Revenge of the Jedi/Part 21

Tirien stood on the deck, out of view of the courtyard below, listening to the snaps and snarls of lightsaber blades crashing together. Eyes closed, he could feel Narasi's frustration and Zaella's rage, and he knew from some plasma collisions, like miniature explosions, that Narasi was not holding back her Zygerrian strength. Part of him wanted to jump down and knock their heads together, while another part thought of cutting remarks to keep in reserve in case Kaelora Kaivalt opened her mouth again.

He knew Raven was right—We'll need every Jedi we can get for this, he had said, we can't afford to alienate potential allies—but Tirien stood by his criticism, even if he had found a crueler way to say it than he might have needed. Raven—and, for all her obstinacy, Raina—were true Jedi, in spirit as well as title. But most of the other Tapani Tirien had met struck him as little more than elites with lightsabers. Of all of them, only Lord Brascel would have been at home in the Temple.

Tirien felt flickers of pain in time with sizzles of plasma and gasps and hisses, and he realized neither Zaella nor Narasi was checking a blow or conceding at first blood. As he wondered whether to stop them for their own sake, the door behind him opened and Gaebrean Kaivalt walked onto the deck.

"Seen Zaella?" he asked.

Tirien tipped his head, and Gaebrean's eyes widened when he recognized the dueling sounds. Clearing his throat, he said, "Right…well then, I suppose I'd best—"

He started toward the stairs, but Tirien put a hand on his chest. "I think you should stay here."

Gaebrean grimaced. "Look, if you hadn't noticed, I'm on your side here!"

"And I'll value your blade against Gasald—"

"I'm not talking about kriffing Gasald, I mean Zaella! We're going for the same thing with her."

"Are we?" Tirien turned to face Gaebrean. "Tell me, Gaebrean, what do you know about her? Not all the delightful things she can do for you, what do you know about her?  Who she really is?"

"Well, I…" Gaebrean stopped as Zaella screamed in fury below, and they both turned toward the balustrade.

"Sith!" she snarled. "They haven't seen Sith from me yet! Stupid…kriffing…judgmental…stuck-up…"

She punctuated each word with a blow. Tirien heard the searing sizzle of a saber lock, then a blunt impact and Narasi rasping in pain. Another two blows, another thud, and this time Zaella cried out. She went back into the fight as she shrieked, "I hate them!"

Tirien felt the change in the fight then; Zaella reached for more rage, but Narasi got back in control, and Tirien perceived her shift to defense. After a few volleys, Zaella barked, "Fight back!"

Narasi did not respond, and as the spar went on, it was only Zaella hissing in pain. The more she lost ground, the angrier she got; Tirien was not sure Narasi would have needed the lightsaber to beat her anymore. "Zae, it's okay…"

"It's not!" She hammered on Narasi's guard again. "I'm not…just…a toy!"

At Tirien's side, Gaebrean swallowed, shamefaced. Narasi said, "I didn't say you were!"

Zaella screamed. "I'm not garbage!"

Tirien felt the intensity of Zaella's attack, but the Force surged from his Padawan and he heard Zaella hit the ground and roll along the stones. Gaebrean lurched forward, but this time he did not object when Tirien tugged him back. Below, Narasi said, "Zae…Zaella, wait!"

Now Tirien advanced to the edge of the deck, and he saw Zaella's red lekku disappear into the foliage of the tree line. Vaulting the balustrade, he landed a few meters from Narasi. "Are you all right?"

She turned, and Tirien saw the redness around her left eye; in an hour it would be quite a bruise. She poked it and winced, then examined the burns on her sleeves. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Should I…?"

She gestured into the forest, and Tirien shook his head. "Let me."

Narasi deactivated her blade. As she adjusted the shielding back down, she asked, "Was…was it wrong to—?"

"No, this was coming either way," Tirien said. "Better to get it out now, perhaps. But what happens next is critical.  If you can, keep us from being disturbed."

She nodded. "On it."

Gaebrean had leaned over the balustrade to watch, and he called down, "And I'm going to have some words with my sister."

"Great," Narasi called. "Here, this is yours."

She threw something up to him. Tirien did not see what it was, but when Gaebrean caught it and looked at it, hurt touched his face. He clamped his fist, set his jaw, and turned back to the house.

Jogging into the forest, Tirien followed Zaella's trail; Suwo had never taught him to track prey through nature—likely he had not possessed the skill himself—but Zaella saved him the need. She was a pulsar in the Force, a nav beacon of the mind. The heat of her fury could have set the forest on fire, but Tirien, who had become quite well-acquainted with her mind over the past few days, understood that anger for the shield and camouflage it was.

He found her sitting on a flattened fern between the moss-covered, torso-sized roots of the tallest tree in view, her legs stretched out down an incline toward a little spring. Somewhere nearby Tirien heard a stream burbling; he wondered how many of the island's landforms had been planned out by Rhosus Kaivalt, and how many were the handiwork of Pelagonian storms. Casting about, Tirien stepped deliberately on a fallen branch, and it broke under his foot.

Zaella sighed. "I don't want to talk, Narasi."

"And if I'm not Narasi?"

She started and dragged the sleeve of her tunic across her eyes. "Oh. I…hey."

Tirien sat on the root beside her. "Hey."

She turned her gaze down at the pool, and Tirien held the silence between them. Out here, in the calm and quiet, Kaelora's contempt, Gaebrean's libertinism, and Vinton's condescension all seemed very far away. It would be nice—healing, even—to get away for a day or two, to retreat to this secluded place, alone with the Force.

And perhaps he would do so, when Gasald was dead, but now there was no time. He restrained a sigh.

"Sorry you have to keep going to the mat for me," Zaella muttered.

"I'm not. You're worth it."

Zaella put her face in her hands, and Tirien resisted the urge to put a hand on her back. In one sense it was easy, for physical contact was not his wont even with Narasi, but he also did not want her to feel exploited. He touched her face and head every day for meditation, but he could feel her emotional vulnerability—her fire had burned itself out, leaving only ash in its wake—and he thought she had been compelled to endure the touch of other beings when she was vulnerable so much in her life that she would force a reaction she did not mean or feel. So he gave her space, but after a moment she scooted closer, then leaned against him, resting one side of her head against his ribs, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's funny," she said.

"What is?"

"Back on Ryloth…well, you know what they made me do, right? Because I'm a Lethan, and a Lethan can bring in a lot of credits if you use her the right way?"

"I had guessed."

"Yeah…well, that wasn't just once, and it wasn't just recently, either. I got so used to it, words like 'whore'—gossoda, in Twi'leki—they just bounced right off.  I guess it made me stronger, sorta—words can't hurt, you know?  But today…"  She shook her head. "I don't know how many guys there have been, but I can count on one hand the number who got it for free, because I wanted them to—and I don't need all five fingers, even with Gaeb. Every one of them was different—all the others kinda run together, but those guys…I remember them all.  And then that witch calls me that, like Gaeb's just one more meaningless face for a meaningless…"

She trailed off, and Tirien gave it a five-count—to ensure she was done, but also to be certain he could keep his anger at Kaelora Kaivalt out of his voice—and then said, "What I said to Kaelora may have been harsher than it needed to be—"

"I thought it was fine…"

"—and some of that was anger talking, but I meant what I said at the end. That is not how a Jedi speaks or behaves."

"No?" The lek resting against Tirien's side twitched. "Seems like the style. She calls me a whore, Raina's afraid I'm going to infect her Padawan…even Gaeb…I mean, I used him as much as he used me, and that's fine, but not really Jedi…"

Tirien grimaced. "Don't judge the whole Order by the Tapani. They're a breed apart, and it shows."

"Yeah, well…let's just say it's a good thing for the Jedi that I met you and Narasi first."

Tirien squeezed her shoulder. "Thank you for saying that."

She blew out a breath. "And I guess as long as you two are there, I can stomach the rest of them on this mission."

We can't afford to alienate potential allies. "Zaella…"

"What?"

"Are you sure you want to come with us?"

Shifting out of his one-armed embrace, she stared up at him blankly. "You asked me to! You both did!"

"I know, and I meant it," said Tirien. "But—"

"Is this because of her? What, you want that witch with you instead of me?"

Frowning, Tirien held up a hand. "Calm your mind."

Zaella scowled at him, but she took a few deep breaths. Waiting until her emotions had leveled out a little, Tirien said, "This goes beyond personal loyalty; there are bigger issues at stake. Gasald has to be defeated."

"Yeah, and who would you rather help you? A bunch of stuffed shirt nobles who know more about fancy clothes and politicking than real war, or somebody who knows how Sith think?"

That had a certain logic to it, and one which Tirien had not considered. He weighed it for a moment, then asked, "You just decided to come with us today?"

"I…yeah."

"Is this about Gaebrean?"

"No!" Zaella's mouth twisted; she managed to hold his gaze for a moment, then sighed and ran her hands down her lekku. "I mean, not entirely. He's brave, and I like that—I like him.  Sort of.  But you and Narasi…you need me."

"If you go, I need you wholly committed to this, Zaella. Even if one of us dies—even if all of us die—Gasald has to be destroyed."

"Yeah, I got the subtle hints, thanks." She sighed. "Look, I don't care about Gasald; you know that. But I…care…about you and Narasi.  You take me with you, and I'm all in.  I won't let you down."

Tirien measured her with a gaze. He had not seen Kaelora or Amaani fight, but they had to be skillful enough for some Tapani to Knight them; he suspected that, even when she was fully in control, Zaella would be unequal to them. But sheer weight of Jedi numbers had made no difference at Eriadu, even with great Masters and a Knight like Slejux among them. Tirien wondered what the Force's will might be, but he knew he had no time for extensive meditation on the subject. He had called the Tapani Jedi together for a final count not an hour before; he could not dither himself.

He nodded. "Please don't."

Nodding back, Zaella said, "Trust me."

"I do."

Before she could say anything more, Tirien's comlink beeped. "Kal-Di."

"Tirien, please return to the manor at your earliest convenience," Miklato said.

The clipped tone tightened Tirien's jaw, but he supposed it was to be expected. "I'm on my way."

Rising, he offered Zaella his hand and tugged her to her feet. They set off through the forest, Zaella brushing dirt from her pants and running her sleeve over her eyes; she rubbed the tip of her nose as if she might sneeze, but Tirien did not call her on the ruse. When they passed the giant sequoias that stood sentinel around Inimă Eserzennae, Zaella pointed. "Think I can make the jump up to the deck?"

The drop from the deck to the courtyard was closer to ten meters than five. "There's a staircase."

"Tough battle coming up." A grin turned Zaella's lips. "Gotta train hard."

She got a running start, pulling the Force into herself, and leapt. She might have made the deck at that, Tirien thought, but she had neglected to add another meter for the balustrade. She hit it and grabbed the railing, one foot dangling in the air as she struggled for solid footing with the other.

Tirien sighed. Taking the stairs might teach her the value of patience, but every moment counted here. Stopping below her, he concentrated on the Force and jumped; he cleared the rail and his boots thumped on the deck. He turned to find Zaella hauling herself over the balustrade. He caught her as she staggered for balance.

"I made it, more or less," she said; when Tirien gave her a look, she grumbled, "I didn't fall."

"But if you'd had an enemy waiting up here for you, you'd be dead," he replied. "Take the extra half-second and do it right; this mission won't allow for second chances."

Inside, Sir Kobold Baliss was arguing with Drake Paddox; when they saw who had come in, they pointed toward the foyer as one. Tirien led the way, but no sooner had he entered the corridor than he found himself face-to-face with Kaelora and Amaani.

Kaelora's jaw looked like it was carved from marble, but she said, "I apologize. Regardless of provocation, my words were beneath both a noble and a Jedi."

"Yes, they were," Tirien said. "But don't apologize to me."

Kaelora closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, she gave Tirien an iced glower before turning to Zaella. "I apologize."

"You—" Zaella started, but one word in that tone was enough for Tirien to give her a warning look. She hissed, but said, "Yeah, whatever. Forget it."

"Zaella is coming with us, Dame Kaelora," Tirien added. "If principle keeps you from joining us, so be it, but you need to decide today."

Kaelora's mouth thinned, and she said nothing more before sweeping past them. Amaani watched her go, then turned his eyes on Tirien. His face was composed, but Tirien felt the chill in his mind.

"I assume that if she doesn't come with us, you won't either, Sir Amaani?"

"You assume incorrectly." Amaani held his chin up. "My father is going on this mission, and the mission itself is critical; you said it yourself—if Lady Gasald is not stopped, the Tapani sector will be destroyed. So long as your goal remains Gasald's destruction and the removal of that threat, I'll fight beside you.  But should you ever speak to or of Kaelora that way again, then you and I will cross blades."

Zaella took a step, but Tirien put a hand on her shoulder and nodded. "I accept your terms, Sir Amaani."

Amaani nodded back. "Good day to you both."

"I still hate her," Zaella muttered as they proceeded down the hall.

"Don't," Tirien said. "You need to calm your mind."

"I'm not gonna let it get in the way, I just—"

Tirien stopped; Zaella almost walked into him, but caught herself. "It does get in the way. How well did your anger serve you sparring Narasi just now?"

"I landed some blows!"

"She landed a lot more. Control, Zaella.  It's not just for meditation; until you make it a part of yourself, you risk undoing the progress you've made in repairing your mind's defenses."

Zaella growled, and her lekku twisted in a way Tirien had come to associate with annoyance, but she did not protest further, and he left it at that. As they entered the foyer and circled Donarius Kaivalt's statue, Baron Kaivalt emerged from the parlor at the base of one curving staircase.

Tirien drew a slow breath in through his nose; he had not managed to compel himself to apologize to Kaelora, but he could not jeopardize the entire mission by offending Miklato. Bowing from the neck, he said, "Your Honor, I apologize for disturbing the peace of your household."

"Yes, I'm given to understand there was a disagreement." The old Knight's eyes tightened. "But that's not why I called you back."

Tirien blinked. "It isn't?"

"No. You have a…guest."

Feeling that sense was fleeing the conversation at lightspeed, Tirien said, "I wasn't expecting a guest."

"Which is entirely proper; it's not customary for guests to invite guests of their own. Yet she claims to be here at your invitation, and your Padawan recognized her and swears she is a Jedi Knight…"

The sunlight of understanding broke through the clouds at last, and Tirien felt his spirit lighten in a way he had not felt since they had reverted to realspace at Vondarc. "Where is she?"

Miklato gestured to the parlor, and Tirien moved past him at once. Renata leaned on the back of a sofa, where Raven and Raina sat on either side of Narasi. Narasi wore the first smile Tirien had seen in days, and when she sensed him coming, she turned and grinned. "Seven."

On the other side of a low table, Harshee Nefkin hopped off a chair and onto her hooves, held up an open hand, closed it into a fist, and touched it to her heart; at the end of her long muzzle, her thick lips pulled back from her blocky teeth in a grin. "Tirien."

Tirien saw her flex her knees for the running start, but he held up a hand and she paused. Crossing the room, he knelt before her and opened his arms. Her expression softened, and even as her powerful arms squeezed him tight, she nuzzled the side of his head with her coarse mane. Tirien held her for a long moment; she had been his first hug after he left Azreigia as a boy, and his last one for a while once he entered the Jedi Temple. He felt, in that moment, that he could share with her his anguish, the grief and rage and gaping wound of loss that had attended him night and day since his friends' murders, and she would understand—would, perhaps, even help him make things right.

But under the eyes of his Padawan, Zaella, and the Kaivalts, Tirien knew he needed to be strong, and as he re-centered himself, he remembered that only one thing would right Gasald's many wrongs.

"Narasi's told me everything," Harshee said. "I'm so sorry, Tirien."

Tirien squeezed her once, then pushed her back by her muscular shoulders. "I'm so glad you're all right. I was afraid you'd come at the Crescentia ' s call."

"I got the message," Harshee admitted. "But you know me; I don't hop on my hooves whenever a Jedi Council calls. I figured they didn't need little me for a big battle."

"I need you," Tirien said. "Thank you for coming for me."

Harshee squeezed his shoulder so hard it ached. "Always."

"Narasi told you what we're planning?"

"Taking out Gasald? We didn't get to the details."

"Neither have we," Tirien admitted. "But Gasald has to die—to bring justice for all our brothers and sisters at Eriadu, but also to protect the rest of the galaxy from her; if we don't stop her, she may become unstoppable. This is an unsanctioned operation—in fact, it's opposed to what the High Council wants us to do—but it has to be done.  Will you help us?"

Tirien let Harshee study him in silence as she stroked the fur on her face with one powerful hand; though he had never met another Svivreni, he had studied them enough to understand the import of the moment. You'll change a Svivreni's mind before you'll… went the expression around Svivren when a being proposed some ludicrously unlikely scheme. When Tirien had been a teenager, just trying out mind tricks, and Harshee had stopped by the Temple for a visit, she had confided that only Jedi of peculiar skill could mind trick a Svivreni. Once committed, nothing but the most extreme of circumstances would shake a Svivreni from a course of action. Tirien had just enough time to wonder whether Harshee would get on well with Amaani Wisté for that shared quality before Harshee whickered and nodded.

"She's already opened a gaping wound in the Force, and if she turns Darshkére loose on the southern galaxy like Narasi and Raven said, her people will trample everyone I protect into the dirt." Harshee slapped Tirien's arm; he thought he might have a bruise the next day. "I'm with you."

Raven nodded and Narasi hissed, "Yes!", but Tirien just held Harshee's eyes, trying to convey his gratitude; she brushed his hair in an affectionate way, and he thought the message had been received. "I suppose introductions are in order, then…"

"One hopes," Miklato said dryly.

Tirien had briefly forgotten his presence. Getting back to his feet, he said, "Your Honor, I present Harshee Nefkin—Jedi Knight, and Jedi Watchman of the Svivreni and Sujimis sectors, among others. Harshee, Miklato, the Baron Kaivalt—Jedi Knight, grandson of Master Donarius Kaivalt, and Raven and Raina's father."

"Hello," said Harshee.

Miklato arched an eyebrow. "Charmed, I'm sure…"

"Harshee is the Jedi who recruited me," Tirien said. "I've known her since I was a boy, and I trust her as much as any Jedi in the galaxy—and more than any save Mali Darakhan and Narasi."

Harshee glanced at Narasi, who gave a one-sided smile back. "I told him."

"Told me?"

"It can wait," Harshee said, waving him off. But she did not take her eyes off Narasi, and she said gently, "Good girl."

Tirien rolled his eyes; some part of him recognized just how few beings in the galaxy he would tolerate waving him away, but Harshee's stubbornness was not limited to life-and-death matters. Turning back to Miklato, he said, "I ask you to trust her as you've trusted me."

Miklato brushed his beard with one hand. "These people in the…Sujimis and Svivreni sectors, was it?"

"It was," Harshee said.

"You've kept them safe?"

"As many as I could. There's only one of me, but I give 'em all of me."

Miklato glanced at Raven, then said in a softer voice, "May your skills avail you as well in keeping safe those I love, then."

Harshee bowed her head. "As best I can, Baron."

Nodding, Miklato said, "My doors open for you, Jedi Nefkin. Welcome to Inimă Eserzennae."

Narasi called Zaella over to introduce her to Harshee, and Tirien thought he had dodged a blaster bolt until Miklato pulled him aside. When they were alone in the foyer, he said, "I suggest you get to work in preparing for Allanteen."

"As soon as we have our team," Tirien pledged. "Some of them remain undecided."

"I suspect you'll find that isn't so after today—the last lines have been drawn now."