Pandath, Maarek reflected, considered itself a city. Those who hailed from Coruscant or Denon or Metellos might chuckle; they might not even hide it. Compared to the raiding camps of Maarek's kinfolk, though, Pandath was downright cosmopolitan. His tongue flicked, tasting spice and motor oil on the air. And something else, a scent that existed as much in his mind as in his physical senses.

He bared his teeth in a grin and hitched his backpack over his shoulder in a jangle of crystals. They, too, had a scent. Blue upari, cut in various patterns with differing degrees of expertise, hailed from his home system. Upari tasted of forests and sweat and the cold of space. Then there were the pink-and-yellow crystals called dantari; the merchant had sworn they'd come from dragon-eggs on Dantooine. They certainly smelled reptilian, in a refreshing way. Maarek hadn't yet figured out what to do with them, but he'd started to consider them a good-luck charm. And then there were the bluish firkrann, which smelled like plastic and the numb fear of prey, and gave him a little shock whenever he touched them.

An old datalink, long kept hidden from the rest of his Dosh, offered one set of information on these things. His instincts offered another truth entirely. But if rumor was correct -- the kind of rumor one wrung from a slave -- this university outside Pandath could bridge his gut and his mind. Could tell him, potentially, why these shiny rocks felt special to him and not to anyone else.

Maarek's tongue flicked again, this time with a hint of shameful nervousness. He glanced back at the interplanetary ferry, sure he'd felt someone's gaze boring a hole between his shoulderblades, but nothing presented itself. Shouldering his second pack, which rustled with bone, Maarek set off toward the university.