Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [107]
The discussion that followed was heated, and short. Once again it was Kandah who spoke up. “Of course we are agreed on that.” She ignored the look of surprise on Ogomoor’s face. “If we were not, we would have gone ahead and taken the vote the same day the Jedi arrived. But we have no peace with the Alwari. We have no agreement. And with each day that passes, our assurances of support from the Malarians and the Keitumites that they will follow our lead diminishes. It is critical that this matter be decided.”
Into the silence that followed, Volune offered a compromise. “We cannot vote today in any case. The proper procedures are not in place. I am willing, albeit reluctantly, as the chosen representative of my constituency, to set a date on which the vote to secede or not to secede shall be taken.” He looked at the Ansionian on his right. “Will this satisfy the venerable Fargane?”
The eldest Ansionian present paused, then gestured affirmatively. “It will.”
Volune turned back to the others. “Then let us settle on a date and a time, and not deviate from that. If the Jedi return before then, we will hear them out. If they do not, then we will go ahead and take the vote, and they will have only themselves to blame for their lack of a timely response.”
The proposal was too reasonable for even Tolut to object to, and the Armalat found himself making the suggestion unanimous. For his part, Ogomoor knew that Bossban Soergg and his supporters would be well pleased. The date chosen was not as soon as might have been wished, but neither was it unconscionably far in the future. Tolut might be a problem, but the Armalat’s vote could be ignored. Following today’s gathering, Ogomoor would be able to report back that, besides Kandah, Fargane and at least one other delegate would be likely to vote in favor of withdrawal from the Republic. The votes of the others were not yet a certainty. The transposition of certain large sums of credits to untraceable banking accounts might yet have to take place prior to the formal vote in order to ensure that Ansion opted for secession.
In the interim, he and his bossban had little else to worry about. Because to all intents and purposes, the Qulun Baiuntu was doing his work very well indeed.
Morning saw the group of fast-moving travelers slow as Kyakhta rejoined them. The guide had ridden on slightly ahead. Now he returned at a gallop, visibly excited, bulging eyes aglow.
“Found them!” he announced proudly as he turned his suubatar. He extended his artificial arm to point. “Just over the next rise.”
“At last,” Luminara murmured. “You’re certain it’s the Borokii?”
The Alwari gestured emphatically. “No mistaking it, Master Luminara. They are in full ceremonial camp, pennants flying. The overclan Borokii, most influential of all the Alwari clans.”
In truth, it was a more impressive sight than any of them had expected. Having been exposed to the nomad encampments of the Yiwa and the Qulun, the travelers believed they had some idea of what to expect. Neither of those previous encounters prepared them for what greeted their eyes as their suubatars topped the crest of the low ridge.
Spread out before them were not dozens of recently unfolded and erected portable structures, but hundreds. Several boasting sophisticated energy arrays for the generation of power must have required dozens of draft animals to pull them, Luminara reflected. Thousands of Borokii of all ages milled about within the vast, elaborate camp. Beyond, uncountable thousands of herd animals grazed peacefully within perimeters patrolled by sadain-mounted handlers. The din of their passive moaning and mewling, a kind of rising urrr noise, dominated the sounds of the camp. Here, just as they had been