pedway. “It’s
them
.”
Bazel didn’t need to look to know who
them
was, and he ventured the opinion that it was nothing to grow angry about. The Solos were just keeping watch because they were worried that he and Yaqeel might fall ill, the way their friends had.
Yaqeel cocked her head in surprise. “When did
you
notice them?”
Bazel rubbed his long chin and, because his Ramoan throat didn’tallow him to speak Basic, grunted his reply in his own language. It was difficult to recall whether he had smelled the Solos as he and Yaqeel were entering Tahiri’s building, or as they were
leaving
. Probably as they were leaving.
Yaqeel punched him in the shoulder, hard. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Bazel hadn’t realized he needed to; wasn’t her nose as large as his?
Yaqeel’s ears shot forward. “Gee,
thanks
.”
She picked up her pace. Bazel hastened after her, his heavy strides sounding like drumbeats as his big heels pounded the paving slabs. Beings ten meters ahead began to glance over their shoulders and look for convenient places in which to disappear.
Bazel paid them no attention. It wasn’t like Yaqeel to be touchy, so he was afraid he had really hurt her feelings. As he lumbered after her, he kept up a steady refrain of grunts and groans, trying to explain that her nose was really as big as his only
in proportion
to the size of her face. But Yaqeel wasn’t in any mood for explanations. She continued to move ever faster, until she was almost running.
They reached the end of the pedway, emerging from the Walking Garden into the open vastness of the Temple Court. Yaqeel continued to move at a brisk pace, angling for the south side of the huge pyramid, where there was a subsurface speeder gate that many Jedi employed as an entrance because of its inaccessibility to Javis Tyrr and his fellow holoslugs.
Finally, Bazel caught up to Yaqeel and spun around to block her way. Her eyes were wide and bulging, almost bloodshot, and the tips of her fangs were showing beneath her curled lips. Growing alarmed, he clamped a huge hand on her shoulder and demanded to know why she was suddenly so frightened of him.
Yaqeel’s ears flattened to the sides. “It’s not you, Bazel.”
Yaqeel
never
called him by his proper name; clearly, something was terribly wrong. He snorted a question, demanding to know what it was.
Yaqeel glanced over her shoulder, back toward the Walking Garden. “
Them
, of course,” she said. “Can’t you sense the change?”
Now Yaqeel was really starting to frighten Bazel. When he askedher what change she meant, his voice broke into a shrill squeal that made passing beings circle around them even more widely.
“Oh, Barv, you’re just so …
trusting
.” Yaqeel took Bazel by the wrist and started toward the speeder entrance again, this time at a more normal pace. “Don’t let them know we’re on to them. That’s the mistake the others made.”
Bazel began to have a sinking feeling. He inquired what others she was talking about.
Yaqeel stared up out of one narrowed eye. “The others like
us
, of course.”
Bazel asked if she meant the rest of the Unit, Jysella and Valin.
Yaqeel nodded, adding, “And Seff and Natua, too.”
They were just angling past the main entrance, where a full Galactic Alliance Security assault team—complete with armored hovercars—had been stationed as an assertion of Daala’s authority. To either side of them sat a pair of newsvans, resting on their parking struts until the next opportunity came to embarrass the Jedi Order. Javis Tyrr was nowhere in sight at the moment, but Bazel recognized Tyrr’s distinctive, half-winking “gotcha eye” logo on one of the vans, and he knew the bottom-feeding reporter would be somewhere close. He pulled Yaqeel to his other side, where she would be shielded from roving cams by his jade bulk.
His worst fears were confirmed when Yaqeel failed to notice what he was doing. “We’ll free Seff and Natua
them
.”
Bazel didn’t need to look to know who
them
was, and he ventured the opinion that it was nothing to grow angry about. The Solos were just keeping watch because they were worried that he and Yaqeel might fall ill, the way their friends had.
Yaqeel cocked her head in surprise. “When did
you
notice them?”
Bazel rubbed his long chin and, because his Ramoan throat didn’tallow him to speak Basic, grunted his reply in his own language. It was difficult to recall whether he had smelled the Solos as he and Yaqeel were entering Tahiri’s building, or as they were
leaving
. Probably as they were leaving.
Yaqeel punched him in the shoulder, hard. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Bazel hadn’t realized he needed to; wasn’t her nose as large as his?
Yaqeel’s ears shot forward. “Gee,
thanks
.”
She picked up her pace. Bazel hastened after her, his heavy strides sounding like drumbeats as his big heels pounded the paving slabs. Beings ten meters ahead began to glance over their shoulders and look for convenient places in which to disappear.
Bazel paid them no attention. It wasn’t like Yaqeel to be touchy, so he was afraid he had really hurt her feelings. As he lumbered after her, he kept up a steady refrain of grunts and groans, trying to explain that her nose was really as big as his only
in proportion
to the size of her face. But Yaqeel wasn’t in any mood for explanations. She continued to move ever faster, until she was almost running.
They reached the end of the pedway, emerging from the Walking Garden into the open vastness of the Temple Court. Yaqeel continued to move at a brisk pace, angling for the south side of the huge pyramid, where there was a subsurface speeder gate that many Jedi employed as an entrance because of its inaccessibility to Javis Tyrr and his fellow holoslugs.
Finally, Bazel caught up to Yaqeel and spun around to block her way. Her eyes were wide and bulging, almost bloodshot, and the tips of her fangs were showing beneath her curled lips. Growing alarmed, he clamped a huge hand on her shoulder and demanded to know why she was suddenly so frightened of him.
Yaqeel’s ears flattened to the sides. “It’s not you, Bazel.”
Yaqeel
never
called him by his proper name; clearly, something was terribly wrong. He snorted a question, demanding to know what it was.
Yaqeel glanced over her shoulder, back toward the Walking Garden. “
Them
, of course,” she said. “Can’t you sense the change?”
Now Yaqeel was really starting to frighten Bazel. When he askedher what change she meant, his voice broke into a shrill squeal that made passing beings circle around them even more widely.
“Oh, Barv, you’re just so …
trusting
.” Yaqeel took Bazel by the wrist and started toward the speeder entrance again, this time at a more normal pace. “Don’t let them know we’re on to them. That’s the mistake the others made.”
Bazel began to have a sinking feeling. He inquired what others she was talking about.
Yaqeel stared up out of one narrowed eye. “The others like
us
, of course.”
Bazel asked if she meant the rest of the Unit, Jysella and Valin.
Yaqeel nodded, adding, “And Seff and Natua, too.”
They were just angling past the main entrance, where a full Galactic Alliance Security assault team—complete with armored hovercars—had been stationed as an assertion of Daala’s authority. To either side of them sat a pair of newsvans, resting on their parking struts until the next opportunity came to embarrass the Jedi Order. Javis Tyrr was nowhere in sight at the moment, but Bazel recognized Tyrr’s distinctive, half-winking “gotcha eye” logo on one of the vans, and he knew the bottom-feeding reporter would be somewhere close. He pulled Yaqeel to his other side, where she would be shielded from roving cams by his jade bulk.
His worst fears were confirmed when Yaqeel failed to notice what he was doing. “We’ll free Seff and Natua
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