Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [59]
For days it seemed (and maybe it was), Gartogg had patrolled most of the palace several times over without finding anyone to question. A few people had seen him from a distance, but they all covered their noses, if they had one, and ran off. Gartogg felt that behavior was inconsiderate.
On his fourth pass through the rancor tunnels, he heard the rancor shifting and rustling in the sand behind its grate.
“Come on,” Gartogg said to the lifeless face of the kitchen boy dangling over his shoulder. “Visit rancor.”
In response, the kitchen boy dripped some sort of cloudy fluid on the floor of the tunnel.
When Gartogg reached the area by the rancor grate, he found Malakili, the pudgy rancor keeper, struggling to carry a limp human to the grate.
“What this?” Gartogg asked.
“Huh?” Malakili jumped in surprise, dropping his burden with a thump. “Uh, I’m feeding the rancor, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“Oh.” Gartogg snorted in disappointment. “Need help?”
“No, no, I’m doing just fine.”
Gartogg kept the kitchen boy balanced on his shoulder as Malakili opened the grate for the waiting rancor and heaved the other body inside.
“You want to unload him too?” Malakili nodded toward the kitchen boy, grimacing.
“No! Evidence of crime.”
“Well, he’s decomposing pretty fast. You sure?”
“No!” Gartogg turned and hurried away.
Gartogg trudged to the kitchen, still carrying the corpse of Phlegmin over one shoulder, the head and arms dangling forward. The dead kitchen boy had a much stronger odor than before, and tended to drip fluids on the floor occasionally. Gartogg snuffled politely.
Porcellus looked up from his daily work.
“A plot,” Gartogg rumbled. “Clues. All tied together.” He reached out with his free hand to grab some pieces of plastifoam. Munching on them casually, he added, “Girl. She, um …”
“What girl?” Porcellus demanded. “And get that disgusting thing out of here!”
“Mercenary girl. Brought in Wookiee. Last night.” Gartogg licked a bit of loose plastifoam from around his mouth and snuffled contentedly. “Lady friend of Solo. The smuggler. Boss caught them.”
Gartogg saw that one of the corpse’s eyeballs had started to ooze out of his head. That was bad; he might need this evidence of the crime. Snorting in annoyance, Gartogg poked the eye back in with a thick, stubby forefinger.
“Get that thing out of here!” Porcellus shouted. “I cook in here; this place has to stay clean—clean and healthful!”
Hurt, Gartogg turned to go, keeping the corpse balanced over his shoulder. After all, the chef was boss here. As he plodded out, he snatched up some more plastifoam and stuffed it into his mouth, though some of it spilled behind him on the floor.
Gartogg wandered the corridors of the palace all day, ignoring sleep, but he discovered nothing. On the night shift again, he waddled through the shadowed halls all night with the kitchen boy still on his shoulder. By the end of his shift, he was exhausted, but had found nothing.
Finally, as dawn approached, he trudged back to the guards’ quarters in weary disappointment.
“Gartogg!” Ortugg jumped forward to block the entrance. “What are you doing with that … thing?”
“Evidence,” Gartogg snorted defensively.
“It’s rotting,” Rogua shouted, appearing behind Ortugg. “You can’t bring that in here!”
“Can’t?”
“What did you do with it last night?” Rogua demanded.
“Night duty,” said Gartogg. “Kept it.”
Some of the other Gamorrean guards in the quarters snorted and snuffled derisively.
“Get rid of it,” Ortugg ordered. “Feed it to the rancor or something.”
“Evidence,” said Gartogg, eyeing the oozing, discolored face of the kitchen boy. “Murder.”
“Forget about coming in here,” said Ortugg. “We’re ready to go on the sail barge. Rogua, select the guards who will go.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sail barge?” Gartogg’s eyes widened as he snuffled excitedly. “Now?”
“No—for the next time Jabba goes out to the Great Pit of Carkoon to feed some prisoners to the Sarlacc.”
“Take me!” Gartogg bounced up and down excitedly, jiggling the body of the kitchen boy. One of