The Dark Lady

course not,” he said. “But I know you've been feeling morose since you heard from your mother... ”
    “My Pattern Mother,” I corrected him.
    He shrugged. “Whatever. Why not take a walk with me before it starts snowing again? It's glorious outside!”
    “I am more affected by extremes of temperature than you.”
    “Then dress warmly.”
    “The paths are narrow and winding, and I would fall.”
    “All right,” he said, staring at me. “I have another suggestion.”
    “What is it?”
    “Why don't you just sit here feeling sorry for yourself?”
    “You simply do not understand the enormity of what has happened,” I said.
    “Your mother's mad at you,” he replied. “So what? She'll get over it. Tai Chong has squared things with the police, nobody thinks you're a thief or a kidnapper any longer, you're still working for Claiborne, and you're sitting in a chalet at the most exclusive resort on the most exclusive planet in the Quinellus Cluster.”
    “I have my work to do.”
    “For a zillionaire collector who hates the sight of you,” said Heath with a smile.
    “That cannot be helped.”
    “Of course it can,” said Heath.
    “How?”
    “Tell him to go to hell. Be a man!”
    “I am not a Man,” I pointed out.
    “That doesn't make you any worse than Abercrombie,” said Heath. “You really ought to stand up to him.”
    “He is my employer.”
    “He's also the most incompetent art collector I've ever heard of,” said Heath. “It took him a quarter of a century to find thirty portraits of the Dark Lady, and you found three in the first month you were working for him.”
    “I had special knowledge about two of them,” I replied. “That is why he hired me.”
    “But you found the third one,” continued Heath. “And, more to the point, you found the model.”
    “Actually, it was you who found her,” I pointed out.
    “You, me, what's the difference?” he said. “The main thing is that Abercrombie didn't find her. He never once went looking for her. He never even thought of looking for her. He sits alone in his house, surrounded by a fabulous collection that he can't begin to properly appreciate, and lets everyone else do his work for him.” Heath paused. “I can't for the life of me understand why you're so anxious to go back to work for him when you're sitting by a roaring fire atop the most beautiful mountain in the galaxy!”
    “Friend Valentine,” I said, slipping into the Dialect of Affinity, for indeed I felt affinity toward him, “why don't you simply say what you mean?”
    “I don't think I follow you, Friend Leonardo,” he replied, though a certain detached amusement in his eyes assured me that he did.
    “You think that if you can convince me that Malcolm Abercrombie is a reprehensible example of his species, and that he has received services from me far beyond what he is paying for, I will describe the more valuable pieces of his collection to you and tell you how best to steal them.”
    Heath grinned. “Then you admit that he's got valuable pieces in his collection!”
    “I never said otherwise.”
    “I thought you told me that almost none of the men who painted the Dark Lady were artists.”
    “That is true,” I agreed. “But he has almost four hundred paintings and holograms in his collection, and most of them are not portraits of her.”
    “Does he have any Moritas?”
    “I will not discuss his collection with you, Friend Valentine.”
    “I'm going to steal something from it whether you help me or not, Friend Leonardo,” he promised. “But you could make my life a lot easier by giving me the information I need.”
    “That would be unethical.”
    “True,” he admitted. “But it could also be profitable. I'd make you a partner.”
    “I want neither half the profits nor half the guilt,” I said.
    “No problem at all,” responded Heath smoothly. “If you'd prefer to live with a fifth of the guilt, I'll cut you in for twenty percent of the profit.”
    “No.”
    “You're absolutely sure?”
    “I am absolutely sure.”
    “Positively?” he persisted.
    “Yes!”
    “We'll discuss it again later,” he said.
    “My answer will be the same,” I replied.
    “You can't possibly feel any loyalty toward him.”
    “He is my employer,” I said.
    “Claiborne is your employer.”
    “And Claiborne says that I am to work for Malcolm Abercrombie,” I replied. “I must fulfill my contract to the letter.”
    “So that you can kill yourself when you've