“Perhaps,” Frangelic said. “Comm, you heard?”

“Yes, Officer Frangelic.”

“Signal to General Yiv,” Frangelic ordered. “Put the question to him.”

Qilori took a deep breath, his winglets finally relaxing. Thrawn might have slipped out of Yiv’s immediate trap, but all he’d really done was postpone his fate. Even though the Vaks weren’t yet under full Nikardun domination, Yiv had enough forces in the region to quickly isolate Primea and keep the fugitives on the ground. Sooner or later, either he or the Vaks would run them down.

And really, how long could a pair of blueskins hide among a planetful of aliens?

Chapter Thirteen

Thalias had known from the start that Thrawn’s plan was doomed. Their blue skin was nothing like the pale-amber skin and black stub hairs of the indigenous population, to say nothing about the contrast between glowing red Chiss eyes and the Vaks’ dull brown. The hooded cloaks that many of the people wore would make things less obvious, but Thalias had no illusions as to how well that would work in the long run. How many of the locals actually used the hoods, she’d argued, instead of letting the sun and breeze wash over their faces?

The answer, it turned out, was pretty nearly all of them.

“You’re just lucky it’s raining today,” she said as she and Thrawn walked along the street, the light drizzle beating gently on the tops of their hoods and dripping off the fronts.

“Not at all,” he replied. “Up to now we’ve always traveled the city in vehicles, where the hoods are unnecessary. But during those trips I observed that most pedestrians used their hoods nearly all the time, protecting against rain but also against sunlight.”

“So really the only danger we were in was if today was just cloudy?”

He chuckled. “A point. But even then, wearing hoods would not be so rare as to attract attention.”

Thalias peered past the edge of her hood into the diner they were passing. Inside, she noted uneasily, the Vaks had all laid their hoods back. “That’s fine out here,” she said. “But eventually we’re going to have to go inside somewhere. What happens then?”

“Let’s find out,” Thrawn said. Taking her arm, he steered her toward a door with a faded sign above it. “In here.”

“What is it?” Thalias asked, peering at the sign. She’d made an effort to learn the Vak script over the past few days, but she was a long way from being able to read any of it.

“Hopefully, answers,” Thrawn said.

And then they were at the door, and Thrawn had pushed it open and ushered Thalias inside. She blinked, ducked her head forward sharply to shake some of the water from her hood onto the mat at their feet, and then looked up.

To find they were in an art gallery.