Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
“It doesn’t seem fair to the Chilla-vool to make him do such nasty work,” she pointed out.
“Oh, he loves it!” the merchant declared. “Why, he was genetically engineered for it! Just have a look at those claws and that tail of his.”
He leaned forward, bringing the Chilla-vool closer. It sat up on his palm and gnashed its long front teeth at Torri, making her take a quick step back.
“Thanks, but I don’t think the pipes at my house would be big enough for him,” she said, trying to be tactful.
“Ah, a pity. I do have a slightly smaller one but I’m afraid he’s prone to biting,” the merchant offered. “I’ll part with him for a bit less and throw in some heavy gloves, if you’re interested.”
“Thank you but I just don’t think that would work for me. But I appreciate you taking the time to explain what a Chilla-vool is,” Torri said politely.
“You’re very welcome, my dear.” The tiny face on its bubble gum trunk withdrew and the merchant started shouting his wares to the market at large again. “Chilla-vools! Get your fine quality Chilla-vools here!”
“How do you like the market so far?” Vic asked her as they strolled down the long row of shops.
“Very much!” Torri exclaimed. “Nana and I always used to go to flea-markets and swap-shops and that kind of thing. I never thought I’d get to visit one on another planet, though.”
Vic smiled.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Look—I think I see one of the famous Gemmite pastry shops.”
He pointed up ahead to a stall where dozens of mouthwatering pastries were displayed on a long board.
“Ooo!” Torri was immediately interested. The pastries seemed to be made with some kind of shiny dough that came in all different colors, from dark blue to bright pink to grass green. And the aroma that drifted towards them was absolutely heavenly. Next to Vic’s scent, it was the best thing she’d ever smelled.
They got to the shop, where a bored looking Gemmite woman was sitting on a stool in front of the board displaying the pastries. At least, Torri assumed she was a woman—it was rather hard to tell with the Gemmites. But she had long, curly green hair that started at the crown of her head and hung down in waves to her broad shoulders and her tiny lips had been painted a deep pink. Also, while the Gemmite males tended to be topless, this one had on a blouse which seemed to be made out of yards and yards of coarse green lace and covered mountainous breasts.
But it was the pastries that Torri’s eyes kept returning to. There was one in particular which seemed to be made up of many, many tiny balls of puffy pastry stuck together in concentric rings that spanned more than a foot in diameter. In the center of the pastry balls—which were stuck together with some kind of shiny glaze—was a bowl filled with a reddish-purple jam. It seemed clear to Torri that the idea was to pull off one of the balls, dip it in the jam, and pop it in your mouth. Her own mouth was watering to try it.
“That looks delicious,” she said to Vic as they came to stand in front of the pastry stand.
“Do you like it, dearie?” The bored-looking Gemmite woman stretched her face towards Torri enquiringly.
But now, Torri was getting used to the way the aliens pushed their faces into hers and she barely flinched.
“I do—it looks wonderful,” she remarked.
“Well…” The woman pursed her lips and her forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “I’ll give it to you for a kiss,” she said at last. “Yes, that ought to be about five yorns—one kiss.”
“A kiss?” Torri was taken aback. She really had no wish to kiss the strange woman—or any of the Gemmites for that matter. They were completely alien with their weird, stretchy bubble-gum faces. But she had no idea how to say so without being offensive. “Er…I don’t really know you,” she said at last. “I mean—”
The tiny mouth opened and emitted burbling laughter.
“Hark at her! She thinks it’s me she’s meant to kiss!” the pastry saleswoman exclaimed. “No, no, dearie,” she went on, her eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. “I meant you must kiss your man!”
“You want to watch me kiss Vic? That’s how you want me to pay for the pastry?” Torri was confused—were the Gemmites voyeurs or something?
“Helps fill the energy meter, now doesn’t it?” The woman reached under the board where the pastries were displayed and pulled out a metal contraption about two feet tall and a foot wide. To Terri, it looked a little like an old-fashioned outdoor thermometer you hung up on the side of the house to see how cold or hot it was. There was a red line running vertically from top to bottom and it was hovering about halfway up the “energy meter” as the Gemmite woman had called it.