Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [4]
Beside the Twi’lek stood a scarred, grizzle-faced human, a Corellian from the looks of him, whose face was puckered with either pockmarks from a disease or the long-healed scar from a vicious blaster burn. The Corellian’s hair was black except for a shock of pure white that streaked through it like a distress flare.
“You are Malakili,” the Twi’lek said. It was not a question. “I am Bib Fortuna, and this is my associate, Bidlo Kwerve.”
Kwerve nodded his head, but his emerald eyes remained fixed on Malakili as if nailed in place. Malakili flinched under his stare. Given other training, he thought, this Corellian could have become a good beast handler.
Malakili was muscular from a life of lifting heavy objects and wrestling strong creatures. His paunch had grown large from the good eating he enjoyed as the star of Circus Horrificus, his face was stretched and ugly, his eyes wide and round like full moons. But Malakili cared little for his personal appearance. He was out to impress no one. As long as the monsters held him in respect, he asked for nothing else.
“We are Jabba’s lieutenants. We have summoned you,” Bib Fortuna said.
“Why?” Malakili asked, his voice gruff, his fists planted squarely on his ample hips.
“We have a gift for Jabba,” Fortuna continued. “A ship crashed in the desert carrying a special cargo, a creature that no one seems able to identify. Bidlo Kwerve here used eight gas grenades to stun the monster enough that we could transport it into one of the dungeons beneath the palace.” The Twi’lek rubbed his clawed hands together. “It is our master’s birthday tomorrow. He has been away on business, having recently purchased a cantina in Mos Eisley. But he will be back tomorrow, and we want to surprise him. Of course with a creature of this, er, bulk and temperament, we wanted it to come with its own keeper.”
“But why me?” Malakili said. His words came out as displeased grunts. He was not accustomed to extended conversations. “I was happy with my old job.”
“Yes,” Bib Fortuna said, flashing a mouthful of needle-sharp teeth. “You spent seven seasons with the Circus Horrificus, training their specimens without being eaten. That’s a record for them, you know.”
“I know,” Malakili said. “I liked the monsters.”
Bib Fortuna clacked his claws together. “Then you’ll love this one.”
• • •
Bib Fortuna and Bidlo Kwerve stepped back into the dripping shadows of the lower dungeons as Malakili stared through the barred peephole into the pit. He was enthralled, enraptured by the mammoth beast.
It growled as it breathed. Its beady eyes flashed even in the darkness. It moved with a quick, liquid grace that many agile creatures half its size could not manage.
“Magnificent,” Malakili said through puffy lips. He felt cool tears like lines of ice down his cheeks. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
“Did I not tell you?” Bib Fortuna said.
“I think—” Malakili drew a deep breath, still awed and afraid to voice his suspicions. “I think this is a rancor. I have heard of them, but never dreamed that I would be lucky enough to see one in my lifetime.”
“You’re not just seeing this one,” Bib Fortuna said. “He is yours. You must take care of him.”
Malakili felt his heart swell with pride, and he beamed at Jabba’s two lieutenants. “That I will do to the best of my ability,” he said.
The bloated crimelord Jabba the Hutt knew everything, so it was impossible to keep a secret from him—even a supposedly secret birthday gift. Still, his two lieutenants—with Malakili standing behind them—acted as if they were presenting Jabba with a great honor as they congratulated him on his birthday.
“As our gift to you, great Jabba,” Bib Fortuna said, “we have found a magnificent and exotic new pet for you—a vicious monster called a rancor. This is its keeper.” He gestured behind him, extending