Untold Vignettes of the post Transworld Challenge #4: Appraisals

“Wait… you’re all going shopping?” Kerry demanded incredulously as Visionary finished buckling Noona into the van and slid the cargo door shut. “You never take me shopping!”

“Well, that might be because you never want to be seen with me” he pointed out rationally, climbing in the driver’s side door. “You threatened to have Lisa sue me for severe mental anguish that one time I said hello to your friends at the Orange Julius.”

“I still wake up screaming” Kerry argued with a frown. “But don’t change the subject… You never take me shopping because you swear we don’t have any money.”

“That too” Visionary agreed readily. “But the Caphans wanted a day in the city before they go to live at the Shoggoth’s tropical retreat, and the gold that the Shoggoth’s exchanging in the Vina Drea tomorrow will more than cover the costs of a little shopping trip for them.”

Kerry’s eyebrows perked up. “Whoa… Gold? You’re getting paid in gold? Real gold? Valuable, can-be-exchanged-for-goods-and-services gold? The kind that can reactivate a half dozen overextended credit cards? Not that I know anything about that. Really” she assured him with her most innocent face. “So… how much gold are we talking about, again?”

Visionary gave a queasy grimace. “I’d rather not think about it. Anyway, just stay here and maybe help Fleabot if he needs it.”

“What? I can’t come along? I’d be willing to be seen with… well, in the same store as you. At a reasonable distance” she allowed.

“How generous” he noted dryly. “Unfortunately, there’s no more room in the van.”

“I would be happy to give up my seat, master…” Kaara offered thoughtfully. “I could be quite content to ride on your lap if it will help.”

“There you go!” Kerry said, seizing the opportunity. “Better than driver’s side airbags.”

Visionary looked from one hopeful young woman to the other and decided to put his foot down. Literally. The van went peeling out into the street leaving Kerry swearing viciously in the driveway… something he was sure he’d pay for later. Still, best to make the getaway before anyone could start switching seats. He had made it this far with nine amazingly sensuous and voluptuous slave girls offering to service him in any way imaginable, and so far could still face himself in the mirror for not taking advantage of them. With the end of temptation in sight, he was sure he was going to make it. Just a little shopping trip and a ceremony to go. How hard could it be?

“What about this one, Master?” Sayaana asked, spinning around to show off the latest suit. “It is said to enhance cleavage… does it do an acceptable job?”

“Does this one please you, Master?” Losiira inquired, looking over her shoulder at him. “The merchant slave called it a ‘Brazillian micro’…”

Luuma poked her head out of the curtained booth. “Will the new master appreciate the look of what is called a ‘french cut’ or a ‘string’ styling more, Master?”

“Are you certain we shouldn’t be acquiring suitable clothing in that store owned by the clandestine merchant Victoria?” Philaana asked pleadingly. “The television box said that she features garments that can cause wonders...”

“Are you unwell, Master?” Miiri asked with concern from within a stunning white crocheted bikini. “Your legs are crossed most tightly, your face is an even more unhealthy shade of pink, and you seem to be studying the pattern in the rug with unusual interest…”

“Fine, fine…” Visionary assured her with a choked voice. “I, um… don’t think you need further enhancement, Sayaana… honest. It’s quite lovely on you, Losiira… ah… perhaps with a nice wrap, though? And, um… definitely with a top of some sort… That’s not quite what I meant when I suggested a sensible one piece. I’m not sure you need to worry too much about the Shoggoth’s preferences, Luuma… you should be selecting based on comfort. And coverage. Coverage, then comfort. And yes, I’m quite sure Philaana… in fact…” He coughed and tugged at the collar of his shirt. “Have, uh… have any of you given any more thought to my first suggestion of ‘The Gap’? They have a very nice sweatshirt collection in this week…”

“But we have so many other options still to try at this merchant, master!” Miiri gestured with enthusiasm towards the contents of Radd’s Surf Shop. “No one has ever let us pick out our own clothes before, and the choices of colors and materials and styles… We simply must model as many for you as possible… as long as the merchant chattel do not mind.”

“Whatever” the manager, Janet, noted with a shrug from behind the cash register. “He’s renting the store out by the hour, and paying us double wages, plus commission” she noted with a nod towards the growing pile of suits that the women had been piling on the counter for purchase whenever Visionary had shown the slightest approval towards them. “And it’s not like November is our biggest month usually.”

“Dude…” stockboy Ted noted with an enthusiastic thumbs up, standing by just in case any of the Caphans might suddenly need his opinion as well. “I, like, so used to be a Donar fan… but now, hands down… you’re totally the man!”

“Hey, you know what you might like?” salesgirl Kelly asked Deeela, catching the Caphans’ enthusiasm. She went to a whole different rack of suits in the store, and nine pairs of curious eyes trained on her. “You’ll love these… On our planet, we call this a ‘thong’!”

Visionary let out a very unmasterful whimper and went back to studying the carpet.

Thankfully, he had eventually convinced all of the Caphans that something a tad more formal would be appropriate for a lovely dinner in a nice restaurant, and so they were all stunningly decked out in low-cut, shimmering evening gowns of various styles and colors. He had abandoned his attempts to sell them on more casual wear when Miiri helpfully pointed out that, given the need to photosynthesize ambient light energy through their skin, they were most casual when completely nude. So in compromise he found himself leading what looked to be a parade of emerald hued beauty contestants down a grubby side street of the lower north side to their next destination.

The pawn shop was, Visionary noted immediately, very creepy…. Creepy enough that he had to double-check the street number painted on the glass panel above the doorway with the address that Ebony had provided for him. “Right” he sighed, looking around the dark interior as the Caphans huddled around him. Almost all of the dim light present was coming from glass display cabinets filled with assorted jewelry and metalwork, in a dizzying variety of styles and quality jumbled together in no discernable order. Caged shelves lined the walls and were filled with objects of every kind… from what appeared to be absolute junk, to exquisitely crafted items of fine design. “Um… Hello?” he called out hesitantly.

“Just a moment…” A short man with a stooped posture and a shotgun tucked under one arm shuffled out from a back room into the area behind the counter. He was separated from the rest of the shop by thick glass and heavy metal bars. “Don’t be trying to bust those display cabinets… that’s bullet proof glass. Best quality. You could hack at it all night with a crowbar and barely scratch it.”

“We’re, ah… not here to steal anything” Visionary noted carefully, eyeing the odd little man warily. “Actually, I think we might be in the wrong place altogether…”

“Doubt that” the man replied, squinting towards them. His eyes were large, but were coated with a milky film that dulled his pupils. “Why don’t you step up here where I can take a look at you?”

Cautiously, Visionary approached the metal bars. “I’ve actually come for an appraisal… A woman named Ebony recommended this shop to me.”

“Ah…” he said, fishing a jeweler’s lens out of his breast pocket. “That one. Yes, she usually knows what she’s about.” He raised the lens up to his eye and peered at the baffled Regular. “Hrrrmph. I suppose you think I should be impressed.”

Visionary blinked. “Um… what?”

He snorted, then fished into another pocket, producing a business card. “Very well, you look to be worth my time… I’ll take a look at what you’ve got. Bring them over.”

Visionary glanced in confusion at the card. In a simple copperplate font were written three words: “Rupert Weissman: Appraiser.” He glanced up at the man. “Them?”

“Your slave girls” the appraiser replied, nodding towards the Caphans. “If you’re going to sell them tomorrow, you’d best have an idea what they’re worth.”

“Wait… What? How did you… Them? No!” he finally managed, flustered. “I didn’t come here to have them appraised. You can’t do that kind of thing with people…”

“Sure you can” Weissman responded. “Everything has a value… goods, services, words… and especially people. It’s the job of a good appraiser to see what it is. And I assure you, Mr. Visionary… I am the best appraiser you’ll find.”

“How do you know my name?” Visionary demanded.

“I can’t rightly appraise the value of something without knowing what I’m looking at, now can I?” the old man snapped back. “Not to mention the fact that your completely average puss has been plastered on my television nearly 24 hours a day for what seems like forever. I swear, I was beginning to pray for Baywatch reruns by the end of that race.”

“Oh. Right.” With one last dubious glance at the crotchety old man, Visionary turned and nodded to the flock of green skinned beauties who were waiting patiently just inside the door, looking in wonder at all the objects surrounding them.

“Hmmmm…” the appraiser intoned, looking the women up and down through that small eyepiece of his as they approached. “Caphan pleasure slaves of varying lineages. All in reasonable health, with a fair bit of mileage, eh?” he glanced at Visionary wickedly. “Of course, the trick isn’t to know what to have appraised, it’s to know what to have it appraised against. What is it you want to know? How much Larry Flint would be willing to pay for a series of photo spreads with them? Or how about their value as the starting line-up for a new softball team?”

Visionary glared at him. “I told you, that’s not why I’m here. I don’t need to be told their worth.” He sniffed. “Some values you learn on your own.”

“Oh, do you now?” the squinting little man shot back, turning that uncomfortable gaze on Visionary. “How very talented of you. So then you already know all about Deeela, Sayaana, and Philaana?”

“Of course I do!” Visionary assured him hotly, then paused. “Um… know what exactly?”

“That they are triplets born of the Chieftain Ytirar, from the most favored and beautiful of his slave companions, and were stolen from his gardens at the age of 14 by men from the house of Nialliv, leading to a protracted clan war in which blood was spilt for 8 years without cease. That they were finally sold offworld to the agents of the Lovetoad to dispose of the evidence of the theft, and to this day are whispered of on Caph IX as the lost jewels of the House of Kelinda?”

Visionary blinked as he tried to absorb this outpouring of information. “They made me waffles this morning” he noted.

“Bully for you” Weissman answered with a sneer. “So what did you want me to look at, Mr. Know-it-all?”

Visionary looked to the Caphans, who were murmuring speculatively and casting surprised looks to the three identical sisters amongst them. For their part, ‘lost jewels’ were standing stock still in perfect submissive attention, though there were tears shining in the corners of their eyes. Visionary swallowed as he addressed them. “Um… Ladies? May I see those necklaces you’re wearing? I’ll give them right back.”

They blinked in confusion for a moment, but then quickly moved to obey the request. “Of course, Master…” Deeela said softly. “They, like everything about us, belong to you.”

“We’re working on that” Visionary assured her, accepting the intricately designed jewelry. The three sisters had been wearing the pieces ever since he had first met them, and even to his untrained eye their value was obvious. “I wondered what you could tell us about these…”

The appraiser made some clucking noises in approval. “Ah… yes… now these are something indeed.” He looked up to the women, who were watching him curiously. “What do you know about them?”

The sisters looked at each other uncertainly, then Sayaana spoke. “The Lovetoad would have us wear them when we were to entertain dignitaries and other guests of great importance, to help him negotiate trades with other races.” She paused, and her eyes became downcast. “Once, when my fingers fumbled with the clasp to remove it, I accidentally dropped mine to the floor. The Master… former master…” she revised, with a glance towards Vizh, “… was furious, and he… corrected the three of us… at length. We were to learn that they each were worth “ten times more than all our miserable hides put together”.”

Visionary’s expression darkened considerably at this, as did Miiri’s.

“Hmmmm” the appraiser noted this unprofessional estimate noncommittally. “Well, the six of you…” he gestured to the girls and their jewelry, “were most likely this Lovetoad’s prized possessions. The ones he would risk traveling with, at any rate. These certainly aren’t Caphan. They’re Markabian… Markab III, no less. The runes on the surface of this one tell of the coming of Galactivac in the 5th era, on this one the planet is laid bare, and on the final necklace, the spirits of the dead are accepted into… well, I suppose you’d call it their heaven. The whole civilization was wiped out of course… which makes Markabian records of the destruction in such exquisite an artform quite the anomally.” He looked up with a hint of scorn in his milky eyes. “I very much doubt this Lovetoad could appreciate just what he had in his possession.”

“So do I” Visionary replied, with a speculative look at the assembled young women. He fished into his own pocket, and produced a heavy coin nearly two inches in diameter. The surface of it was engraved with runes that made Visionary queasy just to look at them. He handed it through the bars. “I’d like you to appraise the necklaces against that.”

The old man raised an eyebrow. “Ah-hah… Ebony is dipping into the good stuff I see. Do you know what this is?”

“Gold” Visionary answered. “Beyond that, I think I’d probably rather not know.”

He chuckled. “You may be right. I suppose you could say the currency itself is priceless… very appropriate. You’ll make out all right in this deal.”

The Regular frowned in distaste. “Beats getting eaten” he said without conviction.

“Heh. And how accurate would you like the estimate?”

“A nice round number, preferably.”

He nodded. “One hundred pieces, for all three necklaces. You don’t want to split up the set, or the value plummets.”

“I’m sure” Visionary agreed, with a small smile at the triplets as he helped the women reclasp their necklaces. “Ebony said I was to leave the gold piece with you for payment. Will that cover things?”

“And then some” Weissman nodded. “And my services are far from cheap. Anything else you’d like appraised, then?” He turned that eyepiece on Visionary once again, and the Legionnaire felt the hairs on his arms raise and a chill pass through him. “Any nagging questions of worth that crawl out to pick away at you as you lie awake at night? Now’s your chance to ask… to remove all doubts once and for all. Although I should note, there are two kinds of people who come in here, Mr. Visionary. Those that ask the question and wish they hadn’t… and those that don’t ask and wish they had.”

Visionary gulped, but Miiri stepped up to take him by the arm. “The Master has told you… He is not here to ask the value of a person.” She turned the Regular towards the door. “Some values we learn on our own.”

“Hmphhh…” the appraiser grumbled as he watched the nine slaves lead their unprotesting master away. “Baywatch is on anyway.” And he turned and shuffled back into his lonely room.

Post By Visionary Mon Nov 15, 2004 at 08:48:57 pm EST	Subject Untold Vignettes of the post Transworld Challenge #4: Appraisals

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