The Dark Lady

since the Oligarchy is at war— ”
    “The Oligarchy is always at war with somebody,” she interrupted.
    “Given those conditions, the policy is sensible.”
    “To say nothing of being personally humiliating to you.”
    “The individual doesn't matter,” I answered.
    “The individual is all that matters!” she said decisively, and once again I realized just how truly alien she was.
    We began attracting curious stares, and Tai Chong lowered her voice when she saw how uneasy I had become as a focal point of such attention.
    “I'm sorry, Leonardo, but I have to lodge a protest,” she said. “When they offend one of Claiborne's associates, they offend Claiborne. I have to stand up for my people, even if they won't stand up for themselves.”
    I could see that further argument would be fruitless, and I stood there silently as she walked off to find the director of the Odysseus Gallery. I forced myself to concentrate on the bidding, and tried not to think of the consequences of her action.
    The Jablonski came up for auction in another moment, and when the opening bid was 200,000 credits, I knew I had been right about its eventual price. A private collector from the Antares sector entered the bidding at 450,000, and finally bought it away from a local museum for 575,000.
    “Right on the button,” said Rayburn. “You really know your stuff, Leonardo.”
    “Thank you, Friend Hector,” I replied, glowing brightly with pride despite my uneasiness about Tai Chong's protest.
    He stared thoughtfully at me.
    “Do you really think we can get that portrait for fifty thousand?”
    My pattern darkened ambiguously. “Unless he has acquired a reputation on Bortai or its neighboring worlds. If he has, then it may cost sixty thousand credits.”
    The Primrose was next, and although it was a typical representation of his Hex Period, it brought a disappointing 190,000 credits, which confirmed the decline in his stature.
    Tai Chong, looking quite satisfied with herself, returned, and we watched without much interest as the next three pieces brought average prices.
    Then it was announced that the first of the Moritas was about to be auctioned.
    “The physical restrictions of the platform preclude our exhibiting it here,” said the auctioneer, “but I trust you've all had a chance to see it. This particular Morita is number seven in your catalogs, a stunning mosaic of firestones and sun crystals entitled ‘Dawn.’ We will start the bidding at half a million credits.”
    The bidding reached three million in less than a minute. The Canphorite entered the bidding at four million, but it was finally sold to a large museum from Deluros VIII for 6,500,000 credits, which Tai Chong assured me was not a record for a Morita, although the auctioneer announced that it was indeed a record for Far London, a record he expected to last no more than forty minutes, which was when the next Morita was scheduled to be sold.
    Tai Chong bid on a small hologram and lost out to the Canphorite, then purchased an exquisite still life from Terrazane.
    A few minutes later Rayburn tapped me on the shoulder.
    “Your portrait's up next,” he said. “I think I may take a shot at it.” He paused. “Fifty thousand tops, right?”
    “That is my evaluation, Friend Hector,” I replied.
    “The next item,” announced the auctioneer as the painting was brought onto the platform, “is an untitled portrait by Christopher Kilcullen, who first achieved fame as a naval hero whose vastly outnumbered forces destroyed the enemy during the Jhaghon Uprising of 4306 G.E.” He paused, studying his notes. “After his retirement Commander Kilcullen turned to painting, and although he was not prolific, his work now hangs in museums on Spica II and Lodin XI, as well as on his native Bortai. This piece was donated by the Estate of the late Heinrich Vollmeir, governor of Mirzam X, and has a reserve of twenty thousand credits placed upon it.”
    “That is not a term with which I am acquainted, Friend Hector,” I whispered.
    “A reserve?” he said. “It means that the owner, or in this case his estate, has placed a minimum bid of twenty thousand credits on the painting, and has agreed to buy it back for that amount if there are no higher bids.”
    “From which the gallery takes its commission?” I asked.
    “That's right— and I'll wager that Argentine III doesn't see a credit of any buy-backs that don't reach their reserves.”
    For almost a minute there was