“Oh,” Leia said, taken slightly aback. “Please express our sympathies, and ask if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“They thank you,” Threepio said after another exchange of songs. “But they assure you that will not be necessary. There is no danger to him, merely inconvenience.” The droid hesitated. “I really don’t think you should inquire further, Your Highness,” he added, a bit delicately. “The complaint appears to be of a rather personal nature.”
“I understand,” Leia said gravely, suppressing a smile at the prim tone of the droid’s voice. “Well, in that case, I suppose we might as well return to the Falcon until he feels ready to continue.”
The droid translated, and one of their escort stepped forward and sang something in reply. “He offers an alternative, Your Highness: that he would be eager to conduct you on a tour of the marketplace while you wait.”
Leia glanced at Han and Luke. “Any objections?”
The Bimm sang something else. “He further suggests that Master Luke and Captain Solo might find something to interest them in the Tower’s upper chambers,” Threepio said. “Apparently, there are relics there dating from the middle era of the Old Republic.”
A quiet alarm went off in the back of Leia’s mind. Were the Bimms trying to split them up? “Luke and Han might like the market, too,” she said cautiously.
There was another exchange of arias. “He says they would find it excessively dull,” Threepio told her. “Frankly, if it’s anything like marketplaces I’ve seen-“
“I like marketplaces,” Han cut him off brusquely, his voice dark with suspicion. “I like ‘em a lot.”
Leia looked at her brother. “What do you think?”
Luke’s eyes swept the Bimms; measuring them, she knew, with all of his Jedi insight. “I don’t see what danger they could be,” he said slowly. “I don’t sense any real duplicity in them. Nothing beyond that of normal politics, anyway.”
Leia nodded, her tension easing a little. Normal politics-yes, that was probably all it was. The Bimm probably just wanted the chance to privately bend her ear on behalf of his particular viewpoint before the talks got started in earnest. “In that case,” she said, inclining her head to the Bimm, “we accept.”
“The marketplace has been in this same spot for over two hundred years,” Threepio translated as Han and Leia followed their host up the gentle ramp between the second and third levels of the open dome structure. “Though not in this exact form, of course. The Tower of Law, in fact, was built here precisely because it was already a common crossroads.”
“Hasn’t changed much, has it?” Han commented, pressing close to Leia to keep them from getting run down by a particularly determined batch of shoppers. He’d seen a lot of marketplaces on a lot of different planets, but seldom one so crowded.
Crowded with more than just locals, too. Scattered throughout the sea of yellow-clad Bimms-don’t they ever wear any other color?-he could see several other humans, a pair of Baradas, an Ishi Tib, a group of Yuzzumi, and something that looked vaguely like a Paonnid.
“You can see why this place is worth getting into the New Republic,” Leia murmured to him.
“I guess so,” Han conceded, stepping to one of the booths and looking at the metalware displayed there. The owner/operator sang something toward him, gesturing to a set of carving knives. “No, thanks,” Han told him, moving back. The Bimm continued to jabber at him, his gestures becoming sharper- “Threepio, will you have our host tell him that we’re not interested?” he called to the droid.
There was no response. “Threepio?” he repeated, looking around.
Threepio was staring off into the crowd. “Hey, Goldenrod,” he snapped. “I’m talking to you.”
Threepio spun back. “I’m terribly sorry, Captain Solo,” he apologized. “But our host seems to have disappeared.”
“What do you mean, disappeared?” Han demanded, looking around. Their particular Bimm, he remembered, had worn a set of shiny pins on his shoulders.
Pins that were nowhere to be seen. “How could he just disappear?”
Beside him, Leia gripped his hand. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she said tightly. “Let’s get back to the Tower.”
“Yeah,” Han agreed. “Come on, Threepio. Don’t get lost.” Shifting his grip on Leia’s hand, he turned—
And froze. A few meters away, islands in the churning sea of yellow, three aliens stood facing them. Short aliens, not much taller than the Bimms, with steel-gray skin, large dark eyes, and protruding jaws.