[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(147)

Fey’lya glared at him, his fur flattening. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he knew it. “In the morning, then,” he growled.

“Good,” Karrde nodded. “If that’s all, then, I believe I’ll return to my quarters and rest awhile before dinner.”

He looked across at Leia : and suddenly, there was something different in his face or his sense. She nodded fractionally, and his gaze slid unconcernedly away from her as he stood up. “Mon Mothma; Councilor Fey’lya,” he said, nodding to each in turn. “It’s been interesting.”

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Fey’lya said darkly.

A faintly sardonic smile touched Karrde’s lips. “Of course.

“Then I declare this meeting adjourned,” Mon Mothma said, making it official.

“Let’s go,” Leia murmured to Han as the others began collecting their data cards together.

“What’s going on?” he murmured back.

“I think Karrde wants to talk,” she told him. “Come on-I don’t want to get bogged down here talking to Mon Mothma.”

“Yeah, well, you go on,” Han said, his voice oddly preoccupied.

She frowned at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. His eyes flicked over her shoulder, and she glanced around in time to see Fey’lya stride from the room. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you.”

“All right,” she said, frowning at him.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, reaching down to squeeze her hand. “I just need to talk to Fey’lya for a minute.”

“What about?”

“Personal stuff.” He tried one of those lopsided smiles she usually found so endearing. It didn’t look nearly so innocent this time as it normally did. “Hey-it’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m just going to talk to him. Trust me.

“I’ve heard that before,” Leia sighed. But Luke had already left the room, and Karrde was on his way out : and Mon Mothma had that look about her that signified that she was about to come over and ask Leia for a favor. “Just try to be diplomatic, all right?”

His eyes flicked over her shoulder again. “Sure,” he said. “Trust me.

Fey’lya was heading down the Grand Corridor toward the Assemblage chamber when Han caught sight of him, walking with that peculiar gait of someone who’s in a terrific hurry but doesn’t want anyone else to know it. “Hey!” Han called. “Councilor Fey’lya!”

The only response was a brief flush of pale red across the nearest of the line of ch’hala trees. Glowering at the back of Fey’lya’s head, Han lengthened his stride, and within a dozen quick paces had caught up with the other. “I’d like a word with you, Councilor,” he said.

Fey’lya didn’t look at him. “We have nothing to discuss,” he said.

“Oh, I think we do,” Han said, falling into step beside him. “Like maybe trying to find a way out of the jam you’re in here.”

“I thought your female was the diplomat of the family,” Fey’lya sniffed, throwing a sideways look at Han’s shirtfront.

“We take turns,” Han told him, trying real hard not to dislike the other. “See, what got you into trouble here was trying to play politics by Bothan rules. That bank thing made Ackbar look bad, so like any good Bothan, you jumped on him. Trouble is, no one else jumped with you, so you were left there all alone with your neck stuck way out and your political reputation on the line. You don t know how to back out gracefully, and you figure the only way to salvage your prestige is to make sure Ackbar goes down.”

“Indeed?” Fey’lya said acidly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have stuck my neck out, as you put it, because I truly believed Ackbar was guilty of treason?”

“Not really, no,” Han told him. “But a lot of other people think that, and that’s what’s got your reputation on the line. They can’t imagine anyone making such a fuss without some proof.”

“What makes you think I haven’t any proof?”

“For starters, the fact that you haven’t shown it,” Han said bluntly. “Then there’s the fact that you sent Breil’lya scrambling out to New Cov to try and make some sort of high-prestige deal with Senator Bel Iblis. That is what Breil’lya was doing out there, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fey’lya muttered.

“Right. And that’s the third thing: the fact that five minutes ago you were ready to throw Bel Iblis to the cravers if it would buy you enough time to bring in the Katana fleet.”