Birthright

Durmin, a huge man with hamlike hands and a deep, booming voice, was ushered into Selimund's office,

followed by two assistants who carried in a large, ornate container the size of a trunk. “Hello, Baros,” said Selimund. “Now, what's this fantastic find you've been raving about?” “You won't believe it until you see it, Governor,” said Durmin. “Okay, boys, open it up.” The two men unlocked the container and opened it. Selimund looked in, trying not to appear too anxious, and Durmin withdrew a small object wrapped in Toranian spider-silk. He removed the covering without a word and handed it over to Selimund, who began examining it gingerly. “A laser pistol,” he murmured, holding it up to the light. “Early Democracy ... no, make that late Republic. Handcrafted. Good for about four minutes without repowering. Trigger device fits a near-human hand, probably a little smaller. Emra IV, I'd say, or possibly Lemm.” He paused lost in thought. “No, it couldn't be Lemm. They never developed laser weapons. Probably Emran. Well-built. Looks almost new.” He looked up at Durmin. “What else have you got?” Durmin handed him another weapon.

“Lovely!” exclaimed Selimund. “Absolutely gorgeous!” He handled it as if it were made of the finest crystal, apt to shatter at any instant. “An explosive-projectile hand pistol! I've only got one in my whole collection. They went out of fashion early in the Democracy. Never understood why. It was a deadly little weapon. Where did you get all this stuff, Baros?” “Sorry,” Durmin grinned. “Professional secret.” Selimund nodded. He hadn't really expected an answer to the question. He spent the next few hours going over the remaining seventeen weapons, studying each, appraising their craftsmanship and market value in his mind. The condition of the pieces was beautiful, as if they had just been turned out of a factory that morning. Moving parts were well oiled, metal parts glistened, stocks and handles were smooth as glass. All had been used by the Emrans, or a race very similar to them, for all were made for the same type of hand: three or four fingers, with a short thumb, somewhat smaller than a human hand.

“What are you asking for the lot?'’ asked Selimund at last. “Well, Governor, if I were to name a price, it would be in the neighborhood of half a million credits,” said Durmin. “However, as I said, I'm not putting these up for cash sale. They're for trade only. I might consider the atom cannon from Doradus IV that you have on display at Deluros, plus two early Republic hand weapons from Torqual and Procyon III.” “Not the cannon,” said Selimund emphatically. “You'd have to offer twice as many weapons for that.” “That could be arranged,” said Durmin. “This isn't the sum total of the cache.” “Why not bring the rest tomorrow morning, and we'll talk business,” suggested Selimund. “Fair enough,” said Durmin. “I've got fourteen more pieces.” “Then I think we'll be able to do some dealing,” said Selimund. “If you like, you can leave these