Revenge of the Jedi/Part 8

Jirdo kept the droid, Bernius, between himself and Zaella. She could feign contemptuous disinterest all she liked, but Jirdo felt the heat of her simmering anger from meters away. He couldn't deny feeling the same way, though his own frustrations were tempered by relief that the Pelagia Jedi had continued Tirien and Yan Razam's trend of not demanding his head for desertion. Some small part of him was relieved that they had not gone aboard the Crescentia as planned; the day of judgment for his past wrongdoing was delayed a little longer.

Only a part, though. Another part of him recognized the sickness for what it was and felt shame at being infected. Joining up with Tirien and Narasi—and, to a lesser extent, Zaella—and especially the demise of Chelshgodru Brokkodd had stirred awake something in him that Brokkodd had lulled to sleep those years on Guudria. He didn't like what he saw when he looked back on his time in Maia's kingdom through the eyes of the Guudrians in Marekka—beings he had encountered for years but only really known those last few days. He tried not to think about it.

At least I'm not Zaella, he thought. Zaella went way past not dwelling on past errors; Jirdo had yet to hear her say anything she'd done for Hadan had been error. Her every action said less I've repented of my evil ways and more I've traded up.

Not every action, a quiet voice whispered. She fought Brokkodd; she went into the tomb when Tirien said she could stay behind.

Jirdo squirmed and tried to put that out of his mind too.

They passed artwork on the stone and wood walls, and even Jirdo's untrained eye could see it was all the same realist style. The severed trophy heads of hunted animals gazed down on them too; Jirdo couldn't imagine greater ostentation than importing land mammals to hunt for sport on an ocean planet.

"You may have these rooms," Bernius said, gesturing to opposite doors in a hall.

"Where are you going to put Narasi?" asked Zaella.

Bernius pointed out the next two doors, and Jirdo noticed the armor plating and extra servos in the metal limbs. "She and Jedi Kal-Di will have those rooms, unless my master directs otherwise."

Zaella entered her assigned room without another word, but Jirdo lingered. "Thanks, Bernius."

"Certainly."

Jirdo shifted his weight. He hadn't interacted with a protocol droid in nine years, and it had been a long day—defrosting banter aboard the Second Chance followed by the tragedy of Raven's news, Tirien's breakdown on the tense voyage to Eriadu, the boredom of their hours of search followed by the heart-pounding chaos of Yan Razam's rescue, and now the conflicts and tension on Pelagon. But he thought he heard a little less courtesy in Bernius's digitized voice than a sentient being could normally have expected, and he thought he knew why.

Bernius had served Donarius Kaivalt, who had gone down fighting at Mizra and gone down in history for it. With that as the droid's model for what a Jedi should be, Jirdo could only imagine how Bernius would view a deserter. He hesitated, mouth open, wanting to defend himself but unsure what he could say.

Zaella saved him the need. Sauntering back out of her room and wrinkling her nose, she asked, "Did you just take out the garden to make space for the bed?"

"Mistress Raina's Padawan was housed in that room until very recently," Bernius said. "She enjoys flowers."

Zaella made a face and rubbed the base of one lek. "What is she, twelve?"

"Thirteen."

Zaella only had enough time to roll her eyes before Jirdo caught a faint voice calling, "—is everybody?"

A Human girl younger than Zaella or Narasi turned the corner. "Bernius, have you—"

She stopped when she saw the three of them. She was the first Tapani Jirdo hadn't seen in a fine, tailored suit; she wore more typical Jedi attire, plain but functional, though even as a Padawan she had a curved-hilt lightsaber. Her auburn hair, tied up in a sloppy bun, was damp, and her fair skin flushed from heat; Jirdo figured she had just come from the shower. She had big, soft eyes, which widened as she took them in. "Uh…I'm guessing you're not Tirien Kal-Di and Narasi Rican?"

Jirdo heard wariness and courtesy fighting in her voice. Before he could answer, Zaella shook her head. "Do you believe this, Master? She doesn't even know us!"

"I'm sorry! But Raven said you were both aliens, and I—"

"Aliens?!" Jirdo could only stare as Zaella's eyes flashed. "Let me guess: all of us non-Humans just look alike, right?"

The girl's cheeks darkened further. "No! I didn't mean that at all!  I—"

"That's quite enough, I think," Bernius said. "These are Jirdo Yushari and Zaella Sabir. They're…companions of Jedi Kal-Di."

While the girl blinked, Zaella crossed her arms, and snorted. "Thirteen? Even for a Human that's a stretch.  You could've told me ten and I'd've just thought she was kinda tall."

"Hey!" the girl—Raina's Padawan, Jirdo realized—protested. "I can hear you, you know!"

"Don't let her get to you, she's just…" Jirdo searched for an adjective and came up short; the slit-eyed look of anticipation Zaella gave him didn't help. Clearing his throat, he said, "Anyway…I'm Jirdo. What's your name?"

"Renata Cul'Caritas." Renata put her hands on her hips, frowning distrustfully. "I'm Master Raina Kaivalt's Padawan. How do you know Master Kal-Di?"

Jirdo hadn't yet come up with a credible cover story, but even as he wondered if Bernius would spare them, Zaella said, "This dweezer ran away from the Jedi Servant's Corps, and I'm Sith-trained. Tirien captured us both.  Got a problem with that?"

If she was trying to channel Tirien, Jirdo thought, the imitation paled compared to the original. He rolled his eyes. "Service Corps."

"Whatever. The Initiate rejects."

Jirdo gritted his teeth; he had suffered that insult so many times, even before he deserted the Jedi, that it felt hardwired to his temper. "I ruled a planet for nine years; you just did whatever Hadan told you until Narasi kicked your ass."

Jirdo regretted the words the moment they were out—not because of the way Zaella's eyes narrowed, but because even he could hear how petulant they sounded. Even if he could have brought himself to apologize to her, though, she wasn't about to give him time for it. "At least I went down fighting! You ruled a planet full of shaak-spirited runts, ate the scraps Maia and the psychopath left you, and went belly-up the second Tirien said 'boo'.  I lost, but you weren't even good enough to fight."

Recoiling, Jirdo sought a retort that wouldn't come, but as he scrambled, he noticed Renata staring. Flushing as much as her, he stammered, "Er…it's…it was…complicated…"

But Renata was too busy gaping at Zaella to notice. "You're a Sith?"

"Former Sith," Zaella said, raising her chin. Then she smirked. "Mostly. Sort of."

Renata stared another few seconds before her hand drifted toward her lightsaber. Zaella grinned as the cupped the pommel of her own lightsaber with one palm. "That's not very hospitable, kid. But if you want to try—"

"She doesn't," Bernius said. Pressing between them—Jirdo noticed with some surprise that the droid had no trouble getting both of them out of its way—Bernius put itself between Zaella and Renata. "Miss Sabir and Mister Yushari are present with Baron Kaivalt's knowledge and consent, Renata—they are our guests."

He looked back at Zaella. "And because Jedi Kal-Di has sworn to answer for their conduct, they would never disturb the peace of Baron Kaivalt's home, would they?"

"No, they wouldn't," Jirdo said, desperate to get the first word before Zaella could start a brawl.

She glanced at him, then winked at Renata. "Of course not. See ya around, squirt."

She spun on the balls of her feet with dancer's agility, strode into her room, and closed the door with a flick of one finger, leaving Jirdo in the hall with Donarius Kaivalt's droid and a teenage girl who, even had he never strayed, would have outranked him in the Jedi hierarchy already. But he had strayed, and without Zaella's presence to divert her attention, he could see distrust and disquiet growing in Renata's eyes.

"It's more complicated than she makes it sound," he said, hearing his need to have her believe it—and to believe it himself.

"I…" Renata wouldn't meet his eyes. "I should…find my master."

"They're with Tirien and Narasi," Jirdo supplied. "They were talking about what to do next."

"I should be there, then," Renata said, and without looking at him, she turned and jogged away.

Jirdo opened his mouth to tell her that Raina had chosen not to invite her, but Bernius rotated its head back and he thought better of the comment. He had dealt with enough Guudrians forcing respect while desperate for an escape not to recognize the signs in a fellow Human. In the end he just gave Bernius an awkward little bow and fled into his room.

It was spacious and generously apportioned, done in beige and dark green, and after days of sleeping on the Second Chance ' s deck, the four-poster bed was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. But somehow, despite the inordinately long and stressful day, he couldn't relax; something inside robbed him of comfort. He bounced back to his feet and, finding he didn't quite have the energy to trudge back to the ship for his handful of belongings, either, he stepped onto the balcony. His room overlooked the front of the manor; he saw the Kaivalts' ships and the Second Chance and, beyond them, the sea. The sun was just starting to wane, and he leaned on the balcony's balustrade and watched the light gleam on the waves.