THE PARADISE SNARE(40)

“My species is long-lived, as are our cousins, the Hutts,” Teroenza said.

“I have been collecting for hundreds of Standard years—longer than you, in your youth, can imagine, Pilot.”

“I’d really like to get a grand tour sometime,” Han said.

“I wish my collection were in condition to be viewed,” Teroenza said regretfully. “Ganar Tos, though an excellent cook and an efficient houseboy, hasn’t the training to maintain it, much less catalog and arrange everything properly. And I am too busy to indulge myself that way.” The giant being gave them a dismissive wave of a tiny hand.

“That will be all for now. I shall see you upon your return, Pilot.”

“Yessir.” Han stood and beckoned to Muuurgh. They left, escorted by Veratil.

Once outside, the Sacredot went off on an errand, leaving them to themselves. Han glanced at his chrono and then at the westering sun.

“Tonight I’m going to start training you on gunner’s duties,” he told the Togorian, “but right now, I think we’re owed a break. Matter of fact, we’re just in time to visit the refectory where the pilgrims eat.

Let’s go.”

“Why?” Muuurgh asked. “Pilot not want pilgrim food. Pilot and Muuurgh eat in mess hall … get decent food, not garbage.”

Han shook his head and started walking down the path that led through the jungle to the pilgrims area. “I don’t wanna eat with the pilgrims, pal,” he explained. “I just want to talk to some of them. I figure at dinner, they’ll all be together, and I can find … them …

easier.”

“Them?” Muuurgh echoed. “How many is ‘them’?”

“Uh … well, you see …” Han started, then he stopped, grimacing.

“Just one,” he admitted. “Pilgrim 921, the one I saw the other day.

I’d like to see what she really looks like.”

Muuurgh nodded. “Ah, yessss … Muuurgh understand very well what Pilot wants.”

Han felt his face grow hot, and was glad that the Togorian wouldn’t recognize that giveaway as a sign of embarrassment.

“You know, Muuurgh, old pal,” he said, deliberately changing the subject, “you speak pretty good Basic for someone who’s been speaking it for less than a year. But there’s one part of speech you ain’t mastered yet, and that’s the pronoun. Never thought I’d find myself playing schoolteacher, but, here goes …”

The two walked on down the path together, as Han laboriously covered the grammatical rules governing the use of pronouns …

Once in the refectory, Han and Muuurgh roamed the huge dining area.

Han glanced from face to face, wondering if he’d manage to recognize her without the goggles, in normal light. Her hair had been covered by the cap, so he didn’t even know if it was dark or light.

He walked faster, realizing the meal was nearly over, and he still hadn’t found 921. Maybe she wasn’t here. Maybe she ate during another shift, the way he heard some of the pilgrims did. But he’d thought most of the humanoids ate during this shift-There she is. That’s her!

Han wasn’t even sure how he knew … but he was as positive as if she’d had a sign around her neck that read PILGRIM 921.

Seen in normal light, he could tell that she was tall, and slender—too slender, really. Her cheekbones stood out prominently, and her eyes seemed even larger than they were in her thin, excessively pale, face.

But too thin or not, she was, quite simply, lovely. Not classically beautiful. Her jaw was a little too wide and squarish, her nose a bit too long, for classic beauty. But lovely … oh, yes …

921 had big bluegreen eyes, long, dark lashes, and poreless white skin.

Several locks of short, curly hair had escaped from beneath her pilgrim’s cap, and Han saw that it was reddish-gold—the color of a Corellian sunset on a clear day.

The refectory hall was usually pretty quiet. The pilgrims didn’t talk much, tired as they were from a long day’s work in the factories, and the approaching Exultation. But they usually ate in groups.

921 was all alone.

Han saw that she was poking at her dinner, and after one look at the unappetizing mess of gruellike porridge, limp greens, and flatbread on her plate, he didn’t blame her. The food smelled bad—almost spoiled.

Han’s nose wrinkled as he pulled out the seat opposite her and sat down. He was dimly aware of Muuurgh, leaning against the wall, watching him.

921—I’ve GOT to get her to tell me her real name!—looked up, and her turquoise eyes widened as she recognized him. Han was inordinately pleased about that and grinned at her. “Hello. Found you again, see?”