Xicanti was surprised to discover how pleasant he found the grove by night. There were sounds here unlike any he had ever heard. Nocturnal birds sang their sadly beautiful songs from dusk till dawn. Crickets chirped in the forest. An occasional howl rang out, faint in the distance. The wind blew gently through the trees, whose leaves whispered in response. Yes, he thought to himself, this's what I like. These sorts of places beat Coruscant by a landslide.

Few insects buzzed through the air; it was too early in the season for them to be out in earnest. Despite their small numbers, Xicanti raised a shield about himself to keep them off. "No use in getting bitten if I can prevent it," he muttered before falling asleep.

It was nearly dawn when next the young thief stirred. Finding himself awake before the rest, he rose quickly and found a vantagepoint from which he could watch the sunrise. Always, he had wanted to experience this miracle; never before had been given such an opportunity.

Xicanti was not disappointed. The sun rose high and bright, sending gleaming ribbons of color to all corners of the sky. The boy drew his breath in sharply as the colors spread across the clouds, droning out the regular blues with their purples and oranges, their pinks and fuchsias. So vibrant were they that they seemed almost to sing as they came, their 'voices' reaching the peek of their crescendo with the yellows, then dying away into nothingness with more of the same. "Beautiful," he whispered in awe as the last of the colors faded away into the blue of the sky.

"It is, isn't it?"

Xicanti gave an involuntary jump. "Cahra!" he scolded his friend. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

Cahra grinned and plopped down next to him. "You'd do exactly the same to me!" she retorted. "I'll bet you will, the next time you have a chance, just to get back at me."

He grinned back. "Of course I will. It just wouldn't be like me to go without takin' that opportunity, now would it?"

Cahra agreed that it would indeed be out of character, and the two friends simply sat in silence for the next few moments. Xicanti found he could see most of the surrounding area from the hilltop he had chosen. It was all forest, as far as he could see, and utterly spectacular - nothing he had seen before could ever compare. "It makes Coruscant look like some ball of metal," he commented quietly.

Cahra nodded in agreement. "That's all it really is," she replied sadly. She thought for a moment, then added, "I wish we knew where this world is, so that we could come back someday. As it is, we'll probably never see this hill or this grove again after today."

For some reason, the thought chilled Xicanti. He had never before visited a place he could not return to, should he so wish. The thought of it scared him. What'll it be like to leave? he wondered. I know I'll never come back, if this Council knows a way for us to get home. Will I miss it? Will I ever wonder about it years after, when this is all just some memory I'm certain is a dream? He could not answer himself.

Directly upon waking, Araphos led them to a small town nestled in the woods. "This is where I've been staying," he explained to everyone. "They should be able to provide us with some supplies and clothing. They're all very friendly."

Araphos' claim turned out to be more than true. The villagers were very happy to provide for them all that they desired, no questions asked.

Xicanti received as a mount a beautiful, cream colored mare named Dom'asa. She proved to be full of vigor and vitality despite her age. :I'm almost fourteen,: she announced proudly. :That's fairly old for a horse like me. Some can live to be in their forties, but I'm of a lesser breed. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I died on this trip, really. I used to think I'd mind, but now that it's almost here I really don't. I've lived a long life, and I'm proud of it!: She chomped at the bit expectantly and tossed her head. :Aren't we going to go any faster, young one? I may be old, but I still love a good gallop!:

Xicanti had never before galloped, Cahra's arena being too small, and was anxious to try. "I'm gonna take her for a run" he called to the back of Lowie's head. "I'll be back soon." Without waiting for an answer, he whirled Dom'asa around and let her have her head. With a mental whoop, the mare broke into a full gallop. The young thief found it utterly exhilarating. Nothing can ever compare to this sort of speed! he decided. Maybe it can come close, but it can't pass it. This� this is rapture!

Xicanti took a quick look back and grinned. Cahra had, as expected, joined him on his ride. :Slow down for a sec so she can catch up,: he said to Dom'asa, who obliged him. Within seconds, Cahra and her little gelding were neck-and-neck with the boy and his mare. Grinning at her friend, Cahra called over that she wanted to race. Xicanti grinned back and nodded. :Let's speed up some more!: he cried to Dom'asa, who let out a burst of extra speed, pulling ahead of the gelding.

:We're going to win,: she announced happily. :I've beaten Ironrose many times before. He's a tough little horse, but not nearly as fast as I.:

Dom'asa was right. In the end, she and Xicanti beat out Cahra and Ironrose, who were surprisingly good losers. "After all," the girl said, "it's the ride itself that counted."

Xicanti, who was possessed of an incredibly competitive nature, was surprised to find that he agreed. I would've been braggin' my 'ead off 'bout now with anyone else, he thought to himself. But with her, it's different. I don't really care if I win or loose.

After thinking it over for a while, the boy had to admit that he was starting to think about Cahra differently. She had been only his friend before; he spent his nights with her, talking and laughing. But now� now, he felt differently around her. It started when she didn't condemn me for lying to her, he decided, and it's been getting more and more since then. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was falling in love with her or something.

:How do you know you aren't?: Trax queried from his perch atop Xicanti's shoulder. :Have you ever been in love before?:

Xicanti thought for a moment before replying. :No,: he ventured cautiously, :but I'm not sure yet of exactly how I feel. Even if I am in love, I don't think she feels the same, so I couldn't act on it anyways. It's best to just forget it.:

:If that's what you want to think,: Trax replied with a shrug.

Xicanti spent the greater part of the day looking at Cahra. He contemplated her hair as it floated gently on the breeze. I wonder what it'd feel like? he wondered absently as he watched the soft, black mass drift down her back. I'll bet it'd be like silk. And so passed the day.

Cahra rode up to him once and asked him what he was thinking about. Xicanti's mind immediately went blank. "N-nothing," he replied, trying not to stare at her. "Just how green it is here. There're more plants than I'm used to." It was not a very good lie, but it was all he could think of in a split second. This isn't like me at all! he grumbled angrily to himself. I can think up a lie to shame all truths with less 'an a moment's notice. What happened with that? What happened with me? I ain't been like myself since the night Han brought me to the Palace. I want myself back! Angered at the thought, Xicanti burst out, "I've gotta go for another ride. Wanna come?"

Cahra agreed, and the two took the horses for a gallop across the countryside. The speed quickly took the edge off Xicanti's anger; before long, he was whooping with glee. "This's the life!" he called to Cahra. "I wish Coruscant had open areas like this. It's too crowded on that hunk of rock. They should knock down a few thousand buildings and make someplace like this!"

"That'd be better than anything I can imagine," the girl agreed, pulling Ironrose alongside Dom'asa. "I'm getting off of that damn planet soon as I can afford either passage on a ship or a ship of my own."

"Same here," the young thief agreed. "I'll probably see what Kashyyyk's like, once I can get somebody to gimme an X-wing or somethin'. From what Chewie says, it sounds damn good. Trees everywhere, and lots of Wookiees, too. I guess there would be, though, it being the Wookiee home-world and all."

"That sounds about right," Cahra agreed.

The two continued their ride for another five minutes or so before heading back to the group. Cahra, her imagination sparked by Xicanti's reference to Kashyyyk, immediately went to Lowie to ask him about Wookiee customs; Xicanti kept to the back, wanting a little time to himself. It was not to be. Xepher, ever the curious one, rode over and struck up a conversation.

"Well?" he asked expectantly. "What'd ya do?"

Xicanti shrugged absently. "Rode," he replied, "and talked."

Xepher snorted. "Ya actually think I'm gonna believe that?" he asked. "I know ya like her! It's kinda hard to miss, what with you staring at 'er all the time."

Xicanti turned red. "So you saw," he stated.

Xeph nodded. "It was kinda hard to miss. I don't think she saw ya, though. She didn't act like she did, at least."

The young thief sighed in relief. "Good. You can't tell her, ya know. She might not feel the same way, and if she didn't it'd ruin everything. You've gotta promise not to!"

"Hey, of course I won't!" Xepher tried his hardest to look hurt. "It don't seem like it most times, but I do respect your feelings. Really."

Xicanti smiled. "It'd be hard for anyone else to believe, but I know ya do. An' I try to respect yours, too, ya know. After all, you are my favorite brother."

"Ya mean you actually like me better 'an Luke?" Xepher asked, feigning shock. "I'm flattered!"

"Ya should be. It was a real hard choice." He stopped and thought for a moment before continuing, "I get the feeling that Luke an' Mara really don't like us. You ever get that?"

Xepher nodded vigorously. "All the time," he replied. "Leia's always real nice to us -other than the baths thing - but the other two just don't seem to care. They hate us, and they're not afraid to show it."

Xicanti nodded. "Remember when we were little, an' we used to think about what it'd be like to 'ave a family?" he asked. Xeph nodded. "It doesn't seem like it turned out even close to the way were thought it would. Everything's different. None of them really want us there. That's part of the reason I tried to go back to Rettar. Back there, we were respected. We were damned near royalty. Everyone thought we were the best thieves on Coruscant." He sighed. "They were probably right. But Up, all we are's a couple of bad kids who just happen to be related to famous people. It hurts."

"Damn right it does! We gotta go an' do somethin' to get famous ourselves, ya know. Maybe we can get someone to teach us how to be pilots when we get back. We could go an' be smugglers or somethin'. Big time thieves."

Xicanti grinned. "Or spies, like Malla suggested," he speculated. "That'd be a good to do." Jokingly, he added, "we'd probably get to sleep with lots of women, too. Spies in the holo vids always do."

The thought of women appealed greatly to Xeph. "We could do both," he said thoughtfully. "I asked Han 'bout when he worked as a smuggler, and he said he did stuff sortta like that for the Hutts back a long time ago."

"But we'd stay away from Hutts. Too stinky."

Xepher grinned. "Someone who spent the first fifteen years of 'is life smellin' like a rancor sayin' Hutts are stinky?" he asked incredulously. "What's wrong with that?"

Xicanti glared at his twin. "You just watch your mouth!" he snapped in mock annoyance.

"I can't. It's attached to my head, and I can't see my head without takin' my eyes out," Xeph replied sweetly.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Xicanti snapped. "If we weren't ridin' right now, I'd come over and punch you."

Xeph was none too fond of that idea, and said so. Xicanti remained unsurprised. He and his twin had often made good on such threats to each other; neither took them lightly. If Xepher swore to give Xicanti a bloody nose, he did so. If Xicanti said he would give Xepher a black eye, he would make good on his word. The twins had not injured each other much lately, Leia being very disapproving of bloody fights, but in the old days they had beat upon each other with reckless abandon. Their attacks had never been in earnest, however; they had simply demonstrated a lack of fear. Fear was not something you could afford on the streets of Coruscant. If you showed even the slightest bit of fear, you were dead� or worse.

I've got somethin' to compare the street with now, and I know how bad it is, but I still miss it, the young thief realized with a jolt. I wanna go back there again. Maybe I could just thieve on my own. I don't really need Rettar. I can do damn well without him. The idea appealed to him even more than that of being a smuggler or a spy. Xeph wouldn't go for it, he decided, so I won't tell 'im about it. He's too oriented on the idea of becoming someone important. But then again, so am I, when I think about it. I want everyone to know who I am, an' I'm not gonna give up until they do.

All his life, Xicanti had desperately longed to be somebody important. No� no, that wasn't right. He wanted to be more than important. He wanted to be a legend, someone whose name would be passed down through the centuries. I could be a Jedi Master someday, the young thief mused. That'd get me some publicity, I guess. I don't really want to be something like that, though, now that I think about it. I'd rather be something less� less legal.

The group took rooms in a small-town inn that night. It was a surprisingly comfortable place, with a small tavern on the ground floor for those guests who enjoyed their ale. That description most certainly fit at least three of the travelers who found their way into the inn that night. Han, Xepher and Xicanti all seemed to agree that getting saturated with mead would be the best way to spend the evening.

There was, however, the problem of money. Araphos had spent most of what he had on the rooms; there was barely enough left for the night's supper, let alone alcohol. Han and Xepher, who had been looking forward to a few good stiff drinks, complained loudly about their lot. Xicanti decided that he could go without, but would much prefer something to nothing, though it seemed that it would mean turning back to his thieving ways. Better a thief than fully sober, he decided.

A quick survey proved that most of the other customers were fairly well off, sealing the directive. :I'm gonna work the room,: Xicanti told Xeph. :Get some money for somethin' to drink, ya know? Wanna help?:

Xepher agreed enthusiastically, and the two ranged out, looking for suitable victims. It had long been a policy of the brothers to steal only from those who were reasonably wealthy. Those with everything were always upset to find some of their money missing, but were able to live with it. Those who were harder off would feel the loss of even a few coins right to the bone, and so the thieves stayed clear of them. They could relate all to well to the predicament in which they'd be leaving their victims.

The first victim Xicanti chose was a tall, dark haired man sipping wine in one of the finer booths near the door. This one was well dressed, and could evidently afford to loose the few coppers it would take to buy a drink. Smiling grimly, the young thief headed over to the man's table, his keen mind taking in everything. The man may have been rich, he noted, but he was certainly not the most intelligent of persons. His money pouch sat exposed on the table; a swift tug would bring it into Xicanti's waiting hands. It'll be almost too easy, the young thief thought to himself with a certain amount of glee.

Simple pick-pocketing had long ago become a mundane exercise for Xicanti, and so he had come upon a variety of ways to keep himself amused with his profession. One of his favorites was to play the entertainer. He strutted up to the man in the booth and bowed low, waving his hand in small flourish.

"G'day, milord!" Xicanti said to the man, using his most convincing brogue. He had quickly discovered that people were more likely to take to an entertainer with an interesting accent. "Stranston Brax, travelin' entertainer an' musician, at yer service," the young thief continued, seating himself comfortably in the booth. "I kin do 'most anything yer 'eart desires, sir, and fer no more 'an ye're willin' te part with! Me an' me monkey, we go all over lookin' after folks who need somethin' te cheer 'em up. What'll it be fer ya tonight?"

The man glanced at him, not without interest. "What exactly can you do?" he asked, the timbre of his voice proving that he was, indeed, a member of the aristocracy.

Xicanti scratched his head. :You dance, Trax?: he asked the little monkey, who had achieved a comfortable perch upon his shoulder.

Trax sent a mental image of himself shaking his head for all he was worth. :No!: he said adamantly. :Not for all the worlds! I do not dance!:

:But it'll make a good show!: Xicanti protested. :An' it'll be a pretty honest way to earn some money. I'll even let you have your own cup of ale if ya go along with it.:

Trax's mood visibly brightened at the suggestion. He sent an image of himself nodding eagerly by way of response. :Okay, I'll do it. But you go back on your promise, and you're toast!:

"Wall, sir," Xicanti drawled, "me monkey 'ere, 'e can dance while I play flute, er whatever instrument's to yer likin', an' I can do most anthin'. Tumblin', illusions, magic, music, whate'er ye name!"

The customer appeared to be contemplating which to choose. A quick, un-obtrusive mind-probe revealed that he was leaning towards seeing Trax dance. I've made a sale! the young thief thought triumphantly. He'll take what we've got!

The stranger at last came to a conclusion. "Perhaps see your monkey dance to the flute would be entertaining," he speculated. "Let me see what you have, and we can discuss payment afterwards."

:We did it, Trax!: Xicanti crooned triumphantly. :He's bought it! Now, in for the kill!:

Carefully, the young thief removed Trax from his shoulder and placed him upon the table. The monkey gave him a small glare as he set his little feet down, but did not waste time with objections.

Once he was sure that Trax was firmly down, Xicanti reached under the table and brought up an illusion of a flute, which he had created the moment his customer had indicated a preference. Careful not to let his mouth go through the instrument, the boy brought the flute to his lips and began to weave his illusion.

The music was based loosely on a piece Xicanti had heard on one of the holo's many music-oriented programs, but was mostly his own creation. He knew very little about music notes, but had a great sense of how a piece should sound; effortlessly, he created a tune he imagined could well come from a real flute. As a result, the playing was much more diverse and daring than anything a true flute could have produced. The little dance Trax improvised was also marvelously well thought out, with a variety of flips and twists in mid-air stuck throughout it. A large crowd soon gathered at the booth, and before the song was done, Xicanti had counted nearly twenty on-lookers, trying vainly to see over each other's heads. Once it was done, all applauded enthusiastically, including the rich man who had been the boy's original target.

"Well done, boy, well done!" The man smiled broadly as he clapped. "What a monkey you have, who can do such maneuvers. And your playing is, I do say, the best I've ever heard. You make the flute sound divine."

Xicanti gave a modest little bow as he exited the booth. "Thank ye, sir," he said. "I did true try me 'ardest fer ye, and do be glad ye enjoyed it as much as I did, sir."

"That I did, boy, that I did," the rich one stressed. "You're more than welcome to your profit!" He reached into the bag and drew out four round, golden coins.

Xicanti gaped in astonishment. He and Araphos had briefly discussed this new world's workings while on the road, including a little of what coinage was worth here on this world. "Nothing out-values a platinum coin," the mage had explained to the boy, "and only platinum out-values gold. It's worth more than five times what silver is, as it's very hard to come by. Only the richest of the rich can afford to hand it out."

Xicanti's victim, it seemed, was certainly of the station his dress and manner implied!

"Th-thank ye, sir!" the young thief stammered, not having to feign surprise. On a sudden impulse, he tossed the illusionary flute up into the air and made it disappear as he did so, drawing more gasps from his enraptured audience. Taking the gold coins, Xicanti made yet another bow to the rich one, who looked at him in astonishment.

"Was any of it real?" the man asked.

Xicanti grinned at him. "Nay," he replied, "'twas naught but me own illusions, made up of my memories. I do be true glad ye enjoyed it, though."

"I did enjoy it, and much more for finding out it was all created by your own imagination," the rich one said, producing his bag again. While Xicanti watched in fascination, he drew two more of the gold coins from it and handed them off. The young thief took the coins with heartfelt gratitude in his eyes and voice.

"I do thank ye, milord," he whispered. "This be more 'an I deserve fer me little trick!"

"Perhaps you may feel that way, but I do not." The rich one looked closer at him. "Have you ever considered working privately for the upper class, instead of busking on the streets or finding customers in taverns such as this one? I could offer you an excellent position through the winter, and know of many who would pay good money for your services." He leaned closer to the young thief. "What did you say your name was again?"

Xicanti gulped. What name had he given this man? :Trax!: he called desperately.

:You're Stranston Brax,: the little monkey replied boredly. :Maybe you should try to remember it from now on. It's not very wise of people to forget their own names, especially not when they're playing for customers who're paying them they big bucks.:

"Stranston Brax, milord," he replied brightly. "I be only stoppin' through yer fair town, I'm afeared, so I canna take yer' offer at this particular moment, but if I e'er ha' th' good fortune ta come 'gain, I'll look ye up, sure's a bet."

This seemed to amuse the man even more. "Very well then," he replied with a small smile. "I am sorry to hear that you have to leave so soon. However, if you ever return, simply ask anyone in the town where you can find Lord Eshro. They will be able to give you directions to my estate."

Xicanti bowed once again. "Thank ye, milord!" he replied sincerely. "I'll be true sure ta do jest that if'n I e'er come back!" With that, he ducked into the crowd surrounding the booth, picking the pockets of a few of the richer ones as he passed. He had elected not to steal Lord Eshro's evidently well-filled money pouch, as the man had been so nice to him. This didn't stop him from having his way with the rest of the tavern's patrons, though.

His friends had taken a seat far away from the booth Lord Eshro had sat in, and Xicanti made directly for them. He plopped down in a seat beside Cahra and across from Xepher, then happily dumped all that he had earned on the table.

Araphos's eyes widened visibly as he looked at the gold. "Y-you managed to steal that?" he asked in awe.

Xicanti grinned and shook his head. "Nope. I earned this stuff more or less fairly, for doing illusions. The guy was real pleased with 'ow I did, so 'e gave me four gold bits just for that. Then I showed 'im it was all illusion, an' 'e gave me even more! The rest I stole offa the crowd, though." He looked across to Xeph. "What'd you get?"

Just as proudly, Xeph emptied his back of finds beside Xicanti's. "I worked the crowd while you kept them captivated," he told his brother. "Which is probably why you didn't get as much from them. They were very free with their money, you know. And other things!" Xicanti looked down at the table and noticed that, besides the usual coinage, there were also a variety of pieces of jewelry.

"Those should sell for quite a bit, if we can find a dealer," he approved with a nod. "Make us enough to travel all the way to this High Council of Araphos's real comfortable. With ale."

Han grinned at that. "The ale part appeals to me," he told the two thieves. "Think you could spot me some of that?" He gestured down at the pile of hoardings on the table.

Xicanti looked up at Xeph. "Whadaya think?" he asked his brother. "Should we give our poor old brother-in-law something to buy ale with?"

Xeph shrugged and pretended to contemplate the matter deeply. "I dunno," he replied slowly. "We wouldn't wanna have ta haul 'im up to 'is room if he got real crocked, ya know. That'd be too traumatizin' for our poor little minds."

"Yeah, it would. Plus Leia'd get real mad at us if we told her we'd helped her husband get drunk. She'd probably ground us for weeks on end, with nothin' but bread to eat an' water to drink." The young thief shook his head back and forth mournfully. "That'd be terrible." He shot a quick glance at Han out of the corner of his eye, then added, "But I guess I could give 'im somethin', and not tell Leia, if he'd agree ta get me some too." Lapsing back into the brogue he'd used with Lord Eshro, Xicanti added on, "Plus a bit fer me poor, sober brudder, and mayhap a bit fer the munkoy too. If'n ih t'ain't too much trouble, a course."

Han scowled at him, but took the money and brought back ale for everyone. Trax got his promised taste, and decided that he did indeed like it very much. :S'better an' moosta th' stuff they feed ya when ya're a moonkay!: he proclaimed drunkenly. :I gotta try it more often!:

The drunken-ness didn't stay fun for very long, though. Xicanti was surprised to see Chewie drinking nearly twice as much as everyone else, and getting very drunk. He hadn't supposed his ancient friend would be the sort to engage in drunkness. All the same, the young thief was hardly surprised when the Wookiee Lord staggered out of his seat, went over the next table, and punched a drunkenly laughing man with no warning whatsoever. With a cry of indignation, the now-unconscious man's drinking companion, tried the same trick on the drunken Chewie. He hadn't reckoned on Wookiee iron muscles, however, and accomplished little more than the bruising of his fist� and the gaining of Chewie's anger. With little more than a thought, the Wookiee Lord slammed his fist squarely into the man's jaw, rending him unconscious.

Promptly, all hell broke loose in the tavern. These otherworldly peoples were not like the denizens of the cantinas back in Xicanti's own galaxy. Back home, everybody ignores everyone else's fights, the young thief thought to himself as he ducked to avoid a patron lunging at him with a chair. Here, they all wanna piece of it.

And the law enforcers wanted a piece of whoever started it. The tavern's owner pointed out the little group without delay as soon as the local authorities arrived, and before he knew what was happening, Xicanti and his friends were being thrust into a cell at the town's jail building. "You lot just stay here until you cool down," the man who'd brought them in told them. "Or until your trial; whichever comes first." Laughing, he headed back to his warm chamber in the rooms above. He's probably just gonna get drunk himself, Xicanti thought spitefully.

"They actually hold trials for people getting' drunk?" Xepher shook his head. "Weird. Next thing ya know, they'll be condemnin' ya for what color your hair is, or what religion you belong too." He shook his head mournfully as he plopped down in the corner farthest from the cell door. "I really an' truly don't get these guys."

"You aren't the only one," Han grumbled, setting himself down next to Chewbacca, who had already passed out cold. "An' why'd they have to bring us all in? Chewie here's the one who started the fight!"

"It's because we were with him," Araphos explained. "Up in these northern regions, the folk seem to think that if one person does something wrong, those he has associated with are also at fault."

"Damn stupid idea."