“That is a sensible attitude,” Tsang said in a grudging tone. He turned to Haru and offered a polite nod. “Colonel. What can I help you with today?”
Haru was, for once, enjoying himself. “I was hoping to look at the Aizen Mayo-o piece again.” He smiled.
Tsang’s expression turned sour. “I would rather you look at something you’re likely to buy.”
“I would buy that in an instant if you named a price.”
“More than you can afford,” Tsang shot back. The worst part was that he was right. The Aizen was the sort of quality that museums bought, and Haru was only a colonel. He wondered if it had been made for a temple or the private shrine of a wealthy family, not that it mattered. Tsang lost interest in Haru and turned his attention back to Munson who made no secret of his admiration for the statue.
“Do you like that piece?”
“Enough that I am glad the artist who produced it is dead so I can’t insult him with my inadequate compliments. The work is beautiful.”
Tsang moved to stand in front of Munson, blocking his view. That deadly charm reappeared in Munson’s smile.
“How do you know the artist is dead?” Tsang asked.
“The wood has a patina I would only expect to see in a piece that is several hundred years old. I assumed no one on Earth lived that long.” Munson tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps I’m wrong and you will educate me.”
Tsang narrowed his eyes. “I understood you were a poor, barely educated foot soldier who lucked into his position.”
Horror shocked Haru into silence. That was so far beyond the bounds of propriety that Haru failed to come to Munson’s defense before Munson shrugged and said easily, “Some do say that.”
“And yet you recognize the patina of a true antiquity.”
Munson studied Tsang as though he was a lower life form. “Unlike some, I have gone out into the universe to learn.”
“To learn about the quality of aged wood.” Tsang punctuated his words with a disgusted snort.
“One who wishes to learn will find knowledge everywhere.” Munson took a step toward Tsang. “Those who hide in crowded rooms might be surprised at what exists outside their narrow view.”
Tsang laughed. After a decade of buying art from Tsang, Haru had never heard that sound before. Tsang reached for his keys. “I know more than you can imagine, gutter rat.”
Munson’s smile was more open and genuinely amused now. “But I will learn more than you will dream of, little mole.”
“So, why did the colonel bring you along on one of his fruitless visits to Aizen?” Tsang triggered the key fob and the protective barrier slid away, exposing the priceless art. Haru had never been so close to the statue. He could have reached out to touch it if he dared. He didn’t.
“He had hoped I could make a more interesting offer,” Munson said.
“To get him the Aizen? That is not likely.”
“I’m not offering to buy it for him.” Liam took a step closer and rested his fingertips on the shelf under the Aizen.
“Then who are you buying for?”
Munson glanced over his shoulder. “For a merchant, you are far less informed than I expected.”
“For a servant, you are quick to voice your uneducated opinions.”
Haru had to step in before more harm could be done. “Mr. Tsang, Tuk-Liam is highly ranked among the Rownt, and Command recognizes his rank as somewhere between a colonel and a general.”
Tsang looked at Munson. “Is that right?”
“Not if the money they send to my beneficiaries is any indication.”
“Typical of Command. They give words that are never followed with actions.” Tsang glared at Haru as if he was to blame for the military’s faults.
“So I have noticed,” Munson said. Haru made a mental note to bring up the subject of increasing his Command pay to something closer to his Rownt rank.
