Thrawn Ascendancy Book 3: Lesser Evil

Che’ri’s face screwed up in indecision, her eyes darting to the other three dresses hanging beside it. She’d tried on all four, and she clearly wanted all of them.

But even ten-year-olds had to learn that life was limited and decisions had to be made.

“Che’ri?” Thalias prompted.

The girl’s expression cleared, and she nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re absolutely sure?” Thalias pressed again, smiling to herself. As the Springhawk’s only two civilians, she and Che’ri were supposedly allowed to wear whatever clothing they liked on duty. If Che’ri had set out to deliberately test that freedom, it was hard to imagine that she could have found a better way to do it.

Which was a pretty big leap all by itself. Up to now, Che’ri hadn’t shown much interest in clothing style, mostly dressing in functional slacks and shirts in the muted color palette that better fit in with the black uniforms worn by the Springhawk’s officers and warriors.

But now, suddenly, the girl had caught the fashion bug with a vengeance. Thalias had a fairly unlimited budget with which to buy Che’ri toys and art supplies, and in the past the girl had taken full advantage of that largesse. But while such things could be crammed into drawers and under-seat storage, there was only a limited amount of space for clothing in her sleeping room’s closet.

Plus, of course, the whole life lessons thing.

Thalias’s internal smile saddened a little. Che’ri’s awakened interest in her appearance was a sign of growing up … and for a sky-walker, growing up meant that the end of her Third Sight now loomed on the horizon. Another three to five years, and she would lose the ability to navigate ships through hyperspace. At that point, she’d leave the fleet and be rematched to one of the Nine Ruling Families.

Thalias could remember vividly her own fear and uncertainty at that life change. Fortunately, she’d had a chance encounter with a young Cadet Thrawn at the beginning of that time, and he’d given her words of comfort and encouragement that had helped her get through it.

She could only hope that when Che’ri’s time came, she would be there to offer the girl similar support.

“Yes, absolutely sure,” Che’ri said firmly. Nevertheless, she threw a last lingering look at the green-and-gray high-collar tunic she’d also tried on. “That’s the one.”

“Okay, great,” Thalias said, indicating to the shopkeeper that they were finally finished.

And with money, closet space, and time now effectively used up, they needed to get moving. “We need to go straight back to the shuttle,” she told Che’ri as she paid for the dress.

“But you said we could get ice cream,” the girl protested.

“That was about two dress fittings ago,” Thalias reminded her. She took another look at Che’ri’s face—“All right, but at one of the kiosks, not a walk-in,” she amended. “And you eat it on the way, and you don’t spill any on yourself.”

“Oh, please,” Che’ri said, a look of mock reproof briefly interrupting her relieved smile. “I do know how to handle a spoon, you know.”

“Or spill any of it on me,” Thalias added as she took the bagged dress and prodded Che’ri toward the door. Excitement over a new dress; excitement over ice cream. Straddling that line between child and midager.

When, she wondered, did children begin growing up so quickly?

They were within sight of the Springhawk shuttle, and Che’ri was cleaning the last of the ice cream from the inside of her cup, when an elderly man waiting on a nearby bench stood up. “Mitth’ali’astov?” he called.

“I am she,” Thalias said, slowing and frowning as he strode toward them. She’d never seen him before, but he was wearing the Mitth family crest on his jacket. Some local Naporar official?

“I am Mitth’iv’iklo,” he introduced himself, giving her a small bow. “Senior aide to Patriarch Mitth’urf’ianico. May I have a word with you?”

“Yes, if you’re quick,” Thalias said, frowning a little harder. What would someone from the Patriarch’s Office want with her?

And then, like a punch in the stomach, the name clicked. Patriarch Mitth’urf’ianico—Thurfian. Back when he was a Syndic, he’d pulled strings with an Expansionary Defense Fleet personnel officer to cut through the bureaucratic obstacles and get her assigned as Che’ri’s caregiver aboard the Springhawk.

But the price of that favor had been her reluctant agreement to spy on Thrawn for him.

Now Thurfian was no longer just a Syndic, but the head of the entire Mitth family. Was he finally calling in that promise?

If so, she needed to get out of here, and fast. “I’m sorry, but we really have to go,” she said, taking Che’ri’s arm and pulling her toward the shuttle.

“This won’t take long,” Thivik assured her, changing direction to intercept their new path. With his longer legs, it took only four steps for him to catch up. “I have something I was asked to deliver to you.”