The child wasn't in the common room when Din snuck back into the village, the sun almost all the way down beyond the horizon and the nighttime frost cutting into the air. Dyrric was nowhere to be seen. He hoped they were playing upstairs, but there was no sound. Not a giggle, not a squeak of that ugly toy, nothing.
Din was getting tired of that nervous prickle rippling his skin. It was not what he'd signed up for in this nice, wholesome, pleasant village, and he was about to go to bed mad. Assuming there wasn't some disaster actually waiting for him. The way things were going, there probably was.
Maybe the kids broke a window and were hiding the way kids did when they knew they'd screwed up. Maybe that was all.
He wasn't aware at first that his blaster was in hand as he picked his way up the staircase, as silent as… well, apparently, as silent as the occasional Hutt. Too close in here for the rifle. Another step. Another. Still no sound to greet him.
At the halfway point, he caught the soft hum of the heating unit inside Jerrit's slice of home. Probably he was in there, then. Dyrric likely with him. He lowered the blaster, wondering if he was being too paranoid. Or perhaps Voontu's sudden largesse meant there was a trap waiting for him. He'd run the numbers on hiring a Mandalorian and decided the Imperials had had a point in trying to destroy as many of them as they could.
No, he was probably just paranoid enough.
He reached out with his left hand, realizing with unpleasant awareness that the door to his room was cracked open. Not good. The blaster stayed in the other, ready and armed, and with a gentle push of the door, he reared back for cover as he scanned his room.
The child blatted eagerly at seeing him, both hands lifting up and waggling at him in a greeting. Unfortunately, the child was doing it from the lap of Fala Deera, who had one hand gently wrapped around his waist, and the other on a blaster of her own. Pointed at him. "Cute kid."
Din said nothing.
"Never seen anyone like him."
Silence was good. Couldn't get in trouble being quiet.
"He's been playing at the witch's hut with Jerrit's boy. You know that?"
He allowed a terse "Yeah." It was actually a no, but that wasn't the biggest worry on his mind at the moment.
"And you've been playing with a Hutt."
Din winced, hard enough to be visible. "Could you not put it like that?"
Fala arched an eyebrow at the actual pain in his voice, lowering the blaster an inch. "Dyrric is in love with you. Thinks Mandalorians are even more neat than mysterious witches all of a sudden. Does he know you sold out to a Hutt?"
"He does, actually." He watched her face rear back at that, squinting in thought. "You want to put that down and we'll talk this thing over?"
Suspicion came back to her face. That was fair. "You first."
Din holstered his blaster, which she hadn't been expecting. She wavered for a moment, then put her weapon on the sidetable.
He grimaced inside his helmet. "Can you secure it? The kid is grabby, you would not believe what happens on my ship."
Her distrust of him wavered back and forth for a few seconds, but in the end, she did what he asked. Din came into the room and dropped his rump onto the end of the bed, followed by the sigh he'd been holding in for at least three days.
The kid squirmed easily out of Fala's grasp and dropped to the ground, waddling over to hug his leg. He reached down and picked the kid up by the back of his robe, pulling him onto his lap, trying to not smile as the kid squeaked happily at him, ears waggling.
Fala watched the two of them, her face going through a variety of emotions, and mostly ending up on stunned confusion. "Hell is going on?"
"I followed your band to the fortress the first night I was here, figured out most of what was going on. I don't know if you know this, but it's a bad secret. Pretty sure everyone's aware of the situation, but nobody wants to make it worse for you." He watched another mix of emotions drip across her narrow face. "Dyrric told me an attempt to get a rescue message out went down hard."
He let that sit in the warmed air for a moment, then shrugged. "So I went in."
"You're trying to figure out how to unseat the Hutt?" Fala's eyes had settled back on suspicion, with a heady mix of faint, wet-eyed hope. "How?"
"Working on the details." He couldn't stop sounding exhausted.
"Voontu is smart."
"Yeah." He sighed out the word. "I found that out. Control and comm room's on lockdown, his guards are junk but there's plenty of them, most of the staff hate every coil of his pudge, and the dancer has a couple of really pretty gardens about a klick out from the fortress."
"That last part's not going to do much for you."
"No, but it's a nice change of visual pace." The kid reached up to press his forehead into the cheek of Din's helmet. "How'd you catch me out?"
"Not easily. There's a pressure plate buried about a half hour out on the trail, set light. Gets a lot of false positives. It's mostly there to protect the kids, keep them from stumbling across any of Voontu's hirelings. Caught a reverb two mornings running that was a little unusual, so, I set a scout yesterday. He caught a glimpse of you." She cocked her head, amused. "Well, specifically, he told me he wasn't sure if it was a person, one of the megabirds that come in close to the village once in a while, or a ghost from the old hut, or what. But…"
"But you're smart enough to put a few things together."
"You're a Mandalorian. I'm what passes for security around here. It was a guess, but I figured it was a good one."
He nodded. "Fair enough. Your sister in the loop?"
The look on Fala's face was enough answer. They had each other's back in all things.
"Okay." He looked away, respecting that. "You should know. Voontu's working on a score, don't know the details yet. Wants me rested."
"If it's because he's got someone like you at his side, whatever it is, it's not going to be good. His ambition's only grown since he dug in."
"How long?"
"Three years. We might have pushed him out at first, but…" She trailed off. "We had so little, and couldn't spare the fight. He's a showman. It earned him enough to build that place. It's all salvage, you probably figured that out, but he put a real good shell on it. Some of his people are like you. They came through, then, they stayed."
"And not always because they wanted to." He cocked the helmet, thinking. "Know the Ithorian's story?"
"Fadilan?" She scoffed a little laugh, hiding real sorrow under it. "That poor bastard. He wanted to set up a multi-colony education facility. That smuggling platform cloaked in low orbit? He was hauling what became its base, was going to set up a bunch of ship parts and make a real station out of it. He loves kids. Dyrric was so upset when he 'disappeared' that he ended up in the med tank."
"Saw you fighting with him."
"Sure. Saves his rump, looks good for everyone, and the frustration we have with each other is real. But there's not much Fadilan can do for us out there. He gets a few new edu pads in with the shipments, for Mo's sake." She glanced up into the blackness that hid his eyes. "When we saw the kid with you, the plan was to try to get you some fuel as fast as possible, get you back offworld without the Hutt knowing anything until you were gone." She shook her head. "Damn."
"I appreciate that." He made sure she could hear it in his voice. "Not your fault. I've just got a real nose for trouble." He tapped the kid's forehead with a gentle finger. "Him, too. We found this batch of it all on our own." He looked up at her, remembering. "Is the witch's hut actually dangerous?"
She laughed. "Only if you're scared of ghost stories and superstition. Nothing strange has happened there since we laid foundation. Jerrit is just a worrier. I understand how he feels, though. I really do."
More clues about a story he told himself he didn't need or want to know. The tug of sympathy for the innkeeper grew stronger anyway. "He's a good man."
"He very much is. He's the heart of this place. Mo's the brain, keeping us comfortable with what Voontu gives us."
"And you're the shield."
"For all the fat good that's doing." There was an audible crack inside her over that. The sound of failure echoing in her voice.
"And it's your best." Din leaned forward, towards her. "You prioritized the real task. Keeping the kids safe, keeping everyone out of the Hutt's reach as much as possible. With what you have, you're doing the most anyone could expect. That's why I said shield." He leaned back, resettling the kid on his lap. "You've given me a few more pieces to work with. I still don't have a plan. But I will."
Fala Deera studied him for a while in silence, occasionally turning her attention to the child wiggling on his lap, starting to fuss in a toddler's noisy sleepiness. She was still looking into the big, earnest eyes of the foundling when she spoke, sounding reluctant but also genuine. "Whatever it is, I'm in."
"You trust me already?"
"No." Fala gave him a wry smile. "But I can play the odds, and you're the best we've had in a while. And the kid." She nodded at him, getting a return coo. "Sometimes the smart move is to trust an instinct. Mine says that kid adores you. So does Dyrric, and he's learning how to be a good judge of character from his dad." A brief narrowing of her eyes. "You said he knew you were bargaining with the Hutt. He's not in danger?"
"Lady, I am trying my absolute best to keep him out of this. He's a confidant and babysitter, I keep hoping that'll keep him occupied enough."
"All right," she said, satisfied. She got up from her chair, looming over him with that same wry smile. "Whatever you come up with, whatever you think my team can do for you, cut us in. We'll do anything to get this place back on its own feet."
. . .
The next day was as peaceful and full of good, hot food as Din Djarin could have hoped for. He caught a few careful nods in the inn's common room that evening, however. Fala's people, throwing their fates and possibly lives in with his. No pressure.
He still didn't have a plan.
. . .
Fadilan met him once again, looking both nervous and weary, and his eyes rarely tried to meet Din's helmeted ones. The Gamorreans with him, the smart ones, they too were unusually subdued, and there were no signs of the dumb pair at all. He didn't like that. It meant something was out of routine, something new enough that it was causing real discontent even among the loyal members of the Hutt's crew.
It meant whatever Voontu had in mind, it was going to be big, showy, and dangerous. Especially for himself.
He nodded to the Ithorian with the same clinical silence he always showed, a part of him wanting to tell Fadilan it would be all right. He couldn't actually promise that yet, but now he saw a little more of what Fala Deera saw. A forlorn, soul-weary scholar who'd only wanted to help. He wished he could promise the poor figure a better day to come. All he could do for now was keep looking for a way to make it happen.
Legend said the New Republic's top general had personally choked out the infamous Hutt, Jabba, with nothing more in her hands than a gold chain and some silks. Goals, thought Din, grimly following the Ithorian. He knew little else about the general, nor did he care much for politics before or after the Empire, but he admired a good kill. And right now, he really admired a proper Hutt kill.
The helmet kept his thoughts of happy murder secret as he was deposited in front of the lounging Voontu. Today the Hutt's focus was only on him, watching the Mandalorian arrive with greedy intensity. No drink at hand, or luxury snacks. There was a silken blanket draped over part of his tail, trimmed with some lush, white fur that had to be hell to keep pristine. An attempt to look royal, the Hutt's upper body held in rigidly fine posture, one of those powerful hands laying with faux relaxation along the chaise's gilded arms.
Another bad sign. Silence flooded the audience chamber, adding an almost choking sensation of import.
Din couldn't take it anymore. "Your Lordship," he said.
"Mandalorian. A fine morning it is. I hope your rest was fulfilling."
"It was nice. The innkeeper's boy is a great cook," he said blandly.
"So I have heard." A low, rumbling chuckle. "When he is older, perhaps I will bring him into my service. Perhaps even sponsor him among the great houses."
Din said nothing, but a dozen cartoonishly gory scenarios of death and destruction flickered through his imagination, one of them ending with shoving a thermal detonator painted like a bright red fruit down Voontu's throat. That one was his favorite. "It's a thought," he said instead.
"How right you are, my Mandalorian. This is unimportant to our business today, if a pleasurable future diversion." Voontu lifted his hand, dismissing his own wisp of small talk. The amusement stayed in his voice. "My people are a great help to me in establishing this small house. I cannot yet claim my own clan, nor establish a name of my own, but nonetheless, my influence grows. With you here, I am granted a weapon. A surprise that is thus far unknown to my enemies, and to my competition. And more."
Din studied the Hutt as he talked, haughtiness sharpening his voice.
"I am sure as a bounty hunter you are well aware of what has become of beloved Nal Hutta. We thrived under the Empire, for they did not care what happened amidst their shadows. But the Republic believes in a childish form of justice that chokes out the freedom of those like us." Voontu sniffed. "The politics of both do not interest me. Only the places where we may reclaim what ought be ours. We must rebuild, and to do that, we must shore up what is most useful, and trim away the feeble."
A crawling sense of danger began to trickle along Din's arms. It's a hit. Of course it is. It's going to be a hit on a high value target.
"I have a younger brother, Mandalorian. He is a good child, but he is weak. He does not have the… enthusiasm necessary to empower our family name. And yet. And yet. He is the favorite." The tail began to thrash, belaying the control in Voontu's voice. "My family has grown mild under the Republic, seeking other ways to serve. Their riches earned softly, as merchants to witless Republic governors!"
But they're still rich? Confusion began to seep in. Rich without the chance of being arrested every few minutes? Am I missing something here?
Voontu looked away, irritated. "I was raised by my uncle, a great Tiure himself. He knew what Hutts are. What we could be again. I was little more than a child when our cartels were scattered by a faction of empowered Rebels, and then I watched him go to trial and give away nothing that would harm another of our clan! A true Hutt! And when I came home, my family apologized to me! A mistake, they claimed! That I had been shown the end of an era when I ought to have learned this softness instead!"
Din stared, feeling strangely blank. Voontu continued to amp himself up over the family's perceived slights, his skin rippling as his words became a rant. "I tried to explain to them that I had been shown the way! To revive what had once been! To bring us back into power the way our ancestors had, to earn what we held by our cleverness and our own code!"
The last was roared, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Afterward, the Hutt's ragged breaths tortured the new quiet. "Yesterday, I invited my brother to Jhas Krill. I gave him the word of truce, and promised him safety. No servant of mine shall harm him."
Here it is. Din followed up the thought with a florid curse.
"But a Mandalorian, truly, is no one's servant. I call you mine, it is intended as affection and not an insult. It is the way I was taught. I do not own you, but I respect what you are. And now I believe I may trust you." Voontu leaned towards him, eager. "You will kill my brother. You will warn my family that I will not allow their 'mercy' to shape our people's future.
"You will help me usher in that new era we deserve, Mandalorian. Tomorrow. So quickly things will change." The Hutt smiled, calm again, slumping back. The arm lifted again, lazy and indulgent. "I thank you for coming so early. My men will guide you through our halls today, show you where my brother might rest, what delights of mine he may find pleasurable. Choose your perch, your manner of hunt. Then return to the village, Mandalorian, and ready yourself for a kill worthy of both of our legacies."
A flick of that mighty hand, and Din Djarin was dismissed.