Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [72]
The other guests, Durga’s adolescent cousins, were like wide-mouthed eels, lean and muscular, some already beginning to build up layers of flab in preparation for midlife obesity. Their thick lips contorted and their yellow eyes darted around—but these Hutts were obviously healthy, while Korrda was emaciated by some sort of sickness. The whiplike Huttlings were boisterous and insulting, barely able to speak a coherent sentence in Basic and uninterested in the work of Durga.
Korrda played the servitor, bringing dishes of gelatinous food: stewed insects; parasites drizzled with warm honey; and roasted grain maggots, most of which lay in crispy husks on their plates, while others still squirmed about in a struggle to survive.
Leia did her best to be appreciative, though neither she nor Han found they had much of an appetite. She pushed the food around on her dish, enduring the meal as best she could. Han did the same beside her, the cords in his neck tightening as he clenched his jaw. Only Threepio was not at a loss for words, attempting to decipher the origin of the meal’s components.
Korrda suffered more than Han and Leia, however. The larval Hutts proved excessively rude, slapping him whenever he came within reach. Korrda did not eat from a plate of his own, but scraped leftovers from discarded dishes into his mouth. He looked at Han and Leia with the utmost gratitude, perhaps believing they had not eaten their meals so that he could wolf down the untouched food.
“Excuse me,” Leia said in a low voice when Korrda came to gather their dishes, “why don’t you sit and eat with us, since you are Durga’s designated assistant?”
“No, I am his lowliest servant,” Korrda said. “Look at me.” He gestured to his ribbon-thin body and sickly skin. “I deserve only slop. I am despised because I have a rare wasting disease. As an underweight Hutt, I am the target of all scorn. How could anyone respect such a wasted and worthless worm as I?”
“Why does Durga keep you around then?” Han asked. “You seem to be in an important position while he’s gone.”
“Ah, Durga detests me,” Korrda said, blinking bloodshot eyes and bobbing his narrow head. “He keeps me because I am so despicable. He shames me by placing me in situations where I must appear to be important, though it is obvious to anyone with eyes that I am worthless. This makes me feel even more downtrodden—which keeps Durga happy, and therefore, I am content.” Leia’s mind spun with the tangled logic, but she didn’t try to argue.
From their perches, the carrion birds watched Korrda himself, as if he might be their next meal. The creatures squawked as a large lumpy worrt, a long-tongued froglike creature, hopped into the dining hall from one of the outer corridors. Frills stood up around its eyes, and it bobbed obediently as it sat waiting, clasping a message placard in its wide toothless mouth.
Korrda rushed over to snatch the placard from the creature, then patted its warty head as he scanned the message on the screen. He reared up in delight, his mottled skin growing darker. “Ah, good news indeed!” he said. “My master, Lord Durga, is on his way and should be here shortly. He insists that I show you the pleasure of his private bathhouses while you wait. I’m sure you’ll find them most enjoyable.”
The concept of a Hutt bathhouse made Leia’s stomach churn, but she forced a smile. Han raised an eyebrow skeptically, and clasped her hand under the table. “It’s for the New Republic,” she said in a martyred tone.
Korrda beamed with pride as he gestured at the enclosed labyrinth beneath the palace, holding acres and acres of sluggish, steaming water. The walls were covered with mold and bulbous fungus. Dim light filtered from narrow slits in the walls, giving everything a grainy, tarnished appearance.
“This bathhouse is Lord Durga’s pride and joy,” Korrda said.
“Doesn’t surprise me a bit,” Han murmured,