Ke’aba Market, at two suns noon

Ix squeezed and pushed his way through the slum’s street market. The number of people seemed greater than ever before, but then, maybe he was just imagining that. It could be that it was the same size, and he, with his anticipation, imagined that it was bigger than it was. In any case, he had to navigate through the mob’s bodies and smells to reach his destination. The heat and humidity seemed like yet another body, one that pressed him and the rest down, just as he was pressing against a series of human and humanoids to reach the tent.

Ix saw a guard at the corner. He felt a sudden fear, but then he relaxed. There was no way that the guard could know where he was going and what he was about to do. Not if he were alone in the market, and not now, where there was a sea of cloths, armor, and exoskeletons flowing through the dirt stones of Ke’aba. Yes, it was all in his mind. He smiled. The mass of people was his cloak. It was his cloak, and the cloak of every single person who had come to Ke’aba’s market. Besides, it wasn’t as if the authorities didn’t know what happened there; they just let it happen in this outskirt, as they did all over the galaxy in certain places. And from as far back as people remembered, Ke’aba was always one of those places. Disrupting traditions like these were not the ways of the current regime.

Ix finally reached the part of the market where the opened tents were sprinkled with closed ones. Anything could be exchanged behind the thin cloths. Ix looked around at one where he could see the silhouettes of the people inside it, moving around, practicing ancient arts only fully known to the client and the owner of the tent, imagined by everyone else. Ix just had to let the waves of movement push him to his destination.

Ix swam out of the people and stood at the edge of a tent. An old man sat next to the door, looked up at him, and gave a smiled. Several teeth were missing. He offered his hand so that Ix could help him stand up. After getting up, the old man patted his cloths to shake the dirt. He then moved his head towards the tent. Ix helped the old man to walk into it. Was he really going to put his future on his hands?

“Disrobe and lie down,” ordered the old man. He sat next to the bed, and began unrolling a bundle of cloths. Within it were different ivory cases. He began opening them, showing tiny electronic chips. Next to it were a collection of strange looking knives and needles that had elaborate designs in their handles.

“So what does the young man want?”

“Strength. Intelligence. Charisma...”

“He, he,” the old man giggled, and then he leaned forward and said, “How much does the young man have?”