Lando nodded grimly. “But Cojahn didn’t give in to them?”
“He should have,” Figrin said. “He reported Black Sun’s threats to a couple high-level Exex on Cloud City, but they lost the complaint or it was misfiled. He tried again, but nothing was ever done. Finally, Cojahn fired his Ugnaught crew boss when he figured out the guy was in thick with Black Sun.”
Figrin shook his domed head. “Not long after that, Cojahn took his little dive off a high balcony. Man, that guy’s probably still falling.” One of the musicians made a high, thin, squawking note on his instrument. “You know, there’s no end to the clouds on Bespin.”
“So why’d you run, Figrin?” Lando asked. “Were they after you, too?”
“Black Sun’s trying to get its hands into the Intergalactic Musicians’ Guild. They wanted us to pay triple membership dues just so they could take their cut—and man, Cojahn hadn’t paid us much. We’d only done a few gigs for him. I mean, SkyCenter Galleria isn’t even open yet! We got a few tips when we played the bars in the Yerith Bespin, but not enough for that kind of extortion.” He shook his huge smooth head. “I hate gangsters that don’t have budget payment plans!”
He continued. “Once Cojahn died, we knew Black Sun would tighten its hold on us, apply more pressure. One time they put stinger eels inside the mouthpieces of all our instruments.”
Zekk made a grimace of distaste.
“Oh, we caught the critters soon enough. Fed ’em to one of the bar’s customers, and even got a big tip—but we didn’t dare stick around Cloud City. Too dangerous there.”
“Yeah,” Zekk said, rolling his eyes. “You needed to come back to a nice safe, pleasant place like this war-ravaged wasteland of Clak’dor VII.”
“Hey, home is home,” Figrin said with a shrug.
Jaina felt sickened. “So Cojahn stood up for his morals and ethics … and paid for it with his life.”
“That about sums it up, young lady,” Figrin agreed.
“At least now we know what happened,” Zekk said. Sweat stained his clothing beneath the transparalon suit.
Lando stared grimly across the dim hut, gazing through the propped-open window. “Yeah, but we don’t know who killed him or who ordered his death.” He swallowed hard. “And believe me, someone’s going to pay for my friend’s death. Someone in Black Sun will have to answer for it.”
“Guess it’s time to get back to Cloud City, then,” Jaina said. Perspiration trickled down her neck and her back.
The band members stood up, bustled around the hut, and propped the rest of the windows, letting a heavy sluggish breeze drift in. The hazy light on Clak’dor VII grew richer in color as the sun set toward the swamp trees in the west. Outside they could hear the burring sounds of millions of insects stirring in the twilight.
“At least sit outside with us for a few minutes before you go,” Figrin said. “This is our nightly jam session. It’d be nice to have people listening for a change.”
The band members dropped through trapdoors to emerge outside the stilted hut. They tuned up on ramshackle stoops, ladders, and balconies, tossing off riffs and snatches of melody.
Outside, sitting on a rock, a violet puffer turtle swelled its bladders, straining the limits of its shell’s flexibility, and then exhaled on a low bassoon note. Heavy beetles crawled up trees and clicked their rear legs together in a rattling rhythm.
“It’s the music of the swamp,” Figrin said. “The symphony of Clak’dor VII. The Bith evolved with music like this! Since my people hide under their domes all the time, they don’t get to hear the natural music. Come on, join in.” He picked up his battered old long-reed jizz, thrust it into his mouth folds, and began to play.
The other band members added their own inspirations and embellishments, joining in with the mood synthesizer and humming clak beepbox. As they slid into tune with the natural sounds and music, a hoot-bat flapped overhead, emitting short blasts of sound that the musicians incorporated as a counterpoint to their piece.
Jaina listened, enjoying the exotic tune. She had never heard music like this in her life, and she knew it was an experience she wouldn’t forget. She winked at Zekk. “This is almost better than dry clothes,” she said.
Zekk flashed a grin back at her. “Not quite,” he said. “But it’s interesting.”
When it was finally time to go, Lando and the two young Jedi took their leave of the forlorn Biths sitting in their run-down huts, hiding out in the middle of the swamp.
“You’ll have an audience soon enough, Figrin,” Lando said softly. “Once we take care of Black Sun, you can come back and play to your heart’s content. I’ll even double your wages for the first week.”
Figrin raised a big-knuckled hand. “Just make sure you have an open sabacc table for me, Calrissian.” The band kept playing as their unexpected visitors turned to leave.
“What, you want to lose all your wages again?” Lando said over his shoulder.
“I always win ’em back,” Figrin answered, waving goodbye.
The band’s melody turned sour and skeptical at these words, and Jaina sensed that Figrin’s companions didn’t have much confidence in their leader’s gambling prowess.
13
Tenel ka’s normally alert mind went numb with shock as Jacen plummeted out of reach. She hung precariously, still dangling in the Wookiee’s strong grasp. She could have fallen at any instant. But for a full hundred heartbeats she could only stare down into the sea of clouds that had swallowed her friend Jacen.
Jacen…
At his side she had fought Dark Jedi, vicious beasts, bounty hunters, assassins, and misguided patriots. But never, even in her wildest nightmares, had she imagined that he could be taken from her like this—lost in an instant to gravity and some nebulous foe against whom she’d never even had the opportunity to fight.
The sharp pain in her arm did not come close to matching the wrenching pain in her heart, but it did bring her back to reality. Lowie groaned in weariness and despair. Tenel Ka’s booted feet flailed in the air. The only thing that kept her from sharing Jacen’s fate was Lowbacca’s strong grip on her one good arm.
But that couldn’t last forever.
For a split second, she considered letting go, plunging after Jacen into the clouds. At least that would save Lowbacca, and she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing this had all indirectly been her fault.
A long time ago, if she hadn’t been trying so hard to impress Jacen when they’d first built their lightsabers, her pride would not have led her to fight him with a substandard weapon … would not have led to the accident in which her arm had been lost—an arm that would have been there to save Jacen from his fall, had it not been for her own foolishness.
She should have been there to catch him. Tenel Ka had failed Jacen.
Why had she simply not told him how much his friendship meant to her?
Tenel Ka’s sweaty hand slipped in Lowie’s grasp. With a harsh bark of warning, Lowbacca extended his razor-sharp Wookiee claws and dug them deep into her arm. He would not let her fall.
She winced, distracted from her torturous thoughts, and welcomed the pain that brought her mind back to sharp reality. The warrior girl looked up into Lowie’s golden eyes and saw there a reflection of her own anguish … and something more: determination.
Determination to stay alive. Determination not to lose another friend. Determination to warn Jaina, Zekk, and Lando that their lives were in danger too. Determination to find whoever had done this and bring them to justice.