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Durga stared at her, wondering what one slightly built human female could expect to accomplish against either Hutts or hordes of Desilijic guards. “You would go as my bodyguard? But …”

Guri smiled slightly. “I am Prince Xizor’s primary bodyguard, Your Excellency. I assure you that I can protect you from Jiliac’s guards.”

Durga was tempted to say more, but something about Guri’s demeanor stopped him. He knew she was Xizor’s primary aide. It made sense that she would also be an accomplished assassin. She must have abilities that weren’t readily apparent. Certainly her manner was nothing but confident.

“Very well,” Durga said. “Let us go.”

They boarded Durga’s shuttle, and the trip to the Desilijic enclave took less than an hour by suborbital flight.

They landed on the island that contained Jiliac’s Winter Palace, and was the current home of the Desilijic clan. Durga, with Guri at his side, carrying a large box, slithered toward the entrance. “Durga Besadii Tai to see Jiliac Desilijic Tiron. I bring a gift and request a private audience.”

The guards scanned both visitors and verified that they were unarmed. After a quick call, they were waved into the palace. The majordomo, a Rodian named Dorzo, accompanied them to the huge, almost bare, audience chamber, then stepped inside, bowing. “Lord Durga of Clan Besadii,” he announced.

Through the portal, Durga could see Jiliac doing some kind of work at a datapad. At the sight of his enemy, rage flooded the young Hutt’s body. He quivered with blood lust.

Jiliac deliberately kept them waiting for nearly ten minutes. Durga tried to emulate Guri’s stillness. She really was a most unusual human, he decided.

Finally, Jiliac nodded at Dorzo, then the Rodian bowed to the visitors and proclaimed, “Her Supreme Excellency Jiliac, Leader of the Clan Desilijic and protector of the Righteous, will see you now.”

Durga started forward, with Guri pacing gravely beside him. When they reached Jiliac, the huge Hutt matron did not speak. Since, by custom, Durga could not speak until spoken to, because he was the visitor, again they waited.

Finally Jiliac’s massive bulk shifted. “Greetings to Besadii,” she said. “You have brought a gift, and that is fitting. You may present it to me.”

Durga nodded at Guri, and the human advanced on the Desilijic leader and laid the box before her, as the Desilijic leader hovered on her repulsor sled.

The younger Hutt waved at the box. “A gift for your Exaltedness. A token of Besadii’s esteem and our hopes for your future, O Jiliac.”

“We shall see.…” rumbled Jiliac. She tore at the wrappings, and then drew forth a large, very valuable piece of art. It was a death-mask from the islands of the remote world of Langoona. The natives carved these death-masks and decorated them with semiprecious gems and inlays of silver, gold, platinum and iridescent shell-casings from their warm seas.

Jiliac turned the mask around in her tiny hands, and at first Durga thought she did not recognize its significance. The Besadii leader spared a glance to Guri, and, as they had agreed upon, the woman turned and headed for the exit. She would wait there for him, and make sure he was not disturbed. Durga turned his attention back to Jiliac, ready to enlighten her as to exactly what her gift meant, then he saw her entire huge body begin to tremble.

She glared at Durga. “A death-mask from Langoona!” Jiliac bellowed. “And you call this a fitting gift?”

With a powerful swing of her small arm, Jiliac tossed the piece of art into the air, then used her tail to bat it clear across the audience chamber. Striking the wall, it shattered, raining down in pieces.

“I call it entirely fitting, Jiliac,” Durga gave no ground. He recited the formal words. “Today I, Durga Besadii Tai, discovered that you killed Aruk, my parent. I challenge you under the Old Law. Prepare to die.”

Jiliac bellowed in rage and swung herself off her sled. “You are the one who will die, upstart!” she growled, and sent her flexible