Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [312]
“So not only are we on the run, we’re turning to gangsters for help.”
“Maybe you have a better idea?”
“No, Master, I don’t.”
“I didn’t think so. And stop calling me ‘Master.’ Someone will either make the Jedi connection or get the impression you’re my servant.”
“Force forbid,” Starstone muttered.
“I’m Roan. Plain and simple.”
“I’ll try to remember that—Roan.” She laughed at the sound of it. “I’m sorry, it just doesn’t ring true.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
At the foot of the stairs was an unadorned door. Shryne rapped his knuckles on the jamb, and to the droid eyeball that poked through a circular portal in response said something in what Starstone surmised was Koorivar. A moment later the door slid into its housing to reveal a muscular and extensively tattooed human male, cradling a DC-17 blaster rifle. Smiling at Shryne, he ushered them into a surprisingly opulent foyer.
“Still sneaking up on people, huh, Shryne?”
“Old habits.”
The man nodded sagely, then gave Shryne and Starstone the once-over. “What’s with the getups? You look like you’ve spent a month in a trash compactor.”
“That would have been a step up,” Starstone said.
Shryne peered into the back room. “Is he here, Jally?”
“He’s here, but not for long. Just packing up what we couldn’t move before the invasion. I’ll tell him—”
“Let’s make it a surprise.”
Jally laughed shortly. “Oh, he’ll be surprised, all right.”
Shryne motioned for Starstone to follow him. On the far side of a beaded-curtain entryway a mixed group of humans, aliens, and labor droids were hauling packing crates into a spacious turbolift. Even more well appointed than the foyer, the room was cluttered with furniture, infostorage and communications devices, weapons, and more. The humanoid standing in the midst of it and dispensing orders to his underlings was a Twi’lek with fatty lekku and a prominent paunch. Sensing someone behind him, he turned and stared openmouthed at Shryne.
“I heard you’d been killed.”
“Wishful thinking,” Shryne said.
Cash Garrulan moved his head from side to side. “Perhaps.” He extended his fat arms and shook both of Shryne’s hands, then gestured to Shryne’s filthy robe. “I love the new look.”
“I got tired of wearing brown.”
His gazed shifted. “Who’s your new friend, Roan?”
“Olee,” Shryne said without elaboration. He aimed a glance at the packing crates. “Clearance sale, Cash?”
“Let’s just say that peace has been bad for business.”
“Then it is over?” Shryne asked solemnly.
Garrulan inclined his large head. “You hadn’t heard? It was all over the HoloNet, Roan.”
“Olee and I have been out of touch.”
“Apparently so.” The Twi’lek turned to bark instructions at two of his employees, then motioned Shryne and Starstone into a small and tidy office, where Garrulan and Shryne sat down.
“Are you two in the market for blasters?” Garrulan asked. “I’ve got BlasTechs, Merr-Sonns, Tenloss DXs, you name it. And I’ll let you have them cheap.” When Shryne shook his head no, Garrulan said: “What about comlinks? Vibroblades? Tatooine handwoven carpets—”
“Fill us in on how the war ended.”
“How it ended?” Garrulan snapped his fat fingers. “Just like that. One moment Chancellor Palpatine has been kidnapped by General Grievous; the next, Dooku and Grievous are dead, the Jedi are traitors, the battle droids shut down, and we’re one big happy galaxy again, more united than before—an Empire, no less. No formal surrender by the Confederacy of Independent Systems, no bogged-down Senate, no trade embargoes. And whatever the Emperor wants, the Emperor gets.”
“Any comments from the members of the Separatist Council?”
“Not a peep. Although rumors abound. The Emperor had them put to death. They’re still on the run. They’re holed up in the Tingel Arm, in the company of Passel Argente’s cronies …”
Shryne extended his arm to prevent Starstone from pacing. “Sit down,” he said. “And stop chewing on your lip.”
“Yes, Mas—Roan.”
“I have to say,” Garrulan went on, “I never would have guessed that the Jedi would be held accountable.”
“For attempting to arrest Palpatine, you mean,” Shryne