Unless, of course, he didn’t want them to see when he was coming back.
“That is evident, Your Highness,” Threepio agreed, his voice taking on a professorial tone. “I feel certain, however, that their status in that regard has been changed only recent-Well!” he broke off as Chewbacca abruptly pushed past him and lumbered back toward the center of the ship.
“Where are you going?” Leia called after the Wookiee. His only reply was some comment about the Imperials that she wasn’t quite able to catch. “Chewie, get back here,” she snapped. “Khabarakh will be back any minute.”
This time the Wookiee didn’t bother to answer. “Great,” Leia muttered, trying to decide what to do. If Khabarakh came back and found Chewbacca gone-but if he came and found both of them gone- “As I was saying,” Threepio went on, apparently deciding that the actions of rude Wookiees were better left ignored, “all the evidence I have gathered so far about this culture indicates that they were until recently a nonspacefaring people. Khabarakh’s reference to the dukha-obviously a clan center of some sort-the familial and clan structures themselves, plus this w,hole preoccupation with your perceived royal status-“
“The high court of Alderaan had a royal hierarchy, too,” Leia reminded him tartly, still looking back along the empty corridor. No, she decided, she and Threepio had better stay here and wait for Khabarakh. “Most other people in the galaxy didn’t consider us to be socially primitive.”
“No, of course not,” Threepio said, sounding a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to imply any such thing.”
“I know,” Leia assured him, a little embarrassed herself at jumping on Threepio like that. She’d known what he meant. “Where is he, anyway?”
The question had been rhetorical; but even as she voiced it the hatchway abruptly slid open again. “Come,” Khabarakh said. His dark eyes flicked over Leia and Threepio- “Where is the Wookiee?”
“He went back into the ship,” Leia told him. “I don’t know why. Do you want me to go and find him?”
Khabarakh made a sound halfway between a hiss and a purr. “There is no time,” he said. “The maitrakh is waiting. Come.”
Turning, he started back down the ramp. “Any idea how long it will take you to pick up the language?” Leia asked Threepio as they followed.
“I really cannot say, Your Highness,” the droid answered as Khabarakh led them across a dirt courtyard past the large wooden building they’d seen on landing-the clan dukha, Leia decided. One of the smaller structures beyond it seemed to be their goal. “Learning an entirely new language would be difficult indeed,” Threepio continued. “However, if it is similar to any of the six million forms of communication with which I am familiar-“
“I understand,” Leia cut him off. They were almost to the lighted building now; and as they approached, a pair of short Noghri standing in the shadows pulled open the double doors for them. Taking a deep breath, Leia followed Khabarakh inside.
From the amount of light coming through the windows she would have expected the building’s interior to be uncomfortably bright. To her surprise, the room they entered was actually darker than it had been immediately outside. A glance to the side showed why: the brightly lit “windows’ were in fact standard self-powered lighting panels, with the operational sides facing outward. Except for a small amount of spillage from the panels, the interior of the building was lit only by a pair of floating-wick lamps. Threepio’s assessment of the society echoed through her mind; apparently, he’d known what he was talking about.
In the center of the room, standing silently in a row facing her, were five Noghri.
Leia swallowed hard, sensing somehow that the first words should be theirs. Khabarakh stepped to the Noghri in the center and dropped to his knees, ducking his head to the floor and splaying out his hands to his sides. The same gesture of respect, she remembered, that he’d extended to her back in the Kashyyyk holding cell. “Ilyr’ush mir lakh svoril’lae,” he said. “Mir’lae karah siv Mal’ary’ush vir’ae Vader’ush.”
“Can you understand it?” Leia murmured to Threepio.
“To a degree,” the droid replied. “It appears to be a dialect of the ancient trade language-“
“Sha’eah!” the Noghri in the center of the line spat.
Threepio recoiled. “She said, ‘Quiet,”” he translated unnecessarily.
“I understood the gist,” Leia said, drawing herself up and bringing the full weight of her Royal Alderaanian Court upbringing to bear on the aliens facing her. Deference to local custom and authority was all well and good; but she was the daughter of their Lord Darth Vader, and there were certain discourtesies that such a person should not put up with. “Is this how you speak to the Mal’ary’ush?” she demanded.