Han stopped. "Two credits, just to look?" He pulled loose, then reached over and freed Leia as well. "You've been spending too much time in the suns."
The little creatures blinked up at him with long-lashed eyes so brown and deep that Leia felt instantly drawn to them.
"If such a small amount concerns you, think of it as a deposit," the first one said. "It's fully refundable when you bid on one of our items."
"We won't be bidding on your stuff, okay?" Han pushed be- tween the creatures and, drawing Leia after him, grumbled, "Squibs.
They'll sell you a bucket of air if you let them, and keep the bucket."
They came to a booth filled with exquisitely colored bowls made of some material so delicate Leia could see the shelf through the bottoms. A signscreen posted by the Barabel seller claimed they were alasl bowls, recovered from deposits deep in the Jundland Wastes and hand-carved by Tusken Raiders. She would have liked to stay and study the vessels with an eye toward bidding, but the press of prospective buyers made it a poor observation post, and they needed to locate the watch commander's guards. When some- thing went wrong, Han would want to know whom to blast.
They eased past the Barabel's booth and continued toward the back of the chamber, mentally tracing sight lines away from the Imperial officers and searching for someone attempting to keep them open.
"There's one." Han nodded toward a hulking, short-haired human feigning interest in a worthless lump of blaster-fused sand- glass. "Not too subtle, are they?"
"For the Empire, that is subtle," Leia said.
They quickly found two more guards, a male-female team mas- querading as a Kuati aristocrat and her telbun paramour.
Then they stopped at a booth containing several pieces of refined sculpture and half a dozen imagist gleaminks depicting Tatooine landscapes. Leia was particularly taken with a depiction of an ap- proaching sand squall and an empty sandrock basin tided The Last Lake. Then she came to a single, oversized holocube.
The image was of a sandy-haired boy of perhaps nine or ten, standing in front of an old Podracer cockpit with a pair of goggles down around his neck and both arms raised high over his head. The joy in his grin was as contagious as it was innocent-he was clearly pretending he had just won a big race-but that was not what cap- tured Leia's attention.
There was something about those eyes that compelled her to stand there and stare, to forget the presence of Han and the vendor and simply look. They were Luke's eyes, Leia realized. They were the same radiant blue, they had the same depth and softness as her brother's, and-most of all-they had a quiet intensity that burned as brightly as the twin suns themselves.
Leia saw again the white orbs that had taken the place of Luke's eyes in her dream aboard the Falcon, and she began to experience an eerie sense of connection to the boy. But this was not Luke; this boy's cheeks were too broad, his nose too small.
It was only a dream.
And dreams were not the future, Leia reminded herself. They were viewports into a person's private wisdom, hints of the truths kept trapped in the mind's forgotten recesses by the twin vornskrs of fear and desire. Those eyes aboard the Falcon, Tatooine's two suns, the Tatooine boy, they were trying to tell her something.
But what?
For now, the explanation would have to remain a mystery, as would the reason the boy's image brought the dream so forcefully to mind. A slender, swarthy man of around fifty was approaching, his dark eyes fixed not on Leia's face, but on her hands. They were clasped just below her waist in a manner she often used when speaking in public. Her personal assistant, Winter, had gone so far as to call the gesture distinctive-and to caution her against using it when she wished to remain anonymous.
Cursing herself for falling into old habits, Leia quickly un- clasped her hands and draped one over Han's shoulder. The man, apparently the owner of the holocube, raised his gaze and pre- tended not to notice. With black hair and dark skin, he had an air of reserve about him that suggested good breeding or-more likely on Tatooine-offworld training. He looked Leia directly in the eye and flashed an easy smile that seemed as sincere as it was bright.
"It doesn't surprise me that you find this holo so fascinating," the man said.
Leia felt Han bristle at the vendor's knowing tone. She squeezed his shoulder to caution restraint, then put on her best Twi'lek doxy attitude.
"Sure, I love little kids." She glanced around the booth for a signscreen identifying the holocube and found it on the floor, smashed and unreadable. "Especially human kids."
The vendor smiled shrewdly. "Of course. But the boy in this cube is no longer a child. It was taken when he won the Boonta Eve Classic, more than forty years ago."
"Won it?" Han scoffed. "Look, don't think you're talking to a pair of nerf herders here. Even when Podracing was legal, humans didn't have the reflexes to survive it-much less win, and especially not as kids."
The vendor ignored Han. "I don't want to part with it. He was my best friend, but times are hard. Still, if you'd care to strike a bar- gain before the auction, I'd be willing to offer it to you now."
"Yeah, I'll bet you would." Han pulled Leia away. "Come on, Tails."
As soon as they were out of the man's earshot, Han asked, "So who's the kid?"
"How should I know?"
"You were sure staring at him," Han said. "I didn't think you were such a fan of holography."
"I'm not. His eyes reminded me of someone-and we have other things to worry about. That vendor might have recognized me." Leia told him about the hands. "Winter says I do that all the time in holocasts, and she's right. He might have been asking for a bribe."
Or he might be an Imperial plant trying to draw you out,"
Han said. "I don't like this, and it's definitely not a good idea to draw attention to ourselves by starting a bidding war against the Empire."
He turned toward the Squibs' booth.
"Han, you can't be serious. What do a bunch of overgrown pack rats know about art?"
"Nothing." He pulled four credits from his robe. "But they know auctions."
The two Squibs in front of the mirrfield gave up on the Togo- rians they were harassing and watched with condescending smirks as Leia and Han approached. Han held out the hand with the credits.
"One word and we leave," he said. "Just show us the stuff."
The leader-at least Leia thought it was the leader-looked as though he was thinking of asking for more. Han put the credits back in his pocket, and the Squib surprised Leia by shrugging and turning to look for another customer.
Han sighed, and when he pulled his hand from his pocket, it was holding six credits. "We don't have all day."
The Squib's eyes brightened, and he held up ten fingers.
"Seven," Han said. "And it's not worth that much."
The Squib lowered one finger. Han pulled two more credits from his pocket, so now he was holding eight. Even then, they almost had to leave before the Squib finally raised his palm and motioned for the money.
The Squib rubbed the credits against his furred cheek, then nodded and passed them to his fellow, who did the same thing and passed them through the mirrfield. Only after the third Squib had inspected and approved the coins did they allow the Solos into the booth.
It was filled with the same collection of used handicrafts, twisted plasteel-labeled by a signscreen FOUND SCULPTURE-and mawkish planetscapes Leia had glimpsed earlier. The Squibs imme- diately began to offer items for inspection, carefully rubbing each object against their furred cheeks before attempting to press it into Han and Leia's hands. And, mindful of the threat with which Han had opened negotiations, they did it all without speaking a word.
Han pushed a smashed cooling unit aside and said, "Stop! I told you before, we're not interested in your stuff. That's not why we're here."
The leader was so shocked he nearly dropped a chipped bone- glass bowl. "You're not?"
This drew a pair of stern shushes from his fellows.
"Don't
worry," Leia said. "We want to talk. We just needed to be someplace private first."
"Talk's not cheap," the second Squib warned.
"Time is money," the third chimed in.
Han turned to Leia and rolled his eyes. "You had to say it."
"Listen," Leia said. "We need you to do a job for us."
The booth fell silent, and the leader turned his head aside, glaring at her out of one eye.
"We don't do jobs. We're not hirelings."
"We want to strike a bargain," Han corrected.
"A bargain?" The leader clasped his small hands together.
"What wares?"
"Killik Twilight," Leia said. "We want you to buy it for us."
"We supply the funds," Han said quickly. "You have the fun."
The Squibs looked at each other, nodded, and the leader said,
"Deal."
"But you have to buy all our stock," the second Squib added.
"We don't need your stock," Leia said. "We don't have anyplace to put it."
" Not our problem," the third said.
"We can get you a magnetic freight compartment."
"Won't even scratch your yacht."
It was growing difficult to keep track of which one was speaking.
"Only a thousand extra."
"How about we just pay you for your stock?" Leia asked. "And you can still sell it at the auction."
"Can't do that."
"You're buying it at auction. That's the deal."
"Look, we don't want your stuff," Han said.
"Then why are you taking the freight compartment?"
"We're not," Leia said.
"And we're not buying at auction," Han said. "We're not agreeing to that. We're not dumb enough to let you have someone run up the bidding."
"So how dumb are you?"
"Maybe just one-"
"No!" Han shouted. The Squibs fell silent and blinked up at him in shock. Finally he rolled his eyes and asked, "Okay, how much stock do you have?"
And they were off, the Squibs offering and Han and Leia counter- offering, pulling one element out of the deal and throwing two more in, the negotiation moving at the speed of sound and almost in- stantly growing as complex as anything Leia had seen as a New Republic diplomat. By the time they were finished, it was agreed that Han and Leia or their designated agent would bid on three items of their own choosing from each category, the maximum price be determined by a complex formula based on bid increments, with each side being allowed one sleeper among the attendees.
"And we get the painting after you buy it," Leia said. "I just want to be sure of that."
All three nodded. "That's right," the leader said. "As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, a deal is a deal."
"Good. I'm Limba." Leia extended her hand. "It's been an education doing business with you. Jaxal is right-you guys are good."
The Squibs puffed out their chests visibly.
"You did all right," the leader said. He rubbed his cheek across
Leia's palm, then across Han's, then jerked a thumb at his chest.
"I'm Grees. That's Sligh."
Grees indicated the second Squib, who stepped forward and rubbed his cheek over the hands of both Han and Leia.
"And I'm Elama." The third Squib pressed her cheek to Leia's hand. "I've seen worse from a Twi'lek."
"Thank you," Leia said. "I think."
Han waited for Elama to nuzzle his hand, then asked, "Which one's coming to see the painting? I want to be sure you know what you're bidding on."
Elama and Grees turned to Sligh expectantly.
Sligh let out a heavy sigh. "I'll go." He shook his head in dis- gust. "But when I come back, I'm out front."
They emerged from behind the mirrfield to find the Impe- rial officers, having already completed their inspection, leaving the dance house. A tangible sense of relief filled the air, and the polite murmur intensified to an electric drone. More prospective pur- chasers appeared out of dark corners and the backs of the booths, the beverage bars on the satellite stages began to do a brisk business. Leia, Han, and Sligh took their place at the back of the line and had to wait nearly an hour before their turn came to go through the mirrfield.
Instead of the painting, inside the trio found half a dozen of Mawbo's thugs in nylar tunics and shimmersilk capes, all holding blaster rifles trained on their prospective purchasers.
"Don't worry," a Rodian said. His cone-shaped snout twitched toward the dark corner to Leia's right, and someone came up from behind and blindfolded her. "Just a security precaution."
"How much security do you need?" Han grumbled. "You have a Weequay sniffer checking for blasters."
"You want to see the moss or not?"
Han fell silent. They were led through the back of the booth, down a long hallway, then up a liftglide into a quiet area reeking of acrid thaq smoke. Their blindfolds were removed. The trio found themselves standing in a dark chamber before a section of wall illu- minated by an overhead glow panel and flanked by two Gamorrean guards. In the middle of the wall hung the velvety rectangle of a sublimely colored Alderaanian moss-painting, its moisture-control apparatus artfully concealed within an internal frame. It was smaller than Leia remembered, no more than fifty centimeters across, but even more beautiful and moving.
"Killik Twilight," a harsh female voice croaked behind her.
"You got two minutes."
Leia wanted to protest that two minutes was not nearly enough, not after a decade of trying to keep its bold composition and subtle hues locked in her mind. She had thought it a treasure forever lost to her-and to future generations of Alderaanian descendants. And now here it was, hanging in front of her close enough to touch, with its stormy sky sweeping over of a city of Killik pinnacles and, in the foreground, its line of enigmatic insectoid figures-the van- ished species who had inhabited Alderaan before humans-turning to look back at the approaching darkness. She could never look upon it without marveling at the artist's prescience, wondering how
Ob Khaddor could have seen so clearly what Palpatine's rise meant for the galaxy... and how he could have expressed his sorrow so beautifully and completely in such a small space.
"You need to verify it, go ahead," the harsh voice said. "But brush sampling only. No clipping."
Sligh instantly stepped forward, already turning his furry cheek toward the painting.
Leia barely caught the Squib in time. "No!"
"Who's going to be buying this thing, you or us?" Sligh demanded, the lip of his muzzle lifted in an irritated snarl. "We have to check the merchandise."
"It's the real thing." Leia pulled the Squib away. "I don't need a test kit to tell me that." She glanced over to find Han staring at the painting, his gaze fixed and his jaw slack with wonder.
After eight years together, it was good to know Han could still surprise her.
Chapter 3
Han had never been so moved by a piece of art. For the next two hours, as they sat at a local tapcaf waiting for the auction to begin, his thoughts kept returning to the painting, to how the Killiks were turning to face the storm. The image reminded Han that people-and bugs-were swept through life by forces they could not understand, that in the tempests life threw at them, they could control nothing but their own reactions. That was something Han tended to forget when the winds ran against him, and it was one of the things he loved most about Leia-the way she never flinched in a storm, the way she always stood firm while those around her were being blown off their feet.
Han wanted Leia to have that moss-painting. She had spent her youth looking at Killik Twilight every time she left her bed- chamber, and it was the one physical connection to her family's palace that had survived the destruction of Alderaan. And, not that it mattered to potential bidders, it probably still belonged to her.
Han would have hesitated to call the seller a thief-the moss- painting had been in transit, and galactic salvage laws applied to art- work like anything else-but there was a
reason it was being sold on a lawless planet like Tatooine, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with the health benefits of dry desert air.
Like every tapcaf near Mawbo's Performance Hall, the one in which he and Leia sat was so packed that the air was almost humid with breath moisture. The customers-mostly bidders waiting for the auction to start-were chattering among themselves, decked out in their finest outfits and trying not to be too obvious as they appraised the competition. Slumped in a dim corner and doing their best to appear crassly involved with each other, Han and Leia drew few long glances. Chewbacca and C-3PO were in a tapcaf across the street, far enough away to avoid being associated with "Jaxal" and
Star Wars - Tatooine Ghost Page 4