Dynasty of Evil by Drew Karpyshyn

him from the chair. Too drunk to even struggle, the customer hung like deadweight between the two hulking brutes, his feet dragging limply on the floor as they forcibly ushered him out. Upon reaching the exit, the bouncers rocked their human cargo back and forth several times in a surprising display of coordinated effort, building momentum before hurling him through the doorway and onto the hard ground outside. It would have been a lie for Set to say he wasn’t impressed by the distance they achieved.
    With the last customer gone, one of the bouncers slammed the door and latched it shut. Then they both turned to face Set, grinning as they resumed leaning against the wall on either side of the room’s only exit.
    Set couldn’t help but admire the Rodian’s utter and complete lack of subtlety. Most proprietors would have invited Set into a back room to chat rather than shutting down their entire establishment for only two hundred credits. Judging by the general décor, however, the establishment was barely profitable.
    Not that Set really cared. He wasn’t trying to keep a low profile. He was used to leaving memorable stories in his wake; if anyone ever came to investigate he would be long gone, so what did it matter if he had another tale to add to his legend? Over time the details would inevitably become exaggerated, and one day people would marvel at how Set had been so wealthy that he had paid thousands of credits to shut down an entire cantina just so he could speak to the owner.
    “Nobody bother us now,” Quano said from behind him, hopping back down onto the floor. “You want drink?”
    “I’m a collector interested in rare artifacts,” Set replied, ignoring the question and cutting right to the chase. He wanted to spend as little time here as possible. “Rings. Amulets. That kind of thing.”
    Quano shrugged. “Why you tell Quano?”
    “Word around the camp is you sometimes have these kinds of items for sale.”
    The cupped antennae on the bartender’s head twitched ever so slightly. “Maybe,” he whispered, leaning forward so Set could hear him. “Miner finds things. Him wants to sell it offworld. Maybe Quano help him.”
    “Then this is your lucky day,” Set replied, somehow managing to flash a dazzling smile despite the pungent aroma of alien pheromones wafting off the Rodian. “Like I said—I’m a collector. A wealthy collector.”
    Quano cast a quick glance around the empty room, almost as if he expected someone to be listening in on their conversation. Set recognized it as a nervous reflex developed after years of making shady deals in public places.
    “What you interested in?”
    “I think you know what I’m looking for. The same thing as the last collector who came here. The Cerean.”
    “Him not collector. Him Jedi. You Jedi, too?”
    Set sighed. This was going to drive the price up. Never did understand the value of keeping a low profile, did you, Medd?
    “Do I look like a Jedi?”
    The Rodian tilted his head from one side to the other before answering. “No. Look more like bounty hunter.”
    “Does it really matter? I want to buy what you’re selling. And I’ve got plenty of credits … if you’ve got the merchandise.”
    “Stuff not here. Quano just middlebeing. Miner have it.”
    “Can you take me to whoever has it?”
    Quano shook his head. “Miner change his mind. Not for sale no more.”
    “Everyone has a price. I’m a wealthy man. If you take me to him, I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”
    Another shake of the head. “Last time Quano takesomeone to meet miners, everyone end up dead. Too risky.”
    “I’m willing to take that chance.”
    The Rodian snorted. “Quano not care about risk for you. Miners say if Quano show up again, they kill him.”
    “They don’t have to know you were involved,” Set promised. “Just show me where to find them. I’ll make it worth your while.”
    To emphasize his point he produced his small drawstring purse, reached