And just because she started, it didn’t mean she had to read the whole thing.

Settling herself comfortably in the corner of her chair, she braced herself and opened to the first page.

Memories IV

General Ba’kif had told Ziara that she had good instincts. But she quickly learned that good unfortunately didn’t mean perfect.

The first such lesson came very quickly. The weekend after Thrawn was acquitted he called to invite her out, to help him celebrate and as a thank-you for her help. From the enthusiastic way he talked about the evening, she’d envisioned a night of music and food, perhaps a gymnastic or musical performance, and certainly a modicum of drink.

What she got instead—

She looked around her at the quiet patrons and the somber colors, at the neatly arranged hangings, pictures, sculptures, and drapings. “An art gallery,” she said, her voice flat. “You brought me to an art gallery.”

“Of course,” he said, giving her a puzzled look. “Where did you think we were going?”

“You said there would be insight, drama, and the excitement of discovery,” she reminded him.

“There is.” He pointed down a hallway. “The history of the Ascendancy is in these rooms, some of the pieces dating back to Chiss participation in the wars between the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire.”

“I seem to remember that era not being a particularly glowing time for the Ascendancy.”

“Agreed,” Thrawn said. “But look at how our tactics and strategies have changed since then.”

Ziara frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Our tactics and strategies,” Thrawn repeated, frowning back.

“Yes, I heard you,” Ziara said. “Why are we talking tactics in an art gallery?”

“Because the one is reflected in the other,” Thrawn said. “Art mirrors the soul, from which tactics arise. One can see in artwork the strengths and weaknesses of those who created it. In fact, if one has a sufficient variety of art to study, one can extend and extrapolate to the strengths, weaknesses, and tactics of entire cultures.”

Abruptly, Ziara realized her mouth was hanging open. “That’s…very interesting,” she managed. Maybe, she thought belatedly, she shouldn’t have worked so hard to get him off the hook after all.

“You don’t believe me,” Thrawn said. “Fine. There are alien artworks two chambers over. You pick whichever culture you want, and I’ll show you how to read their tactics.”

Ziara had never been in an alien art wing, in this gallery or any other. The closest she’d ever come to non-Chiss artifacts, in fact, was the twisted chunk of debris from a Paataatus warship that was displayed at the Irizi family homestead on Csilla. “Where did all this come from?” she asked, looking at the various flats and sculptures as Thrawn led the way through the entry arch into the hall.