When he reached it a short time later, he cautiously ventured out, knee-deep, and then squatted down to let the pounding surf sluice over him. Again and again the waves washed over the Corellian, rinsing away all trace of the red muck.
Then Han went over to the sandy shore, found a smooth patch, and stretched out to dry. He felt the dim Ylesian sun beating down on him, drying him, leaving his hair salt-stiffened and tousled. But anything’s better than that mud, he thought drowsily.
He was almost asleep when Han jerked awake, remembering something he’d forgotten. He got to his feet, walked over to his clothes, then fumbled with his belt pouch. Looking carefully around before he did so, he withdrew the tiny audio-log recording device he’d “borrowed” from the Ylesian Dream and, seeing that it was still running, turned it off with a decisive snap.
Satisfied that he’d successfully recorded the entire exchange between himself and the Ylesian priests, Han walked back to his spot, lay down on the warm sand, and took a well-deserved nap.
8
evelations
Han flew many missions for the Ylesians during the next three months.
Several times he was able, with Muuurgh’s complicity, to make small “side runs” to hone his piloting skills and to allow Muuurgh to practice with the weaponry. Han successfully landed vessels on airless moons, on ice moons, even on a small asteroid, barely bigger than his ship. He learned to dock with a space station, matching airlocks perfectly on the first try.
As a result of Han’s run-in with the “pirates,” the Ylesian Hutts increased the weaponry and equipped their ships with better shielding.
They also tightened the security surrounding the dates and locations of their shipments, and refused to agree to any more off-planet rendezvous points. Instead, Han was ordered to fly his cargo to a planet and exchange the processed spice for the raw materials planetside. In a populated area, there was less chance of a double cross that might lead to an ambush.
Teroenza made it clear to Muuurgh that Vykk Draygo had passed muster as a trustworthy employee, so Muuurgh no longer felt compelled to spend every waking moment with the Corellian. The big Togorian was still bound by his promise to guard the pilot, however, and Muuurgh never forgot that.
True to his promise, Teroenza interviewed Bria and gave the Corellian woman the job of maintaining and cataloging his collection. Han was able to see her every day he was on Ylesia. Once she began getting better food in the mess hall, and healthy exposure to fresh air and sunlight, that pale, wan, too-thin look vanished, and her eyes grew bright, her step lighter, and her smile came more readily.
She liked her new job, both because she enjoyed caring for the antiquities and because she felt that serving the High Priest was a sacred honor. Bria continued to attend prayer times every morning and devotions every evening. When Han was on Ylesia, he usually walked her to and from the service.
Bria was offered a room in the Administration Center, but told Teroenza that she preferred to stay in the pilgrims’ dormitory. Not only did she enjoy the company of her fellow pilgrims at prayer time, but she found she was uneasy at the thought of occupying an apartment in the same building as Vykk Draygo. Bria Tharen was still wary of the Corellian, still unwilling to respond to the feelings he awakened in her. She was a pilgrim, she reminded herself constantly. Her loyalty, her duty, her spiritual self, was reserved for the One and the All.
Still, there was no doubt that she enjoyed Vykk’s company. He was so alive, so full of energy, so charming and attractive … Bria had never met anyone like him.
During the hour before evening devotions, when her daily work with the High Priest’s collection was done, Bria developed the habit of searching out Vykk and Muuurgh (they were almost always together) and then the three of them would go to the mess hall for a cup of stim-tea together…
Bria walked through the jungle, enjoying the small respite from the heat that the lowering sun brought. A breeze was blowing in off the ocean, which was where she was headed. She walked quickly, feeling the skirts of her tan pilgrim’s robe brushing the plants that grew along the edges of the path. Brilliant flowers hung from drooping vines . .
. scarlet, purple, and green-yellow. Their sharp, slightly astringent scent made her nostrils flare as she passed them.
The Exalted One, Teroenza, had told Bria that she was free to put on regular clothing, in place of her bulky pilgrim garb, pointing out that it would make it easier to tend his collection … but so far the girl clung to her robes, as she clung to her vows.
The young Corellian woman reached the mudflats and paused to make an obeisance before the mud wallow where two priests lounged. Both ignored her, but Bria was used to that. Priests paid little attention to pilgrims, unless they needed to direct them in their work. That was natural … their minds were on higher things, soaring on spiritual planes that humanoids like Bria could not hope to reach …