Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [151]
I do not look up often enough. I am so busy all the time and so tired after dark that I do not look up often enough at the stars.
I wondered how all of this would turn out.
Day 50: Jawa Gifts, and the Wedding
Thirty-one Jawas came to the wedding, and they brought sacks of rock salt, a liter of water, a bolt of their brown cloth—and a diagnostic droid so small it could fit in the palm of my hand. They couldn’t decide on one gift, so they brought some of everything we’d talked about.
The diagnostic droid spoke the binary language of vaporators. The Jawas had polished it so finely that it hurt to look at it lying in the sun with the other gifts.
People just stood and stared at their rich gifts and wondered at the pleasure the Jawas had in being invited to this wedding.
Eyvind hurried up to me and asked me to come translate for him and Ariela. They wanted to thank the Jawas. I was standing by the punch bowl with the Jensens and Ariela’s mother and sister, who had come out from Alderaan for the wedding. Mrs. Jensen stopped me before I could leave. “Maybe you’re right about all this,” Mrs. Jensen said. “Maybe you are.”
I smiled at her and hurried off to translate. The Jawas all bowed to me, and I bowed back. I translated for Eyvind and Ariela, then started answering the Jawas’ questions about this human ceremony: Yes, the humans crowded here were all potential customers of their wares and, yes, the tiny diagnostic droid impressed everyone; no, Eyvind and Ariela would not consummate their marriage in public; yes, everyone hoped Eyvind and Ariela would have children; yes, the humans brought special foods to the wedding to make the day memorable. “Try the spiced juice,” I said. “You’ll love it. It’s better than plain water.”
I wondered what they would think of the spice. They followed me to the punch table, and I poured Wimateeka a cup of spiced juice and gave it to him.
He just held the cup and looked into it. “The cup is so cold!” he said.
“We usually serve cold drinks at important occasions,” I said.
“Why is it red? Does it have blood in it?”
“No—we don’t drink blood!”
Wimateeka looked up at me oddly, and I suddenly wondered if the Jawas drank blood at their weddings. I would probably find out soon enough. Wimateeka still hadn’t tasted the drink. “It’s quite good,” I assured him. “At least, we think so.”
“How much does this cost?” he asked, finally.
So he thought he’d have to pay for this. They’d all no doubt worried about having enough to pay for food and drinks—especially if they were pressed to try certain things. “Everything here is a gift to the guests of the wedding,” I said.
Wimateeka smiled then, and lifted the cup to his lips. His eyes went wide when he tasted the spiced juice—and I wondered if he would spit it out, but he didn’t, and soon he took another drink. I served the rest of the Jawas, and they all loved the spiced juice and asked me for more and I served Jawas for fifteen minutes straight.
Eyvind came up to me, nervous and anxious. “I want to get started,” he said, “but Owen and Beru aren’t here yet, and they were sure to come.”
“Who knows what’s kept them?” I said, while I handed a Jawa another cup of spiced juice. “But you’d better start soon or I’ll have all thirty-one Jawas drunk before the wedding.”
Eyvind laughed.
And the shooting started.
From over by the landspeeders. Everyone had parked west of Eyvind’s house, and the commotion came from there: Two or three men were shouting and firing at the landspeeders. I wondered why they would do such a stupid thing—and then I saw the Sand People.
The adolescents, I thought. They’d taken it into their heads to steal a landspeeder or two while we were busy with the wedding.
The Sand People fought back with