Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina by Kevin J. Anderson

Author:Kevin J. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-05-16T11:02:15+00:00

What with the commotion of Imperial troops coming into Mos

Eisley to search for a pair of droids, the sudden rumors of a Sand

People massacre on an outlying farm, and the firefight at Docking

Bay 94 ending with a smuggling craft's illegal liftoff, nobody

found Feltipern Trevagg's body until the following afternoon.

"Didn't anybody tell him?" demanded Wuher the bartender,

brought over to the Mos Eisley Inn by Balu's deputy to view the

body and give the security officer his deposition.

"Tell him what?" Balu looked up from jotting on his logpad.

He'd never much liked the Gotal, but that kind of

death-evisceration with what looked to have been a long, thin

knife, skillfully wielded-was something he wouldn't have wished on

anyone.

"About H'nemthe." When Balu continued to look blank, the

bartender added, "The girl he was with. The H'nemthe female."

"Nightlily?" Balu was starded. The girl had looked too

frightened by her surroundings-and too dazzled by Trevagg's

charms-to have harmed a hair of the Gotal's head.

"Was that her name?" Wuher rolled his eyes. "It figures."

A small crowd had gathered. Of course, none of the Imperial

stormtroopers and none of the Prefect's guard, either. A murder

this small wasn't worth their time. Balu couldn't help observing

Nackhar in the background slipping the coroner's deputy a few cred

its. For what, he decided not to ask.

"The m'iiyoom-the nightlily-is a carnivorous flower that feeds

on small rodents and insects that try to drink its nectar," said

the barkeep, hands on hips and looking down at the dark-stained

sheet the coroner had laid over what was left of Trevagg. "After

mating, H'nemthe females gut the males with those tongues of

theirs-they're as sharp as sword blades, and a lot stronger than

they look. Some kind of biological reaction to there being twenty

H'nemthe males for every female. The males seem to think it's

wortih it, to achieve the act of love. I saw them together in the

can-Una, but I didn't think Trevagg was crazy enough to try to bed

the girl."

"He was always bragging about being such a great hunter," said

Balu wonderingly, stepping aside for the coroner's deputies to

carry die body out of the dingy and bloodstained room. "You'd have

thought he'd sense it coming."

"How could he?" The barkeep tucked big hands into his belt,

followed the officer back out to the street. "For her it was the

act of love, too."

He shrugged, and quoted an old Ithorian proverb current in some

sections of the spaceways "N'ygyng mth'une vned 'isobec' k'chuv

'ysobek.' "

Which, loosely translated, means "The word for 'love' in one

language is the word for 'dinner' in others."

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