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one was still holding together.
    “We should go,” Tavia said, her voice even more disapproving than usual.
    “Right.” Bink used her fingersnips to cut the syntherope free from her harness, and they headed for the spot where they’d parked their landspeeder.
    “You going to take the job?” Tavia asked as they walked.
    “Probably,” Bink said. “We’ll hear him out first, of course. But probably.”
    “You realize that the payoff’s probably not nearly as big as he implied,” Tavia warned. “Things like this practically beg to be exaggerated.”
    “I know,” Bink said. “But we’ve got nothing else planned, and pickup jobs can be fun.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s Solo. What could go wrong?”
    Tavia snorted. “You want me to give you a list?”
    “No need,” Bink said ruefully. “I’ve got my own.”
    The grand market at Jho-kang’ma was known mainly for two things: the freshest produce and animal products on the planet—due to the army of indentured farmers and herdsmen held in thrall just beyond the hills bordering the market—and the number and quality of performers hired to stroll through the grounds for the shoppers’ amusement.
    There were a lot of them out today, Han noted as he and Chewbacca walked along the wide straw-covered corridors between the vending tents. There were jugglers, musicians, ribbon dancers, and one large being who seemed to be eating and then spitting low-power blaster bolts. That was one Han hadn’t seen before.
    But the most popular acts, certainly the ones that seemed to draw the biggest crowds of chattering children, were the magicians.
    Some of them had little movable stands that they would set up in out-of-the-way corners for a five- or ten-minute performance. Others simply wandered around with their entire show in pocket or hip pouch, making coins appear and disappear, creating living plants that grew and flowered from pots that also appeared from thin air, creating and releasing small birds, or doing simple but bewildering tricks with decks of sabacc cards.
    They found Zerba Cher’dak in the center of one of the largest crowds, dressed in a bright yellow clown-type suit with a brown vest over it, flipping small sticks between his hands and making them change color or length seemingly at will. Like most Balosars Han had seen on human-run worlds, Zerba had retracted his antennapalps and concealed them within the fluffed waves and heavy lacquering of his hair to blend in better with the dominant population.
    Chewbacca rumbled a comment.
    “One of the best,” Han agreed as Zerba continued to play with the sticks, occasionally turning one of them into a glittering gemstone to the giggling delight of his audience. “At least, the best we could get.”
    Chewbacca rumbled again.
    “No, I’m not going to tell him that,” Han promised patiently. He did know how to use tact, despite what Chewbacca seemed to think.
    The show ended, and with a final flourish of twin fistfuls of sticks Zerba waved the children back to their parents. The audience melted away, and Zerba stuck his hands in his vest pockets and strolled over to Han and Chewbacca.
    “If it isn’t the notorious Han Solo,” Zerba said, inclining his head in greeting. “I was just thinking about you.” He touched the spot on his petrified hair where his antennapalps were hidden. “We’re very sensitive to evil and criminal thoughts, you know.”
    “I’ve heard that,” Han said. “I figure your ears work pretty good, too. Let me guess: Jabba refreshed the bounty on me?”
    “Basically,” Zerba said, sounding a little deflated. “If you’re looking for somewhere to hide out, this place is an excellent choice.” He looked Han up and down. “Though without any entertainment skills, you’d probably be set to work with the herds. Still, I know at least three other Wookiees who help manage—”
    “We’re not here to hide,” Han interrupted him. “We’re here to offer you a job. A big