had therefore decided not to steal the Waltz twins' jewelry, at least not for the present—he merely made it appear that the jewels had been stolen, by hiding them above the false ceiling in the closet. He'd enter the room later and perform a genuine theft, but by that time the authorities would assume the one-day deadline had passed, and he'd be safe with the stuff in his rooms.
Idly, he wondered how Maijstral was coping with the problem.
Strains of music wafted up the corridor. It was the same dance he'd just ducked out of; his work was adhering to schedule.
Scheduling was important tonight: he planned to strike at least once more.
*
“The Colonial Service cannot be as dull as you say, madam,” Zoot said. “After all, how dull can it be to engage in important Imperial business? Interact with subject species? Conduct important treaty negotiations?” He and Lady Dosvidern were walking to the buffet following the conclusion of the last dance.
Lady Dosvidern smiled, her tongue lolling. “On Zynzlyp? With the Drawmii?”
Zoot considered this. “Well, my lady,” he said, “perhaps Zynzlyp is an exceptional case.”
“The Drawmii are a bit more entertaining than the average subject, to be sure. Entertaining,” she qualified, “by virtue of their unpredictability. But even that can grow tedious—and as for my posts previous to Zynzlyp, the most exciting treaty negotiation I can recall had to do with a last will and testament that divided an estate contrary to local custom, and which had taken two centuries to move through the Imperial courts to the point where someone in the Service had to deal with it.”
“The details,” stoutly, “must have been fascinating.”
“ I somehow avoided fascination. Thank you. The champagne, if you please.” She lapped daintily in the wide glass, then looked up. “And while I was thus avoiding fascination, you, sir, were off making a hero of yourself in the Pioneer Corps, and have now gone on to greater celebrity in the Diadem. Your health, sir.” She raised her glass.
“Life in the Diadem is not as you suppose,” Zoot said.
“Please,” she said, taking his arm again, “do not disillusion me. On a place as barren as Zynzlyp, I found the Diadem my only solace and recreation. Tell me, if you please, only the exciting parts.”
“If you like, my lady.”
Zoot was, after all, used to this by now.
*
“Fu George.” Grinning. “Perhaps you'll give me this dance.”
“Honored, Pearl Woman.” Careful not to look at what dangled from her ear. “You look very stylish this evening.”
“Thank you.” Her grin broadened. “You look a bit out of sorts, yourself.”
“Really? I can’t think why.”
He sniffed her carefully and offered her two fingers. She gave him three in return. No doubt his theft of her property had made them, in Pearl’s estimation at least, intimates.
Fu George noticed that she tossed her head after the sniff, to know whether the pearl was still present. Intrigued, he stepped onto the dance floor.
Perhaps, he thought, he could hold a substitute pearl under his tongue. Make the bite, and somehow switch pearls on her.
She might not notice the absence of the real one for hours, even days. And he'd arrange for his own, substitute pearl to dissolve after a day or so, just so she'd know it was gone.
But how to make the switch? And how to fuse the new pearl to the old chain? And would this all require new dentistry?
Perhaps the long months he'd spent practicing this stunt weren’t lost, after all.
Fu George began the dance, his mind abuzz with speculation.
Pearl Woman, for her part, was disappointed in his lack of reaction to the reappearance of her trademark. She'd hoped for at least a little jolt of surprise, perhaps even a double take. Instead, the only difference in his usual manner was that he seemed a little abstracted.
Oh well, at least she had her coup planned for the morrow.
That was going to be fun.
*
A cheeping noise began
Idly, he wondered how Maijstral was coping with the problem.
Strains of music wafted up the corridor. It was the same dance he'd just ducked out of; his work was adhering to schedule.
Scheduling was important tonight: he planned to strike at least once more.
*
“The Colonial Service cannot be as dull as you say, madam,” Zoot said. “After all, how dull can it be to engage in important Imperial business? Interact with subject species? Conduct important treaty negotiations?” He and Lady Dosvidern were walking to the buffet following the conclusion of the last dance.
Lady Dosvidern smiled, her tongue lolling. “On Zynzlyp? With the Drawmii?”
Zoot considered this. “Well, my lady,” he said, “perhaps Zynzlyp is an exceptional case.”
“The Drawmii are a bit more entertaining than the average subject, to be sure. Entertaining,” she qualified, “by virtue of their unpredictability. But even that can grow tedious—and as for my posts previous to Zynzlyp, the most exciting treaty negotiation I can recall had to do with a last will and testament that divided an estate contrary to local custom, and which had taken two centuries to move through the Imperial courts to the point where someone in the Service had to deal with it.”
“The details,” stoutly, “must have been fascinating.”
“ I somehow avoided fascination. Thank you. The champagne, if you please.” She lapped daintily in the wide glass, then looked up. “And while I was thus avoiding fascination, you, sir, were off making a hero of yourself in the Pioneer Corps, and have now gone on to greater celebrity in the Diadem. Your health, sir.” She raised her glass.
“Life in the Diadem is not as you suppose,” Zoot said.
“Please,” she said, taking his arm again, “do not disillusion me. On a place as barren as Zynzlyp, I found the Diadem my only solace and recreation. Tell me, if you please, only the exciting parts.”
“If you like, my lady.”
Zoot was, after all, used to this by now.
*
“Fu George.” Grinning. “Perhaps you'll give me this dance.”
“Honored, Pearl Woman.” Careful not to look at what dangled from her ear. “You look very stylish this evening.”
“Thank you.” Her grin broadened. “You look a bit out of sorts, yourself.”
“Really? I can’t think why.”
He sniffed her carefully and offered her two fingers. She gave him three in return. No doubt his theft of her property had made them, in Pearl’s estimation at least, intimates.
Fu George noticed that she tossed her head after the sniff, to know whether the pearl was still present. Intrigued, he stepped onto the dance floor.
Perhaps, he thought, he could hold a substitute pearl under his tongue. Make the bite, and somehow switch pearls on her.
She might not notice the absence of the real one for hours, even days. And he'd arrange for his own, substitute pearl to dissolve after a day or so, just so she'd know it was gone.
But how to make the switch? And how to fuse the new pearl to the old chain? And would this all require new dentistry?
Perhaps the long months he'd spent practicing this stunt weren’t lost, after all.
Fu George began the dance, his mind abuzz with speculation.
Pearl Woman, for her part, was disappointed in his lack of reaction to the reappearance of her trademark. She'd hoped for at least a little jolt of surprise, perhaps even a double take. Instead, the only difference in his usual manner was that he seemed a little abstracted.
Oh well, at least she had her coup planned for the morrow.
That was going to be fun.
*
A cheeping noise began
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