Small Business Bites Scene 3

            The humming sound of freezers and coolers greeted us as we entered the shop.   It was a long, meandering affair with two aisles separated by a low set of improvised tables heaped with cheeses,  breads, and bushels of various peppers and savory root vegetables.  Fillets, twists, and whole sections of dried fish  hung over.  More baskets of goods fanned out from metal pillars between the central tables.

            Warm amber light came from globes that bobbed up and down near the ceiling.   The walls were plastered over with vibrant posters advertising foods from regions all over the Empire. I was able to read only a handful.  Half did not even use the Otic alphabet.

            The decoration did serve to help disguise the origins of the store, and complemented the pleasant smells.

            To the left, a line of upright freezers marched halfway down the wall.  Anonymous bundles were visible through the glass doors.  After the midpoint they transitioned upright refrigeration units that contained piles of the fresher fish,  both whole and in packets of ground, blended, and spiced fish-meal.

            To the right was a cold display case with more meats, cheeses,  jars of spices, equipment for slicing, an aisle for the staff to work in, and behind that a heavy vault-like door to a walk in freezer space. Long sausages dangled from hooks behind the counter and swayed in the circulating air.

            They kept the imported, and far more expensive, products under careful watch.

            Attempting a pleasant expression, I walked up to the counter and made eye contact with one of the staff who was not busy with actual customers.

            A bright-eyed young Descended with red horns and glossy violet hair nodded and stepped up to us. The red smock she wore bore the store's logo on it and washed out her crimson complexion a bit. "Yes?  How can I help you?" she asked in Otic glancing between myself and Camille.

            "I would like to speak to your mother," I said, after reading her nametag.

            The young woman, not much more than a teenager, frowned.   Her accent was not that different from mine so she should have understood me. "Oh?  Momma-Nalsh?"  she asked with confusion, her gaze darting to another Descended with long black hair down at the far end of the counter.

            "Ah no, I want to speak to Mer Valli," I clarified, bowing my head.

            Camille managed not to snigger, but I could just imagine her tail swishing about.  Otic could be a challenging language, especially using the correct forms to delineate familial relations.  At least I made the effort to learn the language, instead of simply letting my phone translate

            Again, she looked from Camille then back to me.  "May I ask if this is a business concern?" there was a bit of nervousness to her voice, but least most Descended like to keep steady eye contact when they talked.  It was more direct.

            However the others behind the counter had started to notice us.  And I knew the right smock could hide a functional enough weapon.  It was a trick  Murphy used to keep his bar orderly.

             Of course, a Descended did not really need a gun to be dangerous at distance.   But I doubted they wanted to start a fire in their own shop.

            Our wait was not long.  A matronly, short woman with long violet hair, dark gimlet eyes and skin edging to ruby slipped up to us.  She had come from deeper in the store and was on our side of the counter.  She wore a short lavender dress that matched her apron.

            "Mer Valli," I bowed my head slightly.  Camille gave a more perfunctory gesture.

            Recognition passed on Valli's face upon seeing both of us. "I'm paid up. No more extortion today," she spoke with a bit more pronounced accent to her Otic, and her tail uncurled behind her.

            Ah, so it was going to be like that.  I smiled... brightly. "No, this isn't with your account with my company." I lowered my voice.  "This has nothing to do with my employer."

            Valli's gaze simply went to Camille.

            The taller Descended affected a casual stance.

            "Your account is in good standing with us. And we continue to provide fiscal services," I assured.  Most of the customers at least pretended to not be listening in.  The other workers in the store did not even bother with the pretense. "Perhaps we can discuss this in private?"

            Valli did not glare at Camille but she did shift her stance and her tail straightened out.

            Camille exhaled in something that was not quite a sigh, but was directed towards me.

            "Helen asked me to help you, and since you are a valued client of my employer..."

            The woman blinked. "Helen asked?  She's good customer."

            This time I did not have to remember to smile. "She thought you might be in some trouble. The kind of trouble the marshals doesn't need to know about."

            "Or the Imperial Bank," Camille murmured.  She held up a hand to forestall Valli's protest.  "I work for her, now."

            Valli exhaled.  "Fine, we talk in back."

            She turned with an irritated swish to her tail.  We followed her down the aisle and through a side door by the end of the counter section.  Some of the customers, particularly a slim man in a dark coat by a bin of dried fruit, watches us pass.

            The back room was chilled and the walls were bare corrugated metal.  There were some more refrigeration units in the room, but most of the storage place was taken up by boxes varying from pallet to shoebox-sized.

            Valli hopped up on a wooden crate that had been cleared off and again gave us that appraising look.  I noted her horns were a bit more curled than Camille's.  "What did Helen tell you?"

            I waited until Camille had closed the door behind her before I glanced at my phone. The warding program showed a nice blue bar. "She said you had some new vendors pushing something you weren't exactly comfortable selling."

            The little Descended snorted and pulled out a bottle of plum brandy. "Helen's too polite."

            "She is, and she's worried about her favorite butcher and fish shop."

            Valli nodded and poured a small steel tumbler full of liquor. She sipped, and her tail relaxed a bit.

            "Are you worried about the cost?  That you'll be stuck with goods you can't sell?" I ventured.  Forcing a supplier to buy excess goods at a ruinous rate was a way to muscle them out of business.

            Valli laughed and offered the bottle to Camille. She politely declined.

            "Oh no,  I know of plenty that would buy. Even at a good markup, this meat would be in high demand. For the right customers, very high indeed,"  Valli knocked back the tumbler's contents.

            Camille made a little gasp.  "Truly?"

            She looked to me and I saw concern breaking through her aloof demeanor. 

            I was still pondering the idea of smuggling meats.  Avoiding the revenue checkpoints of the Imperial Navy was a perennial sport among the Descended, especially in their outlying worlds.

            Not that humanity had any grounds to stand on. Goods such as cheese, maple syrup, and citrus juices could be robustly profitable in addition to the standards like  liquor, cigarettes, and games.

            That said, a Descended shop-owner, especially one this far out, would not be this nervous at taking in some meat without all the proper import marks.  There was more to this.

            Valli smirked at the purple Descended, "The Vird is right. They're always right," she added ruefully.

            "Which?"  Camille asked.

            "They offering multiple cuts, from both species. They're hinting to a regular supply well"

            "Both?"  Camille exhaled. "And they're organized."

            "Oh." I had to keep my expression even as realization hit.

            Pouring another glass, Valli gave me a level look.

            At least this was a case where my directness helped. "They want you to sell human, and Descended, flesh," I stated.

            At least Mer Valli looked a bit guilty about it.

            "And they won't take no for an answer?" I added to sound less accusatory. No need to rub her face in that she knew people who would buy such things.

            The red Descended nodded.

            Stepping closer, I took the bottle. I was careful not to accidentally brush against her hand. "Tell me about these 'suppliers'." I said half-filling a tumbler.