Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights II Streets of Shadows - Michael Reaves [89]
But what if it wasn’t a coincidence? What if there was some kind of a tie there?
As he pondered it, there came the muted chime that indicated a presence at the entry. Grateful for the interruption, Jax sent tendrils of the Force to investigate.
What he encountered was cause at first for surprise, than unease. The entity requesting an audience was none other than Sele, Spa Fon’s Cathar bodyguard—or former bodyguard, before Jax had shamed him by defeat. He and Den had left the huge felinoid creature back at Spa Fon’s, where, he’d assumed, the warrior had expiated his shame through the ritual of Gi-an-ku’rii. Instead, here he was. How had he found Jax? Was he seeking a rematch?
Jax sighed and loosened the flamesword in its sheath. “Wait here,” he told Dejah. Then he stepped outside to confront the giant once again, realizing with grim irony that in some ways a death match against a being twice his size was preferable to being alone with Dejah and her pheromones.
Before he could say anything, however, the Cathar gave a low, submissive growl. “If it may please my conquerer,” he said with bowed head, “I have overheard certain scraps of gossip and hearsay on the streets that might have bearing on your quest.” He paused, waiting for permission to continue.
“Go on.”
“An acquaintance of mine, a Geroon, has a droid that he sometimes hires out as domestic help to members of offworld gentility. This droid told him that he saw a skimmer wearing the seal of Umber House parked near the conapt of the artist Ves Volette on the night of his death.” The imposing creature lowered his eyes. “I pray that this information may be of some small use to you.”
“It is indeed,” Jax said. “In fact, it buys you manumission. I return to you your autonomy. Go in peace.”
Sele raised his eyes in surprise and gratitude, and lost no time in making himself scarce.
Jax returned to Dejah’s sitting room, where the Zeltron eyed him inquisitively.
“Who was that?”
“I think,” Jax said, “it may have been the answer we’ve been looking for.”
twenty-four
It had taken time, but his instincts and his searching—all his hard work—had finally paid off. Where better to look for a renegade Jedi, after all, than at a gathering of renegades? Yet when the several meetings he had attended had resulted in nothing, not even a lead, Typho had been about to give up and focus on his other lines of inquiry. And then, at the last gathering he had decided to attend—success.
Perseverance was ever the key to victory.
Of course, the young man could be another Jax Pavan with the same name, and not the Jedi whom Aurra Sing had been charged with finding for Darth Vader. But given that Typho had found him at a Whiplash meeting, he found the possibility dubious, to say the least. As he trailed the young man from a distance, the captain utilized all the skills he had mastered in the security forces to conceal his presence from his quarry. Mentally, he fought to keep his attention on anything and everything else: the drifting aroma of cooking food, the passing of an attractive humanoid, an argument, an offer, a whisper overheard. If the fellow preceding him through the crowds was indeed a Jedi, Typho knew he had to exert every possible effort to keep from creating a disturbance in the Force that might alert Pavan to being followed.
At least his quarry didn’t turn and look behind him as he made his way confidently through the biodiverse throng. Perhaps the glut of various emotional emanations from the crowd prevented him from singling out his tracker. Or perhaps, feeling safe in familiar surroundings, he simply wasn’t paying attention. The reasons didn’t especially interest the captain, as long as the latter’s anonymity was maintained.
Eventually he saw Pavan enter a block of residences in a cul-de-sac. While automated residential security prevented Typho from following the object of his attention