cousin doesn’t seem to understand he’s walked into the middle of an awkward situation. He blinks again, then squints at the biggest of the designs, painted on the floor by Scarlett’s feet.
“You people art buffs or something?” he says slowly. “What you painting that old chakk on my floors for anyway?”
The room comes alive.
“You recognize this?” Tyler says, immediately on his feet.
“What the bloody hells is it?” Cat, less delicate.
Scarlett stands in one smooth movement, the groaning of a moment before, the night on the floor, all forgotten. She shoots Cat a shut up smile, turns the high beams on my cousin.
“You really do know this place inside and out. Color me impressed.” She smiles a little wider, leans a little closer. “This … chakk … is something we’re looking for. If you could help us out … ?”
A lot of people assume all Betraskans are traders—which is kind of hilarious, if you think about it. I mean, a whole society made up of nothing but? Who’d manufacture anything? Who’d plumb your house, design your latest comms gear? Betraskans are as many and as varied as any other species.
But every Betraskan likes a deal, no question of that. And we know how to get one. Which is where the universal rep came from, I guess.
We know how to bargain, and the de Seel clan is famous for it.
“Mmmmaybe,” says Dariel slowly, with the air of a man realizing he has valuable information to hand. “Yeah, I think maybe I can do that.”
“For a favor, maybe?” I ask.
Daniel smiles at me. “You catch on quick, Cuz.”
I glance at Aurora. At Goldenboy. Hoping Tyler knows what the hells he’s doing and how deep we’re sinking. But it’s not like we’ve got much choice here.
“Fine,” I sigh. “Deal.”
We follow him out into the main room, cluster around him as he sits at his console. Scarlett’s leaning close, one hand on his shoulder, watching the screen as he logs into the Sempiternity network. I pick a dry spot and lean against the cool of the stone wall, easing a glowing vine out of my way.
“It was an exhibition,” he’s saying, one hand flipping through the air to alter the holographic display. “About a year ago. I made some quick creds putting up the posters. Casseldon Bianchi, art connoisseur and resident of the one and only World Ship, Sempiternity, put it in his museum. … Here it is.”
Dariel’s console projects an advertisement he’s found in 3-D. He swipes again, and the display spins, showing off vases and paintings, necklaces and bowls and sculptures and things I’m not civilized enough to appreciate.
Beside me, Auri abruptly leans in at the sight of a glazed ceramic bowl. “That’s Chinese. How did it get all the way out here?”
Dariel stops the spinning with one lifted finger, looking over his shoulder with immediate interest. “You a ceramics expert or something? Because I got—”
“No,” she replies. “My dad is— I mean, my dad was Chinese.”
The reminder of the past tense is clearly a kick in the gut for her. Her gaze drops and she presses her lips together, swallowing hard. Dariel notes the drop in mood, but Scarlett’s quick to distract him.
“So he’s a collector?” she asks, leaning closer. “This Casseldon Bianchi?”
“He’s the collector,” Dariel replies, turning back to her. “The man on the World Ship. If you’ve got something exquisite and you want to move it, that is. He deals in exotics. Artifacts. Tech. Life-forms, especially. If it’s hard to find, he’s the guy to find it. And if it’s expensive, he’s probably the guy who owns it.”
“I could’ve told you that,” says a chirpy voice inside Auri’s breast pocket.
“Magellan, hush,” she whispers, lifting a hand to smother it. “Later.”
“Seriously,” the uniglass says. “I’m seventeen times smarter than any—”
“Silent mode,” Tyler snaps.
I look at Aurora, eyebrow raised. “You named your uniglass?”
Auri shoots me a quick glance. “It said ‘name your device’ when I turned it on.”
“Sure, like ‘Fin’s uniglass’ or something.”
“I’m original,” she says.
“Got that right,” Cat snorts.
Dariel’s display stops moving again, and suddenly there it is on his screen—our mystery shape. It’s a sculpture made out of a strange metal. And it’s shaped like our three-fingered friend painted all over the walls of our room. The statue has gemstones for eyes, the left one polished black onyx, the right one gleaming pearl. There’s a diamond embedded deeply in its chest, right where its heart would be.
“What is it?” Tyler asks, a hint of impatience in his voice.