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She smiled. “Ves abhorred the formal art scene on Coruscant, where creators are expected to mingle with potential buyers, flatter their usually nonexistent taste, and offer discounts. He was a true artist. If you liked his work, fine. If not, he dismissed you, but without anger or prejudice. He recognized that tastes differ, or all art would be the same.”

Umber nodded solemnly. “That was one of the things that made Ves and his work so special. He was entirely independent of the commercial art arena. He did what he wanted, the way he wanted.”

Dejah was obviously thinking back to happier times. “I remember once when a Senator from a wealthy world approached Ves about one of his pieces.” She smiled. “He asked if Ves would alter the main spectral current so that the result would match the décor of the Senator’s sleeping chamber. The asking price for the work was high, and Ves could have pocketed substantial credits. He simply refused, quietly and without rancor. ‘This is the color scheme that coalesced in my mind,’ he told the Senator. ‘This is the pattern the color took. It is what it is—just as are you and I.’ ” She looked up at Jax. “That was Ves. He was as straightforward as his art.”

“Straightforward is another word for blunt,” Jax said. “And bluntness could be misconstrued as arrogance.”

The Baron hid a smile. Jax looked at him. “Are you amused, Baron?”

“My apologies. But had you known Ves even for a short time, you would realize the absurdity of your suggestion. He never meant to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“But he sometimes did?” Jax glanced at Dejah, who nodded slowly.

“Most people excused it on the grounds that he was an artist. Just being creative seems to excuse a multitude of offenses that would get ordinary folk thrown out of a party.”

“Or killed,” I-Five said. This time Umber did not upbraid the droid for speaking without permission.

Jax turned back to their host. “Did he ever offend you, Baron?”

Umber looked startled. “No, never. I understood his art, therefore I understood him. We always got on well, and there was never a time when I was displeased to see him. We held differing political opinions, of course, and discussion of them sometimes led to raised voices and sharp gestures, but never to hostility.” He paused, then asked, “You’re not suggesting that I had anything to do with his death?”

“Of course not,” Jax replied immediately, though that was exactly what he was thinking. As a Jedi, he was sworn never to lie. Occasional misdirection in the service of the greater good was, however, permissible. “I’m just trying to build a picture of your relationship with Volette in order to get a better idea of what he was like, what his social life was like, and through that maybe a hint or two of the kind of individual who might have wanted him dead.”

“For example,” I-Five suggested, “someone who owned a surfeit of an artist’s work would stand to profit substantially by his death, if his passing subsequently raised the value of that individual’s work.”

Jax contemplated deactivating his outspoken mechanical companion. What he really wanted to do at that moment was use the Velmorian energy sword sheathed at his waist to seal the droid’s mouth shut.

To his credit, however, and somewhat to Jax’s surprise, the Baron took no visible offense; instead he simply nodded thoughtfully. “That certainly might be so. In the case of Ves’s work, however, he has not been dead long enough for the market to be thus affected. And I treasure even the least of his pieces in my possession and have not the slightest intention of selling any of them, so their monetary value is of only peripheral concern to me.” Spreading his arms wide to encompass their elegant surroundings, he added, “As you can see, my position and personal resources are adequate to allow me to comfortably maintain a certain lifestyle without the need to—I believe the Basic term is hock—any of my property. Even if such a necessity should occur, my Volettes would be the last