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.
“So why would the Rownt want the Aizen?” Tsang asked with far less animosity than Haru had expected.
“They are storytellers. He has an interesting story.” Munson thought for a time before he added. “Rownt appreciate craftsmanship. The Aizen would have a place of honor in the temple.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes.”
Tsang triggered the lock and the barrier slid down, forcing Munson to jerk his hand away before he got his fingers cut off. “Now you speak out of turn. I am disappointed.”
Munson turned to face off against Tsang. “You doubt my word?”
“I have heard that the women rule the Rownt, so as a man you would have no authority to make such a statement.”
“And you are a fool who listens to others, particularly those who are unable to understand Rownt culture.”
“Do you deny that women rule?” Tsang hit another button and the clear barrier turned opaque, hiding the treasures. He might as well have announced that Munson wasn’t good enough to look at his pieces.
“Rulers are chosen by age. The eldest hold the most sway, and for reasons of biology, only the Grandmothers can live a thousand years.”
“Which is another way of saying that you have no power to decide the fate of the Aizen once you purchased it.”
Munson didn’t back down or hesitate. “My word is listened to more than most, although my youth makes others hesitate to act on my word alone. However, while I don’t have the power to demand the Rownt act, I do have the understanding to predict what they will do in this circumstance.”
“And what circumstance is that?”
“The gifting of a temple artifact created by one with such talent would be displayed, either in the public temple for everyone to enjoy or in the upper levels of the temple where the Grandmothers can take pleasure in such talent.”
“You’re assuming I’ll sell the Aizen to you.”
“I am.”
The blunt answer shocked Tsang into a moment of silence. The two men stared at each other—Liam’s seven-foot frame towering over Tsang’s five and a half. “That’s an arrogant assumption,” Tsang said softly.
“I’m an arrogant man.” Munson said, and Haru could imagine his father saying the same words in the exact same tone.
“And if I choose to send an arrogant man away?”
“Then I will return with Ondry and his arrogance will outshine mine.”
“I can as easily refuse him.” The words were classic Tsang, but his tone was not nearly as confident as Haru was used to hearing from him.
Munson leaned closer. “Then we shall make, as our gift to the temple, an offer to introduce a Grandmother to you.”
“That is a poor gift for an elder.”
“On the contrary. A Rownt elder would never walk into a shop without a proper introduction. Without me to ease the way, the Grandmother would have no access to this beauty. It would be a magnificent gift, and I would have the great pleasure of watching you attempt to negotiate with a thousand-year-old Rownt.” Again, Munson’s predatory smile returned. The bastard was enjoying this. More shocking, the corner of Tsang’s mouth twitched in amusement.
They deserved each other.
“Do you have so much faith in your alien?” Tsang asked.
“She has no need of compliments from me, so I will limit myself to saying that your skills are adequate for a man who has not yet reached thirty.”
Haru cringed. Tsang was at least fifty or sixty years old.
Instead of taking offense, Tsang smiled. “Do all Rownt trade like you?”
“The good ones do.”
He laughed again. “Bring your Grandmother back and let me see if her insults are better than yours. You seem to have the skill of my three-year-old great-nephew, and I don’t like children.”
“A great flaw in you, but then you have so many perhaps it doesn’t affect you to admit one more.” Munson started for the arch. Clearly the negotiations had ended without a deal, but both men appeared happy enough with the outcome.
“Go on. Get out,” Tsang shouted.
“Happily,” Munson called as he threaded his way carefully through the crowded front room. Haru followed.
As they reached the street, Haru said, “I apologize for any insult Tsang offered.”
Munson laughed. “Rownt love insults. That’s how we tell each other that we have faith the other person is strong enough to take it and dish it out. I would be offended if he had treated me with kid gloves.” Munson was a strange, tangled knot of English idioms and alien ideas.
Haru led them back toward the car. Earlier, he had wondered if Rownt were fellow travelers on the eight-fold path toward enlightenment. If they were, it would make sense that the Rownt souls, like the souls of humans, could transcend death. If so, it was possible Tsang had met the Rownt or even been Rownt. Haru could believe it, although that was a theory he did not plan to share with his superiors.