Revenge of the Jedi/Part 19

The forests around Inimă Eserzennae spoke of Jedi respect for nature, Chiron Brascel thought. Though he was not old enough to remember the creation of the artificial island himself, he had been told the story often enough that he could envision the Privy Council's debate. Some beings imagined it the height of hubris—an island just for the Kaivalts was one thing, but transplanting a forest?—but Chiron thought it instead an expression of true Jedi values. Rhosus Kaivalt had not merely transplanted trees, but ensured that the finest zoologists and entomologists in House Pelagia's domains had been consulted to bring the insects, birds, and beasts needed for a healthy environment. The forest was not mere decoration—fellow lives, insentient though they might be, ripped from their natural habitat for the vanity of man—but an exercise in understanding the interconnectedness of all life, and the fragility of the balance that sustained it all. The soft chirrups of the insects in the brush and the towering majesty of the trees invited quietude into the soul.

Would that I might spend my days here, Chiron thought, but he banished the thought at once. Though undeniable peace was to be found upon the island home of the Kaivalts, lordship and leadership of House Pelagia was not some onerous burden inflicted upon him; it was a privilege, and one for which he was grateful. The Force had seen fit to entrust the Tapani sector as a whole, as well as six of its seven great houses, to the stewardship of the Jedi, and that was a responsibility not to be shirked for any cause, let alone so petty and personal a want as the desire for solitary meditation.

Alone in a clearing among the towering trees, Chiron took his curved lightsaber hilt from his belt, examining it in a ray of moonlight peeking through the canopy. He had carried this one weapon these many decades, since his Padawan apprenticeship so long ago, though he had not wielded it in battle since he was a very young man. That young Knight might marvel at the lines on the old Master's hands or the wrinkles on his face, but the Force could work through even an old vessel, and a life full-lived brought with it a lifetime of experience.

Keeping his blade deactivated, Chiron began a series of Makashi forms, advancing and retreating, spinning and pirouetting in what an onlooker foreign to the Jedi might have taken for a dance piece or even performance art. A Jedi might have stared, but after thousands of hours of practice, Chiron could envision his blade as surely as if it had brightened the glade with its light.

Casting aside his cloak on a turn, the Force guiding it to hang from a tree branch with a twist of thought, Chiron worked through his movements, feeling the blood flowing through the arm that turned his lightsaber this way and that, the legs that swept his body one way and another. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped into his mustachio, but the unseen lives all around him energized him, and the Force wiped his fatigue and the strain of his many years away.

He had not chosen this isolated clearing for its natural solitude alone. Though the Kaivalts and all the others packed into Inimă Eserzennae would treat him with no less courtesy than his office commanded, that very attentiveness could become a burden itself; every being who so much as came in sight of him would feel compelled to offer greetings and gestures of obeisance. Lordship over a Tapani great house was a challenge to true Jedi spirit in many ways; the potential perils inherent in employing spies and tugging political strings to manipulate allies and challengers alike were clear, but the fawning sycophancy of the many was a subtler temptation. Balancing respect for the nobility that was the Tapani sector's ancestral heritage with compassion for all life, regardless of station or degree, was a challenge every Tapani Jedi had to confront with the utmost seriousness.

Some few minutes into his exercise, Chiron perceived that his solitude had been disturbed, and he came to rest in a final lunge. As he allowed the Force to flow out from him, he felt the ache of old muscles and permitted himself a quiet sigh before he turned and nodded. "Good evening, Lezascan."

"And to you, Chiron." Lezascan bowed. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Even if you were, my friend, I sense you've not come on some passing whim."

"No indeed." Chiron tried to make sense of Lezascan's expression in the dark; it seemed pained. "My son intends to join you on your mission."

Replacing the lightsaber on his belt, Chiron said, "A brave decision from a strong and honorable young knight. I assure you I did not pressure him to it, if that's what you fear."

"It's not, though I appreciate your courtesy." Lezascan shook his head. "Are you sure of this, Chiron?"

"You saw the tactical holo just as I did. Kal-Di and young Raven make logical arguments.  Forceful ones, if you'll indulge my paronomasia."

Lezascan did not object, but neither did he seem amused. "Do my counsels mean nothing to you? Do Eulace's?"

Chiron folded his hands. "On the contrary—I welcome the guidance the Force gives you, and I respect Eulace's many years of experience. Far more years than either of us will see, I suspect."

"More than you will if you go on this mission, I fear. What of Tarsus?"

"My son is nearly a man grown. I expect the Privy Council will bestow my lordship upon him; he has more than sufficient intellect for it.  He'll be well provided for in society, and my family's legacy will be safe in his hands."

"But he won't be High Lord."

Chiron sighed. The Great Council had decided—Chiron himself had argued strongly for the policy—that in these times of war with the Sith, when noble Jedi were available, the High Lord of each great house must be Jedi. So far, only House Mecetti had failed the test. "I argued for that policy after my son was born. He will never know the Force as we do; that does not mean he can not serve House Pelagia.  But he would never have been High Lord even if I lived another twenty years…though perhaps my grandchild might."

He trailed off in a way Lezascan did not miss. "Have you discussed the matter with Raina? Or Miklato?"

"In passing with Miklato. I doubt Raina and Tarsus have exchanged more than a hundred words, but they're both young, yet.  There's time."

Lezascan nodded. "Amaani barely knew Kaelora two years ago, and now…well, you've seen them."

He made a face, and Chiron chuckled. "I have, and it cheers me. Should I fall, our house will be safe in your hands—perhaps in Amaani's thereafter, as well."

Lezascan seemed more weighed down than buoyed by that notion, but Chiron thought it a good thing; it showed that he, too, took the obligations of leading the house seriously. "Chiron, you know I'll do whatever's necessary to protect our house—"

"As you always have, and will."

Lezascan nodded impatiently. "But why demand this of me?"

"I make no demands of you, friend; stay or go as you wish. As for leadership of the Pelagia…greatness demands whom it will.  I did not ask for this burden, but I bear it as best I can."

"Why not leave this…forgive me, my lord, but why not leave this to younger men? Kal-Di and Raven aren't even half your age.  Command the Kaivalts to go, Paddox, Kobold.  They're all more than capable Jedi."

"They are," Chiron admitted. "Their valor would be sufficient to prove the Republic's Knights have not monopolized courage and honor. But leadership is more than commands; sometimes a man must lead from amidst those who follow him, or he is no leader, and no man."

"Should a general be on the front line with his infantrymen?" Lezascan complained. "Or does he serve best in the rear, protected, where he can orchestrate the entire battle?"

"Not all generals are Jedi."

Lezascan covered his face with one hand, and Chiron stepped over to squeeze his shoulder; the soft grass quieted his footfalls even in the still night. "If you imagine that my permission to go was some veiled command or test, rest easy; I shall think no less of those who remain. The Force shows us each our separate destinies, and if yours is here, I would not have you defy the Force out of misguided loyalty.  Miklato and Vinton will remain, with no dishonor."

Lezascan mirrored Chiron's gesture and clasped his shoulder. "I will always serve House Pelagia, Chiron. Do you believe this mission serves it best—truly, in your heart?"

"I do."

Lezascan's sigh went on and on, but he finally let go and nodded. "Then I'll go with you. I've told Amaani since he was born that we must make sacrifices to serve and protect the Tapani sector, regardless of the cost to us; I suppose this is my chance to show that my words are not words alone."

Chiron smiled. "The Force will be with us, old friend."

"Your lips to the Force's ears."

As they walked back to the Kaivalts' manor beneath the shadows of the trees, Lezascan said, "If you wish, I can speak to Miklato and Vinton—"

"No—not even to Kobold, unless he asks your views. I told you all that you have a choice, and you do.  Compulsion from any source removes true choice.  I would not have them accompany us unwillingly."

I would not put Vinton in a position to defy me, either, Chiron thought, but that he kept to himself. Lezascan had concerns and Miklato had divided loyalties, but Vinton had barely contained his distrust of the Republic Jedi—a category which, for Vinton's purposes, encompassed his own nephew. Whatever else might be said for the man, his opinions had not been unclear. The change from the false smiles and empty courtesies of the Privy Council might have been welcome had Vinton's candor not exposed and deepened the fault lines riving the Kaivalt family.

"When will Vaek and the other Cadriaans leave?" Lezascan asked.

"Tomorrow, I suspect, lest their absence be remarked upon."

"And our absence? They can't help but notice on Procopia, and 'Jedi business' will only dissuade inquiry so long."

An unfortunate consequence of the integration of Jedi Knights and Masters into the structures of the noble families had been a demystification of Jedi, abetted in no small part by those Jedi who allowed themselves to play the scheming nobles at the expense of the traditions of the Force, as well as men like young Gaebrean Kaivalt, who could wield a lightsaber with admirable skill but divorced themselves from Jedi restraint when principle inconvenienced pleasure. When a Jedi was reduced to the level of the common man, 'Jedi business' lost its talismanic effect. At times Chiron envied the High Council its structure and control over its Jedi; he could coax, correct, and sometimes command the lesser nobles of his house, but when their families controlled vital industries and influenced popular opinion, he required greater calculation and caution than the Council Masters ever would.

"We may need to return to Procopia from time to time to keep matters in order," he admitted. "It will depend on how long Kal-Di and Raven take to orchestrate this venture."

"Raven? Kal-Di?" Lezascan frowned. "Surely you…?"

"I will offer my guidance where I feel it appropriate and assist in whatever way I can, and I expect you and Amaani will do the same. I won't allow our Jedi to follow them on a plan I think predestined to failure, if that is what you fear.  But for all their youth, Raven and Tirien have greater breadth of experience than any of us, and special experience combatting Gasald's forces in particular."

"We're Jedi Masters, you and I. They're Knights, and only that a few years."

Chiron stopped near the edge of the tree line; Inimă Eserzennae had emerged from the forest before them. "Lezascan, when was the last time you dueled a Sith Lord?"

"I…you were there. The incursion into the Freeworlds…?"

"I recall it quite well; I myself was younger than Kal-Di. Allow that a moment to sink in, then consider whether your desire for us to control this mission stems from our superior ability to do so, or from noble pride."

Lezascan frowned, but he sighed and bowed his head. "As you say, my lord. What of the Cadriaans?"

"They will cause no difficulties for us, if for no other reason than Obveluus Gonzed's life hangs upon our success."

"With how much we've all invested in Milagro, I wonder that Vaek didn't give his people the same permission you gave us…" Lezascan raised an eyebrow. "I suppose, if we succeed in destroying Gasald, our investment may not be lost after all…?"

From a lesser noble, Chiron might have ignored the implication, or even frozen it with a disapproving frown. But Lezascan was one of his closest advisors, and so he conceded, "That fact did not escape me."

Many noble families, great and small, had followed the Gonzeds' lead in investing in the redevelopment of Milagro. The Gonzeds were Cadriaans, it was true, but the Cadriaans were a cadet branch of the Pelagia, and even though the split had occurred millennia back, their two houses often governed in partnership. Vaek's failure to defend his own interests was galling, but not so much that Chiron would allow the Cadriaans to suffer disgrace and economic ruin to teach him a lesson. And there was something to Vaek's assertion that, with Chiron himself enmeshed in the mission, Vaek's own consistent presence on Procopia would keep the balance of power steady.

Being a noble did not diminish Chiron's light as a Jedi, but neither could his Jedi duties undermine his responsibilities as a noble.

"Would you prefer to return to Procopia first, or shall I?"

Shaking himself from his abstraction as they mounted the hill circling Miklato's manor—Chiron's knees would rather he have taken the stairs up to the deck, but he would not shame himself by making the suggestion—Chiron considered a moment before he said, "You go. Return with Vaek, in fact; if beings ask, tell them I took counsel with Miklato and the Republic Jedi to express the Tapani sector's dissatisfaction with the Republic's proposed response."

"A species of truthful response, then," Lezascan observed with a rueful smile. "I'll leave in the morning. You'll help the planning?"

"I shall contribute where I can best be of assistance. And I shall be fascinated to hear what the plan turns out to be."