He said, “Duke Peter led me to understand that he was interested in selling the arctite painting in his home. We can make do with that and the coffee and lace, and skip the—what did you call it, the Vermeer—in your lovely villa here.”
In fact, Duke Peter owned both paintings, and had assigned his sister to handle the sales. He would probably not be happy to learn they’d fallen through.
She said, “Cyr, you misunderstand me. We invited you here to do business. I don’t know why you would think we’re not interested.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “Perhaps I misunderstood.” He sat down again.
She said, “We feel eighty-six thousand e. u. for the Vermeer would be a fair price.”
At last she was speaking a rational language, though the numbers were inflated. The fact that she preferred empire units to yen suggested a basic distrust in the stability of her own government that would be impolite to point out. No doubt she was lining her own pockets to better finance a getaway before the revolution; he would be, in her place.
He said only, “I noted a certain amount of damage in the left comer—” and the dealing was underway. Hyram did not join in the bargaining; aside from showing the painting earlier and describing the plants in their garden, he had not spoken a word.
When they had agreed on a price and discussed export arrangements for the coffee and lace, Tal pushed back his chair. “Before we conclude, I’d like to mention something you may or may not find of interest.”
“Oh?” said Elizabeth Mard. A small terrier scampered from the villa proper, then glanced around uncertainly; Hyram picked it up and put it in his lap.
“As you may gather from the list, my lord is something of a collector. Any rare books you might have, I’d be happy to look over … and in addition, the Protector would be interested in any things of religious, historical value.”
She frowned. “You mean gold crucifixes, jeweled Symbols, that sort of thing? I think we have a few items in the State chapel you might want to look at, but they may be registered as Historical Treasures.”
“My lord is most interested in items sometimes referred to as ‘Curosa legacies.’ ”
Hyram let the terrier fall from his lap, and shrill barking ensued. His wife said, “Curosa legacies? I thought that—stop that, Linnet. Linnet, shut up! Hyram, could you—”
Just then a child of about six or seven ran out onto the balcony. She had long brown hair, startling blue eyes, a snub nose, and a harelip. She ran to Hyram and announced, “I want Linnet.”
“Take her, please,” said Elizabeth Mard. “Hyram, give her the animal.”
The child disappeared under the table. Tal felt a confusion of legs down there and then she scrambled up on the other side, Linnet in her arms. She ran off without a good-bye.
Elizabeth Mard said, “My husband’s adopted daughter.”
Why not “our adopted daughter?”
Tal said, “I couldn’t help but notice her disfigurement.” Or was this one of those things humans didn’t like remarked upon? They did tend to remark on such disadvantages, though, when the possessors were not in the room.
Fortunately Elizabeth Mard was too insensitive herself to fully appreciate insensitivity in others. She merely said irritably, “We’re going to get to it. We’re busy people. We haven’t had time to schedule her for a resculpt.”
Tal shrugged. “We were speaking of Curosa legacies.”
“Yes, and I thought all the Curosa legacies had been left to Adrian the First, and were on the Three Cities. Isn’t it we who should be approaching you about legacies?”
“Well, one never knows.” He turned the glass of tiko around thoughtfully. It was inscribed with the flowers he’d seen in Hyram’s garden. “The Curosa went to other places before Earth; some stories say they even came to this section of the galaxy after Earth. And other stories say they left guardians to accompany and watch over the Redemptionists.”
“There are all sorts of stories, Officer Diamond. I can’t be held responsible for them.”
“Of course there are. That’s my point. It’s possible there are Curosa legacies in other places beside the Cities; and if you come across any, we’d be interested in seeing them. For instance, the Cloak of Grace, say, or the Sawyer Crown.”
She laughed. “I’ve lived here all my life, cyr, and I can assure you that if the Cloak or the Crown were here, I would have heard of them. They’re just dreams from the Book of Prophecies—I don’t think they’re meant to be taken literally.” She seemed amused at the fancies of Three Cities backwater farmboys. Even their fellow Redemptionists felt superior to the Cities.
I “Well, it was just something to mention.” He stood up. He had an appointment in Lankio Quarter in two hours, and something to do back at the Visitor’s Residence first.
Elizabeth Mard had been put in a good humor by his last request, and she showed no irritation at his ending the interview instead of leaving that option to her. She stood also, and extended a hand.
“We’ve both done pretty well today, cyr. You have what you wanted, I trust, and I have a fair price for them.” She smiled, and this time her smile was different, though Tal could not isolate what factor made it so. The falseness was missing from it, but surely “falseness” was not a tangible physical attribute. She said, ‘I never liked that painting.”
“In that case,” he said, “you’ve done well.”
“Yes, I have.” Hyram gave over a hand to shake as well, and then his wife said, “May I have my
