The Sterkarm Handshake Read Online Free

we’re Elves?”
    â€œThey do think we’re Elves—”
    â€œThey seem less than terror stricken to me.”
    â€œJames, probably the only reason that girl wasn’t raped and those men killed is that the Sterkarms thought they were Elves.” They reached the elevators and, naturally, had to wait for one. Bryce would have preferred to climb the stairs. He folded his arms. “I wouldn’t rely too much on them being scared of us. They might be, but—it’s like hoping a ferret won’t bite you because it’s scared, when truth is, the more scared a ferret is, the more likely it is to bite you.”
    â€œFerrets?” Windsor said. “Did I ask you about ferrets?”
    â€œI’d say the Sterkarms have a certain respect for us because we’re Elves—they’re not sure what we might be able to do if they make us really mad, so they’re a bit wary. Probably more important, they’re not sure what goodies they might be able to get out of us, if they string us along a bit. They really like the aspirin.”
    â€œYeah!” Windsor was diverted. “Five pence a truck-load for generic aspirin, and the Sterkarms think we’re giving them some sort of miraculous magical potion. You have to laugh.”
    Bryce nodded. As head of security, he had to oversee the distribution of aspirin. Whole packs were never given to the Sterkarms. The twenty-first-century packs were opened, and the paper strips containing four tablets were handed out. This ensured that the Sterkarms ran out of them quickly, and valued them even more highly.
    It also ensured that a black market sprang up in the tablets, as his own security men traded with the Sterkarms for women and mementos such as lance heads and helmets. It was impossible to restrict such trading altogether, but Bryce tried to suppress it as much as possible. The sheer orneriness and treachery of the Sterkarms themselves was a great help to him. Stories had already reached him of Sterkarms wheedling aspirin out of his security guards and, once they had the tablets in their hands, immediately abandoning whatever deal had been agreed. They knew they could still get aspirin through the official FUP channels. They knew, too, that no matter how many times the security guards were cheated, they would still try again. The Sterkarms were not only treacherous—they were smart.
    â€œIf they go on the way they’re going,” Windsor said, “they can kiss their whole supply of aspirin good-bye; I promise them that.”
    The elevator came and they stepped inside. “You haven’t been through there as often as I have,” Bryce said. “You have to see it before you can believe how poor the poorest Sterkarms are. They build their houses in a morning. They’re brushwood lean-tos. They have nothing. No furniture, no more clothing than they stand up in. When you send a survey team through, with pack ponies, warm clothes, metal tools—I mean, Christ, one of our packed lunches is a feast to them. It’s a bit like waving a big juicy steak in front of a hungry dog and expecting it not to make a grab for it. After all, I doubt if the poorest of the poor beggars get to see many of your aspirin.”
    â€œMy heart bleeds,” Windsor said. “You’re just through telling me that it was Old Sterkarm’s son and nephews who robbed the team. They’re not poor.”
    They’d reached Windsor’s outer office. “Hello, Sexy,” Windsor said to his secretary, who was fifty years old, fat and gray, and made no attempt to look anything except clean and neat. She looked up. “I don’t want to be disturbed until further notice, okay?”
    Bryce, following Windsor into his private office, said, “Not poor by their standards, no. Poor by ours. But you’re right—my best guess would be that the May and the Gobbyssons were having a bit of fun—and helping