Together they trekked the last few kilometers into the city proper. People were starting to stir. A few vendors were about, untying and rolling back the awnings that protected their stalls and wares from the blowing sand. As they made their way between the duracrete and pourstone buildings, more and more figures appeared, hurrying to their places of employment. Shmi glanced nervously at Kern. He was sauntering along, to all appearances completely relaxed. But she noticed he kept his head turned away from anyone they passed too closely. He grew up here, she remembered. There was always the risk that someone might recognize him.
"Where are we headed?" She felt that any moment she might hear shouts and blaster fire from those come to apprehend them.
He answered quietly. "The west quarter of the city. There were rumors, when I lived here. I never knew if they were true or not, but there was supposed to be a certain sign to watch for…. But if I can't find the place, we'll have to take our chances approaching a starship pilot directly."
The streets were rapidly becoming more crowded. Shmi and Kern had to crowd over to the side with all the other pedestrians more and more often, as dewbacks, eopies, and speeders forced their way through, their riders or drivers taking little heed of the many they inconvenienced. Shmi was glad when they finally turned off onto a side street. But soon she became more nervous. At least among the crowds they had a certain anonymity. Here the streets were nearly deserted, and they stood out. The buildings pressed close on either side, the narrow spaces between dirty and smelly. Doors were heavy and heavily locked, some protected by bars. Above, a few windows were open. Shmi could hear quarrelling voices. From some windows laundry hung fluttering in the faint dawn breeze that would soon die and give way to the stifling heat of the day.
Shmi's feet were starting to ache. She was hungry, and thirsty, and in urgent need of a 'fresher. She plodded along beside Kern, starting to despair. How could they hope to find shelter, based on nothing but years-old rumors?
They came to a section of buildings that seemed poorer, but more friendly. Here some doors stood open, and women stood about, chatting with their neighbors. A group of children ran past, shrieking with laughter. Almost every window displayed drying laundry. In a few places there were even clotheslines strung across the street high overhead, tunics and leggings and sheets waving like festive banners.
"In this poor section they won't have been able to afford the water to actually wash them." Kern's voice was distracted as he scanned building after building. "Mostly it's for show, to give the illusion you're wealthier than you are, and to give your clothes a bit of an airing, so they don't stink so much… Ah, look there!" He pointed.
Shmi followed his finger. Above a nondescript doorway, a blanket hung from a window. Unlike most of the cream and brown and sand-colored garments that graced the street, Shmi could tell this one had once been brightly colored, though faded now by the harsh suns to much the same colors as the others. It seemed to be made of many small pieces of cloth sewn together in a pattern of alternating dark and light wavy stripes.
"That's it. The sign the rumors said to look for. It's a Geesian quilt. Supposedly Geesia was the first planet in the Republic to outlaw slavery, and the quilts are one of their traditional artforms. The pattern is called the Traveler's Road. This must be the place." He grabbed Shmi's hand and pulled her over to the doorway. Shmi went along, suddenly reluctant. It seemed such a small thing to pin their hopes on, a few scraps of tattered, faded fabric.
Kern knocked on the door. For a long time there was silence. He knocked again. Shmi was almost ready to drag him away, back to the spaceport section of the city where docking bays were located every few blocks, where at least they'd have a chance of finding transport away. But then an old woman's scratchy voice demanded, "Who's there?"
"Travelers on the Road, seeking shelter." Kern kept his voice quiet, just barely loud enough to be heard through the door.
The woman's voice gave a little gasp, and then Shmi heard the clicks of locks being unfastened, and the beeping of a security system being disabled. The door opened a crack and a face heavily seamed with wrinkles peered out. Sharp black eyes scanned up and down the street before fixing on Shmi and Kern. "Come in, dearies, come in. We're always glad to offer hospitality to those on the Road." She stood aside, and Shmi slipped through the door, closely followed by Kern.
She nearly stumbled on the few steps that led down into the sunken dwelling, before her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light and she caught her balance. The apartment was tiny, no bigger than the slave hovels in Mos Espa, but clean and neatly though sparsely furnished. The old woman, after again searching the street and satisfying herself no one had noticed them enter, fastened an impressive number of locks, and engaged the security system. She bustled past them and indicated a round table circled by four chairs. "Have a seat, have a seat. I'll be getting you some caf, or we've blue milk if you'd prefer." Her sharp black eyes seemed to look straight through Shmi. "'Fresher's in the back, dearie, make yourself at home. It's a long hard journey, is the Road, and I daresay you'd be glad of a few comforts."
Eager as Shmi was to avail herself of the offered facilities, she paused. "The Road?"
Black eyes glittered at her. "The Road to Freedom, dearie, of course. But the less spoken about that, the better."
Shmi let out her breath in a long sigh. They had found the right place.
By the time she finished and came out to join Kern at the table, she was swaying with weariness. She sank into a chair and gratefully sipped from the mug of caf waiting for her. It was far stronger and better than she was accustomed to, but she doubted even its stimulant effects could long offset the sleepiness that was quickly overwhelming her.
The old woman bustled back to the table, bearing a plate full of toasted bread. Shmi paused before taking one, embarrassed. "We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Shmi –"
"That will do to call you by," the old woman interrupted. "No need to tell more than you must."
"Oh." Shmi floundered for a moment. "Well, this is Kern, then. And what should we call you?"
"You can call me Granny, dearie. Most everyone does." She seated herself across from Shmi. "Granny Tikva, if you want to get all proper."
"Granny Tikva," Shmi repeated. "We can't thank you enough for taking us in, and the food, and everything…"
"There's no need, dearie. It's no more than my duty to any Traveler."
"About that…" Shmi hesitated, looking at Kern. He nodded encouragement to her. "What, exactly, is going to happen next? You've already given us more than we could ever have expected, but we really have to get offworld. Is there any way you can help us…?"
"Of course, of course. You're on the Road now, and those of us that tends it will see you safe to the end of it. That's why we're here. I've already sent word to my son. He'll see what's what with our contacts, and come by this evening to let you know the plan. He's mighty pleased; it's been nigh on a year since we last helped a Traveler. Not many are able to take that path these days. You two must not have been fitted with exploders yet?"
Kern shook his head. "No, not yet."
"You're very lucky, you are. Time was we had a steady business of Travelers, but soon as those exploders came on the market, it all dried up. Not hardly worth keeping the quilt in the window, these days. Good thing for you two, though, I've not given up just yet. Now, what's the likelihood of you being searched for? Should we expect just the local fellows, or do you come from one of the big operations that will be sending their own folks?"
"The biggest." Kerns face was grim. "They'll start the search in Mos Espa, but they'll come here soon enough."
"We'll just have to make sure you're nowhere to be found, then, won't we?" Granny Tikva rose and began clearing the table. Shmi jumped up to help her, and in a few minutes the empty mugs and plates had all been deposited in the kitchen. Granny Tikva returned and gestured to Kern. "If you don't mind, dearie…"
Following her directions, Kern dragged the table to one side. Granny Tikva bent and flipped away the rug it had rested on, revealing a faint rectangle etched in the floor. She worked a hidden control, and the rectangle sank into steps, leading down into darkness.
"You go on down there. There's a bed and a 'fresher. Get yourselves some rest. I'll put the table and rug back. Then even if they go door-to-door, no one will be the wiser that I've got guests."
Too tired to be very surprised, Shmi stepped obediently down into the dark. Her groping hand found a switch that activated a soft yellow glow. The room revealed was tiny and bare, holding nothing but the promised bed, little more than a pallet on the floor. But it was spread with a brighter version of the quilt that hung in the window, and to Shmi it seemed palatial.
Kern followed her down. Granny Tikva called down, "I'll come and get you when my son gets here. Rest well." Then the stairs withdrew back into the ceiling.
Shmi kicked off her boots and collapsed on the bed. "I can't believe it. We did it. We're safe, and they're going to help us get off Tatooine…" Her throat closed up and tears blurred her vision.
Kern came and sat next to her, wrapping her in his arms. "How are you and the little one doing?"
"Oh." Shmi's eyes widened, and her hand went to her abdomen. "I'd forgotten." She shook her head and laughed a little. "Maybe that's why I'm so tired. But I feel fine, except for that."
"It's been a long night. Let's get some sleep."
Shmi mumbled her agreement, barely aware when he tucked her under the quilt as sleep claimed her.