Page 36 of I Married A Lizardman

“Yes, Madam,” Susan said proudly. “Grown right here on Xecania, in the Monkoo Valley. Care to taste one?”

“Most certainly, yes,” the female said, licking her lips in anticipation.

Susan carefully stabbed a plump berry in the presentation plate with one of the forks crafted by Kuani and extended it towards the Bosengi female. She plucked it off the fork with two fingers and shoved the berry into her mouth. She no sooner began to chew than she closed her eyes, her body shaken by a powerful shiver. A disturbingly sensual moan rose from her throat and a tremor coursed through her external gills. Her pale, yellow skin turned a brighter shade of yellow.

Her companion licked his lips and stared at my mate with a greedy and hopeful expression. But Susan was already stabbing another berry for him this time. The male’s reaction reflected that of his female. The latter, having already swallowed the fruit she’d been given, was eyeing the bounty on the table with an almost feral greed.

“I would like to buy some of your berries,” she said to Susan while elbowing her mate.

“Yes,” he said, also looking like he could barely refrain from gorging on everything in front of him. “I will give you 30 marks for a basket.”

30 marks?!

It took all of my willpower to keep a neutral expression on my face. That was an outrageous price for this little basket of fruits. Some of our Crafters’ ornate leather bracelets, that took days of hard work, sold for only 20 marks. And even then, we struggled to find buyers.

To my shock, Susan recoiled, all friendly demeanor fading from her face as she cast an offended look at the male.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were here to do serious business,” Susan said in a slightly clipped tone.

This time, I had to bite my tongue not to ask my mate what was wrong with her. By the looks our clanmates were casting her way, they were also wondering what madness had taken over her, while doing their best to hide their shock.

“Thirty marks is a good price!” the male exclaimed, clearly displeased to be so rebuffed.

“Thirty marks is insulting, at best,” Susan replied, staring at him with an icy gaze. “You pay 45 marks without blinking for frozen, genetically engineered reezias, filled with pesticides, and grown in an industrial complex, but offer me 30 lousy marks for organically grown reezias, in accordance with Bosengi traditional methods, pesticide-free, and freshly picked this very morning? Clearly, you are no connoisseur.”

While the male opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, at a loss for words to have been thus called out by my mate, Susan turned her attention to another group of Bosengis, this time a trio of two females and one male.

“Organic and fresh from this morning?” one of the new females asked my mate, having overheard the conversation.

“Yes, Madam,” Susan said with a glowing smile. “Would you care to taste?”

“Absolutely!” the female responded.

My mate gave each of the three newcomers a single berry, prompting the same reaction as with the first couple.

“This is a true taste of home,” the female said with disbelief. “How have you accomplished this? Reezia is extremely hard to grow without a perfect technique.”

“I am an expert farmer, born and raised on Meterion,” Susan said proudly.

“A daughter of Meterion! That explains it,” the female said, a glimmer of admiration sparkling through her small, round eyes. “I will give you 60 marks for a basket.”

“It is 70 marks for a single basket,” Susan said apologetically. “However, if you buy six, you get a token for a discount of up to 30 marks on any of the Andturian crafted goods on sale here,” she added, waving at the Crafter tables on each side of her own little stall. “But if you buy a full tray of twelve baskets, I will lower the price to 60 marks per basket—which means you actually get two and half baskets for free—AND I will give you a token for a discount of up to 60 marks to purchase one of our other goods.”

I felt faint. Aside from the outrageous price she’d been offered, then increased for things that would be consumed in minutes, the clever ploy Susan was using to drive traffic to our Crafters robbed me of words.

“70 marks!?” the male of the first couple exclaimed, sounding offended. “That’s ludicrous!”

The female of the trio cast him a sideways glance. “What is it, Wolny? Your wallet cannot afford quality?”

The couple gasped, the male outraged, and his female giving him a warning glance that he had better defend their honor. I barely repressed a snort, but one of our clanmates failed to do so. The Bosengis were a wealthy and very ostentatious species. One was expected to make a loud display of their success in every way.

Without waiting for their response, the trio leader turned back to my mate. “So, if I take two trays, you will lower the cost per basket at 50 marks each?”

My mate chuckled and shook her head. “No, 60 marks is the lowest I can go considering the hard work involved in growing such delicacies. However, for each tray you buy, you will get an extra token for a discount of up to 60 marks for the goods of our Crafters.”

She pursed her lips and cast a glance at the crafted goods. Her gaze lingered on the standing panel with some of the most expensive jewelry we had on offer.

“So, if I bought these four trays you have for sale, I would get a 240 marks discount, meaning I could buy these two necklaces at 100 marks each and a pair of bracelets at 20 marks each?” she asked.

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