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The goblet went clattering across the chamber's terrazzo floor, the wine a
ragged pennant on the inlaid tiles, as Bossk knocked it from his sire's hand
with one swing of his clawed hand. Across the high-ceilinged space of the
chamber, hung with the empty combat gear and other trophies taken off the
Guild's long-ago enemies, silence fell. The collective gaze of the council
members turned toward their chief and his enraged offspring.
"Your manners," said Cradossk softly, "are severely lacking. As usual."
Boba Fett had had enough experience with Trandoshans over the years to know
what a bad sign it was when their voices went low and ominous like that. When
they shouted and snarled, they were ready to kill. When they whispered, they
were ready to kill everything. He carefully shifted away from Cradossk's side
so as not to be in the way if the old reptilian decided to leap over the table
and tear out his only son's throat.
"As is your understanding." Bossk spoke with a cold control, through which his
anger still managed to appear.
"What kind of brain-withered old fool shares wine with his enemy?" He flung a
gesture toward Boba Fett. "Have you forgotten so much, has every day faded
from your memory, that the Guild's history is a blank slate to you?
This man has made fools of us more times than we can count." Bossk turned to
either side, making sure that everyone in the chamber could hear his words.
"You all know who it is that sits with you now. He's taken the credits out of
our pockets and the food out of our mouths." He looked back at his sire. "If
you weren't drunk"-Bossk's voice sounded like dry gravel scraping across
rusted metal-"you'd take what's fallen into your grasp and sink your teeth
into Boba Fett's heart."
"I wasn't drunk when he arrived here." Cradossk's response was both mild and
somewhat amused. "But I intend to get very drunk-and very happy-now that we've
all had a
chance to listen to Fett. What he came here to say has pleased me a great
deal." He raised his goblet and took a long draft that left wet lines
trickling down the sides of his throat, then slammed the goblet down. "That's
one of the differences between him . . . and you."
Barely suppressed laughter ran along the arms of the crescent table. Without
turning his head, Boba Fett could see the other council members and their
lackeys whispering back and forth, their sardonic glances taking in the young
bounty hunter standing before them. Be sure you know who your friends are, he
wanted to warn Bossk.
This lot will carve you up anytime it suits them.
"What're you talking about?" Bossk gripped the edge of the table in his claws
and leaned toward his father.
"What's this sneaking scum told you?"
"Boba Fett has made us an offer." From an ornately enameled tray held behind
him, Cradossk plucked another empty goblet, holding it out to be filled by one
of the other attendants. He held the wine out toward his son. "A
very good one; that's why we're celebrating." Cradossk's mottled smile
widened. "As you should be."
"Offer?" Bossk didn't take the goblet from the older
Trandoshan. "What kind of offer?"
"The kind that only a fool would refuse. The kind of offer that solves a great
many problems. For all of us."
Confusion showed in Bossk's gaze as he looked over at
Boba Fett, then back to his father. "I don't understand.
. . ."
"Of course you don't." Boba Fett spoke this time, leaning back against the
leatherwork of the chair that had been given him. "There's so much you don't
understand." He might as well start working Bossk into an irrational fury now
as later. "That's why your father is still head of the Bounty Hunters Guild.
You have a lot of wisdom to acquire before you'll have your chance."
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"Explain it to him." With a single crooked claw, Cradossk motioned one of the
other council members over.
"I tire so easily nowadays. . . ."
"Then take a nap, old man." Bossk turned angrily toward the robed figure that
had approached. "Spit it out."
"So simple, is it not?" The watery pupils at the ends of the council member's
eyestalks regarded Bossk with kindly forbearance. "And so indicative- yes?-of
both your father's and our guest's foresight. Though Boba Fett is not to be
called our guest anymore, is he?"
"All I know," growled Bossk, "is what I call him."
"Perhaps so, but should you not call him 'brother'
now?"
Those words struck Bossk speechless.
"For is that not what Boba Fett has offered the
Guild?" The council member folded his hooked, mantislike forearms together.
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