Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [86]
Baiuntu was delighted to have offworld visitors. “I have met many in my dealings,” he told them that evening as they shared the comforts of the designated visitors’ house.
“In Cuipernam?” Anakin was munching on something blue-green, plump, and delicious.
“In Cuipernam,” their host boasted, “and in Doigon, and Flerauw. A smattering of your own kind as well as a most interesting variety of others.” He rested both pudgy, long-fingered hands on his imposing belly. “Merchants are a species unto themselves, it seems. Shape has nothing to do with it. The Qulun realized this from the first time a vessel from another world set down here to trade.”
As he declaimed, he kept popping small purple things into his mouth. They crunched noisily against his hard palate. Detecting what he thought was some slight movement among them before they disappeared down the chieftan’s gullet, Anakin decided not to ask what they were. While there was a time for Jedi boldness, there were also occasions when it was better to exercise restraint.
“Then you feel that the Qulun have benefited from Ansion’s membership in the Republic?” Luminara inquired encouragingly.
Their host made a face. “I would rather talk business than politics, but since you ask—yes, I do.”
“And your clanfolk feel similarly?” Obi-Wan sipped at something sweet, warm, and refreshing.
“That I cannot say. Most are not so sophisticated in such matters as Baiuntu. Like all true Qulun, they will give their allegiance to whomever they believe will make them the most money.”
“So they can be bought,” Anakin commented. Obi-Wan gave the Padawan a sharp look, but the younger man only shrugged, seeing nothing wrong with the question. His teacher should know by now that his Padawan was nothing if not direct.
Certainly their host took no offense. “Any merchant can be bought, my large, furless young friend. That is the nature of business, is it not? To the Qulun, loyalty is just another commodity. For the moment, we are happy to see Ansion fully represented in the Republic. As to what tomorrow may bring, who am I to say?” Grunting with the effort, he leaned back against his pile of supporting cushions. Multiple tiny sensors and equally minuscule motors shifted mass within each cushion to provide the necessary response.
“An honest response, anyway,” Luminara murmured to Barriss. “I suppose we can’t expect any better from such people. They’re only living according to their traditions.”
“Tradition seems to mean everything on this planet.” Barriss sampled another of the numerous drinks that had been set before her. Like everything else she had tried, it was delicious. Movement off to her right made her turn. Her diminutive friend was ambling toward the doorway.
“Tooqui, where are you going?”
“Too much much light for Tooqui. Too much talk talk. Go for walk. Back later.”
“Fine,” she told him, adding after a moment’s thought, “Don’t steal anything.”
He responded with a gesture whose meaning she would have demanded to know had he not already disappeared. One of the guards stationed outside made a move to intercept him, but the Gwurran was too quick, vanishing into the night and the camp.
Now that was a bit odd, Barriss thought. Why would they try to keep Tooqui from leaving? She relaxed and leaned back against the cushions. Probably worried about him running loose and getting into trouble. Knowing Tooqui, she could sympathize with their hosts.
A stylishly clad and elaborately coiffured female brought forth an elegant rectangular case filled with delicate, tightly stoppered bottles. Each was unique, having been