Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [40]
Oola cast a glance around for her tall master.
At the edge of the debris, Fortuna slunk toward Sienn. He brandished a blaster of his own. He probably meant to stun Sienn, then kill Luke … if Rudd didn’t get him. He rounded the nose cone and aimed his blaster. Sienn shrank against jumbled debris, trapped like a child with no place to run or hide. Oola had one moment of choice.
“Sienn!” Oola shrieked. “Go! Run!” She dashed at Fortuna, seized the flapping edge of his black robes, and twined her lekku around his shoulders in mock passion. Rolls of fat shook at the base of his neck. The blaster fell from his elegant hand. He bent backward to grope for it. “Get off,” he seethed. “Get off me, you little fool.”
Oola’s sudden panic made Mos Eisley seem chilly. If Luke meant to kill Fortuna, she’d just jumped into his line of fire. She tried to pull free. Her lekku tangled with Fortuna’s.
Bib caught her wrist in a grip that drove his nails into her flesh. Gasping, Oola collapsed. Her lekku fell flaccid. Fortuna pulled free of them.
Oola let him drag her to her feet. She hadn’t been shot. Neither had Fortuna, but Rudd lay facedown and twitching. Sienn was dashing up the street. Both of her lekku swung down the back of Luke’s too-long cloak. She had almost reached the street corner beyond that debris heap. Luke followed her, carrying his weird weapon … but the glimmering shaft had vanished. As Sienn dashed out of sight, Luke slowed. He glanced over his shoulder, caught Oola’s stare, and hesitated.
Sienn wouldn’t survive two minutes alone in these streets. “Go!” Oola shrieked.
Luke raised both eyebrows in a pained expression, as if she had finally jabbed him. He spun away, and then he too was gone.
“So you want Jabba to yourself.” Bib pulled her so close to his leather chest protector that she could smell rancid breath venting between his long, pointed teeth. He dug his blaster muzzle into her stomach. “All of the goodies for Oola. No rivals.”
“No rivals,” she sneered back, full of adrenaline and bravado. It was either that or recoil. She mustn’t show fear.
Fortuna flung her away. Oola caught her balance with a languid handspring, turned back to Bib, and waited.
“My speeder is parked around the corner,” he growled. His orange-pink eyes glowered. “This way.”
Oola sighed away the memory. She’d lost daylight and hope, and she’d never wielded power. But no one could steal her honor. She would never again lose her best reason for living.
“Fortuna hates me now,” she murmured. She fingered the hideous leather headdress. “Here are my soft cushions.” Mocking her own words, she ran a finger over the stony lip of Jabba’s bed. Her dainties? Scraps Jabba tossed when she groveled … or food he suspected of harboring poison.
Threepio finished translating her tale for Yarna, then they both shook their heads. Beyond Jabba’s throne, a scream faded into the floor. Oola shuddered. She’d seen Jabba feed his stinking, hideous underground monster. The rancor usually devoured its prey whole. By the standards of this place, it looked like a quick death. She’d rather be next on the menu than watch it again, and that was likely enough. She’d choose it over Jabba’s ardent embrace. How ironic that Sienn, the obvious morsel, had escaped … but Oola was glad that she had, and proud to have helped.
“At least you can dance,” Yarna pointed out. “Be thankful Jabba doesn’t have your cubs in his clutches.”
Oola raised her head. “I can dance,” she agreed. “If I could have one wish …”
“What?” Yarna encouraged, straightening her own headdress.
“I would dance the perfect dance. Once. It wouldn’t matter who watched. I would know it was perfect.”
Threepio’s head swiveled jauntily over his metal shoulders. “But Miss Oola, Master Luke is close by.”
“You do know him?”
“Oh yes. I—”
“I wasn’t heat-crazy? He can do all those things?”
“Oh yes. I too was a gift to Jabba.” His singsong voice sounded giddy.