Authors: Walter Jon Williams
He took the envelope from his pocket and looked at it for a long moment. Then he tore it in half, then put it in the nearest disposal.
Lord Qlp gave a belch. Pearl Woman looked up, alarmed.
Its lordship twitched, then spoke distinctly in Khosali. “I’m bored,” it said. “Bored, bored, bored.”
Zoot and Khamiss weren’t listening. They were gazing at one another in some surprise.
CHAPTER 11
Voices in the White Room were resonating perfectly once again. Five days after its disappearance, the giant impact diamond had been ransomed and restored to its place of honor. “Yes. After all those shots, its lordship was a little scrambled. One of its brains began to babble uncontrollably.”
“About the Drawmii's, ah, existential dilemma.”
“Yes.” Zoot gazed into Kyoko’s hovering media globes. “It seems that the Drawmii's multiple brains provide sophisticated and subtle modes of converse unavailable to the rest of us. They consider us terribly unsophisticated by comparison.”
“And their lack of interaction with the Empire was not the result of their alien thought patterns, but because they were, ah ...”
“They found us incomparably tedious.”
“Right.” Kyoko gave a half-believing smile. “Who could find us dull? I ask you.”
“The thought is a bit humbling, I must admit.” Zoot frowned at Kyoko’s loupe. “But be that as it may, the Drawmii concluded that if the Khosali and other member species of the Empire were the best the universe could offer them, they might as well destroy themselves before they were all bored to death. Lord Qlp was sent forth as an ambassador, hoping to find some token which might give his species hope.”
“And he found the Eltdown Shard.”
“It appears so. Perhaps we’ll never understand its reasons for choosing the Shard; presumably we can all be thankful it found
something
worth living for. It intended to purchase the Shard with the unique . . . tokens . . . that it manufactured in its innards, but the Shard was stolen, and its lordship began to lose all hope.
That,”
emphatically, “was when Lady Dosvidern became alarmed and contacted me, as an expert in xenobiology. She and I tried for an entire night to make sense of Lord Qlp’s cryptic remarks. Unfortunately I was unable to help her.”
Kyoko smiled thinly. “That was why you spent the night in her suite.”
“And why I couldn’t tell you the truth concerning why I was there. Yes.”
Zoot grinned at her, tongue lolling from a corner of his muzzle. He was pleased to discover that his facial muscles were obeying him this time, not betraying him with twitches and tics. Now that he had a plausible story, there was no reason to do away with himself. He was thankful for that, as by now he had other plans.
“Incidentally, Miss Asperson,” Zoot said, “I have another pair of announcements. Firstly, I intend to retire from the Diadem.”
Kyoko’s visible eye widened. “After your greatest achievement? Your ratings are certain to take a leap.”
Zoot allowed a touch of regret to enter his expression. “I’ve enjoyed my time in the Diadem, of course, but I’m afraid I’ve found that celebrity is interfering with my true business, which is xenobiology. I intend to join the next plotting expedition bound outward.”
“Well.” Kyoko appeared to be considering matters. “A vacancy among the Three Hundred.”
“I’m certain it will be filled by someone worthy.”
“Of course.”
“Perhaps yourself. When Maijstral and Fu George revealed your covert activities two days ago, it created a sensation.”
Kyoko gave him a look. “You said two announcements, I believe.”
“Ah. Forgive me. And the most important announcement of all, too.” Zoot grinned. “I intend marriage.”
“Congratulations. Do I know the lady?”
“Miss Khamiss. She will be resigning her security job and joining me in the expedition.”
Kyoko gave a laugh. “Interesting how the crises in Silverside Station have tended to resolve into romance.”
“Has there been more than one?”
“Yes. But it would be inappropriate to speak of the other at this stage.”
“Ah.” Zoot grinned again. “In that case, let discretion reign. By all means.”
*
Baron Silverside still frowned and flushed angrily at the provoking sight of Mr. Sun. Even the sight of Mr. Sun in a robe and cowl, eccentric dress even for a fashionable resort.
“My resignation, sir.”
“Accepted.”
So much for ceremony, thought Mr. Sun. Well. He must atone for his faults. Let the atonement begin now.
“I have taken second-class passage on the
Count Boston,”
said Sun. “I will enter a New Puritan monastery on Khorn.”
The Baron smiled. “Very good, Mr. Sun. You may rest assured that in the ensuing years I will often be comforted by the thought of your cleaning latrines and flagellating yourself.”
Sun only bowed. Things had come about this way, he was certain, because of some fault within his character. He knew not what the fault was, only that it was there, and that somehow it had put him in dutch with the Almighty.
Now he would have many years—decades, perhaps—to discover what it was.
“Miss Khamiss has given notice also,” the Baron said, and frowned. “Despite my offers of a higher salary.”
“Mr. Kingston is perfectly qualified,” Sun said. “He is a little frivolous in his parts, but I think he is solid enough.”
Baron Silverside gave him a suspicious look. He was not prepared to accept any of Sun's judgements at their face value.
“Very well, Sun,” he said. “If you are finished . . . ?”
As he stepped from the Baron's office, Sun was surprised to feel a blossom of happiness opening in his soul. Atonement, he found, had left him oddly content.
*
“It bothers me that I’ve been contacted about the diamond but not about the other. I’ll increase the offer by a quiller.”
“Thank you, my lord, but I think not.” Geoff Fu George smiled placatingly at the holographic image of Baron Silverside. “ Maijstral and I seem to have arrived at a delicate arrangement on these matters. I would not care to disturb it.”
“I wish you would reconsider, Fu George.” Baron Silverside scowled in thought. “It is a very pretty piece of money.”
“Your lordship's offer has been kind,” said Fu George, “but I think not.”
“If that's your final word.” Gruffly.
“I’m afraid it is. Your obedient servant.”
“Yours.”
Fu George turned from the telephone and stepped to his suite, where Vanessa was supervising the packing of his loot. Vanessa gave him a look. The look was odd, but Fu George couldn’t tell whether the oddness was intentional or rather a result of the fact that Vanessa’s face, at the moment, simply
looked
odd. The bruising had been massive, the nose had been broken, and for the last several days Vanessa had been in seclusion with a mass of semilife forms attached to her face.
“I wish you had accepted the Baron's offer,” she said, denasal. She rotated toward him stiffly: the ribs were healing fast under hormone infusions, but were still giving her trouble. “I'd like to see Maijstral lose that art collection.”
Fu George placed bits of foam packing around the delicate settings of an antique necklace. “I'd rather not try for Maijstral's loot again. Our working against one another has been fraught with more than the usual amount of hazard. Kyoko used our rivalry for her own ends. I'd prefer not to be rendered so vulnerable again.”
She lit a cigaret. “Still,” she said, “one last coup seems such a tempting idea. What with the collection
and
the Shard
and
that display with the diamond, Maijstral may end up with a lot of points in the next rating. He's certain to receive a promotion. He may even take first place.”
Fu George closed the jewel case. “It had to happen sooner or later, Vanessa.”
“I don’t like the idea of our not being on top.”
Our?
thought Fu George. He sighed and turned to her. “We've got all the money and fame we could desire,” he said. “It’s been fun. But sooner or later someone else was going to take first, or I was going to get careless or unlucky and end up in prison somewhere. And very soon the Constellation Practices Authority may well recommend Allowed Burglary be disallowed throughout the Human Constellation, which would substantially decrease the amount of enjoyment to be had from this profession.” He spread his hands. “Perhaps the time has come for a gracious retirement.”
Smoke curled disdainfully from Vanessa’s nostrils. “And do
what,
Fu George? Do you want me to spend our declining years on our back terrace, watching the robots trim the hedges while you write your memoirs?”
“Hardly that”
“I like spice in my life, Fu George. Excitement.
I’m
still young, you know.”
Fu George ignored this reflection on his maturity. “I thought the Diadem might be persuaded to renew their offer. That would guarantee us travel and celebrity.”
“Hm.”
“In any case, I have no intention of retiring as long as I’m still in first place.”
“That
was why I wanted you to take the collection.”
“That subject of conversation,” Fu George said, turning back to his jewels, “has long ceased to be of interest to me.”
“Hm,” said .Vanessa again, and breathed in smoke. This was going to take some thinking about.
*
“I think not, my lord,” Maijstral said. Baron Silverside glared at him stonily.
“It’s a good offer,” he said.
“I prefer to decline. Fu George and I are professionals, after all. We don’t pursue foolish rivalries.”
“If that's your last word.”
“It is. Thank you, however, for considering me.”
The Baron broke the connection. Maijstral let the service hologram float in his bedroom and stepped into the front room of his suite. The Marquess and Marchioness Kotani were returning their drinks to Roman’s tray.
“Another drink, my lady? My lord?”
“No, Roman,” Kotani said, speaking for both. “Thank you.”
“My apologies,” Maijstral said. “A personal call.”
Kotani lifted an eyebrow. “Not getting another bid, were you?”
“He doesn’t know I have the collection. Not for certain, anyway. He keeps trying to hire me to steal it from Fu George.”
“I’m afraid this last week has cost the Baron rather heavily.”
“But not in custom, I daresay. After the last seven days, Silverside Station is certain to become established as one of the most fashionable resorts in the Constellation. Were I the Baron, I might well consider my losses justified.”
“Quite.” Kotani smiled thinly. “Lucky that I struck my arrangement with the Baron before that fact became obvious to him.”
Maijstral bowed. “I congratulate you on your sense of timing, my lord.”
“This means Kotani and I will revisit Silverside for the play,” said the Marchioness. She looked at Maijstral from beneath her lashes. “The place has such fond memories for me, such . . . sympathetic resonance.”
“I’m glad,” said Maijstral, seating himself, “that your ladyship found your stay fulfilling.”
“And,” looking at him, “I shall be taking memories with me, in the form of the collection. I will delight in installing such a distinguished accumulation of artwork at home in Kotani Castle.”
Kotani patted her arm. “This idea of yours was inspired, dearest,” he said. “I barely had to dictate a single clarification after all your negotiations with Maijstral.”
“I think,” she said, no longer daring to look at Maijstral, “the negotiations were my favorite part.”
“And now, my lord . . .?” Maijstral held up a Casino betting chip and a molecular pencil.
“Certainly. My pleasure.” Kotani wrote an amount, signed, printed. Maijstral took the chip and placed it in his pocket.
“I’ll have one of my people deliver the collection this afternoon,” Maijstral said. “In plenty of time for the departure of the
Boston.”
Kotani stood. “I have arrangements to make, alas,” he said. Maijstral stood and the two men sniffed ears. “Your servant.”
“Your very obedient. Oh. Beg pardon, my lord. My shoe caught in the carpet.”
“Think nothing of it, Maijstral.”
“My lady.” Maijstral helped the Marchioness to rise.
“It has been a great pleasure, Maijstral.” She sniffed his ears and clasped his hand. Maijstral stiffened slightly in surprise.
“Yours ever, my lady,” he said.
After Roman closed the door behind them, Maijstral looked at the object in his right palm. It was a small jewelled pin, fashioned of silver, rubies, and brilliants, in the shape of the Rover of Hearts. The ideogram for Singh's Jewelers was stamped on the back.
“How very thoughtful of her ladyship,” Maijstral said He opened his other hand, which held the two diamond studs Kotani had worn in his left cuff. He had taken the studs off the right cuff in greeting, and the two securing the jacket while giving him his drinks. Stealing the studs hadn t been difficult: replacing them had. The phony diamonds would dissolve in a matter of weeks. Maijstral dropped the pair of studs in his left jacket pocket, along with the other four. The Rover of Hearts he pinned to his lapel.
*
Shifting chromatics blazed from the three objects on Roberta’s table. “The colors appears to be the result of bacterial action,” Roberta said. “They do not seem to feed on anything but light, and most of that they give off as phosphorescence. Another drink, Kuusinen?”
“Thank you, your grace.” Roberta signalled Kovinn and Kuusinen returned his attention to the three objects.
“I have looked into the xenobiological files on the Drawmii,” he reported, “and so far as I can tell these three objects are absolutely unique. Nothing like them as been reported—if others exist at all they are a very close Drawmii secret.”
“They are valuable, then, these alien hairballs.”
“Your grace,” solemnly, “they are priceless.”
Roberta took a sip of roxburgh wine. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I’ve had to employ six people just to guard the Eltdown Shard. How many guards will I need for these?”
“I would keep the objects in separate places, your grace. You don’t want to lose all three at once.”