Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) Mark Wandrey (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

“No, I cannot.” She held it out to him. He smiled, took the backpack, and walked toward the door. “Go with God,” she said behind him as the door closed.

He had a little smile as he walked out of the shop, hat pulled down low. The first several people he passed either just nodded to him or didn’t pay him any attention at all. He was glad he’d given her 100 credits. It was probably more profit than she’d make in a month or more of hard work. It also decreased the chance she’d want to talk about him. At least, he hoped.

Satisfied with his cover, Sato oriented his location against a map in his pinplants. He was embarrassed to realize he was 11 kilometers from their hotel. “Oh, crap,” he said to himself. “Rick is going to kill me.”

Sato immediately turned back in the direction of their hotel and started walking. He didn’t bother waiting for a return bus, for several reasons. One, he didn’t know how long he’d have to wait. Two, he was desperately low on Mexican currency. Finally, three, he’d been too busy riding along to take note of his surroundings, so he didn’t know how far the nearest store might be on the route back.

The map in his pinplants turned out to be even less useful than he’d feared. More than half the businesses listed on the map were nowhere to be found. Either the maps just sucked, or the last few months of war and occupation had played hell with businesses. He guessed the answer could be both. Whatever the reason, it meant he couldn’t count on the map for anything more than basic directions back to the hotel.

It was four kilometers before he found a store. However, it wasn’t suitable for his purposes. It sold only the basics, like corn flour, fresh vegetables, and some meats. There was no seafood, except some river fish. Nemo’s bud had been pretty specific. He left with a nod to the cashier and walked on.

The next store had even less; it was a farmer’s market. He picked up some fresh fruit for himself and Rick, though, for a few pesos. The merchant gave him a queer look, both at Sato’s appearance and his unwillingness to haggle. To most Spanish-speaking cultures, haggling was a way of life. If you didn’t haggle, you were crazy. Or a stranger. He moved on quickly.

As he entered the optimal range for his pinplant connection to Rick, he crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t instantly be assailed with a string of curses and accusations. He’d been gone just over three hours. Nothing awaited him. He checked the connection and got the correct handshake response from his guardian’s own pinplants. Everything was fine, Rick was just asleep.

Well, that’s good, Sato thought and continued his search for a store that had what he needed.

The heat and humidity were oppressive. He didn’t mind as much now, since his apparel was better suited for the climate. He was sweating, but the new/used clothing was of a woolen blend that kept the sweat from building up against his skin. It was counterintuitive that a fabric so good at keeping you warm in the cold was also good at keeping you cooler in the heat. He guessed it might be alpaca or llama instead of wool. Not that he’d really know the difference.

When he was less than two kilometers from the hotel, he came across the Mexican equivalent of a supermarket. “Bingo,” he said, and went in. It brought to mind a faint memory. Stores had looked like this once, somewhere, sometime. Metal grocery carts were lined to one side, and he could see an extensive produce section, a meat market, and a frozen food aisle. He nodded and headed for the meat.

There was a lot of chicken, beef, and pork to be found. A number of signs placed on the old-fashioned glass displays didn’t translate properly in his pinplants. Regional dialects, he thought. A man with a blood-smeared apron came out of the back pushing a cart piled with freshly cut meat on Styrofoam trays, wrapped in cellophane.

“Can I ask a question?” he said to the man.

The butcher looked at him, blinking as he looked at Sato’s chest, where the words had come from his translator. “Yes, what is it?”

“Do you have any fresh seafood?”

“I have frozen fish.”

“No, fresh. Not frozen.”

“All I have are a couple live lobsters.”

“Oh, perfect!”

An hour later, he checked out with his cart. Inside were two live lobsters in a thick plastic bag, some more fresh fruit, bread and lunch meat, and a package of frozen seaweed that looked like it had been in the freezer for a century.

The lady at the checkout kept shaking her head as she punched in the prices of each item on the old cash register. Sato marveled at it. The thing was a manual register. It made a whirring sound as she added items. A whirring sound…

“Did you pick some candy, Taiki?”

He looked up at his mom and smiled, holding up a package of strawberry Pocky.

“I should have known.” She took it and handed it to the clerk. She had to be a hundred years old, he thought, as she punched the price into her register and pressed a button. The machine made a whirring noise, and he was handed back his treat. He smiled huge and hugged his mom.

“I said 442 pesos, young man.”

Sato blinked and looked at the clerk, who was in turn staring at him with a hint of concern on her face. Sato blinked, holding onto the memory. My mother, he thought. Her face was clear in his mind. He felt unshed tears in his eyes. He could remember his mother!

“You don’t have enough money, do you?”