The Dark Lady

me. “And the fact that you're a Claiborne employee is going to make it all the sweeter.”
    “But couldn't someone else go to work for Mr. Abercrombie?” I asked. “Not only do we dislike one another, but my reason for being here is to learn your methodology and increase my exposure to different schools of artwork, neither of which I have done since I began working for him.”
    She shook her head. “You're the one he fired; you're the one he's got to take back. Besides, how can I give lip service to total equality and then not enforce it when I finally have the chance?” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Don't look so glum, Leonardo. I even got him to make substantial reparations to your House.”
    “You did?”
    “Absolutely. Nobody abuses my aliens.”
    “I am most grateful to you, Great Lady,” I said sincerely.
    “You can prove it by not killing yourself,” said Tai Chong.
    “I promised that I would not perform the ritual while I am in your employ,” I assured her.
    “You still plan to do it when you leave?” she asked, surprised. “Even though he's agreed to take you back?”
    “I do not know,” I answered. “I will require ethical guidance from my Pattern Mother.”
    “But surely she'll tell you not to! Your House is getting more money now than they were originally!”
    “It is the money of a guilty conscience,” I replied.
    “Nonsense!” she snapped. “It's the money of a stupid bigot who made a serious blunder and had to pay for it.”
    “I shall take your assessment under advisement,” I said noncommittally.
    “We'll talk about it again at a later date,” she promised. There was an uneasy pause. “I have a feeling that our interview is over, Leonardo.”
    “Then am I to report to Mr. Abercrombie now?”
    She shook her head. “No. As a matter of fact, I've already arranged for your passage to Charlemagne.”
    “To Charlemagne, Great Lady?”
    “I am not unaware of your feelings toward Mr. Abercrombie,” she said. “And someone has to authenticate Valentine Heath's painting.” She paused uncomfortably. “I was unable to purchase a first-class compartment for you, Leonardo. They simply will not allow you to occupy it.”
    “I take no offense, Great Lady.”
    “Well, I do,” she said. “To make amends, I've reserved the Director's Suite for you at the finest hotel on Charlemagne.”
    “Charlemagne is very near the center of the Oligarchy,” I said.
    “Yes, it is,” she replied, staring at me questioningly.
    “My field of expertise is the work of the Albion Cluster, which is at the edge of the Inner Frontier. Surely you will require someone else to authenticate the painting.”
    “According to Valentine, it's only two years old,” she replied. “Just have him introduce you to the artist and you'll have authenticated it as far as I'm concerned.”
    “But I do not know how to appraise or value it, Great Lady,” I protested.
    “It makes no difference. Whatever we pay Valentine, we'll make a profit when we resell it to Abercrombie.”
    “Then, since it is only two years old and you do not care about its value, why send anyone at all to authenticate it?” I asked, puzzled.
    “Two reasons,” she replied. “First of all, I intend to bill Abercrombie for every expense you incur on the trip— and I want you to take your time on Charlemagne. View it as a paid vacation.”
    “And the second reason?”
    “I don't know much about the woman who appears in the paintings,” she continued. “But it's obvious from the extent of Abercrombie's collection that she lived and died a very long time ago— which means that the artist who painted Heath's picture must have had some source material. See if you can find out what it was. If it's a work of art maybe it will be for sale, too, and we can purchase it for Abercrombie.” She paused. “And one other thing, Leonardo.”
    “Yes, Great Lady?”
    “If Reuben Venzia contacts you again, tell him you've considered his offer and you're willing to deal with him.”
    “But that would be unethical.”
    “We have, for all practical purposes, already purchased Valentine Heath's painting. There is no possible way Venzia can get his hands on it— but if he's got information that might prove useful to us, we don't want to shut off all communication with him.”
    “And what of Malcolm Abercrombie, who fired me yesterday for precisely what you are ordering me to do this morning?” I asked, suddenly aware of the irony of