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Dust or no dust, this place is worth several fortunes. If only …

Sternly, Han reminded himself that he had turned over a new leaf, and was an honest, hardworking citizen these days.

Veratil led them through another security door into the High Priest’s personal living quarters. The visitors were ushered into the room by an ancient Zisian majordomo, whom Teroenza addressed as “Ganar Tos.” The Zisian was humanoid, but he had wrinkly green skin that hung in flaccid wattles from his receding chinline. His orange eyes were rheumy, and he snuffled constantly, as though he had a sinus infection. Probably allergic to all that dust, Han thought.

The High Priest waved Han and Muuurgh to seats and addressed them. “So good of you to come, Pilot Draygo. I hear good things about your piloting from Colony Two and Three. Today our medical droid placed our other pilot, Jalus Nebl, on indefinite sick leave, so you will be taking his place on interstellar flights from now on.”

Han nodded, trying not to betray his excitement. “Fine, sir. I’ll keep on schedule. When do I go?”

“The day after tomorrow,” Teroenza said. “Muuurgh will, of course, accompany you.”

“What’s the cargo and destination, sir?” Han asked.

“You will rendezvous with a ship from Nal Hutta at coordinates we will provide you with at the last minute. Security is vital, as I’m sure you can understand. You know that we have had trouble with pirates in the past.” Teroenza accepted a small, limp creature from a tray the majordomo held out to him and paused to gulp it. “Have you trained Muuurgh as a gunner, Pilot?”

“Uh, no, not yet, sir.”

“See that you do. A good pilot is prepared for all eventualities, correct?”

“Yessir,” Han said. “I’ll see to it. Uh, sir? What’s the cargo?”

“You’ll be carrying a load of processed carsunum, and picking up a load of raw ryll transshipped from Ryloth.”

“But the ship I’m meeting is from Nal Hutta?”

“Yes.” Teroenza did not expand upon this, so Han dropped the subject, resolving to keep his ears open. He sensed that there was more that the High Priest wasn’t telling him, but he was hardly in a position to demand to know all the ins and outs.

Teroenza sat back on his massive haunches, small arms waving at the portal through which Muuurgh and Han had entered. “I gather you liked my display room?”

“Liked?” Han was able to speak with complete honesty. “It was great, sir! I never saw so many treasures gathered together outside of a museum!”

“My species is long-lived, as are our cousins, the Hutts,” Teroenza said. “I have been collecting for hundreds of Standard years—longer than you, in your youth, can imagine, Pilot.”

“I’d really like to get a grand tour sometime,” Han said.

“I wish my collection were in condition to be viewed,” Teroenza said regretfully. “Ganar Tos, though an excellent cook and an efficient houseboy, hasn’t the training to maintain it, much less catalog and arrange everything properly. And I am too busy to indulge myself that way.” The giant being gave them a dismissive wave of a tiny hand. “That will be all for now. I shall see you upon your return, Pilot.”

“Yessir.” Han stood and beckoned to Muuurgh. They left, escorted by Veratil.

Once outside, the Sacredot went off on an errand, leaving them to themselves. Han glanced at his chrono and then at the westering sun. “Tonight I’m going to start training you on gunner’s duties,” he told the Togorian, “but right now, I think we’re owed a break. Matter of fact, we’re just in time to visit the refectory where the pilgrims eat. Let’s go.”

“Why?” Muuurgh asked. “Pilot not want pilgrim food. Pilot and Muuurgh eat in mess hall … get decent food, not garbage.”

Han shook his head and started walking down the path that led through the jungle to the pilgrims area. “I don’t wanna eat with the pilgrims, pal,” he explained. “I just want to talk to some of them. I figure at dinner, they’ll all be together, and I can find … them … easier.”

“Them?” Muuurgh echoed. “How many is ‘them’?”

“Uh … well, you see …” Han started, then he stopped, grimacing. “Just one,” he admitted.