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said Dejarro. “Explain things.”
    “The Spice Lord has more important matters to deal with than talking to street-level dealers,” said Koax. “That is why the Spice Lord has me.” She skewered him with her good eye, and a silence grew between the two.
    “So.” Dejarro’s throat was dry now. “Do you think you could do something about this?”
    “Yes, I think I could,” she said. “I think I could warn the Spice Lord that there is another
Jeedai
. One with allies. I could also find out who these allies are, and tell you. Is that what you would want?”
    Dejarro nodded. “The
Jeedai
killed my clanbrothers and clansisters,” he said. “We need vengeance on their behalf.”
    “Consider it done,” said Koax. “You have my word—the Bomu clan will get its vengeance against this
Jeedai
. But I will warn you, if the
Jeedai
killed so many of your clan just at the outset, there will be more lives lost before you get your vengeance.”
    Dejarro nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, we know.It is the price you pay for vengeance.” The Rodian turned to leave the Klatooinian with her prize.
    “One last thing,” said Koax, and Dejarro froze in his tracks, turning slightly.
    “I will have to tell the Spice Lord that we have this problem because the Bomu clan neglected to cover its tracks sufficiently,” said Koax. “And I will have to report that I have taken appropriate action.” The Klatooinian’s hand drifted to her weapons belt.
    Dejarro pulled his blaster, and if Koax had been going for her own, he would have beaten her to the draw. Instead, the Klatooinian pulled one of her throwing blades, and in a graceful, almost casual flick of the wrist, planted it deeply in the Rodian’s neck from five paces away. Dejarro went down, gurgling.
    Koax liked to think that last noise was an attempt at an apology.
    The Spice Lord’s agent knelt over the dead Rodian and pulled the small vial—the last pure sample of Tempest on Makem Te—from Dejarro’s inside pocket. Then she pulled one of the death robes from its hooks and draped it solemnly over the body.
    “Another victim of this new
Jeedai
,” said Koax. “But I am good to my word, and will gladly throw as many of your clan in his way as I need to.” She let out a deep sigh.
    “But first,” continued the one-eyed Klatooinian, “I will have to send a message to the Spice Lord, presenting the bad news. And let me tell you, Rodian, that you got off easy in that you had to deal with me instead of the one I serve.”

CHAPTER
TWO

N EGOTIATIONS
    They sat quietly at the table: Mander Zuma, Reen Irana, and the Bothan. The three had headed away from the sirens, and after half an hour they found themselves at a Swokes Swokes tapcaf that specialized in “outlander cuisine”—or at least the Swokes Swokes’s best guess of it. The establishment was missing the traditional trench down the center of the room, but the tables were still massive and, Mander noted, bolted to the floor.
    They sat across from one another, the clear envelope with the crystals between them. Reen Irana stared at it like it was a live snake, fascinated and horrified. Her Bothan companion, who had not spoken a word during their fight or their later flight, was looking around the tapcaf. He looked like an impatient, easily distracted puppy, but Mander realized that he was checking out all the exits and making sure that they had not been followed.
    “This is what killed my brother,” she said at last. She sounded defeated.
    “Likely,” said Mander. “There were strange crystals at the corners of your brother’s eyes, as well as in his blood.”
    She ran her hand through her dark blue hair. In a soft voice she said, “His blood. How was the rest of him? What did you discover when you examined his body?”
    Mander was surprised by her directness. “I don’t know if you would really be comfortable knowing the details …”
    “Tell me!” she snapped, and several heads in the tapcaf turned