The Twi’lek had reached the end of a long, narrow winding street. He halted in front of a large building with a rounded roof that had spikes on it. The building was shaped like the head of a gigantic krayt dragon. The dragon’s open mouth was the door. Inside, Boba could see a bustling throng of aliens, humans, and droids. Between the krayt dragon’s teeth, a shimmering holosign flashed green-and-gold Huttese letters.
The Twi’lek walked up to the sign. Without hesitating, it went inside.
Boba watched him go. His heart was beating hard now. He had seen a lot of people, a lot of aliens, and a lot of droids since he’d been in the Undercity. But there was one thing he hadn’t seen.
He hadn’t seen a single kid. He hadn’t seen a single person his own age.
The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. Silence and stealth were a bounty hunter’s greatest weapons.
But there was no way he could sneak through that krayt’s mouth and into the gambling palace unnoticed. A bunch of burly guards stood just inside the entrance—Gamorrean boars, by the look of them. Boba watched as the Twi’lek strode right past them. They bowed to him slightly, but otherwise paid him no notice. Yet when two Wookiees approached moments later, the Gamorrean guards frisked them before waving them inside.
How could Boba get past them?
Boba glanced behind him, down the winding street. He could see two more groups of people heading toward the Hutts’ gambling palace. If he remained where he was, he’d be seen. At best he’d be told to leave. At worst—
He couldn’t afford to think of that now. A few yards away, a pile of rubble loomed. Quickly, before the approaching groups could see him, Boba ran and ducked beside it.
The first group grew nearer. Boba could see them clearly now: half a dozen small Jawa scavengers. All wore the Jawas’ distinctive hooded robes. All spoke to one another in the Jawas’ usual babble. As they passed, their eyes glowed from within their hoods like tiny torches.
“Hey,” whispered Boba to himself.
He had another idea—a good one.
He turned and quickly began searching through the rubble. Bricks, broken glass, shreds of leather. A melted ruin that had once been a blaster. Broken spear-points. Exploded grenades. Something that looked alarmingly like a human hand.
The Hutts’ gambling palace was a popular place. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to stick around it too long.
Suddenly, Boba found what he was looking for. He bit his lip to keep from crying aloud in triumph. It was only a rag—a long, grayish-yellow piece of cloth, dirty and full of holes.
But it was good enough for him. Boba glanced back to make sure no one had sighted him. The Jawas were just approaching the entrance now. One of them appeared to be talking to the Gammorean guards. Swiftly, Boba pulled the cloth over his head. It smelled bad—it stank, as a matter of fact—but he gritted his teeth and tried to arrange it properly.
He pulled part of it over his face. He tugged it forward, till it covered his face like a hood. The cloth fell to just below his knees. He removed his belt from his tunic and tied it loosely around his waist. That was better. He was a little taller than the Jawas, so he bent his knees. It was hard to walk that way, but once he was inside, maybe no one would notice if he straightened up.
He peered around the pile of rubble. Another group was nearing the gambling palace. They were too far away for him to see clearly, but they were tall, and vaguely humanoid.
And there were a lot of them.
I’d better get inside, fast.
Boba looked down at the gambling palace. The Gammorean guards were nodding and waving the Jawas inside. Boba waited until the last Jawa had disappeared into the krayt dragon’s mouth. Then he took a deep breath, and began to hurry toward the entrance.
But when he got there he stopped. One of the Gammorean guards glared down at him, grunting in a questioning tone. It held a tall spear, and waved it menacingly.
Its partner peered through its piggy little eyes at Boba, skeptical.
Boba bent his knees a little more. He tugged the folds of cloth around his head, praying his face didn’t show. He pointed toward the entrance, miming that he wanted to go inside.
Just then, one guard nudged the other, grunting and pointing behind Boba.
“Aarrrgh!” snarled the other guard. It gnashed its tusks angrily and stared where the other had indicated.
Boba wanted to turn and look behind him—but he didn’t dare. He stood, wondering if he should make a dash for the entrance.
Without warning, one of the Gammoreans swung his spear through the air high above Boba’s head. He gestured Boba inside.
Boba nodded eagerly. Gathering the folds of his cloak, he ducked his head, then walked as fast as he could through the krayt dragon’s mouth—and into the domain of the Hutts.