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“Disappeared?” Something within the cage of his ribs went still and cold.

Winter had taken the children to the nursery, a vine-hung tower room at the top of a long flight of steps. The small parlor was dim, the lamps cached in discreet niches casting warm patterns of light on the painted ceilings with a wavery gleam indistinguishable from that of combustible fuel. The fire that played over the lumps of coal and wood on the hearth’s white sand was genuine, though it issued from a buried gas pipe, and Han remembered with a sudden pang making love to Leia on the rug of milk-white stohl fur, the night before her departure.

“We’re keeping the news quiet for as long as we can.” Mon Mothma straightened up a little, luminous dark eyes catching the firelight. She looked a million times better than she had the last time Han had seen her, lying in the hospital after yet another round of bacta-tank therapy to combat the wasting effects of an attempted poisoning, and a million times worse than the woman he had first met in the ragged chaos of some temporary headquarters of the Rebel fleet. She had never lost the gaunt look of death, and the skin hung loose under jawbone and wrists. Her hair, dark through the horrors and vicissitudes of the fight against Palpatine, had begun to gray with the poisoning and was white now, and she still walked with two canes when she was not on public view. She was still beautiful.

“The matter is complicated by the fact that Minister of State Rieekan has fallen gravely ill. At first we were afraid it might be related to the plague that has been reported in the Meridian sector, but …”

“Plague?” demanded Han, and cold touched him again. Not Leia …

“Reports are too fragmentary to be sure,” she said, in a tone that told Han that she was darn sure. “When it broke out on the Durren orbital base it was suspected to be poison, but there’s no evidence of that. No evidence of an actual illness, either. No bacteria, no virus, no polyphagous microorganisms.… Nothing. Only men and women dying. We can’t get med teams in because of the revolt that has broken out on Durren itself. Local factions have the base under siege …”

“Siege?” said Han. “With two cruisers there?”

“The cruisers were—are—out, investigating what is either a pirate attack on Ampliquen or what might be a rupture of the truce between Budpock and Ampliquen. We haven’t heard. Nor have we heard anything of Leia’s flagship or its escort after they reported the meeting ‘acceptably’ concluded and entered hyperspace at the scheduled jump point.”

An R-10 trundled in, dispatched by the house timer with a glass of beer for Han and cocoa for Mon Mothma. Like everything else in the house, the little droid was designed to fit in with the rustic fantasy, hand-crafted in patinated wood and old green bronze. If the Emperor still owned the house, reflected Han, the droid would probably have been replaced by a synthdroid, which according to the ads could be shaped to exactly resemble any sentient or semisentient life form in the Registry. Han wasn’t sure how comfortable he’d have been with them around, in the unlikely event that Leia’s salary would even cover the cost of such a thing.

“Have you checked Ashgad’s part in this?”

She nodded, and sipped her cocoa, setting the cup down on the droid’s worn-looking bronze top. “Final report from the Borealis includes sensor readings from Ashgad’s vessel, which indicate nothing unusual. The captains of both the flagship and the escort reported no other vessels closer than Pedducis Chorios, and Leia herself said that Ashgad seemed content with the outcome of the meeting. We’ve sent a message to Ashgad …”

“Which means nothing if he’s in on it.”

“Maybe.” She rubbed her arms, and Chewbacca picked up one of Winter’s shawls, whose pattern and colors changed kaleidoscope-like every few minutes, and draped it over the former Chief’s shoulders. She looked her thanks to him with a smile.

“Now, I know an Interdictor can extract a ship from hyperspace.…”

“It can,” said Han. “But Intelligence has been keeping a pretty close eye