The Dark Lady

attracting. A non-human on a human world is always an object of curiosity and occasionally even derision, but for a Man to walk in company with one of us is so unusual that the onlookers didn't even try to hide their distaste and disapproval. I became uneasy and suggested to Venzia that he might prefer to lead or follow me in order to attract less attention.
    “Let ‘em look,” he said with a shrug. “It makes no difference to me.”
    “It doesn't bother you?” I asked.
    “Why should it?” he replied. “If they've got nothing better to do with their time, it's hardly my concern.”
    I considered his answer, which was typically human in its careless lack of concern for the opinions or welfare of the Herd, as we continued walking. After we had gone two blocks we came to one of the restaurants I regularly frequented, and I led him inside.
    “It's a bit of a dump, isn't it?” he commented, staring at the bare tables and wrinkling his nose at the myriad odors that assailed us. “Wouldn't you rather go to a nicer place? It's my treat.”
    “It is true that there are nicer places to eat,” I acknowledged, aware from the reaction of the diners and waiters that even here we were objects of intense interest, “but I am not allowed to enter them. Besides, this restaurant is usually crowded; I find that comforting.”
    “You like crowds?”
    “Yes.”
    He shrugged. “Have it your way.” He waved to a waiter. “Let's have a table.”
    The waiter, a pale blue tripodal Bemarkani, approached us.
    “Are you quite certain you wish to dine here, sir?” it asked Venzia.
    “As a matter of fact, I'm quite certain that I don't,” responded Venzia with an expression of distaste. “But my friend and I want a table. Now hop to it.”
    The Bemarkani's nostrils began flaring— its equivalent of a hostile glare— as if I were destroying the character of his establishment by bringing a Man into it, then led us to a table at the very back of the restaurant, where we could not be seen from the doorway.
    “This won't do,” said Venzia.
    “May I ask why not, sir?” responded the Bemarkani.
    “Take a look,” said Venzia. “These chairs weren't built for Men. I'd have to be four feet tall and have a tail to fit into one of them. It's totally unacceptable.”
    The Bemarkani silently led us to another table, also toward the back of the room, and Venzia, after wiping the table off with a handkerchief, nodded and sat down.
    “It's not really much better,” he remarked, “but what the hell— nothing in here looks all that comfortable.” He paused. “Where do you usually sit, Leonardo?”
    “Wherever they place me,” I replied.
    “It must get pretty damned uncomfortable from time to time.”
    “It does,” I admitted.
    “Then why do you put up with it?”
    “There are compensations.”
    “The crowd? If you'd make a stink about where they seat you, you could enjoy it in comfort.” He paused. “Well, let's get our cheerful, smiling waiter back and tell him what we want.”
    I ordered a drink composed of pulped vegetable matter from Sigma Draconis II, a world very similar to my own, while Venzia asked for coffee, was informed that there was none available, and settled for a glass of water.
    “It smells pretty awful in here,” said Venzia after the waiter had left.
    “The kitchen supplies the needs of some thirty to forty different races,” I replied. “In time one gets used to the odors.”
    “Let's hope we're not here that long,” he said devoutly.
    “May I ask why we are here at all?”
    “We're here because I want to know the full extent of your interest in the paintings you've been tracking down,” he replied.
    “I see no reason why I shouldn't tell you,” I said. “I have been retained by Malcolm Abercrombie to help him acquire certain works of art to add to his personal collection.”
    “Why you?”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “I said, why did he choose you?” said Venzia. “I know a little bit about Abercrombie, and he'd sooner cut off his right arm than give the time of day to an alien.”
    “I had previously seen two pieces that he wanted, and he commissioned me to seek out the owners and purchase them.”
    “ Recent pieces?” demanded Venzia intently.
    “Recent is a relative term,” I replied.
    “Within the past ten years?”
    “No. The most recent was from the very early days of the Oligarchy.”
    He lit up a small cigar, ignoring the hostile glances he received from two Teronis