The terrorist scampered to the center of the roof, where the brick wall of a small dwelling afforded him better camouflage, and drew a blaster.

Qui-Gon rushed forward, evading blaster bolts, then moving in to grapple hand to hand with a human of similar size.

A hail of bolts tore past Qui-Gon's left ear as he threw his quarry to the roof. Two more bolts singed his long hair in their passing. He leapt to the right and rolled for cover. Drawing on the Force, he coaxed a slate tile loose from the dwelling's peaked roof. The tile slipped from the grasp of its fasteners, shot spinning through space, and clipped the terrorist in the side of the head, felling him instantly.

Qui-Gon rushed in, grabbing a handful of the mimetic suit and tearing it from the man's prone body. Its circuitry interrupted, the suit failed and the wearer became visible.

Qui-Gon determined that the terrorist would be unconscious long enough for the judicials to find him.

Off to his left, he spied Vergere leaping from dome to dome, as if she were wearing a rocket pack. Following after her, he saw that the Fosh and Ki- Adi-Mundi were closing on a Gotal, whose mimetic suit couldn't camouflage the trail of shed fur he was leaving.

He glanced around for Obi-Wan and found him standing at the base of a large dome, atop a wall that enclosed a deep courtyard. Qui-Gon was headed toward him, when he spied an indistinct shape sliding down the steep curve of the dome. The shape collided with Obi-Wan and sent him flailing over the edge of the building.

Qui-Gon dashed forward, holding his lightsaber at hip level, then flicking the blade upward when he reached the spot where he predicted the terrorist would land.

A pained cry rang out, and a right arm flashed into visibility and went sailing over the edge of the roof. Disa4, the mimetic suit phased out, revealing a howling human female, down on her knees, her left hand gripped on what remained of her severed right arm.

Qui-Gon rushed to the wall, hoping to find that Obi-Wan had found a soft spot to land. Instead, an airspeeder rose out of the courtyard, with Obi-Wan clinging by one hand to the craft's aft starboard stabilizer.

The airspeeder gently deposited Obi-Wan on the roof next to Qui-Gon.

Nearby, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Vergere, the two judicials, and a couple of Eriadu security officers were securing the six terrorists that had been captured.

Neither Havac nor Cohl were among them.

"That was quite a stunt, Padawan," Qui-Gon said.

"I guess you would rather have found me dangling by my teeth, Master."

Qui-Gon showed him a perplexed look.

"The thought-puzzle Master Anoon Bondara put to his students on the day we spoke with Luminara," Obi-Wan explained. "About the man dangling by his teeth from the strut of a skimmer over a treacherous pit." "I remember now,"

Qui-Gon said, with sudden interest.

Obi-Wan blew out his breath. "After much though, I decided that the skimmer is meant to be the Force, and that the pit represents the dangers that await any of us who stray from the path." "And what of the lost travelers who asked for help?" "Well, on the one hand, travelers-even when they've lost their way-should know better than to ask questions of a man dangling by his teeth over a treacherous pit. But, more important, the travelers were merely distractions that the man should ignore, if he is to remain in the Force."

"Distractions," Qui-Gon murmured.

He thought back to the attempt on Valorum's life, the events on Asmeru, and the evidence that had been discovered in the customs warehouse.

Qui-Gon clapped Obi-Wan on both shoulders. "You've helped me see something that has been eluding me." He glanced at the half-dozen terrorists.

"There's little more we can do here. Hurry now, Padawan, Havac's scheme is afoot." "Where are we going, Master?" "Where we were meant to go from the beginning." The scene outside the south entrance to the summit hall was chaotic, with mobs of onlookers and security personnel milling about, and media reporters jostling for close-ups with their holocams and recorders.

Cordons of body-armored police fought to keep the masses from pressing too close, as vehicles ranging from the most primitive to the most luxurious conveyed delegates to the porte cochere that hooded the entrance. Judicials circulated through the crowd, trying not to be obvious, despite the communicator beads in their ears and the sophisticated comlinks on their wrists, while Jedi Knights, with their brown cloaks and belt-mounted lightsabers, made themselves all too obvious.

"I don't see a hope of getting inside," Boiny said to Cohl, at the leading edge of the crowd.

"Even if we managed to reach the door, we'd never be able to slip any hardware past the weapons scanners." The two of them were wearing loose- fitting robes, sandals, and turbans that concealed their head wounds.

Cohl had found himself an actual crutch made of a lightweight alloy, but he was weaker than when he and the Rodian had made their hasty departure from the customs warehouse. Both were surviving on bacta patches and periodic injections of pain blockers.

Cohl gazed up at the summit hall. In addition to the security guards posted at the entrance, there were sharpshooters in the towers that stood at the corners of the enormous building.

"Let's have a look at some of the other entrances," he said, quietly and short of breath.

They began a circular zigzag around the grounds.

The west and north entrances were no less crowded or confused, but the east entrance wasn't nearly as mobbed, or as well guarded.

Waiting to be admitted were administrative aides and freelance translators, protocol and service droids, an ensemble of drummers and trumpeters sporting tall helmets and garish uniforms, and mixed-species groups representing the Rights of Sentience League and the Association of Free Trade Worlds, among others.

"Strictly second-tier attendees," Boiny remarked.

"Our kind of folks." Cohl nodded with his chin, indicating that they should saunter down the long line.

Part way along, announcing themselves with a colorful banner, waited a hundred or so veterans of the Stark Hyperspace Conflict. A brief though bloody conflict that had erupted twelve years earlier, it had been fought largely on worlds where bacta was scarce or too expensive.

Consequently, many of the veterans, human and alien alike, still showed gruesome scars, patches of horribly puckered or wrinkled flesh, and missing limbs or tails. Paralyzed as a result of disrupter fire or electromagnetic detonations, a few were confined to repulsorlift chairs and sleds.