Master Caperelli, the owner, operator and sole employee of Caperelli trading, was reluctant to speak. He was well into his sixties and if not exactly fat, then certainly soft and why not? Years spent trading in the profitable Kalderi markets had obviously treated him well. They sat cross legged in what, evidently, was Kalderi fashion on elaborately embroided form fitting cushions in a parlor with an elaborate mosaic floor. The mosaic depicted a sea side and was artfully fashioned to appear most stylized at the center point and grew increasingly realistic until it blended into a holographic ocean projected onto the walls. While the effect was well executed and doubtlessly expensive, Rene found it to be slightly gaudy.

After some discussion they had decided not to bother with subterfuge. Solae had pointed out that her appearance was scarcely less likely to get rumors going than a human ship landing inside the Kalderi precinct and debarking mystery guests, including Syshin, who had been treated with honor by the normally insular aliens. It would be a very poor intelligence apparatus indeed that failed to put those pieces together. There was a political purpose also, these people, for all that they lived in Kalderi territory, were Solae's subjects and if she was to rule them, the notion that she had bravely gone about her duty even while Tan was hunting her might be an important piece of PR if and when she was able to openly rule the sector. Rene could intellectually understand the reasons, but that didn't mean that he liked them.

"Yes, my lady, I am familiar with Bouradine," Caperelli admitted. That was more than they had managed to get from the first two trading houses they had called on. Whatever his status had been before the incident with Bel'sian, Bouradine had become a leper overnight when his actions had jeopardized the trading enclave. People who had been his neighbors now claimed not to know or even to have heard of him and no amount of reassurances from Solae had been able to convince them otherwise. Rene would have been willing to strong arm them if it had been necessary, but he was just as pleased that Caperelli had been willing to speak with them. He was dressed in a suit of dark grey, the same shade as, and cut to resemble, a second class Marine uniform, the kind that was worn for normal non-combat duties. The first class uniform would have been too much for this occasion and was rumpled beside from having been tossed on the floor during last nights enthusiasm. It was useful to have a reminder that he was a soldier, without coming right out and saying it. Rene continued to marvel at Ten's forethought, if he was as meticulous in all aspects of his life, Alayla Thorne's organisation didn't stand a chance.  They sipped tepid and astringent tea from small cups of etched glass while the old man choose his words. 

"You musn't believe the rumors, Gregorie Bouradine is a sharp business man, and maybe not always as concerned as he should be as where his supplies come from, but he is no murderer, nor kidnapper neither," Caperelli went on. He had a voice like rustling parchment but he was firm and confident in his speach.

"His shop was empty when they searched it you know, cleaned out, he must have been planning whatever it was for some time, though I confess not to have noticed. Some men do cash out, take their money and return to Imperial space to live the high life," Caperelli ruminated, apparently finding such an act to be as puzzling as a fish deciding to take up chess. Judging by his aping of Kalderi style, the man had well and truly gone native, he even shrugged his shoulders at odd points, perhaps unconsciously trying to imitate the body language of his hosts. 

"What a Kalderi girl would want with him is beyond me, but she used to come to his shop on the regular, didn't seem to buy too much, though there was some of that," the old man explained.