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scans of the mountainsides—if there had been any, surely this complex would have been discovered sooner.
    The opening was larger than an ordinary window, larger than the usual door. She walked up to it on tentative feet, testing each step for weakness, maybe a trap.
    A tingling pressure met her fingers when she reached out. It felt like a force wall. She froze, her eyes darting in search of its source. Nothing in the literature about Maj indicated any capability of this sort. She should know; she’d had to study the Rim to learn what artifacts collectors were interested in and how to find and identify them. She couldn’t spot what generated the force wall. When she aimed her comp at its edges, the scan turned up blank: unknown source. She took comfort from that—at least the force wall hadn’t been installed by another Rim rat.
    She pushed her head and a hand through and found the stinging wind she’d expected. And got a shock at seeing her disembodied hand emerge from apparently solid rock.
    This was no ordinary force wall. None of the conglomerates used this kind of tech, especially not in the Rim. If they could build this advanced a force wall, they wouldn’t waste it out here where there was no profit to be made, nor would they leave it behind.
    Asrial stared at the mountains, an endless vista with countless valleys, and couldn’t help but wonder if there were many more such complexes hidden in them, in the entire planet.
    How long she was lost in her thoughts, she didn’t know. It took the prickling of her nose to recall her to herself. Other hidden complexes had no bearing on the here and now. She could fit only so much in the Castel ’s hold. This was probably a once-in-a-lifetime find. She could break her heart and her pocket trying to find another. Not a good idea.
    At least with the force wall, she wouldn’t have to thread the maze back to the fissure the way she’d been doing. She’d take her blessings wherever she found them. The Spirit of space knew, they were few enough—she could count them on one hand with fingers to spare.
    But if this collection sold as well as she hoped, she might have to start on her other hand.
    On that cheerful thought, she resumed her exploration.
    Asrial found more force walls looking out into the mountains, convincing arguments that they were Majian work. The conglomerates wouldn’t have made them permanent installations, which made it unlikely someone would come swooping in to grab her find from under her.
    She turned a corner and stopped before she stepped on a long pool of glass roughly bisected by a metal groove. Gravity must have taken its toll. Had that been artwork?
    The room beyond thrust her Rim rat’s disappointment at lost profit right out the airlock and straight into amazement. Here, the quake had left its mark. Debris from broken walls and fallen shelves littered the floor, like the remnants of a giant’s rampage. But untouched amid all the destruction was what looked like a vase or a flask of some sort. It had a wide base and a long, narrow neck topped by a heart-shaped lid. Just visible under the dust was a distinctive golden brown with some dark tracery around the thickest part.
    Asrial inhaled sharply, stunned by her discovery. Majian pottery! And intact. The examples she’d seen in museum catalogs were typically shards. She could think of dozens of collectors who’d pay insane sums for an intact piece. She screwed her eyes shut, cautioning herself to throttle back on the enthusiasm. Don’t spend those credits before they’re in the bank. This was just one side. For all she knew, it could have suffered massive damage somewhere she couldn’t see.
    Excitement urged her to find out, one way or the other, but the rubble made an immediate inspection impossible. The uneven footing forced her to choose her approach carefully. Haste wasn’t her friend. If she misstepped and broke a leg, no one would come to her aid.
    Climbing over the remains of a