“And you just happened to have another batch with you?”
“He likes to have backup plans,” she said. “I think he put the canister in my belt so he would have extra if he needed it.”
“You didn’t know it was there?”
Thalias hunched her shoulders. “No. But would it have mattered if I did? As long as we remain family hostages, our master owns us. Heart, soul, and life. He can do what he wishes with all three.”
“I would call that barbarous,” Yiv said, the strange tendrils on his shoulders waving a little harder than usual, “if that wasn’t basically the same arrangement I demand of my own conquered peoples. Perhaps he and I are even more alike than I thought. Did he tell you what the message was that he had you deliver?”
Thalias shook her head. “No.”
“It was quite interesting,” Yiv said, setting the tava canister on the arm of his chair and pulling out the envelope Thalias had given the Vak soldier at the landing platform. “He’s offering an alliance with the Chiss Ascendancy in return for permission to come to Primea and challenge me.” He gave a snort and set the envelope beside the canister. “Also excruciatingly naïve. Does he really think the Vaks could make a decision like that without studying every aspect and every nuance?”
“My master is very good at reading cultures,” Thalias said.
“Really,” Yiv said. “When you return to Csilla, you must look up the story of his dealings with the Garwians and Lioaoi. The real story, not the version available to the public.”
“Why?” Thalias asked. “What’s different about it?”
“Oh, far be it from me to ruin the surprise,” Yiv said cheerfully. “But I’ve had the full truth from the Lioaoi. Let’s just say that your master isn’t nearly as good as he thinks.” He considered. “Not that it matters in this case, because no one in the Combine will ever read his offer. The letter the Vaks actually received was merely an apology and an earnest hope that this won’t sour the Combine’s view of the Chiss. Content that, I daresay, they won’t need to endlessly debate.”
Thalias looked at Che’ri. The girl was trying to keep up a good front, but Thalias could see that Yiv’s one–two punch with the tava canister and his substitute note had left her shaken.
Yiv had spotted it, too. “I seem to have upset your fellow hostage,” he said with feigned concern. “Or perhaps she’s simply not as good at hiding her feelings as you are.”
“We’re hostages,” Thalias said. “Our feelings also lie at the mercy of our master and his family.”
“No doubt she would learn with age and practice,” Yiv said. “Well, perhaps your next master will continue her training. Would you care to retire to a resting area for a bit? I’ll want you here with me when Thrawn arrives—I’m sure he’ll want to see you—but that will be several more hours.”
“Or several more days,” Thalias said. “Primea is a long way from the Ascendancy via jump-by-jump travel.”
“Not a problem,” Yiv said with another broad smile. “He’ll certainly wish to hire a navigator for such an important meeting. And that navigator—my navigator—is likely even now coming aboard his freighter. A few hours, maybe less, and it will all be over.”
* * *
—
“I’m glad you were available for this journey,” Thrawn said, handing Qilori a steaming mug.
“As am I,” Qilori said, sniffing approvingly. Galara tealeaf, his favorite drink. “I’d just returned to the concourse and was looking over the list of possible jobs when your message came through.”
“I’m glad you were willing to wait for my arrival.”
“I was happy to do so,” Qilori said. “For one thing, voyages with you are never boring. For another—” He hefted his mug.
“The tealeaf?”
“Yes,” Qilori said. “Very few Pathfinder employers remember their navigator’s preferences. A large number don’t even bother to learn our names.”
“It seemed appropriate,” Thrawn said. “Since this will likely be our last voyage together.”
“Really?” Qilori asked, frowning at the Chiss over the edge of the mug. “How so?”
“I’m going to Primea to ransom my two hostages from General Yiv,” Thrawn said. “I don’t expect the exchange to end well.”
“Oh,” Qilori said, trying for the right mix of surprise and concern. “Surely you’re not expecting treachery? Yiv the Benevolent has always struck me as upright and honorable in his dealings with others. At least when the other party has also been honorable. You aren’t planning any tricks, are you?”
“He wanted me to come alone in an unarmed freighter.” Thrawn waved a hand around them. “Do you see anyone else? Or any weapons?”
“Well, certainly not from here,” Qilori said with a shrug. Though considering that he’d given the freighter’s hull a thorough visual inspection before coming aboard, and had spent his last rest period surreptitiously checking for weapons controls, he was considerably more certain than his offhanded comment made it look.
Still, there was something odd about the freighter’s shape, something that had caught his attention as he’d spiraled around it earlier. It was nothing hugely out of the ordinary for this class of ship, and he couldn’t even codify what it was that was different. Yet hours later, it was still nagging at him.
“You can therefore affirm that I’ve followed his instructions,” Thrawn said.
“In which case you should have nothing to fear,” Qilori said.
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Are you ready for the final segment?”
“I am,” Qilori said, taking one last sip of his tealeaf and setting the mug aside. Thrawn was right: It would be their last voyage together. Qilori would have to thank the Benevolent later for letting him be present to watch the arrogant, Pathfinder-murdering Chiss die. “Another half hour, and we’ll be there.”
“Good,” Thrawn said, settling himself in his chair. “Let’s make an end of it, Qilori of Uandualon. One way, or another.”
Insight. In the end, Ar’alani mused, that was what it came down to. Analysis followed, then extrapolation and countermove. Those were what made a successful military campaign. But it all started with insight.
And if the insight was in error, the rest collapsed like an ice bridge over a bonfire.