“That’s odd,” Pavik Tharen said. “You look so familiar. I know I’ve seen you somewhere before. Somewhere … at a barbecue, I think. I have a mental picture of seeing you at a barbecue that followed a swoop racing meet.”
Han stiffened inwardly. Now that Pavik mentioned it, Han remembered him, too. Pavik was probably two or three years older than Han, and Bria’s brother had been a frequent competitor at some of the swoop races. Due to the age difference, they’d never raced against each other, but Han remembered seeing him.
And, of course, every time he’d done major swoop racing, Han had been part of a “family unit” created by Garris Shrike to scam wealthy Corellians out of their money.
“Sorry, don’t remember you,” he said casually. “I’ve been off-world for the past several years. Afraid I ain’t been to a Corellian barbecue since I was a kid.”
“But I remember it distinctly …” Pavik said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “You were leaning against a swoop, eating a plate of barbecued traladon ribs. The picture in my mind is very clear.”
“Funny thing about that,” Han said, leaning back in his seat with a smile. “People are always saying stuff like that to me. I must have one of those kinda faces—so ordinary that lots of people confuse me with other folks.”
“I don’t think you’re ordinary-looking, Han,” Bria said, not understanding what was going on, but trying to be loyal. “I don’t think anyone who ever met you could forget you. You’re … unique.” She gave him a smile. “Handsome, too.”
Han took a deep breath and managed to smile blandly at the assembled Tharens. “Thanks, honey,” he said. “But I’m really just an ordinary kinda guy.”
Bria finally caught the subtle hint and fell into silence. Pavik Tharen continued to study Han suspiciously.
“Well,” Sera Tharen said too brightly, “I’m sure you’re both tired. Captain Solo, I’ll have Maronea prepare one of the guest rooms for you. Bria, obviously you’ll want your room back, and, dear, I haven’t changed a thing. I just knew that someday you’d come to your senses and return to us!”
“I really couldn’t just decide to leave, Mother,” Bria said quietly. “Once you go to Ylesia, they won’t let you leave. There are no ships, and there are armed guards. If it hadn’t been for Han … I would never have been able to escape.”
“Oh, dear …” Lady Tharen said, distressed and looking as if she didn’t know what to believe. Han had the impression that the woman’s entire exposure to the seamier side of life probably occurred through the tri-dee action-adventure serials.
“I understand that, Bria,” Renn Tharen said, holding Han’s eyes with his own. “And I’ll never forget it. Han is a hero, Sera, and we owe him more than we can ever repay. If it hadn’t been for him, we’d never have seen Bria again. He probably saved her life.”
“Oh … oh, dear …” Lady Tharen was increasingly unnerved by these allusions to the danger her daughter had been in. Pavik Tharen was looking increasingly skeptical.
Han followed the Selonian maid, Maronea, to the room on the far side of the house. He was amused to note that his room was as far as it could possibly be from Bria’s and that the master suite occupied by her parents lay between the two rooms. Bria’s mother, it seemed, had decided to nip any chance of wee-hours assignations between her guest and her daughter in the bud.
Can’t wait until we sell Teroenza’s stuff and get outta here, he thought as he undressed and crawled into the bed. Bria’s dad ain’t so bad, he seems like he used to be a regular guy, but her mom and her brother …
Han sighed and closed his eyes. Tonight, at least, Lady Tharen need have no fears. He was so tired that the only thing on his mind was sleep. Funny thing about that … in some ways, spending two hours in the company of Bria’s family had tired him out more than that whole escape from Ylesia …
Bria’s mother came into her room to say good night and give her a last hug before she fell asleep. It was a tearful time for both mother and daughter. They hugged and cried a little, then hugged again. “I’m so glad to have my little girl back,” Lady Tharen whispered.
“It’s good to be back, Mother,” Bria said, and at that moment she sincerely meant it. The evening had been a strain, no doubt. But things will get better, they’re bound to, she thought, trying to comfort herself. Han is so lovable. She’s bound to fall for his charm and see how wonderful he is …
“This young man you’ve brought home …” her mother said, almost as though she’d been reading her daughter’s mind. “It’s fairly obvious that you’re not just … friends, dear. Exactly how … involved … are you two?”
Bria gazed at her mother unflinchingly. “I love Han, Mother, and he loves me. He wants me to stay with him. Nobody has mentioned marriage, yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the subject came up.”
Her mother took a quick, sharp breath, as though her worst fears had been confirmed. But something in Bria’s choice of words alerted her, and like a hungry vrelt, she pounced. “I see. Well, he seems like a nice young man, though somewhat … rough around the edges, dear. But you say that he wants you to stay with him. Is that what you want?”
Bria nodded her head, then shook it, then had to fight back tears. She shrugged miserably. “Mother, I’m not sure. I know I love him, really love him, but … it’s been hard for me. Leaving Ylesia, finding out that the religion I believed in and was devoting my whole life to was nothing but a lie. That hurt … a lot. I feel as though part of me is missing, Mother. And I also feel that I can’t really promise to stay with Han when I’m not … whole.”
“Does he know you have these doubts?” her mother asked, smoothing Bria’s hair back tenderly. The young woman didn’t miss the spark of happiness that had flared up in her mother’s eyes when she’d spoken of her uncertainty about staying with Han.
She doesn’t want me to stay with him, she realized with a dull ache of expectation fulfilled. I knew she’d be like this. It’s so unfair! The only reason I’m uncertain about staying with Han is because of ME, not how I feel about him! But she doesn’t understand—she’s incapable of understanding.
“We’ve talked,” Bria said, unwilling to confide in her mother any more than she’d already done. “And I can’t imagine life without Han, so I’m going to do the best I can to stay with him and be a help to him.”
Her mother looked troubled, but said no more. Bria lay down and tried to sleep. Being in her old bed was a luxury after sleeping on the hard Ylesian bunks, and in the ship. She missed Han’s warmth, though. Her bed seemed cold. Bria tossed and turned, thinking of Han, wondering what she should do.
He deserves someone better, she thought sadly. Someone who can be there for him one hundred percent …
Pounding her pillow in frustration, Bria felt tears well up again. Why can’t anything ever be EASY? I found a man I can love, who loves me—why can’t that be enough?
But it wasn’t. Alone in the darkness of her childhood room, Bria acknowledged that.
She began to cry softly, aching with misery. After a long time, she cried herself to sleep …
The next day Han left the Tharen house shortly after breakfast and headed off to catch the shuttle to the nearest large city. He carried with him the backpack containing the items he and Bria had stolen from Teroenza. After the disappointing revenues received from the sale of the Talisman, Han knew he had to get top price for their small treasure trove.
He disembarked from the shuttle in the port city of Tyrena and went to a lockbox office, where he retrieved a few hundred credits and a set of “clean” IDs for one “Jenos Idanian.” Then he went off to a branch of the Imperial Bank and opened an account, using the credits and ID.
When that errand was finished, he went in search of an antiquities and art store he recalled from past escapades. It had been several years since he’d visited it, and for all he knew, the little store might have closed.
But no, the place was still there. The sign above the door was picked out
in subdued holographic lights, opalescent against the plain gray stone of the storefront. Han, toting the backpack, went inside. As he opened the door, he could hear a soft chime from deep within the store.
Han saw the clerk behind the counter, but he ignored the female Selonian. Instead, he walked as directly as possible through the labyrinthine paths between the displays of merchandise, until he reached a small door set inconspicuously at the back. It was covered with an ancient tapestry depicting the founding of the Republic, and only certain “customers” ever discovered the door was behind it.
Once there, he looked around to make sure he was alone and unobserved, then he knocked sharply, in a preordained pattern. He waited, and after another minute the sound of an electronic lock being released sounded from the other side of the door. Han raised the tapestry, slipped under it, and walked through, into the back room.
The proprietor was an old, old man, still spry despite his stooped body, wrinkled face, and wispy yellow-white hair. Galidon Okanor had looked exactly the same in the five years since Han had first met him. Now he looked up and smiled at Han. “Well, it’s … um … who, today, son?”
Han smiled. “Jenos Idanian, sir. How are you?” He genuinely liked the little man, who was, at one and the same time, a genuinely respected art assessor and appraiser, and a very competent and trustworthy fence.
“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain,” said the little man. “Because if I did, what good would it do me?” he added, emitting a wheezing chuckle.
“You got a point,” Han said.
Okanor sat down on a high stool before a table that was lit with a jeweler’s and appraiser’s light, specially angled and illumined to show flaws in gemstones and cracks or flaws in antiques. He waved to a seat opposite his. “Sit down, sit down, Jenos Idanian. What have you brought me today?”
“Lots of things,” Han said. “I’d like a price for the lot, and I’d like the credits deposited immediately in the Imperial Bank on Coruscant.”
“Fine, fine,” said Okanor. He rubbed his aged, veiny hands together. “You usually have good taste, Jenos. Now let’s see what you’ve brought me!”
“Okay,” Han said, and began unloading the knapsack, placing each item on the table beneath the light. He held back his favorite treasure, though, a tiny golden statue of a long-extinct Corellian paledor. It was beautiful, and its eyes were flawless Keral fire-gems.
Okanor watched avidly, occasionally uttering a soft “oh” or “ahhh,” but he forbore to speak until Han was finished. Then he carefully picked up each piece, studied it intently, sometimes through a jeweler’s glass, then placed it on the table again and went on to the next.
“Remarkable, most remarkable,” he said, finally. “I am going to break a rule of mine and ask you where in the name of the galaxy you found all of this? In a museum? I do not approve of stealing from museums, you know.”
Han shook his head. “Not a museum.”
“A private collection?” Okanor pursed his lips. “I am most impressed, lad. The collector in question is a sentient of taste and discrimination. I will also tell you, young man, that he is not very particular about his acquisition sources. I recognize, from their description, that at least half of these items have been reported stolen. Some have been on WANTED lists for years.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Han said. “And you, you’ll sell ’em to museums, won’t you?”
“Most of them, most of them,” Okanor agreed.
“Okay, then, that’s good,” Han said, thinking that would please Bria. “That’s where they should be. So … how much?”
Okanor named a figure.
Han gave the old man a look of withering contempt and reached for his knapsack. “There’s a guy over in Kolene who will be thrilled to get a look at this stuff. I can see I should have visited him first,” he said, reaching for the scrimshawed bantha tusk from Tatooine.
Okanor named another, higher figure. Silently Han began stowing items in the backpack.
Okanor sighed as though he’d just breathed his last and named another figure, considerably higher than the previous sum. “And that’s final,” he added.
Han shook his head. “It better not be, Okanor. I need at least five thousand more than that.”
Okanor clutched his chest and watched with anguished eyes as Han continued to stow items away in the backpack. Finally, as Han reached for the last, the tiny sculpture carved from living ice, he squeaked, “No! Don’t! You are killing me! Impoverishing me! I shall be naked in the streets, Jenos, lad! Would you do that to an old man?”
Han gave him a feral grin. “In a heartbeat, Okanor. I know what I need to get out of this deal, I have a pretty good idea what it’s worth, and I ain’t taking less.” He gave the old man an intent stare. “Frankly, Okanor, I can’t afford to take less. I’ve got something important to spend these credits on. If what I’ve got in mind works, you won’t see me again. I’ll be outta all this for good.”
Okanor nodded. “All right. You’ve broken me, Idanian. I’ll meet your price.”
“Good,” Han said, and began taking the items out of the backpack again.
He left the store with a satisfied smile, and carefully stowed his “Jenos Idanian” IDs and the bank record into his credit pouch. He’d travel under different IDs and leave “Jenos Idanian” “clean,” only using him for the bank withdrawal. He planned to store the golden paledor in a safe place he knew about. It never hurt to keep a little something in reserve for emergencies …
Knowing that Okanor’s credits would be waiting for him on the capital world of the Empire, Han headed down the street toward the shuttle station, whistling.
When Han walked up to and through the gates of the Tharen estate, he noticed a small, very sporty landspeeder hovering in the paved courtyard. He approached the door and found a young man standing inside, in the parlor. Pavik Tharen and his mother were there, talking to him. When Sera Tharen saw Han, her face fell. She was hoping I’d cut and run, Han thought sourly.
“Hi, Lady Tharen,” Han said. “Is Bria around?”
The young man turned to regard Han. He was a good-looking fellow, perhaps a year or so older than Han himself, and he was tastefully but fashionably dressed for an afternoon of net-ball.
“Hello,” the young man said pleasantly, holding out his hand. “I’m Dael Levare, and you are—” His gaze sharpened, and before Han could speak up, he exclaimed, “Wait a minute! I thought you looked familiar! Tallus Bryne, right?”
Han could think of no curse profound enough. He smiled weakly and shook hands. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Tallus Bryne?” Pavik Tharen said sharply.
“But he’s—” Sera Tharen stopped abruptly when her son nudged her, none too gently.
Dael Levare was oblivious to the byplay as he wrung Han’s hand. “What an honor this is! I still remember the day you set that record, and you did it by flying through the tunnel on Tabletop Mesa rather than over it! Everyone thought you were a goner, but you pulled it off!” He turned to Pavik. “You mean you didn’t recognize him? Is this Bria’s new suitor? The swoop racing champion of all Corellia! Your record still stands, Bryne. Or may I call you Tallus?”
“Tallus is fine,” Han said with a mental shrug. The vrelt’s in the kitchen for sure, this time …
Bria’s entrance was a welcome interruption. Han tried to catch her eye and give her a “look sharp” high-sign, but all her attention was for the newcomer. “Dael! What are you doing here?”
“Your mother invited me over,” Dael said. “You’re looking wonderful, Bria. I’m so glad to see you back safely—and with such a distinguished escort! I’ve wanted to shake this man’s hand ever since he won the swoop racing championship, last year!”
She looked at her mother. “You invited him over, Mother? How nice …” Han didn’t miss the edge in her voice, and the flash of guilt in Sera Tharen’s eyes. I get it, Han thought angrily. Mama here wanted Bria to see me next to her rich-guy ex-fianc
é, figuring I’d come out looking like some kind of low-life jerk.
“Well, yes, dear … I knew Dael would be able to catch you up on all the news with the young crowd … much better than I could …” Sera Tharen twittered nervously. Bria’s lip curled, and she turned away from her mother to smile at Dael.
“Well, Dael, it was lovely of you to drop by. Perhaps we can all get together for lunch someday. Who are you seeing these days?” As she spoke, she moved toward Dael, and in one smooth motion took his arm and started him moving toward the door. Han smiled inwardly. Slick, Bria, honey … nicely done.
“Sulen Belos,” Dael said. “She’d love to meet Tallus, too. She’s quite a swoop racing fan.”
“Tal—” Bria caught herself immediately, and laughed. “Well, she always was!” She cast a flirtatious glance at Han. “I’ll have to watch you, won’t I, Tallus? Sulen Belos is gorgeous, and she’s never been able to resist a swoop racer.”
Han smiled at her good-naturedly. Great. Just great. From bad to worse. “You gotta watch us swoop racers, too. We live for danger.”
Half out the door, Dael Levare laughed, as though Han had said something clever. “Well, I’ll call you. Nice meeting you, Tallus!”
“Nice meeting you, too,” Han said.
“Don’t forget to call,” Bria urged, and then she shut the door behind Levare and leaned against it.
Silence ensued.
Han had never heard such a profound silence, even inside a spacesuit in vacuum. He glanced quickly from Bria, to Pavik, to Sera. All three were staring at him grimly. Han cleared his throat. “Think I’ll take a little walk,” he announced. “Get some air.”
Not meeting anyone’s eyes, he left.
Star Wars: The Han Solo Trilogy I: The Paradise Snare Page 26
