@iblicron: I know, right??
Glancing up, he saw it coming, a black shape flying straight at him down the passageway. He ducked just in time, and it brushed past his face close enough that he felt the oily, musky-smelling slickness of its black feathers against his cheek. Pivoting in midair, the thing flapped its wings, settling itself on an electrical conduit, staring down at him with black, incurious eyes.
Maul looked up at it.
It was a clawbird, almost a half meter high, small for its breed. Maul had seen holos of them hunting womp rats on Wayland, with claws like vibroblades and a serrated beak that could rip through flesh like butter. But what was a mutated avian species from an Outer Rim planet doing in a prison?
Still staring at him, the clawbird opened its mouth and emitted a harsh, scolding caw. It sounded like laughter. The cry rattled down the length of the corridor. Maul scowled at the thing. It was making too much noise, and he couldn’t hear anything else over the din.
“Get out of here,” Maul told it. “Go.”
I mean--
Instantly on his feet, Maul was moving to the open hatchway in less than a second. But what he found waiting for him was not an inmate at all.
The clawbird perched across the concourse gazed down at him with black and lightless eyes—the same bird he’d spotted in the tunnels.
It had something in its mouth.
A scrap of bone.
“What are you doing here?” Maul asked it.
I can’t with him. He knows the bird can’t talk back, he has no reason to suspect the thing can even really understand him, but he talks to the fucking bird anyway. I mean, this entire novel is one long study in just how badass he actually is in combat and also just how much of a pawn he is, too, but then he does these things that show his age, like talk to birds. (Or like how he names his bike, names his ship and Sidious seems sort of baffled by it, but man, that’s a very boyish thing to do, it makes perfect sense. And in typical boyish form, he names them scary names.)
Just as a side note, I’m also kind of amused that he calls Eogan boy when he’s maybe four or five years older. Like, wow, check you out, you’d probably still be an underclassman in some sane world. You are barely a man, you’re not even technically fully-grown.
Also:
Sitting up, Maul looked around.
The room was filled with birds.
With a faint croak, the first bird hopped from the end of the table to Maul’s leg, and then up to his shoulder, where it settled itself. He turned his head to gaze at it. At the knotted khipus wound around its legs.
Of course.
Their former master would have needed more than one bird to pick up the different weapons parts and drop off the payment. And now that Maul had killed him—
He was their new master.
Yanking the monitor wires and tubing away from his body, Maul tossed it all to the floor and swung his legs around. Standing up, he discovered new strength that he hadn’t known was there.
All around him, clawbirds seemed to sense this renewed purpose. They’d already begun to flap their wings, rising into the air, preparing to take flight.
Maul nodded.
“Let’s go.”
Yes, darling. Go forth with your entourage. *salutes*
But yeah. The novel has its flaws, but it’s wholly entertaining for stuff like this, because these little quirks are personable. They skim right by you until you actually think about them and then you sort of sit back and just kind of grin, because he’s not really supposed to be doing normal people stuff like being all haughty about the lousy conditions or talking to these birds, and yet, there it is. Legit everyone has eyed a place and gone-- okay, gross. And legit everyone has talked to a bird like it actually could understand or answer. I dunno, I love it.
