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“Look here, Jonn,” he said when he’d finished reading it, “I wish that I could offer Nal Hutta more assurances, but as I told you before, I have no choice. The Emperor has called upon all Imperial worlds to tighten down on smuggling, gunrunning, and other illegal activities. My sector contains Hutt space, and unfortunately the Hutt reputation for dishonesty is so well known that I cannot possibly cover for them. I will, however, promise Nal Hutta no armed reprisals if they cooperate.”

“Cooperate in what way?”

“Do their best to become loyal, law-abiding citizens of the Empire.”

That’ll be the day, Han thought. “What about Nar Shaddaa?” he asked, unable to help himself. Fear for himself and his friends made his mouth dry.

“I shall have to make an example of Nar Shaddaa,” Shild said. “By the time I am finished with the Smuggler’s Moon, it will no longer support the smuggling industry. Its inhabitants will be lucky if it can still support sentient life.”

Han tried to conceal his shock. What are we going to do?

Shild shook his head. “And now, I’m afraid, I must depart. I regret that you had to travel so far for only a short interview, but I did warn your Hutt masters that I would be unable to … bend … over this issue.”

Shild stood up, and automatically Han did also.

“Sarn?” came a voice from behind the door leading into the next room. Caught in the act of turning, Han froze. That voice!

“My dear, I am in here,” called Shild. “I was just about to show the diplomatic envoy from Nal Hutta out.”

The door opened, and a woman stood there, smiling. “Sarn, darling,” she said, “we must hurry. The shuttle is waiting on the rooftop. Will you be much longer?”

Han turned his head, and their eyes met—for the first time in six years.

Bria Tharen. This time, there was no mistake. Bria stood there, dressed in a flowing silken gown that made her seem just as much of an ornament as anything else in Shild’s palatial home. The low-cut gown was turquoise, the color of her eyes. She was stunningly beautiful.

As she stared back at Han, she blinked, and went a little pale. Her smile did not waver, though.

She’s good, Han thought. He knew he’d betrayed his shock, but fortunately Shild wasn’t looking at him. Han hastily pulled himself back together, composing his features into a polite, neutral mask.

Shild gestured at Bria. “Master Jobekk Jonn of Nal Hutta, my … niece … Bria.”

Only Han’s years of playing sabacc saved him. As Bria composedly held out her hand with a throaty, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Jonn,” Han was able to take it and bow over it with a suave smile.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said. “Shild, you are a very lucky man, to have such a lovely … niece.”

He saw a faint wave of color brighten her cheeks at his gibe. “You look familiar, sir,” she said. “Haven’t I seen you before?” Her voice was cool and disinterested.

Han knew she was baiting him. “Perhaps on WANTED posters,” Han murmured, so quietly Shild couldn’t hear.

Then bowing coldly over her hand once more, he let go of her—though all he wanted to do was grab her and bring her with him!—and bowed formally to Shild.

“Thank you for your time, Your Excellency.”

Then, turning away, Han strode resolutely from the room.

Later that same night, much later, Bria Tharen lay in her small bunk aboard the Moff’s yacht, muffling her sobs in her pillow. Every time she recalled the look in Han’s eyes, she wanted to wail aloud.

It was only too obvious that he’d thought the worst—that she was Shild’s concubine. Sobs shook her. That was what he was supposed to think, after all. That was what Sarn Shild wanted everyone to think.

In truth, the Moff’s sexual preferences did not run to human females. Bria traveled with him as a lovely show object, to be displayed to Imperial officials, just as Shild would display any trophy.

She kept his home running smoothly, listened to him when he wanted someone to talk to, oversaw his household staff and office, and generally kept