Free Star Wars: The Last of the Jedi, Volume 3 by Jude Watson

of two crumbling stone columns. A sputtering laserlight sign read: UNDERWORLD INN . They regarded it as Ferus, Trever, and Keets walked
up.
    “Not your most premier establishment,” Rhya said.
    “We do need a bed for the night,” Ferus said.
    “And where there’s beds, there’s grog,” Keets said. “And where’s there’s grog, there’s gossip.”
    “Let’s give it a try,” Ferus said. “But keep your weapons close.”
    They pushed open the stone door. They walked into a large circular space formed by towering arches. The stone floor and stone ceiling made their footsteps echo. Huge alien gargoyles leered over
their heads with what looked like malicious intent.
    “Homey,” Hume remarked.
    They approached a small battered desk that was dwarfed by its surroundings. A clerk sat behind it, fast asleep. Ferus cleared his throat, but he didn’t stir.
    Oryon slammed the hilt of his blaster rifle down on the desk, and the clerk awoke with a start. “Fire!” he shouted.
    “No fire,” Ferus said. “Just some customers.”
    “Oh.” The clerk straightened. “Ah, we only have a couple of rooms available. You’ll have to double up.”
    “Fine.”
    “Costs extra for towels and water.”
    “Extra for water?”
    “Hard to get water down here.”
    “All right, all right.”
    Ferus was about to produce his false ID docs, but the clerk waved a hand to dismiss him. “Just credits. We don’t need ID docs.”
    “I thought it was the law.”
    The clerk raised an eyebrow at him, as though Ferus was a new recruit into a very old army. “There’s no law down here. If you haven’t figured that out yet, I feel sorry for
you.”
    They paid the credits, and then Hume asked, “We’ve got some dry throats here. Any recommendations?”
    The clerk shrugged a shoulder in the direction of a doorway.
    They pushed open the door and went inside. The cantina was small but the ceiling was high, casting deep shadows throughout the space. To Ferus’s surprise, the place was almost full.
Humanoids and other creatures sat at the bar or at small tables that hugged the shadows. Weapons were prominently displayed on the tables.
    “Reminds me of a place I used to go in Galactic City called the ’Dor, only worse,” Keets observed.
    Ferus nodded. He’d been to the ’Dor with Siri, as a Padawan who had tried very hard not to be intimidated by the atmosphere. The dregs of the galaxy went there to drink, buy or sell
information, and hire bounty hunters. It had once been called the Splendor until most of its laser letters had shorted out, and everyone just called it the ’Dor.
    “I’d say we should have a seat,” Hume advised. “We’re attracting a bit of attention here.”
    “Not necessarily a bad thing,” Oryon said. “It might get us some answers.”
    They took over several small tables and ordered drinks and food. They saw that they were being observed. Ferus took a small sip of his drink, then got up and brought it to the bar to see if
anyone was in the mood to chat. Meanwhile, Keets struck up a conversation with the table next door.
    They ate the food and finished four pots of tea and talked to almost every person in the bar, but no one was able to get directions to Solace. Everyone had heard of it, but no one knew where it
was. Finally, the cantina cleared out and they had to admit defeat. Trever had been feeling woozy for some time. He yawned.
    “We might as well get some sleep,” Ferus said.
    The room was large, with sleep couches and one receptacle and outlet that dribbled pale yellow water. The couches were just planks with a blanket on top. Not the most
uncomfortable bed Ferus had ever slept on, but it was definitely in the top ten.
    He turned on his side and looked at Trever’s tousled hair sticking up from his blanket. He felt bad about not being the one to help Trever earlier. He’d made sure Trever was safe
during the battle, then concentrated on their attackers. He had heard Trever’s cry, but by