OLD WAS A RELATIVE TERM. The neighborhoods surrounding the Canto Casino were certainly older than the casino itself, and their age showed in the occasional cobbled street or stone archway or crumbling façade. But for the most part everything was shiny and new, with luxury shops and restaurants housed in domed towers made to blend seamlessly with the original architecture. Tourists never saw the truly old parts of the city, because those parts were poor, dank, cramped, and mostly underground, like the tiny apartment he shared with Lula.

Lexo considered going there first, but he had last seen Lula heading up the stairs to the surface, toward the stables. He had to know if she’d arrived at her destination. Lexo fished out the chips he’d received from Joris as a tip and inserted them into the cab’s payment slot. He directed the cab toward the stables.

Evening was quickly becoming dusk, and the city was springing to life. Speeders whizzed by his passenger window, faster, shinier, and sleeker than the one he had hired. Many of them, he knew, were chauffeured by organics. Big Sturg Ganna himself always eschewed automatic and droid-driven speeders. He considered it a point of pride and a symbol of his status that he could afford a living driver.

To Lexo’s right the horizon glowed dark purple with the setting sun, a strange phenomenon that had manifested with the creation of Canto Bight’s artificial sea. Lights from various yachts and pleasure barges twinkled against the vast water. He had to admit, it was beautiful, albeit a colossal waste. On the hot desert planet of Cantonica, water evaporated at a rate of several tons per day, which meant that the cost of maintaining the false sea was astronomical.

The cab turned toward the casino and was forced to slow down to accommodate traffic. Everyone was arriving for the night, checking into the hotel, trying to make a grand entrance. Lexo didn’t care about any of that. He leaned forward in his seat, as if he could will the speeder to go faster.

It took a frustratingly long time to pass beyond the sleek, brightly lit entrance to the casino and its rows of rare Alderaanian chinar trees. Maybe the trees were real, maybe they weren’t; last Lexo had heard, the planet Alderaan wasn’t doing so well. But that was Canto Bight for you. In this city it was almost impossible to tell the real from the fake.

Ahead, a glow loomed on the horizon, indicating that they were nearing the racetrack. The beautiful show stables were just ahead, and tourists crowded around to pet well-groomed fathiers, enjoy refreshments, and, of course, buy souvenirs.

But the real stables were behind them, their unseemly smells and tight quarters and filthy workers kept mostly out of sight of the city’s wealthy visitors. The cab curved around the show stables, ducked into an alley, and finally came to a stop.

Lexo practically leapt from the vehicle and headed straight for the main stable where Lula’s boss, Bargwill Tomder, was most likely to be lingering. The air was musty with fathier dung and unwashed bodies. Children were everywhere, hefting pitchforks and feedbags, running messages, even mending stall doors. Lexo scanned the area, hoping against hope to spot Lula. Maybe he’d misread Ganna’s threat. Maybe she was right here after all, safe and sound.

The stables were made of brick and stone, with stalls that were more like jail cells—small and dark, with barred gates that opened electronically. Fathier heads peered over the gates as if dreaming of air and light, their broad ears nearly touching the tight walls, their silky coats often scarred or caked with dirt. Looking at their sad, soft eyes, Lexo couldn’t help but wonder if Lula was right. Maybe the fathiers were more intelligent than everyone realized.

Lula was nowhere to be seen.

But he found the stable keeper easily; Lexo simply followed the stench of rot and disease until he discovered him leaning against a fathier stall, his dressage whip held at the ready.

Bargwill Tomder was a four-armed Cloddogran with rotting teeth, oozing skin, and a perpetual scowl. His plague-ridden nose tendrils were slowly but inexorably forming a mass of infection that would someday overtake the whole creature’s face, and possibly, Lexo considered, the entire star system. He wore a utility vest that hadn’t been washed in several years, where he stashed all manner of rusty tools—a wrench, a hoof pick, a collapsible glow rod. Lexo was willing to bet that the last time those tools had been used was probably around the same time that the vest had been washed. According to Lula, Bargwill Tomder hadn’t worked a day in his life. He just liked to use that whip.

“Who’re you?” Tomder barked at Lexo as he approached.

They’d met several times, but Lexo was unsurprised that Tomder did not recognize him. His eyesight was poor, and failing rapidly.

“I’m looking for Lula Sooger,” Lexo said.

Tomder squinted, peering closer. Stench rolled off him in waves. “Are you that Dor Namethian fellow? The masseur?”

“Have you seen her?”

“You’ve come to beg for her job back, haven’t you. Well, it won’t work. That lazy pile of rotting dung is done here. You hear me? Done.”

Lexo was just about out of patience with dissembling and making nice. He unrolled his shoulders and stretched his spine to full height, gaining another meter—a trick he pulled only when he wanted to intimidate someone. In a dangerous, precise voice, he said, “What, exactly, do you mean by ‘done here’?”

Tomder flinched away, his fingers tightening around his whip. “Girl didn’t show up to work. So she’s fired. That’s just the rules.”

The air left him in a rush, and Lexo’s shoulders deflated. His worst fear realized. Lula was missing. Ganna had taken her hostage.

“By the way,” Tomder said, “when you see her next, tell her she owes me her indenture debt. If it’s not paid by month’s end, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Lexo’s fingers twitched. He could reach for Tomder’s carotid. The disgusting creature could be dead in seconds.

It was the second time today he’d considered killing. He shook the thought away with some difficulty. Now was the time for clearheadedness. Rage would make him careless and sloppy.

He took a calming breath and said in a voice full of sympathy, “It must be hard to take care of all these urchins only to have some of them turn on you.”

Tomder’s rheumy eyes bugged out and he nodded vigorously. “No one understands!” he said. “I work hard all day long, giving these kids a better life. And how do they repay me? By ditching work and leaving me destitute.”

“You’re to be commended for soldiering on,” Lexo said. “In your position, I’d have to find other avenues for generating income. So I could take care of the children, of course.”

Tomder shrugged. “I find ways to make it work.”

Lexo steeled himself. He knew what he needed to do, but Bargwill Tomder was the most revolting creature he’d ever encountered. It would take days to get the stench off himself. Only for Lula.

He reached out and placed a companionable hand on Tomder’s shoulder, making sure his fingers brushed the boil-ridden skin of his neck. “I’ve heard some compelling rumors,” he said. Chemicals seeped from his fingertips. Tomder’s infected skin gave them easy access to his bloodstream, and Lexo felt the stable keeper’s shoulder muscles soften almost immediately.

“Oh?” Tomder said. “I do enjoy a good rumor.”

“I’ve heard that something’s going down with DeFancio Storsilt’s fleet of fathiers.” Maybe the race fixing was related to Lula’s disappearance; maybe it wasn’t. Lexo wasn’t going to chance not knowing about it.

“Oh,” Tomder said, his gaze darting around the paddock as if worried they might be overheard. “Of course I don’t know what you mean.”

Lexo excreted another dose of pheromone, and a wave of dizziness hit him. Using his abilities so often in a single day was exacting a cost. He blinked to clear his vision and said, “Let’s say a fellow wanted to repay his daughter’s indenture debt to the local stable keeper—along with some extra for his trouble—but just needed a little help getting the money. How should a fellow like that bet tonight?”

“Ooh,” Tomder said. “I think I could help a fellow out.”

“I’m so glad to hear it.”

“I’d tell a fellow like that to bet against any fathiers owned by Storsilt, which as most people know is almost all of them. That leaves only a few left to earn the laurels, right?”

“Right.” Lexo smiled winningly. “Naturally, a fellow would want to know how this information had been received. To ascertain its validity. A fellow really wants to make good on his debts, you see.”

Tomder glanced around again. Lexo gave him one last helping of pheromone. The ground swayed beneath him.

“Look,” Tomder said after a moment. “I got a holo. It was no one I recognized. Tall, bipedal, cloaked, with an altered voice. Maybe even a droid. They asked me to switch the feed of certain fathiers.”

“And you did.”

“Of course I did. The offer was too good to pass up. I had to do it. For the children, right?”

“Of course. And you were paid as agreed?”

Tomder nodded. “Along with a new shipment of special feed came a special package. Mostly aurodium dust. A few rubies. A handful of casino chips. I’ll be able to buy new gloves for the kids, finally.”

Lexo startled at this, peering closer. Tomder was fully in his control now. He’d answer any question Lexo asked. There was no need for him to be coy about helping children. Which meant that even though he was a lazy, slave-driving sadist, part of him actually cared a little.

Lexo had one last question. “Do you have any idea why Lula didn’t show up to work today?”

“Not a clue. She’s one of those peculiar kids who actually likes the fathiers. Don’t ask me why; they’re stupid, filthy, reeking creatures.”

Lexo chose not to point out the obvious hypocrisy.

“I admit,” Tomder added, “I was surprised when she didn’t show.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Lexo said, finally, finally removing his hand from Tomder’s shoulder. “I’ll return later to take care of Lula’s debt.”

“Be sure that you do!”

Lexo didn’t bother with parting niceties; he turned on his heel and strode away, wiping his hands on his robe. At his soonest opportunity, he would have to disinfect them.

He didn’t feel any closer to rescuing his daughter, but he wasn’t out of options yet. He’d been on Cantonica a long time, and he had a friend or two. Besides, Ganna wasn’t his only rich and powerful client. If all else failed, maybe he would break his code and get involved—in exchange for a little help. Just this once.

And Lula, his sweet, smart, strong Lula, had left him a trail of corwindyl to follow. She had undoubtedly planted it on Ganna when she was taken, knowing Lexo’s olfactory senses would pick it up right away. He just had to follow his nose.

Big Sturg Ganna didn’t know it yet, but he had messed with the wrong masseur.