Brevan
“And this piece dates to the Xunzil Dynasty, thirteenth century, though the provenance documentation has some inconsistencies that would concern a serious collector.”
Carys stood in front of a jade sculpture, her hands clasped behind her back. The collar at her throat caught the museum’s indirect lighting.
She hadn’t looked at me directly since we’d started the tour fifteen minutes ago.
“Inconsistencies,” I repeated. “Could you elaborate?”
“The seal marks don’t match the documented period.” She moved to the next display case without waiting for my response. Her steps were efficient, no wasted movement. “The jade itself is authentic, but someone added the base sometime in the last century. Probably to increase the sale value.”
“So it’s a partial forgery.”
“It’s a restoration that became a lie.” She tapped her slate, making notes. “There’s a difference. The original artist created something beautiful. Someone else tried to make it worth more by pretending it was something it wasn’t.”
I watched her. She wasn’t just giving me a tour. She was playing a role. And under that professional veneer, she was assessing me just as I was assessing her, looking for the authentic pieces, the later additions, the careful lies.
“And you can tell the difference,” I said.
“It’s my job.” She glanced at me finally. Those brown eyes were sharp. “Senator Tarsus values accuracy.”
“I’m sure he does.” I stepped closer to the case, studying the sculpture. The jade had been carved by someone who understood how stone held light. “How long have you worked for him?”
“Six years.”
“That’s quite a commitment.”
“That’s quite a contract.” She finished her notes on the slate and glided to the next case.
This one held Thal’reth pottery fragments.
The kind of pieces that went for absurd prices because the extinct civilization’s artifacts had become the ultimate collector’s obsession.
“You mentioned interest in Thal’reth antiquities specifically. What draws you to their culture?”
The question was soft, but the implication was clear. She was probing. Trying to figure out what I actually wanted.
Fair enough.
“Scarcity,” I said. “They left behind so little. What remains has value beyond the material.”
“Sentimental value.” Her tone suggested she didn’t buy it.
“Historical value.” I moved to stand beside her. Not crowding, but close enough that she’d have to acknowledge my presence. “I’m curious about civilizations that managed to create beauty that outlasts them.”
“We’re all temporary.” She made another note on her slate. “These fragments are from the Thal’reth temple district, approximately their Fourth Dynasty. The authentication is solid. The seller provided compositional analysis that matches known excavation sites.”
“You verified the analysis yourself.”
“Of course.” She looked at me again. “Would you purchase something based solely on someone else’s word?”
“No.” I studied her profile. The way she held herself, the careful distance she maintained. “I prefer to verify important claims personally.”
A black shape moved at the edge of my vision. Flinx had been following us through the museum, always at a distance, always watching. Now he positioned himself between Carys and me, his sleek black form settling into a sitting posture that managed to be both elegant and threatening.
His eyes glowed analytical blue, but his ears were flat. Every line of his synthetic body screamed distrust.
“Flinx,” Carys said quietly. “Stand down.”
The cat didn’t move.
“He doesn’t like me,” I observed.
“He doesn’t like most people.” She didn’t call him off again. “He’s protective.”
“Of you, or of the artifacts?”
“Both.” She moved deeper into the museum wing, and Flinx immediately repositioned, maintaining his barrier between us. “These cases hold more dangerous pieces. A Zhyx ceremonial blade. An Orlian poison dispenser disguised as a music box. Things that could kill if handled incorrectly.”
She walked past them without hesitation. Too comfortable. Too familiar with exactly which ones were dangerous and which were merely valuable.
“You’re very comfortable around hazardous materials,” I observed.
“I’m trained for hazardous materials.” She stopped in front of a case containing what looked like a decorative Genditi mask. “This piece, for example. Beautiful craftsmanship. Also designed to release neurotoxin if worn by someone without the correct genetic markers.”
“And you know this how?”
“Spectrographic analysis. Chemical residue in the interior lining.” She pulled a scanner from her belt and ran it over the case’s exterior.
“The containment field is adequate, but I’ve recommended vault storage.
Some collectors don’t appreciate the liability of displaying functional weapons in public spaces. ”
She understood exactly how dangerous these objects were. And how to use them. She was letting me know it.
“You have access to the vault,” I said.
“When necessary.” Her scanner beeped. She frowned at the reading, her focus already drifting to the next item. “Inventory management requires periodic verification. Can’t authenticate pieces I can’t examine.”
“Convenient.”
“Practical.” She stopped abruptly. Flinx positioned himself more firmly between us, a low electronic growl emanating from his chest. “Do you actually want to purchase anything, Mr. Korven, or are you here to assess Senator Tarsus’s security protocols?”
There it was. The direct challenge.
I could deflect. Maintain the cover story. Keep playing the wealthy collector.
Or I could respect her intelligence and see where honesty took me.
“I’m interested in acquiring pieces beyond what’s available at public auction,” I said carefully. “Does the senator ever allow private viewings of vault-level acquisitions?”
Her expression didn’t change, but she tensed.
“No.”
“Never?”
“Not for Vinduthi collectors.” She tucked her scanner back into her belt. “Senator Tarsus is very particular about that.”
“Why?”
“You’d have to ask him.” But her tone said she didn’t care.
But I knew exactly why.
Tarsus knew about the Sovereign’s murder. Knew about the vault seizures. Knew enough to be paranoid about anyone from the Hand getting close to his collection.
“I see,” I said. “That’s unfortunate.”
“That’s reality.” She walked past me, heading toward the museum’s exit. Flinx stayed close to her side, his glowing eyes never leaving me. “The pieces in the auction later this month are all excellent acquisitions. I’m sure you’ll find something suitable for your collection.”
Subject changed. Boundaries established. She’d given me exactly one warning.
I followed her. She stopped at the museum entrance. “Senator Tarsus values my expertise. I imagine he’d be disappointed if I couldn’t provide you with a comprehensive assessment of the pieces available.”
“And did you? Provide a comprehensive assessment?”
“I provided exactly what you needed to know.” She met my eyes directly for the first time since we’d started. “I’ve sent the complete catalog to your tablet, if you have further questions. I suggest you review it carefully.”
“I will.”
“Good.” She adjusted her grip on her slate. Flinx’s growl intensified. “And Mr. Korven? Valyria has very strict security protocols. I’d recommend respecting them.”
A warning. Clear as crystal.
Unfortunately, warnings always made me more curious.