The White Elephant of Panschin

Finishing setting up the art show at the White Elephant.

     He said, carefully, "I don't believe so, sir. Main trouble, from what I could see from the landing, was that she wanted them to work and they won't. So her and her sister and those two cousins are doing most of the job unpacking and rearranging. The others down there, all from the Collective I guess, are mostly standing around when they're not getting in the way. She said something about some professor showing up and he wouldn't be pleased."

     Airik spent some minutes evaluating what Nunzio said about the events downstairs and his reaction, oblivious to his baffled, waiting staff. Why did he want to assist Miss Bradwell? She had rented him a set of rooms but once he'd paid her fee, he had no obligations to her and she had been quite clear about her own obligations to him. Her expectations from him were those of any paying guest: paying promptly, behaving like a gentleman, and not making too much of a mess. He had a mountain of work waiting for him and he did not need to add to it by taking on Miss Bradwell's problems.

     Moreover, and more importantly, he was safely anonymous as long as he remained within those rooms. Going downstairs meant being surrounded by the members of the Collective and it was possible one of those students might recognize him. Certainly, this professor, whoever he was, would grasp the importance of the daimyo of Shelleen. Since his arrival, Airik had seen his sketched image in every newspaper in Panschin along with grossly exaggerated stories of Shelleen's wealth. It was better to remain where he was, focused on the business at hand.

     Still, it bothered him that Miss Bradwell might need some help and it bothered him more that he cared. He finally shrugged off those disquieting emotions and returned to the proposal from Maerski laying before him on the table. They wanted to participate in the initial excavation of the Red Mercury Lode, exchanging their expertise for future favors to be determined by them at a later date. They must think he was an ignorant yokel, Airik decided, and began dictating a letter refusing their proposition. Instead, he proposed an alliance that would benefit Shelleen while still throwing some money, albeit a much smaller amount than Maerski expected, their way.

     As he spoke and Upton wrote, Airik caught himself being distracted by sounds from downstairs. Perhaps later, he resolved, he would visit the show and see if the paintings had miraculously improved or if the artists could explain their aesthetic choices to his satisfaction. If he stayed in the background, wearing standard issue coveralls, he could remain unnoticed as he used to be, before he became the daimyo of Shelleen. Who, after all, would expect to meet such a person here? Besides, most of those drawings of him in the newspapers had not been accurate, giving him another potential layer of protection. His decision made, he was able to concentrate fully on the report at hand.

*****

     Veronica did not race downstairs to stop Lulu from throttling some student who probably deserved it. Instead, she checked on Shelby's whereabouts. She expected to find her little sister sobbing or hiding, attended by auntie Neza wielding sympathetic cups of tea. To her surprise, her sister was not burying herself in their shared room. It was empty, as was Neza's room and Lulu and Florence's shared bedroom. She thought for a moment. Could Shelby be hiding from the Collective, those snobby sods, up on the rooftop terrace? There was the risk that some student from PanU would go up there to gape at the skyline within the dome so probably not. There were also the subbasement levels, but accessing them meant going down the grand central staircase where Shelby was sure to be spotted by someone from the Collective and questioned. But if Shelby did venture into the subbasement catacombs, she'd never be found until she wanted to be.

     Veronica chewed on her lip, thinking. Would Shelby be upset enough to hide down there, in those spooky, echoing, poorly lit rooms? She rarely went belowground without a compelling reason and when she did, she hated going past the area lit by the rooftop opening. She always wanted a rushlight to light her way and once downstairs, tried to stay near the light-shafts. Shelby didn't even like going into the metro stations to use the transtubes. Which of those things would be the lesser of two evils? The subbasement levels or the PanU Artist's Collective?