THE PARADISE SNARE(94)

“How about Dewlanna?” she asked.

“Yeah, I knew you’d bring her up.” Han ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Dewlanna was different. We looked out for each other, yeah. But she was the only one, Bria. The only one who gave a vrelt’s ass if I lived or died. Knowing that made me a … pragmatist, I guess.” “Of course it did,” she said. “That’s perfectly natural.”

“But go on,” he urged. “You were saying about how the pilgrims were ˇ . .

idealists. Are you one?”

She nodded. “I think so, Han. All my life I wanted to be more, to be better—to make the universe a better place because I was in it. When I found the Ylesian religion, I really, truly thought that was it.

That I could somehow change the universe by believing and having faith.” She smiled wryly and shrugged. “Obviously, I picked the wrong thing to believe in.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning over in his mind what she’d said. “But there are other things to believe in, Bria. Maybe some of ‘em are real.

Maybe you just have to find out what the real things are.”

She stood up and came over to him, then bent down to kiss the top of his head. He stood up and slid his arms around her, held her tightly.

“I know what one real thing is,” she said. “You’re real. You’re the most real person I’ve ever met. The most alive.”

He kissed her cheek, and she laid her head on his shoulder. They stood there like that for a minute, not speaking. Finally, he said, “Dewlanna told me about something she believed in. Some sort of lifestrength shared by all creatures, all things. She believed in that. She swore to me it was real.”

“Maybe I should go off to Kashyyyk,” she said. “On a pilgrimage.”

“Sure,” he said. “Someday we’ll go there. I’d like to see it.

Dewlanna said it was a beautiful world. They live in the treetops.”

“That would be nice,” she said dreamily. “Just you and me in a treetop.

What would we do with ourselves all day?” can think of one thing,” he said, and bent to kiss her with such passion that even the stars seemed to reel around her in long streaks, and her ears rang…

No, she realized, a moment later, it wasn’t Han’s kiss that had caused that reaction, it was the alarm beeping to tell them they were coming out of hyperspace. Han grimaced. “Talk about bad timing, sweetheart.

But …

later, okay?”

She smiled. “Later … I’ll hold you to it.”

He was already back in his seat as he checked their coordinates, but he spared a moment to give her a grin that made her heart turn over. “I can hardly wait …”

Han set the Talisman down in a privately owned landing field on Tralus.

“What is this place?” Bria said, following him down the ramp and looking around her in bewilderment. Ships of all sizes and descriptions were clustered together. Some were little more than rusted-out hulks ˇ . .

others looked almost brandnew. None had any identifying codes or names, however. Those markings had been scoured off by laser torches.

“It’s like … a ship’s graveyard or something.”

“Yeah. Old spaceships never die … they just wind up at Truthful Toryl’s Used Spaceship Lot,” Han said. “When you need a ship, or you want to get rid of a ship, and you don’t want to leave a … trail .

. . you come here.”

Her eyes widened. “These ships are all … stolen?” “Most of ‘em,” he said. “Ours is, too … remember?” Bria grimaced. “I keep trying to forget.”

Han glanced over at the small office set in the middle of the vast landing field. “And here comes Truthful Toryl himself,” he said.

Truthful Toryl was a Duros, a tall, thin, blue-skinned humanoid.

Completely bald, his face was quite human except for the absence of a nose which gave him a mournful appearance. Han stepped forward, his hand held out. “Good day to you, Traveler Toryl,” he said. Duros loved to travel so much that the word “traveler” was their preferred honorific.

“I’m Keil d’Tana, and this is my associate, Kyloria m’Bal. Very pleased to meet you.”

“And I you,” Toryl said. “Greetings to two travelers. You have time for refreshment and sharing of stories?”

The Duros were famed for being wonderful storytellers throughout the galaxy. A Duros had a near-photographic memory for any story he or she heard. Most Duros “collected” stories, and apparently Toryl was no exception.

“I’m sorry,” Han said. “We are in a bit of a rush. There’s a passenger vessel we have to catch.”