“‘The thousand insults of Fortunato I had borne as best I could,’” Lilliana recited as the short, dark-haired man struggled up onto the bar stool beside her.
“Excuse me?” the dwarf-like figure said, once he’d composed himself on the seat.
They were in the Rogue’s Jewelry Box, a dimly illuminated labyrinthine drinking hall hewn out of the rocky ground. Its walls had been left unfinished, but with a layer of soft burgundy nouvelvet bonded to the rough texture. This had the effect of swallowing sound and preventing echoes, and also gave the place a vaguely womb-like feel. It was a place well-suited to clandestine dealings and intrigue, and the place where Lilliana had come seeking unforeseen opportunities.
“It’s a line from Poe,” she explained.
“Who?” the man asked blankly.
“He invented poetry,” Lilliana said. “At least, according to my ship’s mechanic.”
“I make it a point always to trust mechanics in matters of antiquity. But… your ship, dear Lilliana?” the man echoed. “And here I was under the impression that you were still managing other people’s ships for them.”
“Daniel isn’t a person,” Lilliana countered. “Technically, he’s a planet.”
“Yes, we were all very amused to hear of his elevation,” the man said. “All of us in the old gang. As it happens, that’s the very point that’s brought me here today…”
“…within stabbing distance,” Lilliana said, her deceptively dainty hand shooting out sideways to grab the scrawny man by the collar of his shirt. Only when her grip had closed on it did she turn to face him, yanking him off of the barstool to dangle with his feet off the ground. Her own face was blank, a mask of calm composure. “I warned him after the last time, Roquelaire: send no one.”
“And he hasn’t!” Roquelaire said. “I am here on my own, as a free agent. Whatever insults you imagine are between you and Fortunato, they have nothing to do with me.”
“A free agent?” Lilliana scoffed. “Who are you working for?”
“I’m not sure you completely understand the term…”
Lilliana cut him off with a sharp upward jerk.
“You’re a middleman, Roquelaire,” she said. “It’s all you know… all that you’re good for. You’re working for somebody, and I’ll have a name, or this conversation goes no further.”
“I am… ah… representing… a consortium of respectable individuals…”
“A name,” Lilliana repeated, turning her fist like a screw, bunching up the material of Roquelaire’s collar and tightening it around his neck.
“Petrus!” he gasped. “He’s the leader.”
She dropped him back on his stool.
“Maximus Petrus?” she asked, affecting a tone of mild interest.
“He!” Roquelaire said.
“And what does your new master want with me, then?” Lilliana said.
“I’m a free agent!” Roquelaire protested.
“You’re a freed pet,” Lilliana said. “You’d starve to death if left to fend for yourself. What’s the caper, Roquelaire?”
“No caper,” the little man insisted. “Just a simple transport job… your usual line of work.”
“What would we be transporting, then?” Lilliana asked
She expected the answer to be something trite and predictable like, “Not what… who.”, especially when Roquelaire beckoned for her to lean in closer. She grudgingly obliged.
“The Donna Stella,” he whispered excitedly. “You have heard of it?”
“The painting?” Lilliana said. “It’s not going anywhere… it belongs to Rylea.”
“Not quite,” Roquelaire said. “The Petrus family owns it outright… it’s only on display by dint of a special arrangement with the Ruling Council.”
“Funny, I’ve always heard of it spoken of as a Rylean national treasure,” Lilliana said.
“It is often regarded as such,” Roquelaire said. “Yet, it is only recently that the Council themselves have begun to speak of it as one, and this is what makes my client nervous. He fears the loss of a priceless family heirloom, without due compensation.”
“You spoke of a coalition,” Lilliana said. “This seems like a private matter.”
“To use an analogy: if this were a court case, it would be seen as precedent setting,” Roquelaire said. “Rylea is an independent state, and proud of its independence, at a personal as well as a national level. The Ruling Council has always taken a laissez-faire view of governance. If they start seizing the assets of wealthy individuals… well, you can see how more than just Max Petrus would be worried about the consequences if the Ruling Council takes control of the painting.”
“You said ‘if this were a court case’,” Lilliana said. “I take it your employer has decided it shall not become one.”
“He fears it will inevitably become one,” Roquelaire said. “But he would rather his property were stowed some place safely away at that point, so that the default victor in such a question would be himself rather than the Council.”
“Does not Petrus have his own ships?” Lilliana asked.
“He has a fleet,” Roquelaire said. “But all Rylean registered and subject to Rylean law, off the ground as well as on it. Any one of them could be summoned back by an act of the Council.”
“I don’t doubt that Petrus has ships under his command that aren’t registered… but if the painting was carried off by one of the smuggling ships the Rylean naval patrol usually ignores, the Council could have the navy stop it on the pretext of doing their job,” Lilliana reasoned. “On the other hand, if it were sent on a ship affiliated with one of the major powers, the Council could put pressure through diplomatic channels.”
“On the other hand, if it goes with the Rebellion… the unique legal status of your Mr. Shays would give sufficient protection,” Roquelaire said. “If you take physical possession of the Donna before the Council has ruled on the matter, you will have committed no crime. It would take a unanimous decision in order to interfere with the affairs of another sovereign world, and Petrus’s man on the council will be a stickler on that point of protocol.”
“Eventually the rest of them would pull their act together enough to pass a law to get around his objections,” Lilliana said.
“Yes, but by that time, you and the painting would be well enough away… do not make the mistake of thinking that the council are all of one mind here,” Roquelaire said. “They would all like to see their personal power increased at the expense of the plutocracy, yes, but there are limits to how far most of them are willing to go in pursuit of it. There are only a few who are fervently in favor of nationalizing the Donna Stella and other works of art. The others are simply willing to go along with it as long as there is no great risk or inconvenience.”
“It’s an interesting plan,” Lilliana said. “It’s a shame it won’t work.”
“It will,” Roquelaire said. “We’ve thought this through. You don’t know Rylean politics like I do…”
“I daresay I don’t,” Lilliana said. “But that’s not the problem. In order to be safely away in the time it took an emergency session of the Council to convene and rule us enemies of the state, we’d have to push our engines to the max. We’re midway through a long journey… our fuel bars wouldn’t take it.”
“Most ships which dock at Rylea do so expressly for a chance to refuel,” Roquelaire said suspiciously.
“Yes, well, we simply had cargo to deliver,” Lilliana said. “Your Mr. Petrus can attest to that.”
“Yet your entire crew disembarked shortly after you landed.”
“We had planned on a nice, leisurely couple of days rockside before we got on our way,” Lilliana said. “We’re way ahead of schedule, you see. That’s another reason I’d be loathe to take part in your sordid scheme… it would be horrible for morale to call everybody back and tell them shore leave’s been canceled.”
“Word was you had some trouble on the way in,” Roquelaire said. “Engine trouble, or something. Are you sure that’s not the reason for your extended stay?”
“Indirectly,” Lilliana said, inventing with a smooth glibness that Regan could have envied. “We overtaxed ourselves a bit on the last stretch of our journey, which is why we’re now ahead of schedule. It was worth it, though… I’ve never seen a crew so fond of asteroid living.”
“You’re not trying to swindle Mr. Petrus out of the cost of a set of fresh fuel bars?” Roquelaire asked.
“Nothing of the sort,” Lilliana said. “He may consider a full set of bars part of our payment, the cost to be deducted from the balance.”
“Part?” Roquelaire boggled. “Your fee for transporting a painting, which however valuable, will not take up much in the way of cargo space…”
“Let’s, as they once said dans la belle France, ‘cut the shit’… you’re asking me to help you steal a painting worth thirty-nine million, easily,” Lilliana said. “That’s how a Rylean court would see it if we fail to make good our escape, and that’s how we will treat it. So you may tell your Mr. Petrus that we will not be taking a ‘fee’ for this job, we will be taking a ‘cut’… of no less than twenty percent.”
“Ridiculous,” Roquelaire said stiffly. “Absolutely inconceivable”
“What would be conceivable, then?” Lilliana said.
Five percent,” Roquelaire said.
“Five percent of the profit and all of the risk?” Lilliana said.
“What profit?” Roquelaire said. “The painting belongs to Mr. Petrus. He is not realizing any profit by this venture.”
“Then maybe he should reconsider it,” Lilliana said. “I hope you negotiated on your own behalf as strenuously as you are for Mr. Petrus. If we get hung out to dry, you’re hanging with us. Fifteen percent.”
“Ten,” Roquelaire countered.
“Done,” Lilliana said. “And I want an advance payment in the form of ten bars of gold, standard fuel rod size and configuration, couriered to the Rebellion. I’ll have a technician waiting with a spectrolyzer to make sure it’s real before any further business is conducted.”
“Done,” Roquelaire said.
“Won’t the Council notice that the painting has been removed from its display and act to reclaim it before it leaves Rylean space?” Lilliana asked.
“We’ve taken measures,” Roquelaire said. “A replacement, a false Donna, will hang in its place in the Council Palace. The substitution will be discovered before too long, but not too soon, for our purposes.”
“You can guarantee that?” Lilliana asked.
“You have the word of Maximus Petrus, and more importantly, the word of Roquelaire,” the man said, bowing a little bit awkwardly, to keep from toppling over off his stool.
“You cannot imagine how reassuring I find that,” Lilliana said.
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