He nodded to one of the myriad trader aides at his side and the man produced a document that he laid carefully upon the table, then slid delicately into the middle. The sudden silence at the table as the papers slowly wisped across wood reminded Petr of religious offering ceremonies he’d seen on several spheroid worlds.

Petr raked his eyes across it for a moment, before glancing back up. “Is this the agreement we have worked on most recently?” he asked, knowing full well it wasn’t.

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Could you perhaps be a little more specific?” Time to crank up his sarcasm dial.

“There has been a complication.”

“Again.”

The man shrugged, as though to apologize; the raptor gaze never faltered. “A new JumpShip has entered the system.”

Petr barely managed not to glare at his own people for not yet having this information. Petr spoke from a suddenly dry throat. “And what does this have to do with our ongoing negotiation?”

“It seems this ship is also a trading vessel.” Again, the insincere shrug. “However, it appears they are not of your Clan, but an Inner Sphere concern.” He leaned back once more; Petr felt the man might stretch and snuggle into his chair like a space cat: warm, content and filled with the knowledge he held the upper hand.

“As I would hate to allow this new concern to horn in on a business deal we have all worked so hard to cement, I have suggested two last-minute changes, which I humbly submit for your final review. With your stamp of approval, I can have a contract drafted and on your desk by tomorrow for your signature, days before the JumpShip could possibly set people on the ground to disrupt.”

Petr felt the rage growing, but pushed it aside. Nodded once, thoughtfully, at the adept move.

On my desk, and Sha’s as well, waiting to see who bites.

Though angry, he had to give the man his due. He managed to gain information before either Delta or Beta Aimag and made the most of it, holding it over them like a raised ’Mech foot, ready to smash them if they did not acquiesce.

Reaching forward, he picked up the page, and quickly read through it. Just as he thought. An additional half percentage point on gross and a year less on the absolute contract rights. Completely unacceptable.

Opening his mouth to respond, Petr caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he saw Sha, along with a small Beta cadre, moving toward their table. One look told him they knew of the arriving JumpShip, knew of their current negotiations and had come posthaste.

Though the animosity between the two of them had grown to spectacular levels, they still shared the same Khanate. The same Clan. In the end, though both would chew off their own tongues before admitting as much, they would rather see the other gain victory here than to miss the opportunity entirely, or worse yet, allow a Republic trading concern to sink their greedy talons into it.

The two ovKhans seemed to telegraph their thoughts across the closing distance. In one of the few moments when Sha and Petr absolutely agreed, the time had come for a distinctly Clan resolution to this conundrum.

Returning his attention to Master Tidinic, he allowed a smile to bloom on his face, mirth to widen his eyes. The sudden jerk in his raptor gaze told Petr the man went from total control to doubt in a heartbeat. It only fueled the smile larger.

“Master Tidinic,” Petr said, “Beta and Delta Aimags must reach our own resolution to this problem before one of us again sits at this table to discuss your proposal. Please excuse me for a handful of minutes.”

Though he tried to hide it, Tidinic floundered; the other traders could not disguise their confusion.

Standing up, Petr turned toward Sha and his own cadre moved away from the table to meet the arriving Betas. He should have been angry at this development, but he actually felt as though a load had been lifted. He stretched his tired back and neck muscles, felt the pull of strong tendons and muscles all across his body, his right shoulder hardly twinging; he breathed in deeply and, for the first time he could remember, didn’t mind the stench.

Resolution. If only of one thing, resolution nevertheless.

“ovKhan Kalasa,” Sha said, nodding his head slightly.

Though his rival showed no more emotion than usual, Petr thought he detected a look of relief in those too-chill eyes.

He needs this resolution as much as I. For a moment, Petr pondered that thought. Is it just this deal? Doesn’t seem possible. Can his larger plans have problems? No way of knowing, but Petr smiled larger regardless. Even the possibility buoyed him.

“ovKhan Clarke, I see you are aware of the new arrival.”

“Aff. And it changes our circumstances. I believe we are of a mind.”

“Aff, ovKhan. It is time we determine who shall seat themselves again with Master Tidinic and who shall concede defeat.”

“Aff. I name Bel,” he answered, indicating a mammoth elemental, who moved forward with the lethal grace and contained fury of a sphinx raptor.

Petr nodded. “I name Calson.” Petr looked over his shoulder as another elemental stepped forward, matching Bel grace for grace. Lethality for lethality. Their eyes met and Petr nodded once. Acknowledgment, blessing.

Petr looked back and at Sha. “Bargained well and done.”

“Seyla,” the small assembly of warriors spoke. Though short and abbreviated from the usual forms for a Trial of Possession, there was precedence; in the heat of the deal, customs can and will be… massaged.

The remaining Clan warriors, including Petr and Sha, immediately began to form a Circle of Equals roughly fifteen meters across, pushing aside spheroids and moving tables. Petr could see the trader group milling about in confusion, while a few chose to try and close the distance. To investigate. Some bovine wranglers moved closer, curiosity overcoming their better sense to stay out of Clan matters.

Petr turned and ignored them all. Down to Clan business now.

Even through his boots, Petr could feel the solid concrete underneath the thin, dirty layer of straw. He tapped his foot twice, felt the smack of his flesh against the unyielding surface even through the soles of his boot.

Hard, very hard. Unyielding. No forgiveness for hard landings here; likely a quick battle.

The two superlative warriors did not waste time with words, nor move into the dance Petr had seen many combatants (especially spheroids) ascribe to. Instead, like two enraged ghost bears, the two launched forward, slamming platter-sized hands at each other’s necks and midriffs in a series of blows and counterblows, which looked as though they could dent ’Mech armor.

Neither warrior landed a serious blow or managed to grasp the other in a lasting hold and they broke apart, this time to slouch into lower, more balanced stances as they began to circle each other slowly.

If you do not succeed, try, try again. The spheroid children’s fable moral sprang to mind and Petr’s smile continued.

A burst of babble slightly behind him and off to his right momentarily pulled his attention; his smile creased his face with deep lines (he’d not smiled so often in long, long weeks) as he saw the fear on the faces of the local merchants. For long weeks the spheroids had blinded themselves to the nature of the traders in their midst, believing them basically the same as themselves.

Now the differences sang among the rafters of the Merchant House and the brutality of it, the force of it, sent them running scared. Would make them doubt themselves. Push them back off their guard, when either he or Sha sat down at the table in victory.

He turned back to find Calson in the midst of a stunning flying kick. The man had to be at least 2.5 meters tall and yet he knew the warrior would easily clear his own height.