"Thanks." After receiving the vox-caster, Tarkhal used one of the codes in his data-slate and moved a bit away from the rest of the group. "Greetings, it's Tarkhal, Tarkhal Daenncet. Yes, it's me you Emperor-unfavored of an illiterate dock worker! May you patch me up to Ferrian? No, you would expect me to readily tell you where I am only if I actually wanted you to know. Yes, I want Ferrian. I have something special to ask of him. Yes, do that now. I can wait. No, I don't want to know about the new fungal infection on your toe, I am sure it will go away if you pray really hard. No, I do not discard the possibility you caught it from rubbing up with lower-hive dregs. Just fetch me Ferrian, would you?" Despite what he was saying, his tone sounded friendly.
"Ferrian! Yes, I'm alive. Yes, yes. It is also great to see you. See, I have a request." His tone became more business-like as the person he was talking to seemed to change. "I can provide you with some more accounting services, but I want some credit in this. Yes, that means I want some discount on what I am about to ask. Or, more accurately, the real value since I just know someone is going to try and rip me off. Of course I have the resources. [... ...] Yes, more favors for you in exchange for an actually good deal. No, nothing 'very well-used', that is your wording for 'falling apart' instead of 'ancient'. What? No. I want it in perfect working order, I have enough damaged equipment as it is, and having something shiny and working perfectly would be a welcome change. Ferrian, you are killing me. You know that is still too high a price. Try something lower. Yes, I swear I will take care of all of the next batch of scrolls and random data you send me. No, I do not even consider telling your wife about how much you spend with rotgut..." And so it went on.