Trading in Futures Read Free

He extended a thin,
calloused hand. "Sirge Milton, Trader at leisure, damn the
luck."
    He shook the offered hand.
"Jethri Gobelyn, off Gobelyn's
Market ."
    "Pleasure. Market's a solid
ship--Arin still Senior Trader?"
    Jethri blinked. The routes being as they
were, there were still some who'd missed news of Arin Gobelyn's
death. This man didn't seem quite old enough to have been one of
his father's contemporaries, but...
    "Paitor's Senior Trader," he told Sirge
Milton steadily. "Arin died in a loading accident, seven Standards
back."
    "Sorry to hear that," the
man said seriously. "I was just a 'prentice, but he impressed me
real favorable." He took a drink of ale, eyes wandering back to the
ship-board. "Damn," he said, not quite under his breath, then
laughed a little and looked at Jethri. "Let this be a lesson to
you-- stay liquid !
Think I'd know that by now." Another laugh.
    Jethri had a sip of beer. "But," he said,
though it was none of his business, "what happened?"
    For a moment, he thought the other wouldn't
answer. He drank ale, frowning at the board, then seemed to collect
himself and flashed Jethri a quick grin.
    "Couple things. First, I was approached for
a closed buy-in on--futures." He shrugged. "You understand I can't
be specific. But the guarantee was four-on-one and--well, the
lodgings were paid until I shipped and I had plenty on my tab at
the Trade Bar, so I sunk all my serious cash into the future."
    Jethri frowned. A four-on-one return on
speculation? It was possible--the crewtapes told of astonishing
fortunes made Port-side, now and then--but not likely. To invest
all liquid assets into such a venture--
    Sirge Milton held up a hand. "Now, I know
you're thinking exactly what I thought when the thing was put to
me--four-on-one's 'way outta line. But the gig turns on a Liaden
Master Trader's say-so, and I figured that was good enough for me."
He finished his ale and put the glass down, waving at the
barkeeper.
    "Short of it is, I'm
cash-poor til tomorrow mid-day, when the pay-off's guaranteed. And
this morning I came across as sweet a deal as you'd care to
see--and I know just who'll want it, to my profit. A cantra holds
the lot--and me with three ten-bits in pocket. Stork was going to front the cash,
and earn half the profit, fair enough. But the rush-money and bonus
was brighter." He shook his head. "So, Jethri Gobelyn, you can
learn from my mistake--and I'm hopeful I'll do the
same."
    "Four-on-one," Jethri said, mind a-buzz with
the circumstance, so he forgot he was just a 'prentice, talking to
a full Trader. "Do you have a paper with the guarantee spelled
out?"
    "I got better than that," Sirge Milton said.
"I got his card." He turned his head, smiling at the bartender.
"Thanks, Nance."
    "No problem," she returned. "You got a
Liaden's card? Really? Can I see?"
    The man looked uneasy. "It's not the kind of
thing you flash around."
    "Aw, c'mon, Sirge--I never seen one."
    Jethri could appreciate her curiosity: he
was half agog, himself. A Liaden's card was as good as his name,
and a Liaden's name, according to Great-Grand-Captain Larance, was
his dearest possession.
    "Well," Sirge said. He glanced around, but
the other patrons seemed well-involved in their own various
businesses. "OK."
    He reached into his pouch and pulled out a
flat, creamy rectangle, holding it face up between the three of
them.
    "Ooh," Nance said. "What's it say?"
    Jethri frowned at the lettering. It was a
more ornate form of the Liaden alphabet he had laboriously taught
himself off the library files, but not at all unreadable.
    "Norn ven'Deelin," he said, hoping he had
the pronunciation of the name right. "Master of Trade."
    "Right you are," said Sirge, nodding. "And
this here--" he rubbed his thumb over the graphic of a rabbit
silhouetted against a full moon--"is the sign for his Clan.
Ixin."
    "Oh," Nance said again, then turned to
answer a hail from up-bar. Sirge slipped the card away and Jethri
took another sip of beer, mind racing. A