Star Wars_ The Old Republic_ Revan - Drew Karpyshyn [52]
They’d also offered up plenty of kri’gee, a bitter Mandalorian ale. Not wanting to be resented as an outsider, Revan had matched the other revelers drink for drink. The vile beverage packed plenty of kick; he hadn’t had a hangover this bad since his wedding night. His head was spinning, his eyes were blurred, and his mouth tasted like he’d been chewing on bantha fur. He’d still be sleeping it off if not for the dream.
No, not a dream. Another memory bubbling to the surface.
He and Malak had been searching for something here on Rekkiad. Something that was somehow connected to Mandalore’s Mask. He didn’t know what it was, but with a little help he might be able to use the details of his dream to figure out where they had been looking.
He peeled back the sleeping bag and immediately felt goose bumps prickling up on the flesh beneath his long-sleeved shirt. Ignoring the cold, he picked his way through the semi-darkness until he found his personal holocomm lying under a pile of clothes in one corner of the tent.
Scooting back into the warmth of his sleeping bag, Revan activated the device. “Tee-Three, can you read me?”
A tiny holographic image of the droid materialized in front of him, beeping with concern.
“Everything’s fine,” Revan reassured in a whisper. “Just try to keep it down. Canderous is still asleep.”
The astromech’s response was an excited whistle, though the volume was slightly lower than before.
“See? I knew you’d be able to put the Hawk back together without my help.”
T3 beeped indignantly.
“Yeah, that snow gets everywhere. But it’ll melt. Besides, you can worry about that later. I need you to do something for me. Start scanning the topography maps for two massive columns of ice standing close together. Two or three kilometers high, at least. When you find them, send me the coordinates.”
There were roughly thirty seconds of silence on the other end before T3 chirped a reply.
“Great work, Tee-Three. Remember, keep an eye on the ship. I’ll call you if we need anything else.”
Revan turned off the holocomm, knowing the easy part was over. T3 might have been slightly annoyed with him, but dealing with the droid was going to be a whole lot easier than getting the snoring giant beside him up and moving.
“Wake up,” he said, reaching across the heater to shake Canderous out of his slumber. “We need to talk.”
Canderous grumbled something profane in Mando’a at him and rolled over onto his other side.
“It’s important,” Revan said, shaking him even harder. “You have to get Veela to move the camp.”
“Huh? What? What about Veela?” Canderous mumbled, opening one eye.
“You have to get her to move the camp.”
The eye closed again. “That’s her call, not mine. She’s the clan chief.”
“I think they’re looking for Mandalore’s Mask in the wrong place.”
Both eyes snapped open, and Canderous levered himself up to a sitting position. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
——
“EVERYBODY’S HERE,” Veela declared. “Say what you have to say.”
Revan’s head was still pounding from the kri’gee, and in the close quarters of the supply shed her voice was loud enough to make him wince.
Including Canderous and Revan, a total of eight had gathered for the impromptu council. Veela had called them together at Canderous’s insistence—three men and two women. Edric was there, and Revan recognized most of the others from the night before, though he couldn’t recall their names.
“We have to move the camp,” Canderous told them.
As when they first arrived, Revan and Canderous had decided to let Canderous do most of the talking. It would be easier to convince the Mandalorians if they heard the idea from one of their own—provided Veela was willing to listen to anything her husband had to say.
“Move the camp?” she asked incredulously. “You think it’s so easy to just pick up and go?”
“It took our scouts weeks to find this location,” one of the other women chimed in.
“This is a good spot,” Edric agreed. “We’re sheltered from the worst of the wind and snow. The mountain protects us from