I had forgotten about our earlier conversation and the possibility of visiting a souk when Jeff zapped me on my off day almost two weeks later.

"Cripes, a ding would be enough," I snapped, tearing off my virtual sleep aid. "Why did you zap me while I was in a deep sleep cycle?"

"Because a ding won't wake you up."

"We have to go now? Right this damn minute?"

"I'm sorry, I forgot the traders will be going to their rendezvous tomorrow."

The traders and merchants in the various provinces rallied once a year in the temple city where their god resided. Traditionally, this month was when the woman and boys cleaned up the souks for the next trading year.

"Don't bother to get cleaned up," he said. "You'll enjoy it better."

I gave him a sullen look and then gave in. "Oh, shit. Let's go," I snarled as I pulled up my boots.

We entered the souk and I began to feel comfortable almost immediately. I realized it was because most of the vendors, merchants and ebayers were tanned from being in the sun so much, and as a result they lacked the bluish tinge that rankled my Earthside sensibilities.

We surged and surfed through the crowd as bronzed and odious Ymilan men--it goes without saying, no women are allowed in the bazaar--roared, chanted or sang the virtues of their wares. The experience wafted over and past me like the smoke from the braziers where terran and indigenous delicacies and meats roasted over dung, grass or peat fires.

I didn't realize I had begun to smile until Jeff turned to me and shouted in my ear. "I told you this would be fun."

I realized, as we passed without stopping a grouping of traders who sold trinkets of violence which I knew appealed to him, that Jeff was taking us first to what I would find interesting, and after a few minutes we came to a corner under an awning where a dealer in precious metals had his wares spread out under black velvet.

He lifted a velvet cloth and gestured widely over an array of gold, silver and copper bars and wires. He assumed as a terran I would probably want bullion.

I made the normal outward sweeping gesture with my hands at waist level and pulled an old dull euro out. His eyes lit up and he replaced the velvet cloth with one hand as he lifted another with the other hand.

He smiled broadly. "Not a numertist! Most unwelcome!"

"A clever fellow," I thought. "Though he missed numismatist by a mile. Then again, where did he ever hear that word?"

There were perhaps two dozen coins there, all were gold or silver. Nothing struck me at first as noteworthy, mostly a random assortment of euro, nafta or azanian pieces. The Ymilan gestured towards one corner.

"Do not look here."

I did, and saw what I had subconsciously saw out the corner of my eye and had thought was a piece of jewelry was instead a silver coin. It was a good 38mm wide and looked as large as a plate compared to the other coins.

I'd never seen one before. "Goddamn, a silver dollar!"

I think Jeff was flirting with the adjacent vendor, but that spun him around. He looked over my shoulder.

The Ymilan gingerly handed me the coin. If he smiled any broader he would have been gnawing his earlobes.

The coin was over 300 years old, and the obverse had a stern looking bald man in profile while the reverse showed a terrestrial avian dropping an olive branch on what was obviously meant to depict the pre-colonial moon.

"What is it?" asked Jeff, and he obviously had no idea.

"This is an old-style American silver dollar. There's not even a heck of a lot of these left on Earth."

I turned it over and held it by its rim. "This is an Eizenhoover dollar. This was the last coin of the type which began with the German thalers of the Middle Ages and went right up through the Spanish eight reale coin--pieces of eight."

I could see Jeff didn't follow me at all but was impressed by how impressed I was. The Ymilan vendor raised his eyebrows.

I made the standard gesture for how much rubbing thumb and forefinger together.

"Thirty." He smiled.

I spun the coin around again and looked at the date on the obverse. 1971. I put my thumb between my forefinger and middle finger, and put the coin on top with my left hand. I snapped my thumb up and sent the coin flipping end over end.

Ting!

"It's a real silver dollar," I thought as I caught it. "This must have been one of the last American coins with silver in it!"

Jeff already had his hands up by the sides of his head, waiting for the screaming to begin. I reached for my pouch. I said, "sold," without looking up.

I fished out my card, set it for 30 standard credits and handed it to the trader without really looking him in the face. I turned to look at Jeff. I guess I thought I expected him to show satisfaction at having been so helpful to me.

He looked at me like I had just cloned myself a second head. "Holy fuckin' shit, have you gone totally insane?" Some of the nearby people in the crowd turned around. Even a Ymilan cave dweller knows what 'fuck' means in terran. I got a feeling in my stomach like I swallowed ammonia ice. I spun around, but the Ymilan had already swiped my card, and thrown it and my dollar at my feet. I wanted to open my mouth, but he had set his and the look in his eyes said murder.

Jeff saw that too. "Let's get out of here now." I bent down to pick up my card and dollar. Jeff was already heading into the crowd. I saw him look back and realized we needed to keep up a fast pace.

I saw as we melted into the crowd and I took a quick look back, the vendor was standing there stonily with a cold look and his arms crossed, and I saw other Ymilans looking at him.

"We would be in less trouble if you were back on Earth and pissed on the Kaaba while eating pig bacon in downtown Mecca." Jeff didn't turn his head now as he surged forward. "Our only hope is to get out before the word spreads."

My first reaction was make some dismissive wisecrack, but I could see the hair beginning to stand up on the nape of Jeff's neck.

The colors, sound and smells of the souk now seemed to be resounding, as if under water or a jovian planet's dense atmosphere. I realized I was terrified and the blood was rushing to my head. I thought we were beginning to move in slow motion.

I could see the light from where the souk opened up along a main artery and the bazaar petered out. But as we approached the end of the block we seemed to move slower and slower. Then I realized that as Jeff was pushing forward, men in front were pushing back.

A half dozen men grabbed him by the arms. I stopped and took a step backward. For a moment, the people pressing alongside me moved away a step--all of them--but then they pressed in even harder.

Something hard and unyielding crashed down on my head.