Chapter 21

“YOU put it there, Zekkie?” gasped Ishka.

The former Nagus nodded. “Yes, I did,” he said. “Gint’s scroll is very valuable, you know. I was afraid that someday a clever businessman would calculate the odds and decide that stealing the original . . .” He paused, looking into the distance, and his voice became wistful. “Knowing that it was his alone,” he continued, getting to his feet, “and that he could look at it every day, could touch it, hold it, and feel the fire within that comes from knowing that he . . .” Again he paused, his fingers tightening around his drinking glass, which would have shattered if he’d been younger and stronger. “That he owns the most valuable item on the planet!”

Almost vibrating with fervor, Zek tottered backward and flopped into his chair. He took several deep breaths, then continued. “Where was I? Oh! Yes. Well, he might decide that an act of larceny is worth the horrible disgrace he would face if he got caught! Think what a terrible blow that would be for Ferengi civilization!

“So fourteen years ago I had a copy made,” the old man said. “I put that one in the Vault, and I moved the real one to the safest place I know.”

For a moment, the room was silent—and then the silence gave way to an explosion of emotion. Ishka sobbed with happiness. Leeta and Bena joined hands and danced in a circle around Rom, screaming with laughter. Rom simply stood there, face tilted upward, swearing silently that he would never, ever, ever remove anything from the Vaults of Opulence again. Particularly not if it was something Quark wanted.

Quark leaned against the tongo table, so relieved that he actually felt light-headed. He could feel his knees shaking, but when he noticed Odo studying him, a faint smile creasing his normally smooth face, Quark straightened at once and gave the shapeshifter a nod that said “You see—everything turned out fine, the way it always does.”

Then Quark turned to Zek and said, “That was very clever of you.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” Zek replied. He looked very proud of himself, like the crafty Zek of old.

Rom approached and smiled tentatively. “Um, Zek, you know I’m, uh, accountable for that scroll, and I’ll probably have to show it to the Congress of Economic Advisors when I get home. So . . . will you tell me where that very safe place is?”

Zek began to answer . . . but then he stopped, bewildered. “I . . . I . . . don’t know.”

Quark uttered an expletive. Loudly.

“Mind your mouth,” said Ishka. Turning back to Zek, she said, “Listen to me, baby. You need to concentrate, and I’m sure it will come to you.”

Zek frowned. “No, no—you don’t understand. I didn’t forget. I don’t know where it is because I never knew. I asked Maihar’du to look after it. Maihar’du never forgets anything. He has it somewhere, and he brings it out and shows it to me every now and then. It’s very pretty,” the frail old Ferengi said with a sigh. “And then he puts it back . . . somewhere safe.”

Odo looked around the room. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen Maihar’du on the station during the former Grand Nagus’s entire visit. “Where is Maihar’du?” the Changeling asked. “I thought he never left Zek’s side.”

“He doesn’t,” confirmed Ishka, “and I can’t tell you how much he wanted to come along for the ceremony. But he’s sick. The poor man is suffering from a bad bout of Hupyrian quinsy.” She gestured at her throat. “It’s very painful. He can barely make a sound.”

“How could you tell?” interjected Quark. “He never talks anyway, with that stupid vow of silence.”

“He talks to me,” snapped Zek, shaking a finger at Quark. “That’s all that counts.” He looked around the room. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Back on Ferenginar, sweetie. Remember how we put him to bed with that poultice of dried Matopin rock fungi, mahko root, Mayak Swamp mud, Yigrish yogurt, and a pinch of salt?”

“It was delicious,” Zek noted, smiling at Ishka. “Thank you for letting me lick the bowl.”

Quark’s mind had already moved on to the next stage. “We need to have Zek contact Maihar’du on Ferenginar right away,” he said, “and tell him to get out here with that scroll.”

“I’m telling you he’s too sick to travel!” Ishka argued. “You’ll have to go to him.”

Rom cast a worried look at his brother. “But if any of us show up on Ferenginar right now—”

Quark nodded. “They’ll arrest us on sight. Thank you, Eisla!” he growled.

“Maybe I could go,” suggested Leeta.

“The Bajoran First Lady of Ferenginar? Yeah. Right—nobody knows your face,” Quark intoned sarcastically.

“Then who?” challenged Leeta.

And then, as the shapeshifter had known they ultimately would, all eyes turned to him. Odo sighed. “All right. I’ll go. I can fly there faster on my own than one of you could in a shuttle anyway. Let him know that I’m coming and what I’ll need.”

He turned to leave—only to be waylaid by Zek, who had a request. “Could you ask him to send me my slippers?”

“Your slippers are here, honey,” Ishka said softly.

“I mean my special slippers,” Zek whispered. “I miss them.”

Odo glanced at Ishka quizzically.

“Oh—he must mean his tribble slippers,” she explained.

“Made from real tribbles!” Zek bragged. “They make my feet feel happy.”

Odo headed for the nearest airlock.