Thrawn was already walking slowly forward, the back of his hood moving rhythmically as he turned his head back and forth, studying everything around him. Thalias followed more slowly, looking surreptitiously at the handful of Vak patrons wandering among the easels and pedestals or gazing up the wall hangings and paintings. All of them had their own hoods thrown back—would they notice that she and Thrawn were still wearing theirs? More important, would they wonder why?

A harsh voice rattled off some words behind them. Apparently, they would.

“Good afternoon,” Thrawn said calmly in Minnisiat, not turning around. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your language. Do you speak this one?”

Thalias grimaced. Everyone in the place was now gazing at the visitors. So much for slipping by undetected.

“I speak it,” the voice came back. “Who are you? What do you want here?”

“I came to see Vak art, and to thereby understand the Vak people,” Thrawn said. “As to who we are—” He paused, slid off his hood, and turned around. “We are friends.”

Someone made a strangling sort of sound. Two or three others gave out with startled-sounding words, and Thalias heard a single whispered Chiss.

“The Vak have no friends,” the first speaker said. “Not now. Not ever.”

Thalias turned, also pushing back her hood. The Vak who had spoken—a female, Thalias tentatively identified her from the cut of her loose-fitting tunic-skirt—had a wide sash across her chest adorned with a double row of intricately carved wooden pins. Did such extra adornment mark her as the gallery’s curator?

“Surely that is untrue,” Thrawn said. “What about Yiv the Benevolent? He claims to be a friend.”

“People claim many things,” the curator said. “You, too, have now claimed to be friends. Yet I see no evidence of it.”

“Do you see evidence with Yiv?”

“Why do you ask?” the curator countered. “Do you seek to sow discord among the Vaks?”

Thrawn shook his head. “I seek information. The leaders of the Vak Combine seem impressed by Yiv. They see his power, and imagine the Nikardun are respected and honored. They believe that joining with them will bring the same respect to the Vaks.”

He lifted a hand. “I merely wish to know if the common people believe likewise.”

“What do you know about the common people?” the curator scoffed.

“Only a little,” Thrawn admitted. “I can see what is woven into your artwork, that the Vaks strive for unity while still determined to honor the individual. That is a good and proper philosophy. But I seek to understand how that affects the lives of the Vak people.”

“Then seek elsewhere,” the curator said. “This is a place of meditation and appreciation. I will not be drawn into discussions with strangers of things personal to the Vaks.”

“I understand, and bow to your wishes,” Thrawn said, taking Thalias’s arm. “May your future be of sunlight and peace.”