Star Wars, page 18
A hooded figure knelt in front of a screaming boy and handed him a pezz. The child snatched it with grubby fingers and bolted.
Then the hooded figure made straight for Abda. In the angular shadows of the alley, he revealed himself, a green Mirialan skin with a smattering of black markings. Binnot Ullo had a twisted smile and a keen eye for opportunity.
“She sent you?” Binnot asked smugly.
Abda’s lips pursed in distaste. “That’s right, she sent me. Mother trusts me.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We—we are her Children.”
Binnot’s eyes and smile widened a fraction with surprise. “Well, then you should know the Mother isn’t pleased.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pouch. She recognized the shimmering gold lichen that grew on the canyons. The locals liked to call it asterpuff. He took a pinch and inhaled it. When he offered her some, she declined. “Suit yourself. Have to make this rock tolerable until we can clean up your mess.”
“Not my mess,” Abda said, seething at being lumped in with Serrena. But blame would not get her anywhere.
“Mother won’t see it that way.” He sniffed, wiping his hand across his nose. He held up one long finger at a time and said, “Serrena killed the wrong target. The Jedi convinced two children to get married and come out looking like heroes. Queen Adrialla thinks she can get away without keeping her end of the bargain, and now Serrena is injured.” He flashed that twisted smile. “No wonder you need our help.”
Abda shook with powerless rage. Anger rose to the back of her throat. It wasn’t her fault. It was Serrena’s. She’d failed, but it was Abda’s turn to prove herself. “I’ll fix it.”
His eyes dilated, and his smile broadened. The tip of his nose still shimmered gold. He reached into the pocket of his cloak again. This time, he withdrew a slender metal tube with a narrow glass pane. Inside was a turquoise liquid coagulated with silver bubbles.
“This is all of it,” he said. When she reached for the tube, he gripped her hand hard. Her bones pressed together, and she panted, struggling when she thought they might break. “Do not miss.”
Binnot let go, then rucked up his hood and blended into the busy market streets. She slid down to the alley floor and cradled her hand against her chest. Her eyes burned against the dry heat. She thought of the cool, blue skies of Dalna. The Mother’s caring face. Being embraced as one of her Children. That’s what Abda was. Not someone who let her family down. The Mother was counting on her.
Abda rose to her feet and made her way into the market. She used the last of their pezz to refill her canteens. Then she began the journey back to the Brushlands. Along the way, the royal desert barge sailed right past her into the canyon. She stopped to pull her hood low when she noticed two dead scorpions at her feet. Small blessings. She’d learned to like the taste of them.
Smiling, she shoved them into her pockets and whispered, “The Force will provide.”
ABOARD THE AMARYLISS, E’RONOH
Phan-tu Zenn couldn’t take his eyes off the canyon road. Though the rivers of E’ronoh had long since run dry, he could see the mark they’d left behind in the smooth, undulating patterns of the rock faces. Gold lichen shimmered under the scorching sun, and though he stood at the forward lookout of the Monarch’s luxury desert barge, the angled sails did little to provide shade.
Where there would normally be a full staff of servants and protocol droids, the crew aboard the Amaryliss consisted of Xiri, Gella Nattai, Axel Greylark, his small droid, and himself. The belly of the ship was loaded with relief aid, and though he knew his mothers feared for his safety during the journey, there was no doubt in his mind that he was exactly where he needed to be.
As the Rook became little more than a speck on the horizon, the silence among the four of them stretched. Phan-tu realized the last time he and Xiri had been alone, truly alone, was under the Erasmus Sea.
Axel Greylark had made himself at home in his cabin belowdeck, while the Jedi Knight inspected the top deck of the barge, as if she were expecting to find their would-be assassin clinging to the rear of the sail barge. Though considering everything they’d been through, Phan-tu didn’t think anything could surprise him as much as Xiri A’lbaran’s marriage proposal. She’d, understandably, been quiet since Captain Segaru’s murder, and he wished he knew what to say.
As if he’d called her with his thoughts, E’ronoh’s princess appeared at his side. Her dark-red hair was plaited in an intricate loop, the tail draped over her left shoulder. His Eirami clothes were so bright in contrast to her gray tunic. Her black leggings had corrugated pads at the knees, like they were meant for climbing the crags of a canyon instead of embarking on a diplomatic mission.
“Here,” Xiri said, handing him a sort of helmet.
“What are these?”
“Sun visors.” She placed the bulky eyepiece on his face. “The workers in the marble quarries use them to protect their eyes.”
Through the sun visors there was a dark film over the landscape, swallowing the most intense oranges and reds. Prisms of light bounced off the metal rail of the deck, and the shimmering lichen dotting the canyon.
“Thank you.”
Thank you? He couldn’t think of more to say to her than a simple thank you. Perhaps that was enough, but it didn’t feel that way. Not when the woman beside him was supposed to be his fiancée. His future queen. Down in his cabin was a glass box filled with pearls his mother had given him. He’d had every intention of giving them to her the night before, but he’d been afraid she’d think the gesture childish, and it didn’t feel right since he hadn’t caught the pearls himself.
“Phan-tu, what is it?” Xiri rested a hand on his back, guiding him half a dozen paces to the cushioned seats. “You look like you’re about to say goodbye to your morning meal.”
The sun visors made everything worse, so he removed them and set them on the nook table between the seats. Blinked at the sun-drenched deck and focused on her face.
“It’s suddenly—”
“Overwhelming.” She smiled hesitantly. “Last night I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking that you were going to wake up and take it back, and we’d be right back where we started.”
The honesty in her words gutted him. “Wild krel sharks would have to devour me alive before I renege on my word to you.” It felt too intimate to say that, so he added. “To our worlds.”
She pressed her lips together into a flat smile. “Good.”
“What’s a krel shark?” The question came from Axel Greylark.
The man the holomags liked to call the Coruscant Prince sauntered onto the barge’s deck and fell onto the long-cushioned seat. Honestly, did he have to throw himself onto every surface? It was hard enough having Axel wear the attendant clothes of Eiram—trousers and a long cerulean tunic trimmed in gold, though he’d taken it upon himself to undo the clasps down to the apex of his stomach. Phan-tu would have much preferred to have a second Jedi with them.
The princess waved at the Jedi, who remained close to the control column at the rear of the deck. “Join us.”
“Someone should stand watch,” Gella shouted over the wind.
Phan-tu had hardly recognized the Jedi that morning without her robes. Her hair was tied at her nape in two elegant buns. She wore a stark-gray E’ronoh handmaiden uniform, with silver and red embroidery over the shoulder to show her rank as working for the princess. Where her bane blade holder would have been, had she grown up on the desert world, hung twin lightsaber hilts.
“We’ve checked every part of the barge,” Axel said pithily. “And we’re moving at sixty klicks per hour. Whoever wants these two dead is going to have to fly aboard.”
“Leave her be,” Xiri warned.
Phan-tu couldn’t understand why Axel, who seemed to flirt with everything that moved, including droids, was so brusque with the Jedi Knight.
Gella moved closer but remained near the railing on the starboard side. Phan-tu suspected it was because the only available seat was beside Axel.
“No one answered my question,” Axel continued. “What is a krel shark?”
“A shark from Eiram,” Phan-tu said, exasperated.
“Clearly.” The Coruscant Prince smiled. It was a smile intended to wear someone down, pleasant, inviting, kind, even. “Any reason it’s called that?”
Axel must have been getting under Phan-tu’s skin because if it had been anyone else asking, he would have launched into the story of his favorite creation myth. There was a year he’d made his birth mother tell it to him every single night. In all the tumult he had yet to stop to wonder what she’d say if she could see him now.
Thinking of her, of the animated way she told stories, he channeled her spirit. “Long ago, when our planets and the moon Eirie exploded into being, Krel was born at the heart of Eiram. His birth unleashed the oceans and storms. When he swam across the Erasmus, waves carved mountains into flat coast lines. Krel tended to Eiram, nurturing his world until it began taking on a life of its own, plant life and creatures sprouting from land and sea. As the ages passed, he transformed into his shark form—though he retained his beard—which is why they have tusks under their lower mandibles.”
Xiri smiled, tucking back a renegade curl. “I’ve never heard that one before.”
“That’s the short version,” Phan-tu added.
“See, I don’t think we even have myths like that on Coruscant.” Axel leaned back on the entire couch, tucking his arms under his head. “There are ruins in the lowest levels, but it’s uninhabitable. Then again, I’ve never really looked. What about E’ronoh?”
“People talk about the old gods, but their names were all lost,” Xiri said, turning wistfully toward the view ahead. “We do have the thylefire scorpion, the symbol of my house and E’ronoh’s strength.”
Axel propped himself up on one elbow. “The things people fry and turn into candies in the market?”
“A creature that can survive this desert and give sustenance,” Xiri explained. “Nothing like the blue ones of Eiram. Those are venomous.”
“Eiram has bearded sharks and poisonous scorpions?” Axel mused. “Perhaps our journey should have started there.”
“We’ll get there,” Phan-tu said, wanting to remind the man that he wasn’t on some cruise. “One village at a time.”
“What about you, Gella?” Xiri asked.
The Jedi Knight considered the question. “It isn’t quite the same. Many beings have myths about the Force—where it came from and how to interpret or even wield it. The Jedi have stories that have fallen into legend of a dark age. But I suppose my master, Arezi Mar, told me a cautionary tale that her master told her, who had been told by her own master, and so on. It was about a Jedi who wished to see the entirety of the galaxy in his lifetime. He sought out an oracle and was told that all he had to do was walk along the seam of the galaxy until he reached the end.”
“But that’s impossible,” Phan-tu said.
“Precisely.” Gella smiled wryly. “The Jedi Knight spent years, a life span, walking and walking.”
“Did he find it?” Xiri asked. “The end of it, I mean?”
“No. Along the way, he felt the call of voices crying out to him. Worlds that needed him. And so, he left the path of stars, and returned to fulfill his duty to guard the galaxy.”
“I would have kept going,” Axel mused, his ever-present grin falling for just a moment. As if he realized it himself, he cleared his throat and reached into the bowl of fruit on the nook’s table. “Also, that is a terribly depressing story to tell children.”
Gella flicked her eyes skyward. “It’s a fable, Axel.”
“What about from the world you were born on?” Phan-tu asked.
“I wouldn’t know, actually,” she said, leaning her elbows against the deck’s railing. “My parents, whoever they might have been, dropped me off at the Jedi temple on Devaron. I was too young to remember anything, but they knew enough about Force-users to know where to take me.”
Phan-tu felt incredibly sad. He knew very well that family could be chosen, but wouldn’t she always wonder where she came from? Perhaps Jedi simply did not have those questions.
“I can’t miss something that was never meant for me,” Gella said without a trace of doubt or melancholy.
Even Axel decided not to antagonize Gella after that. Instead he sat upright and helped himself to more of the fruits on the table. He held up a purple one with crooked white stripes. Phan-tu had never seen its equal. It must have come from the Jedi or Republic relief crates. Axel tossed it off the side of the ship.
Gella extended her hand and the thing sailed back, midair. Phan-tu could barely react to the Jedi’s power, as he whirled on Axel.
“There’s a food shortage! Are you mad?”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Axel asked, indignant. “I’m allergic to jogan fruit.”
“Then don’t eat it,” Xiri snapped, taking it back from Gella and sinking her teeth into it.
Axel leaned forward to argue, but Phan-tu caught a glimpse of a communications tower up ahead, ending their argument as he walked across the barge to get a better look as they arrived at their first outpost.
BARAKAT OUTPOST
Xiri A’lbaran basked in the arid air of her world. She hadn’t stopped moving in so long that she was afraid of what would happen if she did. Axel Greylark, as insipid and arrogant as he was, was a welcome distraction from the overwhelming realization that Jerrod Segaru was dead, and she might never know the circumstances of his death. She would eventually mourn the man who had once been a friend and mentor, even when they fought. But as the Amaryliss came to a stop, she had to steer forward.
Barakat Outpost was small, with mostly the families of the quarry workers populating the apartments built into the canyon walls. A layer of white dust settled everywhere as the great machines drilled into the ground and carved out hunks of marble. There had been a time when E’ronoh supplied marble to surrounding systems, but when the war began again, their off-planet contracts had become few and far between. Now this marble was being used to plug the holes in E’ronoh herself, to fix the destruction left behind.
As the barge came to a stop, a group of villagers gathered for their arrival. Because the war had demanded all her time, Xiri hadn’t visited the quarries, or anywhere beyond the Rook, in years, but there were fewer people and far fewer children among the worker families than she remembered.
“Oh, good,” Axel said, shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand. “A welcome party. Though they don’t look happy to see us.”
“We sent word to the outposts and villages along the route to come and collect rations and supplies,” Xiri explained. “But the aid has been a long time coming.”
Gella frowned. “I don’t like this. We should stop here and Axel and I will take the shipments in the raft.”
Xiri gave a decisive shake of her head. “We cannot cower. I must face them.”
“Can’t you wave from the deck?” Axel offered.
“Xiri is right,” Phan-tu said.
Understanding their resolve, Gella nodded and lowered the ramp. Together, the four of them loaded the raft with the allotted crates for Barakat.
Before they even reached the crowd, a muscular blue-skinned Pantoran man stepped forward. “You are not welcome here.”
“Do you know whom you are addressing?” Xiri asked.
The crowd of about twenty murmured. One of the children said her name in an innocent little squeak. There had been a time when the Monarch made sure the people saw him, loved him, even if they feared him. She did not want that, but she had to assert herself and her intention. Phan-tu Zenn stood beside her, though he remained quiet, even as curious eyes darted in his direction.
“The Great Princess of E’ronoh,” said the Pantoran. “My family came here a generation ago on the promise of the great E’ronoh. But what has the Monarch given us?”
Gella took a step forward. The Jedi’s lightsabers were obstructed from view by the long silk cape clasped at her throat, and Xiri brushed the woman’s arm as she reached for them. Gella’s frown deepened, but she stayed her hand for the moment.
“You’re right,” Xiri addressed the Pantoran who seemed the leader of the quarry. “But my betrothed, Phan-tu Zenn, and I are here now. We are here to help. We—”
“You are here to die.” The Pantoran unlocked a bulky piece from his belt. Xiri’s heart gave a hard pang as the bane blade landed at her feet. The challenge was clear.
Gella bent down to retrieve it, but Xiri shouted, “No!”
Xiri snatched up the dagger by the hilt. It reminded her of Jerrod’s blade, simple E’roni steel, so different from her ruby-encrusted one.
“Xiri,” Phan-tu whispered. The worry in his voice grounded her, but it was a reminder that there was no other way. She had asked Viceroy Ferrol to challenge her aboard the Paxion, and she would have gone through with it. This was the E’roni way, and though many things could change, this was not one of them.
“I accept your challenge,” Xiri said.
“My aquatic prince,” Axel said to Phan-tu. “What is she talking about?”
Phan-tu’s face twisted with a look she hadn’t yet seen from him. Anger. Frustration. As Xiri peeled off her tunic to better move in her undershirt, she let her betrothed explain, curious about how an Eiram would describe it. “I’ve only heard tales about it. An archaic E’roni rite. A challenge for honor, for life, for the throne.”
