Han hadn’t seen much of Nal Hutta, since he and Nebl had been whisked into a droid-chauffeured landspeeder and taken south, to Jiliac’s remote Winter Palace. The Hutt Lord’s retreat was located on a small island near the equator. Jalus Nebl had informed Han that he was lucky, that this island was, by comparison with the rest of Nal Hutta, a virtual “garden spot” on this dank and noisome world.
This island reminded him of Ylesia—hot, humid, and full of giant trees choked with huge vines.
Han’s attention jerked back to the here and now when he realized that Dorzo, Jiliac’s Rodian majordomo, was beckoning to them. “His Supreme Excellency Jiliac, clan leader and protector of the righteous, will see you now.”
Hastily Han picked up his recorder, and then he and Nebl walked into the audience chamber.
It was huge. Han paced up the central aisle toward the dais, feeling the luxurious pile of an expensive carpet beneath his boots. The chamber was filled with fawning sycophants of all races, tastefully garbed dancing girls and boys, and an orchestra off in one corner. A massive buffet table heaped with food from a dozen worlds made his nostrils twitch as Han suddenly recalled that he’d forgotten to eat lunch.
Jiliac reclined at his ease on an audience dais, smoking something that Han couldn’t identify, but which he wanted no part of. Even the faint whiff he got of the expelled smoke made his head swim.
Jalus Nebl nudged Han, and he nervously stepped forward. “Almighty Jiliac,” he said in Huttese, recalling the speech Zawal had rehearsed with him, “we come from our Ylesian master Zawal the Hutt to bring you a message and a gift. First, the gift …” He beckoned to Nebl, and the Sullustan, as agreed, stepped forward.
Jiliac peered down at them, then ordered, in Huttese, “Open it. I wish to see what Zawal deems worthy of me.”
“Yes, Your Excellency,” squeaked the Sullustan, who set about slitting all the seals and releasing all the catches.
Han watched in fascination as the Sullustan raised the lid on the box and withdrew two crystalline globes with bronze supports, which he balanced one upon the other, and then placed the entire contraption upon a sturdy, curved bronze stand.
All of the metal was chased with gold and silver designs. There was a small housing on the back of the bottom globe that contained some kind of battery, Han thought. The Corellian stared at the thing in perplexity. He had no idea what the device was.
Jiliac did, however. “A combination hookah and snack-quarium!” he boomed, speaking, of course, in Huttese, which Han by this time understood very well. “And one almost worthy of our greatness! Just what I wanted! How did he know?” He turned his attention back to the two messengers and continued, more formally, “Messengers, Zavval’s gift pleases me. Let us hope his message does, as well. Activate it, human.”
Han bowed low, set the recorder on a low table, and switched it on.
Immediately a holo-simulacrum of Zavval appeared, filling the space before Jiliac’s dais. “My dear Jiliac,” Zavval said, stretching out a hand toward Jiliac, as though he could see the other and were really present. “Over the past year, some unfortunate occurrences have plagued our shipping operations out of Ylesia. Ships have disappeared, and one ship was attacked. As one of the heads of our Kajidier, it was my duty to trace down these despicable incursions.”
Jiliac’s pleased expression had faded. Han cast a nervous glance at the Sullustan. I sure hope he’s right about us being safe!
“We have traced these so-called ‘pirates’ to Nar Shaddaa, and recently my operatives have captured and questioned one of the captains of these vessels. This unfortunate individual revealed—before succumbing to a weak heart—that he was recruited and sent upon his villainous missions by you and your great-nephew, Jabba. Your enmity wounds us deeply—and what is more important, cuts into our profit margin. Be warned, Jiliac. Leave our shipments alone. Any more attacks will meet with swift reprisal upon you and your clan. We have assembled a great fleet, which will surely vanquish your paltry forces.”
We have? thought Han wildly. There’s just me and Nebl! Zavval’s bluffing.
Or did he recently hire more pilots?
Zavval’s message continued, inexorably, “Accept our gift as a peace offering, or meet with grim consequences—among which your own death will be the least. Jiliac, I appeal to you in the name of Hutt brotherhood to cease hijacking and terrorizing our vessels. We can make a much better profit if we work together, instead of contending with each other.”
By this time, Han and the Sullustan were backing away in terror, because Jiliac was swelling up like a poisoned wound. “Heed my warning, Jiliac. Cease your—” “AiiiiiieeeeeeaaaaaaarrrrrrrRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”