entire staff of servants jumped ship at Hoas. The pot’s right beside you.”
    A mahen grin. Only humans and mahendo’sat did that. It was life-threatening on a hani ship. And Tahaisimandi Ana-kehnandian took his time.
    “So,” Ana-kehnandian said, with a sip and a sigh. “You want know how I know?”
    “I want to know what you know.”
    “You got fat deal, stsho with stsho. No’shto-shti-stlen got kif work for him. Same Urtur stsho. Lot big thing with kif. You tell Personage she