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She stared up at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face. Finally she sighed and stepped back, relinquishing her grip on his arm. “Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. I just … those sculptures meant so much to me—to Ves. And now they represent irreplaceable financial resources.”

“I’ll try to use the minimum amount to do what needs doing and try not to modify them irretrievably. It may even be possible for I-Five to memorize Ves’s settings and return them to their original configuration.”

She nodded. “All right. Yes. Of course you can use the studio and the sculptures. How soon do you want to move him?” Her gaze flickered toward Jax’s quarters where Kaj slept a deep, chemically augmented, and hopefully dreamless sleep.

“As soon as I-Five and Den get back. We’ll need to get an airspeeder—” Jax glanced over at Rhinann, who responded with a courtly bow that was somehow laced with irony. It was most often the Elomin’s job to arrange for transport and other resources simply because, having been high up within the Imperial apparatus, he knew how to acquire them without drawing undue attention.

“I shall, of course, arrange it,” Rhinann said. “Anything else?”

“No … and thanks, Rhinann. I don’t know what we’d do without you,” Jax said.

The Elomin’s eyes closed and opened in an almost reptilian blink, his entire body language eloquent of surprise. Then he inclined his head and disappeared into the workroom.

“I won’t go with you,” Dejah said. “To the studio, I mean. I don’t think I could bear to see …”

She left Jax to imagine what the end of the sentence might have been. I couldn’t bear to see where Ves Volette died. Or, I couldn’t bear to see the sculptures that shielded him from me. Or, I couldn’t bear to see you mangle his work. In any case, Jax was surprised to realize that he felt a strange mixture of disappointment and relief.

He watched her go into her room, aware of a budding tension that sat between his shoulder blades like an unreachable itch. He hoped Den and I-Five would get back soon. He wanted to go out and look for them, to hasten their return, but knew it would be dangerous to leave Kaj here untended. There was no way to know how long the anti-stim would work on someone with his abilities, or in what state of mind he’d awaken.

Den Dhur was in a black mood. More than any time since he’d signed on with I-Five and company, he felt as if everything was spinning hopelessly out of control. There were too many players, too many half-concealed agendas, and way too many risks.

He glanced up at I-Five, who moved silently beside him as they made their way back to Poloda Place. He had expected that the droid would be more concerned about the sudden interest Rhinann and Dejah had shown in the bota and would confide something in him, but even that expectation was doomed to disappointment. After that brief conversation, during which Den felt as if he’d finally gotten I-Five’s full attention, it had been business as usual.

They stepped out of the antigrav tube a block from the entrance to the resiblock and made their way west. Den found himself watching passersby. It was an old habit, dating back to his days as a newsbeing—he used to say that he could pick any face at random out of a sea of beings and twirl a story about him, her, or it that, often as not, was remarkably close to the truth. Now, tired of staring at kneecaps, he walked with his head tilted back. It made it difficult at times to keep his footing, but it was also the reason he saw the robed and hooded figure turn from the railing of a balcony two floors above street level in the building they were currently passing. There was no question this time—the iridescent, shifting robes, the cowl, the sense of presence … this was not mistaken identity.

This was the real thing.

Den stumbled, and I-Five put a hand down to steady him. “Are you all right?”

Den clung to the droid’s arm, pretending vertigo, and murmured, “Balcony on the left. Second floor.”

I-Five straightened slightly.