Danse Macabre/Part 11

Narasi walked into the room adjoining hers to find Tirien adjusting his dress robes, lining the high, Pantoran-style collar around the back of his neck. The bronze-trimmed maroon and purple were a far cry from her master's usual dark earth tones, but probably likelier to blend in for the night's festivities for it. The edges of the robe nearly met down the center of his chest; even with the cut of the robes tailored to his frame, she wouldn't have been sure he had his lightsaber if she hadn't known him so well.

Tirien sensed her approach and turned away from the mirror to say, "Are you ready for—"

He stopped in mid-sentence, eyes widening. Narasi asked, "What?"

"Isn't that a little…mature of a look?"

Narasi rolled her eyes. Her dress was blue-accented gold, tight to her body, shoulderless, and with a choker collar that wrapped halfway up her slender neck. The cutout over her bust was dagger-shaped, almost the same as the tattoo in the center of Tirien's forehead. She had gold bangles on her forearms and earrings in both her large ears, as well as muted gold caps on two of her horns. She wore a gold-trimmed blue sari wrapped over her left shoulder and around her body, concealing the lightsaber on her belt. "I think it looks nice! Kenza thought so too."

"Narasi, you're fifteen years old."

"Master, I'll have you know that Zygerrians come of age at fifteen," she told him loftily. "That means I'm an adult."

Tirien's answering look was arid. "Except for the fact that Zygerria's rotational period is 436 standard days, which means you'd have to be almost eighteen in standard years to be an adult." When she flushed, he added, "Didn't know that part?"

Narasi said sheepishly, "I didn't know you knew."

Tirien glowered at her until she sighed. "Hey, I'm already gonna be the only Zygerrian at the party, right? I'll stand out anyway."

Tirien growled in the back of his throat, but finally gestured toward the door. "Come on."

As they walked through the spare corridors of Anaxes Citadel, looking ludicrously overdressed, Narasi ventured, "You look nice."

Tirien grunted, but tacked on, "Thanks."

"At least they won't know I'm a Jedi?"

Tirien followed her gesture. She wore an accessory in her hair beside her right ear, two dozen little blue gems wound together in a golden net shaped like a flower, and she had untied her Padawan braid and tucked it up under the net. "Yes, my young Padawan, when I see that outfit, the word stealth leaps into my mind…"

Narasi gave him a grumpy look; she had been proud of herself for catching the telltale braid before it could give her away. They passed a trio of Republic ensigns discussing their dress uniforms in hurried tones; all three stared at her as she passed, but Narasi ignored them. Trying to sound casual, she asked, "Do you think Prince Taylo was being serious when he said he'd dance with me?"

"Probably, but remember that we're going as bodyguards, Narasi; the party isn't for us."

"Yeah, I know, but…but it might be handy, you know…mingling in the middle of things, turning around to see the whole room…"

Tirien rolled his eyes so hard he actually arched his neck back, and Narasi laughed as they walked out into the parade ground. The seating lights for the observation galleries were on, and the grounds were almost bright as day, illuminating the Republic soldiers patrolling in teams of four and the whole company formed up by the Citadel's towering gate. Individual officers were clustered nearby, picking up their dates as the gate guards cleared them through and escorting them across the grounds; Narasi saw two-seater keffi-drawn carriages making circuits to drop off those who didn't want to walk. As she and Tirien crossed the parade ground and mounted the dais, Narasi spotted the blue-robed Senate Guards at the main door, carrying force pikes and wearing vigilant expressions beneath their conspicuous crested helmets.

A long line of dignitaries and guests was formed up, but Tirien gestured Narasi to the back of the line rather than bypassing it. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, she asked, "Being stealthy?"

"As much as we can."

The line plodded along; the security droids at the front scanned everyone individually. After a few minutes, a finely-dressed officer Narasi tentatively identified as an admiral turned around to make conversation with Tirien; when his wife spotted Narasi, her nose flared and she very conspicuously turned her back on them, as did her husband. Narasi gritted her teeth, but drew a deep, calming breath.

When the admiral and his wife cleared security, Tirien and Narasi stepped forward and found a familiar face.

"Good evening, sir and ma'am," Kenza Rowkwani said, giving them a graceful bow and a smirk. She wore an emerald green ball gown trimmed in black, along with an emerald on a chain around her neck and a matching mask over her eyes. She had let her curly blond hair flow free. "May I…well, not see, but have your invitations, please?"

Narasi managed a chuckle and even Tirien half-smirked as he handed over the datacards, and Kenza snickered. "Yeah, I've been about fifty-fifty with that joke all night." She waved the datacards through a scanner one-by-one, then handed them back; watching for it, Narasi just caught the subtle gesture Kenza made behind her back with her other hand. "Come on through."

They took turns passing through a full-body scan; the two Senate Guards assisting Kenza had apparently relayed the message to the droids, because they made no comment on the two lightsabers, the karambit Tirien had shown Narasi earlier in the day, or the hold-out blaster Kenza had given Narasi, tucked in a holster she wore strapped around her thigh.

"You'll find the ballrooms straight ahead. Try not to go wandering, the security patrols won't like that." She made a show of looking them over. "You look very dashing, Tirien. And Narasi, I love your dress!  The colors really work for you…I assume."

Narasi laughed as Tirien cleared his throat. "Yes, after the ball, we'll have to have a conversation about appropriate teenage fashion choices…"

Kenza smirked and Narasi asked, "Are you coming?"

"Might pop in," Kenza said, then tipped her head back toward the line. "Gotta work now, though. Perceive you later!"

Narasi giggled as Tirien bent in to say something quietly to Kenza. Taking the hint, Narasi stepped away from the security terminal, adjusting the choker collar of her dress. Looking down the hall, she saw the admiral and his wife with another couple.

The woman leaned forward; Narasi sharpened her hearing and caught, "Enta…Enta! Look behind me—no, subtly—but look.  Look what that Pantoran brought with him."

"How did she get through security?!"

"I don't know. Maybe we should notify someone?" The woman turned to her husband. "Carser, should we—"

"If the guards cleared it through, they won't do anything here. Likely some Jedi initiative from our beloved Supreme Chancellor…reaching out to the dregs of society."

"Do you think…" Narasi had to amplify her hearing so much she started to hear her own heartbeat. "Do you think the Pantoran bought her? I mean, that dress…"

"I doubt it. Zygerrians don't often sell their own, even as escorts."

"Well, if I had anything to say about it…"

Narasi drew her hearing back to normal levels, too outraged to listen any further. She could feel her shoulders trembling with fury, and for a moment she imagined wiping the superior, condescending look off the woman's face. If this petty old hag had even an inkling what Narasi could do to her without raising a hand, with just the power of her mind…

Tirien touched her shoulder, and the warmth of his fingertips on her bare shoulder melted the ice crystallizing around her heart and filled her with shame. She had wanted the night to be special, enjoyed her new dress and jewelry, and now she felt disgusted; she wished she could put on her Jedi robes and just be a Padawan again, unnoticed by anybody.

When she had swallowed her embarrassment enough to look at him, Narasi expected to see cool castigation in her master's yellow eyes, but instead Tirien's face was hard to read. "Let's go in."

Narasi shook her head; her anger had faded, but now she just felt sick. "Sure you wanna be seen with me, Master?"

"Always."

He extended his arm to her, and when she hesitated he gave her a small smile. Narasi closed her eyes a moment and sighed through her nose, but when she opened them again she managed a smile too. Laying her hand in the crook of his elbow, she let him lead her toward the ballroom. The sound of the orchestra grew from a faint tune to an audible wave of sound, but as they passed between a pair of Blue Guards into the ballroom, Narasi squeezed her master's arm and said, "No copeesah doa simpi, Lorda."

I won't charge you for this one either, Master.

Tirien patted her hand as he led her into the most opulent room Narasi had seen in Anaxes Citadel. She had walked along the marble floors and beneath the crystal chandeliers during the lead-up to the Chancellor's arrival, but the staff had set up tables along the sides of a room as long and wide as a mag-lev station, each with a white table cloth and a complex centerpiece in the shape of one of the graduating classes' guidons. Buffets lined the walls. Hundreds of officers of all ranks milled about, conversing and introducing their various dates. The majority of beings Narasi saw were Human, of course, and most of the others were humanoids, though she did see a Wookiee towering over almost everyone else with a protocol droid at his side. A few were dancing in the open space between the aisles of tables; the orchestra occupied a corner of the main ballroom. The clink of glasses and flatware, the dull roar of so many conversations, and the backdrop of the orchestra made Narasi wonder whether anyone would be brave enough to try to quiet it all with a speech.

She looked for Ensign Davreed, but it was impossible to pick him out of the welter of identically-garbed beings as Tirien guided her toward a reserved room at the end of the cavernous chamber. Blue Guards were posted on either side of the door, though ten people could've walked between them with space to spare. The smaller ballroom was still at least fifty meters in diameter, and here Narasi saw more fancy outfits and fewer military uniforms, and all those of high rank. There were only a few circular tables and chairs, and a single long table of drinks and hors d'oeuvres manned by serving droids. Doors opened onto a balcony far above the street below.

Even with the breeze the room was warm, and Narasi saw her master adjust his robe. "Pretty toasty," she commented, grinning. "Good thing I have this nice, cool dress…"

"Very tactical of you," he replied dryly. Then his expression smoothed to business mode as he drew his arm away. "Keep your senses alert, I'm going to check in with Raven."

He stepped away; Narasi followed his path and saw the Pelagia Jedi dressed in a striking suit of purple and scarlet—the colors of House Pelagia, she assumed. Moving off in the opposite direction, toward the food, Narasi looked over the audience, shifting her sari a little higher on her shoulder. The few people who looked at her did so with distaste, but Narasi forced herself to look past them. A handful of non-Humans were sprinkled through the room; most of them were male, and most of those who weren't were Twi'leks hanging on the arms of Humans. Narasi spotted a few females of various other colors and species; one green-skinned woman pawing the chest of an overweight man made her think of Darth Alecto, and a green Twi'lek reminded her of Master Cazars, except Narasi couldn't picture Master Cazars wearing something that skimpy.

"Everything okay?" she asked as she passed a Blue Guard.

Tirien had taken the time to introduce her to all the Chancellor's protectors, so the man did not show any suspicion or react when she subtly pulled her sari away to reveal the lightsaber at her belt as a reminded. He simply nodded, then turned his eyes back to the room, ever vigilant. Narasi followed his gaze for effect, though she sensed the distaste the man was too disciplined to show openly. Sighing, she moved on.

She was halfway through a little sandwich she had taken from a waiter's plate when a smooth voice crooned, "Padawan Rican."

Turning, she found Khofin of Knylenn looming over her. Swallowing a huge glob of bread and vegetable paste, she cleared her throat and worked up a polite tone to reply, "Hello First Secretary. You look nice."

He did, too; his outfit was blood red and gold, stylish and clearly custom-made for his figure. He looked her over with a forced little smile and did not return the pleasantry, but instead said, "Thank you. You're patrolling, I take it?"

"Yeah," Narasi nodded, trying to mimic the way Tirien put authority in his voice. "My Master told me to stay alert."

"A necessary task under such regrettable circumstances," Khofin agreed. "But there are far more beings in the main ballroom, and even with the diligence of Jedi Rowkwani and our security personnel, I don't wish to take any chances with His Excellency's security. Perhaps you should concentrate your efforts there.  I suspect Jedi Kal-Di and Kaivalt are enough here."

Narasi forced herself to keep her expression level. "Sort of an optics thing, First Secretary?"

His eyes narrowed; she hadn't kept her tone as controlled as her face. "Sort of a 'protect the Supreme Chancellor' thing, Padawan. Surely you don't place your own frivolity at this affair above His Excellency's safety?"

"I…of course not."

"Well then! I suppose you'd best be off.  We don't know the threats at hand, so we must be prepared.  May the Force be with you."

He gave her a faint bow, then spun on his heel with casual grace and strode off through the crowd. Narasi watched him go, resisting the temptation to trip him with the Force. Sighing, she turned and walked the other way, looking for Tirien; distracted, she walked right into an officer.

"Oh, sorry, sir!"

"That's all right, it's—" He had slopped his drink on his hand, but when he actually looked up at her his faintly vexed look hardened. He looked her over once, then said, "It's fine."

And he turned away from her. Narasi grimaced and made for the wall, leaning against one of the pillars that circled the room between each set of windows and wondering how long she could linger there before Khofin of Knylenn came over to accuse her of being a lazy Jedi. She gave the room a cursory mental sweep, but felt nothing amiss, and nobody Forceful who didn't feel like a Jedi. She glanced out the window, but the reflection of the ballroom chandelier on the glass made it hard to see anything outside; only the occasional burst of a firework illuminated the space around the Citadel.

"Padawan Rican?"

Narasi gave a snarling sort of sigh, but turned. "Yeah, I'm going, I was just—"

She completed her turn and stopped abruptly, eyes widening. Supreme Chancellor Phnyong loomed over her, tall and thin, dressed in formal robes suited to the leader of the Galactic Republic but still wearing his lightsaber in view. A pair of Blue Guards stood a step behind him, force pikes on their shoulders. The Chancellor had a glass of wine in one clawlike hand, though it had a straw to feed past his mandibles. He tilted his head just slightly to one side, his big black eyes studying her.

After a moment Narasi realized she was staring like an idiot, and she hurried to bow so low she was studying his boots. "Master Phnyong. I mean, Your Excellency.  Chancellor, sir."

Phnyong laid his free hand on her shoulder and gently straightened her. "Good evening, my dear."

"It's…it's such an honor, sir." She extended her hand, then pulled it back, not sure if that was okay, but Phnyong reached for it and shook; his grip was firm, but he did not tighten his chitinous claws enough to hurt.

"The honor is mine, Narasi."

"It is?" Narasi asked blankly. "Why?"

She realized as soon as the words had left her how foolish they were—she was making a scene of a throwaway courtesy—and she could feel the fire creeping into her cheeks. But Phynong simply sipped his wine, then said, "Because you are a living example of all that is best about the Jedi."

Narasi's eyes widened again. "Me? I'm just a Padawan."

"Just a Padawan," Phnyong mused with a soft, insectoid buzz of a chuckle. "As if a Padawan is such an easy thing to be. It is one of the greatest challenges the Jedi Council can bestow, Narasi—to leave behind the comforts and safety of the Temple and venture into a galaxy of danger and turmoil, all while learning from a more experienced Jedi Knight."

"Tirien's a great master," Narasi threw in.

"And a great Jedi," Phnyong concurred. "But my friends Elata Cazars and Multiqi La'altac tell me his greatness has been enhanced many times over by your presence in his life."

Narasi felt suddenly stronger, as if she had been given a stim shot. This wasn't just a Knight paying her a compliment—Phnyong was one of the most experienced and powerful Jedi in the entire galaxy. This man was the leader of the Galactic Republic, guardian of the fates of quadrillions of beings, and he had taken the time not only to learn her name, but apparently quite a bit about her. "I…that's really nice of them, sir."

"They are kind beings, but they don't say such things just to be kind. All agree you have a great spirit, Narasi.  And the toughness to endure the judgment and scorn of the biased with the grace of a Jedi."

Narasi flinched, remembering her anger before and feeling ashamed of herself at his praise, but Phnyong touched her shoulder. "All Jedi struggle with temptation and self-doubt, Narasi, but true Jedi rise beyond it. That you are here with us, fighting for the Republic even when some of its members judge you merely for what you are, when it would be so much easier to follow the path other Zygerrians have carved into the galaxy's heart or use your powers for personal ends…the resilience of your spirit humbles me.  I am honored to call you my sister Jedi."

Narasi thought she might cry; her throat squeezed like someone was putting a Force choke on her, but she managed to get out, "I…that means so much to me, sir. Thank you."

The Chancellor's insect face did not lend itself to smiling, but he felt of such peace in the Force that Narasi smiled up at him. An aide came up, waited until one of the Blue Guards had waved him past, then spoke quietly to the Chancellor. Phnyong listened without interruption, then nodded once before turning to Narasi. "A few of the senators would like a word with me, Narasi. Would you be so kind as to excuse me?"

"Of course, sir. I…may the Force be with you, Master."

"And also with you, Padawan."

He returned her bow before turning away, following the aide with his Blue Guards in tow. Narasi's head was still in a whirl, and before she could get her feet back on the ground, Taylo Organa drifted over, sliding through the crowd to the orchestra's melody, moving with such grace that he might have been floating on his own personal cloud. He wore a blue and white jodphuri suit beneath a heavy cloak clasped at his neck with the sigil of House Organa. A wine glass in each hand and a smile on his face, he turned those deep, dark eyes on her and said, "I've been looking for you, Narasi Rican."

"You…have, Your Highness?" Meeting his eyes too long made her dizzy.

"I owe you a dance, don't I? To think that I'd make a promise to a young lady and disappoint her—House Organa would never survive the dishonor."

Narasi laughed as Prince Taylo grinned. Sipping from one glass, he offered her the other. "Would you care for some wine? It's not Alderaanian, sadly, but I admit it's not bad."

Narasi hesitated; her heart was already beating double-time, and she had a discomfitingly blurred memory of what had escaped her lips the last time she had drunk alcohol. Prince Taylo had her tripping over her tongue too much as it was. "I…think I'm good, Your Highness. But thanks."

"Certainly." He spun to a passing droid, dropping both glasses on its tray and completing the spin back to face her as he offered a hand. "The maestro assures me that waltz isn't beyond him. Shall we?"

She reached for his hand, but hesitated. "You don't…you're okay dancing with…someone like me?"

"A lovely young woman and a hero of the Republic? You'd do me great honor."

Narasi wondered briefly whether he got it, but something in the mischievous set of his dark eyes told her he understood perfectly—he just didn't care. Taking his hand firmly, she let him lead her onto the floor, trying to remember back to dance lessons in the hold of the Second Chance. It was a whole new experience here, surrounded by high society and the gleam of enough gold and jewels to buy a world, but Tirien had stood her in good stead, and she placed her hands perfectly as the orchestra began to play.

A violin began alone, its tones discordant enough that Narasi turned to stare out the door over her shoulder. Just as she was about to ask if they had gotten the wrong song, the wind section joined in and the three-four time she recognized began at last.

"A bit macabre," Prince Taylo observed, "but one must learn to adapt to life's little trials. Shall we?"

And he led her whirling away through the crowd. Tirien had been a good teacher and a strong lead, but Prince Taylo was more graceful still; dancing with him felt like flying. On one spin out, Narasi stole a quick glance of the room and saw dozens of other couples enjoying the waltz; she even caught a flash of blue and yellow as Tirien danced with someone. Then she spun back into Prince Taylo's arms. He smiled as they waltzed on, and she couldn't help but smile back as the night's magic won over her inner turmoil at last.