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Damm commented. “Tell me, where and how do you exchange Jane’s goods for metals? That assayer’s office was careful to deal only in mineral goods, not…ah, Euph-leaf.”
    “For that, we go a little further downstream, to Hell’s-a-Comin’, inhabited mostly by shimmer stone miners.” Makhno automatically glanced around for anyone listening. “We go to a dugout called The Irish Bar, and ask for Himself.”
    “Who?”
    “Irish Himself. His bar is the local food shop and watering hole, but the serious business is conducted in his storeroom. That’s the local pawnshop, barter-house and bank. It’s also the information center. We do the exchange there.”
    “I see. And this is unknown to the Company?”
    “Totally. If anyone from Kenny-Camp asks why we go on down river, we say we’re making deliveries to prospectors, that’s all.” Makhno looked around again. “Vanny, this cave that DeCastro picked: is it dug into a ridge that comes down to the river? And is it really close to the riverbank?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    Makhno heaved a profound sigh. “Traitors’ Cave,” he said. “The bastard is setting up shop in Traitors’ Cave, and I wish him joy of it.”
    “I take it this has something to do with that first miners’ strike, the one that was broken up by the CoDo Marines, yes?”
    “Oh yes. Everybody who lives long in Hell’s-A-Comin’ knows the story, and I’ll tell it to you once we’re back on the water. Suffice it to say that if DeCastro’s looking for info to sell, or trouble to cause, he couldn’t have picked a worse spot.”

     
    “So what’m I supposed to do with this place, Brodski?” Heinrick whined, looking around at the emptied half-dugout that had formerly been known as the Golden Parrot. “I can’t run it as a bar, or even a restaurant, not with you already monopolizing the trade. I dunno what Van Damm expected.”
    “True, Docktown doesn’t need another bar and grill,” Brodski purred, leaning back on the split-log bench against the wall. “But there’s plenty else that it needs. An exchange-shop, for instance, or a drugstore, or a repair-shop. Think you could handle any of those?”
    A series of emotions played across Heinrick’s face in quick order, finally settling on a canny look. “Repairs, maybe. I got…some tools for that.”
    Brodski smiled, remembering that oversize and clanking duffel bag that Heinrick had brought with him. “Very good. And since a lot of your customers will be dealing in barter, you can’t help but run an exchange shop on the side. Hmm, you know anything about repairing—or making—radios?”
    “Simple ones, sure.” Heinrick shrugged. “You just have to find a frequency that’ll work here in the valley, what with all the interference from Cat’s Eye.”
    “I think we’ve got that,” Brodski grinned. “Talk to Sam-the-Ham Kilroy, just a few doors west. By the way, you know how to make saws that’ll cut stone, or steel?”
    “Yeah, I think I can manage that. Why?”
    “Well, you ever hear of a tree called an ironwood, back on Earth?”
    “Think so. …Uh, its wood was supposed to be so hard that you needed a…metal saw to cut it. You mean, there’s a tree like that around here?”
    “Even tougher. It’s called a steelwood, for good reason. A very useful critter, if only you have the means to saw it.”
    “I see!” Heinrick’s face lit up—then abruptly fell again. “But what’ll we do for power? Plutonium batteries last a long while, but you get only so much power out of ’em.”
    Brodski let his gaze wander to the ceiling. “I believe the miners at Hell’s-A-Comin’ have dug up something like coal, and there’s always wood along the forest. There are ways to work with steam.”
    “Steam?”
    “And if we can set up a water-wheel, there’s always the river itself.”

     
    “And in exchange for all this foine leaf and upriver brandy,” Himself said, peering narrowly at Makhno, “Yous be wantin’ what, this