“Well now,” Kitten began, “we’re not averse to suggestions from even the most unlikely quarters, my pudgy purveyor.”

“A lady who follows her soul, I see. Better than calling me plain ‘fat,’ which is what I be.”

Kitten gestured with the tobacco stick at a rack of cubes depicting fishermen in time-honored poses with victims of the sport a Terran counterpart would scoff at as trick photography.

“Your miserable attempts at flattery do me no honor. Unless you’ve more for sale than pretty pictures favoring the local cretinisms, I fear you waste our time.”

The man sneezed. “The administration really ought to do something about covering over these seaside amusement ways. At least the walkaways could be subheated.” He wiped his nose with a big multicolored hanky and heaved himself forward in the chair, wheezing.

“If you’ve the inclination,” he continued much more softly, “and the money—yes the money—for something most definitely different, I think we might do business.”

Kitten moved closer and leaned over part of the tables. She pretended to examine a carved walrus-like creature with thin silver whiskers and rose-crystal tusks.

“The desire is always there, merchant. And I have enough credits for anything in the way of entertainment this damp sod-ball could possibly offer. Endeavor to provide specifics, please.”

“Bloodhype,” the man whispered evenly. “A narcotic, if you haven’t heard of it. The finest, rarest, and most pleasureful drug this end of the opposite Arm. If you’ve the mind and guts to try it, that is.”

Kitten drew back, sighing. “Oh my. And I really hoped you might have something worthwhile, too.” She took in the whole City in a contemptuous jerk of her head. “Your market for such a product is everywhere evident. No doubt the sophisticated populace makes heavy demands on your thin stock. The woods must be aswarm with beboggled loggers and trappers!”

She handed the man the figurine and her credit slip. He went through the motions of recording the purchase. He pursed his lips in surprise as her credit rating flashed on his doublecheck screen.

“You do have the money, lovely lady-lady. Yes you do. As for your sarcasm, I am not offended. People migrate, m’lady, and so do many products. A number of such pause here on their way to other, more lucrative markets. But some is always available at points of transfer. That smokestick of yours, for example, is Terran tobacco, is it not?” Kitten nodded. “There, you see? For someone with the proper attitude and resources, anything is available anyplace.” He was very jolly about it all.

“Then you’re serious? It’s really available in this backwater?” She put just enough disbelief and suppressed excitement into her voice.

He continued to wrap the little carving in decorative foil. “As serious and real as your beauty, lass.”

“And you’ve samples with you?”

He chuckled lightly. “My ancient human history is not the best, but from the tapes I can recall, I believe the court fools were traditionally on the slim side. No, lady. The equal of Hivehom the local constabulary may not be, but their machinery is as good as that on many of the more metropolitan worlds. I trust that you would not be averse to a short sea journey?”