THE PARADISE SNARE(71)
She smiled at him shakily. “I paid an awful price for it, but if it helps us … I guess it was worth it.”
“It will be,” Han promised. “Trust me. I swear it will be.”
She nodded.
“So all we have to do is avoid arousing suspicion until we’re ready to make the break. That’s gonna be easy for me—Nebl and I will be offworld.
Think you can manage to just do business as usual here till we get back?”
“I think so,” she said. “But … hurry back!”
“I will, sweetheart,” he said.
Bria gave Han a pleading look. “After we’re free, could we go to Corellia, Vykk? I want to see my folks again. I want to let them know I’m all right.”
Han gave her a reassuring smile. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got some business to take care of on Corellia, so that’ll be one of our first stops, okay?”
She gave him a radiant answering smile. “Okay.”
When Vykk left her at the door to her dorm, Bria told herself that she’d just go upstairs and take a nap until it was time to go to dinner. If anyone asked, she’d plead a headache as an excuse for missing devotions.
But when she reached her room, she picked up her pilgrim’s robe and cap and stood holding them. Tomorrow, she thought. I’ll start tomorrow.
After all, I’ve had a rough couple of days. Nobody could expect me to miss the Exultation just like that. I need a day to work myself up to it…
And before she knew what she was doing, Bria found herself back in her robes and cap, hurrying down the Path of Immortality, toward the Altar of Promises …
Two days later a jittery Han and a placid Jalus Nebl stood waiting outside Jiliac the Hutt’s audience room in his Winter Palace. A small holo-recording device rested at Han’s feet; it was designed to project a visual and audio simulacrum of the sender. Nebl was steadying a large, elaborate box on an anti-grav lifter. The box contained the gift Zavval the Hutt had sent to his business associate, and sometime rival, Jiliac.
“Wonder how much longer we’ll have to wait?” Han muttered nervously, pacing a bit. “It’s been almost an hour.”
“For an audience with a clan leader, this is nothing,” Jalus Nebl said.
“Once I waited two days to even reach the antechamber. And don’t forget, we’ve got to wait for a reply. Once I waited a week.”
“Don’t tell me that,” Han grumbled. “I don’t want to hear about everything that can go wrong. I’m still skeptical that we’re gonna walk out of this place alive. Hutts are notoriously bad-tempered, y’know.”
“I already told you, we’re perfectly safe,” the Sullustan replied.
“Forgive me if I’m being dense, but why can you be so sure of that?”
Han snapped.
“Long ago, in the early days of their coming to Nal Hutta, Hutts lost so many messengers that communications between the clans completely broke down, and everyone lost profit because of it,” Nebl explained.
“So all the clans made a sworn pact—a messenger from one Hutt to another is sacrosanct. While we’re delivering Zavval’s message, and taking back his reply, we cannot be touched or interfered with in any way.”
“Yeah, I sure hope you’re right,” Han mumbled. He looked over at the big box. “I thought Zavval was mad at Jiliac,” he whispered. “So how come he’s sending him a gift?”
Nebl shook his head. “Gifts are traditional. To gain a Hutt’s attention, you must either present him with a gift or threaten him or her. Sometimes Hutts do both at the same time.”
Han grimaced. “Weird. You sure you don’t have any idea what’s in there?
That box is big enough to hold most anything. Even a body, if you folded it up. I’d feel better if I knew.”
“The box is sealed,” Nebl pointed out. “If we open it, His Excellency Jiliac will know. We don’t want any trouble.”
“Yeah … I know.” Han grimaced and, to distract himself from his worries, looked around.
The antechamber was high-ceilinged, with skylights. It was built of light-colored stone, and the pale walls were hung with tapestries woven (it was said) by Jiliac’s enemies while they languished in his dungeons, waiting for the mercy of execution. One depicted the original Hutt homeworld, the desolate and barren planet Varl, and another the great cataclysm that destroyed it long, long ago. Still another showed the great
Hutt diaspora to Nal Hutta in the Y’Toub system. Nal Hutta, Han knew, meant glorious jewel in Huttese.
The last tapestry was a full-sized portrait of Jiliac himself, reclining in state upon his lavishly appointed but tasteful dais.