The Thief of Thoth

4

PAWEL SPIRO blinked, winced, coughed softly, fluttered his plump white hands, straightened the notched lapels of his conservative maroon oversuit, and said faintly:

"But, Ser Hautley, you will understand, ah, the cult object is prized more for its scientific value than the, er, merely monetary worth of ..."

Hautley elevated an amused eyebrow mockingly.

"It is studded with rare jewels, is it not, Learned? Hence, I believe, the name—Crown of Stars?"'

“Er ... well, yes ..."

"It is, is it not, a superb work of the goldsmith's art—open-scrolled goldwork, rather akin to the High Phriote style, and set with one hundred fifty-seven precious and semi-precious jewels, among which are the only known specimens of no less than thirteen otherwise completely mythical varieties of gemstones?" Hautley pressed.

Pawel Spiro wilted like day-old spaghetti.

"... Yes."

“Then the double fee is invoked, as is customary when I deal in such rarities."

Spiro looked at him with a trace of keen suspicion in his watery, lackluster eyes.

"You seem ... familiar ... with the Crown, Ser Hautley."

The most celebrated Confidential Agent among the Near Stars laughed sardonically.

"But of course, Learned, in my craft as a licensed and legal thief, assassin, spy, murderer, pirate, I have a certain professional interest in outstanding items of rare jewelry!"

"Of course," Spiro said sadly.

"Then you agree to the fee?"

"Ah, yes, I believe I can justify it to my senior colleagues." Quicksilver regarded him with a meditative eye. The fee, ordinarily large, thus doubled became quite exorbitant. There was something that did not quite ring true about this Pawel Spiro. What museum could afford to pay a doubled Quicksilverian fee?

He permitted another aromatique to ignite itself, and lazily lay back in his luxurious pneumo-lounger whose extensible components automatically compensated to his relaxed position. Through the vast crystalline panes, the dull light of sinking Astarte cast a sullen shaft of rubied luminance across the bloodwood desk. In the hard, straight chair directly opposite the desk, the little man fidgeted uncomfortably.

And coughed discreetly.

"You will, ah, accept our commission then, Ser Hautley?"

"There is one further item that somewhat intrigues me," Quicksilver drawled casually.

"What, ah item?"

"Why?"

Spiro blinked: "Why what ... I do not understand ..."

"Nor, to be honest, do I!" Quicksilver fixed him with a glittering eye. "Why do you want the Crown of Stars at such a cost? While due to the peculiar nature of my Charter, it is perfectly legal for me to appropriate a valuable object from its present owners—so long as I do so upon duly contracted commission—it is illegal for you or the Museum to display or even possess stolen property."