Path of Deceit, page 3
The underground complex was built into natural caves in these foothills of the ancient mountain chain. From above, the Path of the Open Hand appeared to be a group of thirteen or so small buildings plus five clusters of personal cells, built with bricks of the vivid dark-pink local granite. But two of the buildings concealed natural sinkholes that had been modified into safe entrances to the caves. The first settlers who’d founded the Path over a century before had discovered the caves like a gift from the Force—warm, ready-made homes for them. They’d built up the walls of the sinkholes over time, carved small channels through the rock for light and air, and installed a very modest system of plumbing pipes, making everything quite livable.
Marda keyed in her access code, then she and Jezra’lin descended. The air was warm and damp underground, and lights blinked to life as they progressed.
The hum of the nesting cell reached them almost immediately, and Marda smiled at Jezra’lin—the hum was how she’d known the hatching would be soon. At the door to the cell, Marda scratched gently with her sharp nails. She heard a voice inside and nodded for Jezra’lin to open the door. It slid aside a crack, and they slipped in quickly before closing it, to preserve the damp warmth the Kessarine preferred for incubation.
Jezra’lin took Marda’s hand as their eyes grew accustomed to the soft pink-silver glow. The nesting cell was the same dark-pink stone as the rest of the caves, but the dome was streaked with striations of sun opal that glittered and gleamed between layers of rock. On the surface directly above them, small puddles of opal faced the sky, and as the sun rose, the veins drew light down into the nesting chamber. The fine gravel whispered under their sandals as the two approached.
Five perfectly spherical eggs leaned together in the center of the cavern, shining like dull yellow pearls. Ferize crouched beside them, a hand on one and her tail unfurled to cup the eggs—and her two partners, both of whom were smaller than Ferize but with several tails each. One snored softly, his head buried between two eggs; the other waved webbed fingers at Marda. She held her hands open, palms out, and nodded in greeting. Then she nudged Jezra’lin to do the same. Together they went to kneel beside Ferize.
“Will it be today?” Marda asked softly.
“Within the hour,” said the Kessarine mother.
Marda reached out and placed three fingertips against the nearest egg, careful with her sharp clawlike nails. The egg’s shell was warm, and very hard. When they’d first been laid, they’d been softer, almost jellylike. Marda traced three wavy lines against the egg and murmured, “The Force will be free.”
Ferize’s cheek frills dipped in the smile of her species, so Marda offered the same to the remaining four eggs while Jezra’lin nearly vibrated with excitement. As Marda left her hand on the last egg, it wobbled under her palm.
Both Ferize’s partners sat up in sharp attention. They slipped nearer, speaking quickly in their own language, then the one who had waved at Marda said, “Time.”
The three Kessarine began to hum along with the ambient purr of their eggs but changed the tone here and there. Marda clutched her hands together and said to Jezra’lin, “Hurry and go tell the Elders.”
The Mon Calamari hopped up and dashed out.
In the hazy pink-silver light, Marda watched the first egg crack. The parents hummed and cooed encouragingly, and before the first baby was born, another egg started to break, too. Marda gathered shards of shells and tucked them into a nook in the cavern wall for later. Her entire body buzzed with the thrill of birth, as if she could feel the Force itself growing stronger with the new life.
Sweat trickled down her spine as she took one of the babies, holding its furled little body in both hands as Ferize wiped fluids out of its nubby frills then turned to the next egg, leaving Marda with the baby. It weighed so little, breathing fast with a little distressed whine. Marda kissed its sticky forehead and laughed, giddy. Its tiny egg teeth jutted out like tusks, and she knew they’d fall away soon—she wondered if she ought to be ready to catch them. Did they have use? Marda smiled big enough to show her own sharp teeth, though the baby’s eyes were barely open, squinting and crusted with hatching fluids. Oh, she should wash it.
Just then Ferize handed her another baby, and Marda cradled them both while the parents focused on the remaining eggs. Marda sat with her legs crossed beside the sink and ran some cool water into the basin. She settled the babies in the crooks of her knees and carefully washed them.
By the time all five eggs had hatched, the first baby’s eyes were wide, and it chewed on the end of Marda’s sleek black braid. One egg tooth had fallen out, but the second baby’s were intact.
“Marda,” came the familiar, laughing voice of her cousin Yana. The older girl crouched beside her, fully dressed in her green-and-gold Children’s tunic, complete with boots and blaster strapped under her arm. Marda frowned at the weapon.
Then she realized the nesting cell was filled with members of the Path. At least thirty, crowding against the opal-striated walls, smiling and caring for the newly expanded family. Ferize and her partners leaned into each other’s shoulders, their tails tangled comfortingly together.
“Oh, everyone is here,” Marda said. She handed one of the babies to Yana, who grimaced but accepted. Marda stood with the other baby in her arm and tapped on her cousin’s bare gray forehead. “Where is your icon?”
“I was in a hurry,” Yana said, snapping her sharp teeth playfully at the baby she held away from her body in both hands.
“Like this.” Marda showed her, but then Yana laughed and instead gave the baby to Jezra’lin, who was bouncing on their toes beside her.
“I don’t need to hold them. There are so many willing and eager. But come on, Cousin, let’s get you cleaned up, too.”
Reluctantly, Marda took the baby in her arm to Ferize. The Kessarine tugged Marda’s braid affectionately, and Marda let her cousin drag her away from the nesting cell and up into the daylight.
Marda sighed contentedly as Yana pulled her through the compound and out into the fields. “Where?” Marda said, and Yana snorted and jerked her chin toward the river.
Then they raced. Yana was older and stronger, with sturdier boots, but Marda was quick—she lost anyway, and Yana waited at the bank, then shocked Marda by picking her up off her feet and tossing her straight into the water.
Shrieking, Marda let herself fall under, fully dressed, and sank to the muddy river bottom. She stretched out, reveling in the sensations of the current as it dragged at her body and pulled her hair free of its braid. The river surrounded her, and even when she shot up gasping for breath, it stuck to her skin and hair, and Marda delighted in it. It was life, it was the Force, it was freedom of the Path. They had five new lives among their ranks, and more refugees would join them; she knew it.
Once clean, Marda wrung out her hair and tunic, then put it back on before climbing out to join Yana on the bank. Her cousin leaned against a tree, absently playing with the coils of bark shedding from the trunk. “Ready?” she asked.
“I need to reapply my blue,” Marda answered. “There’s some in my cell.”
They walked in silence, companionable on Marda’s side, expectant on Yana’s. But neither spoke until Marda had changed into a fresh tunic and offered Yana the pot of blue to apply. They did it for each other, murmuring, “The Force will be free.”
Marda couldn’t remember a time before she lived with the Path of the Open Hand, but she suspected Yana did. They were the only two Evereni there, or anywhere that they knew of: with long bones and bright gray skin, sharp teeth and nails, and solid black eyes that reflected only dark blue. One man in Ferdan had called them “planet killers” once, and Yana had snarled at him, but Marda didn’t mind. Evereni were part of the Force, too. They’d been very young then, before Yana had found her place among the Children, before Marda truly understood the freedom of the Path.
With the matching waves of blue across their foreheads, it was even more obvious they were related, though Yana’s work and rank had bulked her up, while Marda remained lithe and bony from lack of rich foods. But it suited them both, giving them a sharp danger that Yana used to every advantage and Marda mitigated with downcast eyes and a gentle manner until she seemed more delicate.
They headed back for the main compound garden to help with the festivities. Their companionable silence remained until a freighter ship blasted off from the nearby town of Ferdan and shot across the sky. Its engine whine scared a flock of marcrows that scattered like the rainbows of a prism against the deep blue sky.
Yana paused to watch the freighter disappear up into the atmosphere and said, “We’re leaving again tonight.”
Marda bit back a gasp. “I want to go.”
“You can’t,” Yana said dismissively. She started walking again. “It’s not your kind of work.”
“I can do whatever you can do, Yana,” Marda insisted. The back of her neck heated with excitement, despite her still-wet hair hanging heavily. “I can reach out to new people. I can recruit! Spread the word. It’s all I want. I am good at it.”
“Prideful,” Yana teased.
“Truthful,” Marda countered. “It’s important to be confident when we represent the Path.”
Yana touched her wrist. “It’s Children only.”
“I’m ready. I can serve the Mother—I know I can. She is so much in harmony with the Force, with the Path, Yana. I can learn how to be part of a ship, part of the Children.”
Yana glanced sidelong at her, with something in her expression Marda didn’t understand. It was too suspicious. “You know what else we do.”
Marda felt her cheeks heating. “Liberate Force artifacts from those who would abuse them.”
“Liberate.” Yana snorted with amusement. “It’s stealing.”
“It’s necessary for balancing the Force, to serve the Force.” Marda lifted her chin stubbornly. “The Mother has visions, gifts from the Force, so that you know where you’re needed, how to acquire the artifacts.”
“I know how it works, Cousin.”
Marda softened her voice. “I’m a fast learner. You could teach me.”
Yana stopped. She studied Marda. Sometimes Yana did something with her expression and eyes so even Marda couldn’t read her. Marda knew Yana believed in the Path and served the Mother diligently, and even enjoyed the missions offworld. But sometimes she worried that what Yana wanted for the future was a divergent path from her own.
Finally, Yana said, “You can ask, but she’ll say no.”
Marda clicked her sharp teeth determinedly.
The central garden courtyard rang with conversation and tinkling bells, sphere vines in every shade of green and blue bobbing from ropes across the yard. There were streamers and bouquets of everblue branches, and white incense smoke curled up from the four corners. Marda saw Ferize and her partners cushioned on blankets and holding their new babies for everyone to greet. On the long table were bowls of cider and small towers of honey candy, a few bottles of gnostra berry wine probably from town, and candied fruit and boxes of pastries certainly from town. Most people wore the simple tunics of the Path, but there were others, newcomers and visitors. Two small droids near the road to town projected competing music, and Marda nearly laughed as they fought with percussion.
But then she saw the Mother.
Ah, she was so handsome and bright, in her silver-lined blue tunic and elaborate hair wrap. She smiled as she talked with a handful of townspeople. They leaned toward her, as affected as everyone when the Mother drew their attention.
Though Marda had intended to have a sip of cider and say hello to the guests of honor first, she felt that same compulsion and walked directly to the Mother. Her head pounded. This was the moment. It had been a glorious morning, a morning with new hope and expansion of the living Force. Auspicious, Efrik had said, and, oh, yes, it was. Marda thought maybe she was glowing, too, with harmony and life.
As she reached the Mother, the Mother turned and caught sight of her. Her warm brown eyes widened in pleasure, and before she could speak, Marda sank onto her knees.
“Mother,” she said, hands open at her sides. She tilted her chin up. “Mother, let me go with you. Let me stand with you, hold my hands open with you, and spread our message, no, our true comprehension of the Path with the people of the Outer Rim. I am ready.”
The Mother studied her as those gathered near fell quiet in a hush of anticipation. Only the clashing music from the droids interrupted the soft breeze and the chatter of Marda’s found family.
As the Mother reached out for her, Marda smiled. The Mother touched Marda’s temple, just at the edge of her blue lines. She caressed her cheek, a loving gesture, and Marda leaned into it.
But then the Mother, with that beatific smile, said, “No.”
Yana Ro leaned against one of the tables of food, a feast for the Path but a pittance compared with the abundance the Children enjoyed regularly offworld, and picked through a pile of fruit. She wasn’t hungry; it was just something to do besides watch her cousin embarrass herself once more.
But despite the annoyance she felt at knowing Marda wouldn’t heed her advice, Yana wasn’t quite able to keep her gaze off of her cousin as she approached the Mother and fell to her knees.
“You glorious fool,” Yana whispered, knowing the exact moment the Mother rejected Marda’s plea once again. Her shoulders slumped, despite the Mother’s hand on her temple. Marda wanted so badly to be one of the Children, but despite her obviously deep faith in the Force and the Mother, she was too earnest to be a thief. Even a righteous one.
“Oh, no. Is Marda pleading her case again?” came a familiar voice.
Yana looked over her shoulder to see Kor Plouth, daughter of the Herald and Yana’s long-term girlfriend, approaching. The Nautolan wrapped her arms around Yana’s middle, head tresses nudging Yana’s ear as she hooked her chin over Yana’s shoulder. Kor tilted her head and frowned, her large, pupilless dark eyes narrowing. “You’re upset.”
“Frustrated,” Yana clarified. Sometimes the sensitivity of Kor’s head tresses and their ability to detect the small pheromone changes that emotions caused in Yana’s body were annoying. But Kor pried only because she cared, so Yana reached up and stroked a tress lovingly. “Marda will never end up one of us. And it hurts me that she keeps pursuing it.”
“You can’t fault her for having goals. Especially lofty ones,” Kor said, curling her hand around Yana’s throat in a caress. Yana melted into it just as Kor stepped away. “Come. Cincey is readying the briefing. You won’t want to be late.”
Yana nodded and gave one last look to Marda, still kneeling in the grass but surrounded by a few of the Elders, who comforted her with pats and soft words, before following Kor’s long strides across the plain.
Most of the dwellings of the Path were in the network of caves underground, an economical lodging that the Elders said the Force had naturally provided. But there were a handful of ramshackle outbuildings, as well, squat houses for the largest families and those who were too frail to make the trek underground. Behind all this was Cincey’s domain, a building that seemed little more than a hovel. But in reality, it was the nerve center of the Path, a place where communications were sent and received.
Sending messages to loved ones outside of the Path was not forbidden, but it was definitely discouraged. Contact with those outside the group could easily tarnish the Path. Cincey, a human of no more than twenty years with dark skin and a sharp laugh, managed the communications, censoring the outgoing messages when necessary on behalf of the Elders. But a far more important job was the information they collected. That data eased the way for the Children to fulfill their true purpose offworld.
Cincey twisted their hoverchair around when Yana and Kor entered, a smile on their face. “Finally! I was about to send Treze to find you.”
A pink-skinned Mikkian perched on a nearby table, his head tendrils waving as he listened to the conversation. He twirled a throwing knife between his fingers and snickered. “I can’t believe you two went to that recruiting feast.”
“It wasn’t just for recruitment. The Kessarine hatched. There is also new life to celebrate,” Kor said, her dark gaze daring Treze to say something. Of all the Children, Kor was the most dedicated to her belief in the teachings of the Path. Her family owed everything to the Path, and since Kor’s mother, Opari, had fallen ill, they’d become even more devout. Which was really saying something since Kor’s father was the Herald and spent most of his time in service to the Mother and the Council of Elders.
Treze thought it was all a bit silly and often said his family had joined the Path to avoid their debts more than anything else. Cincey joined under the Mother’s influence, because it was better than thieving in the lower levels of Coruscant. Yana didn’t remember a life before the Path. She and Marda had been brought to Dalna as children after a terrible attack that had killed their grandparents and Yana’s sire. The Path was all Yana knew, but when she heard Marda or Kor talk about how the Force should be free, fervor lacing their words, she was hard pressed to feel anything but bored. The Force was just one more piece of the galaxy, nothing that special as far as she could tell. Except in how fanatical people could get about it. But the Path was home—for now. As much of a home as an Evereni could have.
While Yana did not care about the Path, she did love the work of the Children. And it was difficult not to want to impress the Mother. Since the Mother had arrived several years before, with her Force visions and passion for liberation, the Path had felt safer. Grander.
And even Treze watched the Mother with awe.
“So, what are we looking for this time?” Yana asked.
