rancor keeper put a big hand on his friendâs shoulder. âI like you, Porcellus,â he said. âYouâve been a good friend to me, letting me take a couple scraps for my baby â¦â He jerked a thumb at the mass of steaming meat and meat by-products that occupied a good two-thirds of the table. âI donât want to have to throw you in there with him. So I thought Iâd drop you the word before Bib Fortuna gets down here to talk to you about it.â Malakili gathered up the corners of the oilcloth upon which the offal was heaped, and lugged it out the door in a trail of dribbled juice.
Porcellus said, âThanks,â though his mouth was too dry to produce actual sound.
âHis Excellency is most displeased.â
âEntirely without reason, Your Worship. It is wholly the result of a regrettable misunderstanding.â Porcellus bent almost double in a deep bow and hoped BibFortuna, Jabba the Huttâs vile Twiâlek majordomo, wouldnât notice the ransacked boxes and canisters which covered every horizontal surface in the kitchen, the result of a frenzied search for anything that might have caused the Bloated Oneâs unprecedented discomfort. Since many of the delicacies which had gone into the Huttâs omelettes,
roulades
, and
étouffées
over the past years were inedible by any lesser species, the search hadnât been an easy oneâthe chef was still wondering about the goatgrass heâd used the previous evening as a stuffing for the gamwidge, and the small unmarked red canister of unidentifiable paste whose contents had been used to top yesterdayâs chocolate ladybabies.
The Twiâlekâs small eyes narrowed still further; in the kitchenâs mephitic light they had the appearance of dirty glass. âYou know how solicitous our master is about his health.â
Neither of them was going to speak the word âpoison,â of course.
âAbsolutely,â groveled Porcellus, reflecting that between Jabbaâs wholesale consumption of triglycerides, cholesterol, and alcoholânever mind substances less identifiableâand indescribable sexual practices, the Hutt would scarcely
need
poison. Porcellus was still trying to deal with the concept that a Hutt
could
be poisoned. âI scarcely need to assure you that throughout my term of service here Iâve accepted nothing but the finest, the most healthful, the tastiest ingredients to lay before His Excellencyâs discriminating palate. I am at a loss to understand this most distressing development.â
Arms folded, Fortuna drummed his long nails gently on his own biceps. âShould the situation continue,â he said in his soft voice, âexplanations for it could be devised.â
âHere!â Porcellus whirled, lashed out indignantly with the dishtowel in his hand. âThatâs the masterâs!â
Ak-Buz, commander of Jabbaâs sail barge, backed quickly away from the little electric fence around the beignets, dropping the pair of long-nosed nonconductive machinistâs pliers heâd used to poke through the current. A snarl contorted his leathery faceâthe only expression, as far as Porcellus had ever been able to ascertain, of which Weequays were capableâand he ran out of the kitchen into the hot sunlight of the receiving bay, shoving the stolen beignet into his lipless mouth as he went.
âThey seem to think this place is a charity kitchen.â Porcellus mopped nervously at the last traces of spilled sugar.
âShall I suggest to Jabba that the Weequay be punished?â Fortunaâs voice was a dangerous purr. âThrown to the rancor? A little quick, perhaps, though Jabba is fond of the spectacle â¦Â Lowered into the pit of the brachno-jags, perhaps? Theyâre small in themselves, but a hundred can strip a beingâs bones in, oh, five or six hours. One aloneâif that being is tied up
Back in the Saddle (v5.0)