Moments of Truth/Part 12

Tirien took the flagstoned steps down toward the shrine, already shadowed even though the far reaches of the valley beyond still glowed in the sunset, but he veered off the main path toward the gurgling pond. Nature and plant life had a way of connecting him to both the Living Force and the Unifying, the blade of grass that could die as soon as it was trampled contrasted against the field that had existed since before Guudrians had fashioned stones to sticks to make tools. And he would not befoul the shrine's peace with his presence, which would surely be the result in his current mood.

His longest day yet on Guudria had begun, as they often did now, in discussion with Jebba, but a far more contentious one than usual, for Jebba had deduced that Zaella was a Sith. He was sympathetic to Tirien's goal of reforming her if possible and took Tirien's pledge to ensure Zaella caused no disruption, but it was clear he misliked having her nearby or in the shrine, and his distaste for not being told had engendered doubt just when Tirien thought he had been winning the shrinekeeper over.

Mid-morning, a caravan of wagons arrived from the nearest village, Kokko's Hamlet. Until then, no Guudrian outside Marekka had been alerted to the presence of Tirien and his companions; now there was no preventing the word spreading short of detaining the innocent, curious merchants, for which Tirien had neither the stomach nor any justification. Once the Marekkans had explained in a flurry of Guudrian and their neighbors had gotten over their initial shock, they had shared the expected but not entirely welcome news that the Jedi queen and her Knights were making one of their circuits and might arrive in Kokko's Hamlet any day, and Marekka soon after.

Tirien had thought a lunchtime spar with Narasi might help him focus and clear his head, but she had proven him wrong in three exchanges. Retreating from one of his light jabs, she launched a twisting, whirling slash that became a gut stab as it arced low; Tirien managed a parry, but Narasi kept up the attack, and it was three more blows and five meters before he truly had her in hand again.

"Where did you learn that?" he had asked.

"I picked it up from Zaella."

Tirien had known his Padawan and Zaella were sparring—everyone in Marekka knew by now, and more than once Tirien had seen Guudrians young and old creeping off to fields or valleys or riversides to watch them at it—and he had not objected; he hadn't explicitly forbidden sparring, and who knew? Perhaps it would strengthen trust between them. But once he had recovered command of the duel, he realized Zaella was not the only one at risk of being won over.

Tirien had stared her down. "You 'picked it up'."

"Yeah."

"Zaella used a move that complicated on you, and you learned it perfectly, all while defending yourself against it. Even Revan, the Hero of Tython, Corrigen Zaskard, Donarius Kaivalt…all of them required instruction, but you can just intuit your opponent's moves and turn them back in the next exchange?" Faced with his apprentice's awkward silence, Tirien had pressed, "If that were true you wouldn't have taken three weeks to master a coup d'arrêt."

Narasi had flushed with what Tirien sensed was a mix of anger, embarrassment, and guilt, and he had regretted at once the needless sting of his words, but that emotion had been short-lived, for when she had finally found words, they were, "Zaella showed me how it works. I wasn't learning Juyo, I just learned some of the moves."

It had been all Tirien could do not to throw the Alderaanian ship paradox at her, but they had quarreled for several minutes before Tirien finally commanded her not to spar with Zaella any further and they stormed off the sparring field in opposite directions.

He had dared to hope for a moment of meditation, but Boss Mukka's youthful runners had spotted him and brought him back to the Big House to sit in judgment. Apparently excited and alarmed by the queen's approach, and fearful of her wrath when she found her edicts had been set aside, a trio of young men had cornered Belka, the woman who had stolen from the tax crops, and tried to take off her hands. She had escaped them and, when her screams had drawn help, the would-be amputators had been seized and dragged to the Big House.

Tirien had threatened to cut off the hands of anyone who took Belka's, but as she was shaken but unharmed, he could avoid fulfilling that dark promise—though after the morning he had endured, he had been forced to spend a moment in meditation on the judgment seat lest he carry it out anyway. Their obvious fear of the Jedi queen sickened him and hardened his heart against her further, but that did not excuse attempted maiming. Only when he was certain he had recovered his calm did he speak.

"If you're so concerned that the queen receive the taxes she's owed, then contribute to that," Tirien decided. "You'll assist the farmers in harvesting the crops that are ripe—every waking hour, of every day, until the stolen crops are replenished. And should any being in this village raise a hand to Belka on your behalf, then all three of you will be banished from Marekka for life."

They had needed a definition for banish, but the concept was obviously familiar, because once it was explained all three young men had gone from pale yellow to beige, and the nostrils atop their heads had flared to circles of terror. Tirien had left them like that rather than risk his frustrations getting the better of him and devise additions to tack onto their sentence.

Next had come Zaella, irate that he did not trust her to spar with Narasi and descending on him beneath the shadow of Marekka's Tree with so little warning that she had started barking at him almost before he realized her presence. So surprised was he that she had found the courage to confront him, let alone snarl in his face—since the incident with her infected lek, she had alternated between waspish looks of resentment and uneasy, peripheral glances of veiled fear whenever they were near—that he endured more than half a minute of nonstop remonstrances and gibes, observed by a growing crowd of stunned and bewildered Guudrians, before he recovered his presence of mind and cut her off. Having no desire to exacerbate her fears, he had tried first to reason with her in a soft tone, but when she came almost nose-to-nose with him—and she was taller than Narasi, only a few centimeters shorter than Tirien himself—he had cooled his voice until she retreated, her jaw tight with anger, fear reducing the fury in her eyes to a guttering flame. She went, but Tirien felt so wretched about the entire exchange that he would gladly have spent an hour contemplating the Force's will, but he barely had a moment.

He had promised to describe the history of the Jedi Order and the Republic to the village elders, and the telling took hours, during which they asked questions disconcerting in their simplicity and questions that had vexed generations of the Order's great thinkers. He escaped the full length of it only when a breathless farmer burst in and wailed of stampeding herd beasts, and Tirien joined the throng of Guudrians—which included Narasi, to his relief, and Zaella, to general astonishment—trying to get them under control. With three Force-users in the wrangling party, no sentient being came to harm, though a couple herd creatures were injured, many crops were trampled, and a few fences were broken. When half the village staggered back to town as the sun was setting, Tirien refused to hand down any more judgments even as the farmers and herders clamored for justice, commanding everyone to go home, rest, and return to the Big House no earlier than afternoon tomorrow.

Hoping for guidance, Tirien had drawn out Master Fane's holocron only to discover in his first minute of conversation with the holocron's gatekeeper that Narasi's defiance was not limited to learning Juyo techniques. Dinner aboard the Second Chance had been silent; even Gizmo did not so much as croak, seeming to sense their collective bad mood. Tirien had left the ship without saying a word to either Narasi or Zaella, and he had taken Fane's holocron with him.

And so he found himself pondside near Marekka's Jedi shrine, more tired than he had been since Darkknell. The Jedi queen had been said to be on the approach since the day the Second Chance touched down; her proximity escalated Tirien's concerns, but though he had enjoyed more time to prepare for her arrival than he could have expected, he was no closer to a strategy than confronting her and hoping for the best. He did not know what to do about the Guudrians, and especially how to avert a total loss of faith in the Jedi, or even the Force itself, if he and the Jedi queen came to blows. Zaella remained an enigma, clearly scarred by her experiences but liable to lash out at friend, foe, or anyone in between. And all these dilemmas paled in comparison to his strained relationship with Narasi; he had tucked Fane's holocron in a pouch on his belt, but he felt like it was burning him through the leather.

He hated distrusting her, and hated all the more the feeling that his distrust might be justified, but worst of all was his fear that her failings were his fault. His commands had been clear, and she had chosen to ignore them…but how had she come to a place in which that had seemed the best course? Had he been too sluggish in teaching her, or too lax in the restrictions he placed on her? Had he been wrong to think of her as someone he could rely on amidst the maelstrom of other concerns, or had that very reliance shown how little he appreciated his Padawan, who was still only sixteen and had needs of her own?

Wrestling with the questions in his conscious thoughts yielded no answers, and when a fat amphibian hopped out of the pond, landed on a stone before him, and croaked at him with both of its mouths, Tirien took that for a sign. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the gurgle of the pond, sinking himself into the Force, trying not to be distracted by the hundreds of lives in the village, or the matching vexations he could sense from Narasi and Zaella, some ways distant…

Water, even more than grass, channeled both aspects of the Force—ever-moving, ever-changing, and yet eternal. One could never step in the exact same river twice, and yet rivers were as old as the lands they wended and older than the canyons they carved. Moreover, water was life on nearly every world—its presence sustenance for being and beast and plant alike, its absence death for them all—and so liquid water had become an emblem of the light side of the Force.

Be as water, just as a Jedi must be water, Master Toldin had once told him. ''Water may be diverted, it may change its course when it is acted upon; it does not defy with obstinate blocks, but it yields. Yet who will tell me that in the flow of the mighty river there is not power? That is the power of the Jedi, Tirien, for all fires burn out and all howling storms die, but water flows ever on to the sea.''

Tirien felt the water of the pond, and the many lives it nurtured and nourished—smaller, ruder lives, with simpler cares and nothing resembling thought, but lives nonetheless. He felt the little stream that fed the pond, bringing nutrients from its mother river, preventing the pond from growing stale and stagnant. Down deeper, the split in the rocks at the pond's bottom whence it trickled down, down, down to the roots of the planet, to reservoirs untapped and sunless seas, a deep place in the world no sentient being might ever behold, yet every bit as real. Each trickle was new, bringing the memory of sunlight to a place that had never seen it, and the sea waited to receive each new drop as part of a far vaster reality…

Tirien's mind spread over that secret world and its caverns, measureless to man…but as it did, he felt a chill. Water did not trickle down from the surface alone, he sensed. Poison seeped there too—slower, quieter, carving no trail for even an insect to follow, but creeping down all the same.

It is not what it seems, the Force whispered.

Guudria was a poisoned world, sickening from the inside so that its flesh might present a smiling face until it opened its mouth and exhaled corpse breath. A whisper of that breath had already begun, twisting out amidst the stars, drawing the unwary down with sickly sweetness that belied the rot beneath.

And as his mind spread over the world along with its invisible seas, fighting against the cloying poison, Tirien felt a baleful mind become aware of him. Sluggish eyes, as if of some sleeping monster stirred and loath to wake, fixed on him, sensing him out for who and what he was. It was enraged by his presence, and yet satisfied too…

It is not what it seems.

Tirien warred against the pressure on his mind, but he was losing ground, his skull was splitting open…

"Tirien!"

"It isn't what it seems!" he groaned.

"What?! What isn't?  Tirien!"

When he got his eyes open, Tirien found himself on his side in the reeds near the pond, insects whizzing above him in agitated loops. Narasi stood over him, her eyes wide with concern; as he struggled to a sitting position, his legs akimbo, he spotted Zaella at the base of the flagstone steps, wariness and pronounced unease all over her face. Jebba stood at the shrine's door, holding a lantern; it was full dark now.

The act of sitting up almost drove Tirien back to the ground; his head was pounding. Narasi crouched beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, but she pulled it back the second she made contact, her eyes crossing. "Whoooa…"

Zaella skipped across the space between them, putting a knee in Narasi's back to steady her. "What happened?"

Tirien tried curato salva to ease the ache in his head, but he quickly realized it was not physical pain. The insects were not alone in their agitation; the hums and chirps and croaks of the pond's denizens had fallen silence, and only in their absence did Tirien realize how used to them he had become. They were all still nearby, he could feel, but crouched low in the grass or dived deep beneath the rippling surface of the water—each hiding in its safest native element, all united in fear. Even as he reached into the Force to calm them, he felt the echoes of darkness—a profound disturbance that, he guessed, had drawn Narasi to him.

"Master, I heard…" Narasi wobbled again, then sat herself down, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Whoa, vertigo. I heard you—it was like you were screaming in my mind."

Tirien looked up at Zaella, who flinched under his gaze. "Yeah, me too. It…hurt."

She brushed the tip of her shortened lek, and Tirien wondered what he had done to her. Before he could ask, Jebba appeared beside Narasi, raising his lamp. "Are you all right? Would you like me to summon assistance?"

"No, I'll be all right." Tirien took several cleansing breaths, letting the Force soothe his nerves. "Did you feel anything?"

Jebba hesitated. "I do not have your powers…and yet…"

"Yes?"

Narasi and Zaella looked at him too, and Jebba cleared his throat. "I felt…uneasy. Like the first smell of smoke before you see the fire.  When I came out, Narasi and Zaella were here."

Narasi's eyes narrowed. "Master, do you think…can people acquire Force sensitivity? Could the shrine have connected him with the Force?"

"No and unlikely, respectively," Tirien said, rubbing his temple. "I think the contest was just so intense it affected everyone nearby."

"Contest?"

"They know we're here. The other Jedi."

He had not meant to say it, but the moment he did he sensed it was true. Even now, feeling the ripples spreading through the Force, he sensed, distantly, where the flow bent around the obstacles of other, Force-sensitive minds. "I can feel them…"

"What do you sense?" Zaella asked.

"Fear…anger…hate…"

"Great." Zaella rolled her eyes. "That's the dark side trifecta for—"

"…and death."

Zaella stopped, and Jebba and Narasi's eyes widened. Narasi asked, "Death?"

Tirien blinked and centered himself on the moment, and only when he took a breath through his nose did he realize it was the first time since Narasi had awakened him that he was fully out of that meditative state. "They're coming. How far away are they?"

Jebba, who had met with the merchants from Kokko's Hamlet, said, "Many of what you call kilometers. Two good days' walks, perhaps three.  But they can travel swiftly if they wish."

They wished it; Tirien was certain of that. He clambered to his feet. "They'll be here tomorrow. We need to be ready."

Narasi stood too. "What do we do?"

"Jebba, please tell Boss Mukka about this."

"Of course," the Guudrian said, but he did not depart at once. Lowering his lamp so it lit his face from below and brought out the gleam in his fiery mane of hair, he asked, "What will you do?"

"I have no intention of breaking the queen's peace," Tirien said, "but we'll defend ourselves if we're attacked, and we won't stand by and watch innocent people be hurt. If it comes to that, I want to ensure the people of Marekka are safe."

Jebba grimaced, but he went without another word. Once he was up the steps, Zaella said, "He's full of conflict. You can't rely on him."

"I don't intend to rely on any of them if it comes to a fight; I don't want to put them in harm's way."

Zaella stared. "If it comes to a fight?"

"I wasn't lying to put him at ease—I really don't want a fight here. Fighting should never be our first resort, and perhaps we can come to terms, even bring these Jedi back fully into the light."

"Fear, anger, hate, and death?" Narasi asked. "That doesn't sound like a group that's open to negotiation, Master."

"We have to make an effort." Tirien grimaced. "But it's foolish to take unnecessary risks. Bring the Second Chance closer to the village; I don't want them closer to it than we are."

"On it."

Awkwardness set in once she was gone; Zaella spoke to him little at the best of times, and not eight hours earlier she had been yelling at him in public. But she asked, "Why not just kill them? You obviously think they're doing things wrong here, so just be done with it."

"Jedi don't resort to killing unless we have to, Zaella, and never as a first choice."

"Why, because 'all life is sacred' and all that crap?" She shook her head. "Everything dies. Today, tomorrow, who cares?"

Tirien sighed; perhaps he should have made time to sit her down and draw out the roots of her cynicism, but that omission could not be remedied now. Instead, he said, "You want to look at this with pure, Sith efficiency, Zaella? Let's look at it that way.  If we attack them without warning we'll have to fight all of them; if we can convince some of them we're right and it still comes to a fight, we may only have to fight some of them, while others stand aside or even fight beside us."

He could tell he had surprised her as much by meeting her on her own terms as by force of logic. "Uh…"

"A plan can be good even when it's more complex than 'kill everything'," Tirien said. Zaella rolled her eyes, but Tirien stepped past her toward the steps. "Come on."

They made it up the stairs, past the stone carver's workshop, and near the square, where Tirien could sense agitated minds, before Zaella blurted out, "Can I have my lightsaber back?"

Tirien paused on a step, then continued, thinking on it before he shook his head. "No."

"We might get in a fight! I should be able to protect myself!"

"We'll protect you."

"Hey!" Tirien stopped and found her looking frustrated. "I've been really good. You didn't tell me I couldn't teach Narasi Juyo, and I haven't tried to hurt either of you or—"

"Zaella, the fact that you consider not assassinating us an achievement is the problem," Tirien said. "Stay close to us and you'll be fine."

"And what if you die?"

"If I die, you have my permission to use my lightsaber. Until then, stay close, and try to set a higher bar for yourself than lack of murder."

Zaella spoke little through the night that followed, sitting in a branch of Marekka's Tree in sullen silence while Tirien and Narasi paced the square below, discussing battle tactics and murderboarding potential interactions in Huttese. Guudrians came and went; they met Jebba, Boss Mukka, and several others as the evening wore on. It was well into the night and Zaella had dozed off on her branch when Narasi called a halt.

"Master, it's gonna be what it's gonna be," she said. "If we don't get some sleep we'll be tired and screw up."

Tirien knew there was truth in her counsel, so he nodded. "Wake Zaella and let's get back to the ship."

"Wait…" She crossed her arms, looking down, but sighed and said, "I want…are we okay, Master?"

Tirien sighed too. "I'm sorry, Narasi. I haven't made the proper time for teaching you here, and I expected too much of you—"

"It's not that! I want you to trust me with stuff," she said. "I don't need you babysitting me all the time, I'm a Jedi too; I want you to rely on me to do my part. But that's the thing, Master—I want you to trust me."

He studied her, waiting until she met his eyes to say, "I want to be able to. But when I give you clear instructions and you disobey me, what am I supposed to do?"

"You…you remember how you told me once that your big temptation is pride?" When Tirien nodded, she said, "Well, maybe—not always, but maybe sometimes—maybe I understand the situation better than you."

"Those are not the words of someone operating with a clear mind and an absence of pride," Tirien said. "If you think you know better than me, convince me I'm wrong. I'm a Consular, Narasi, I hope I've made plain by now how important discussion and reasoned discourse are to me."

"But what if I try and we still disagree?"

"Then you need to trust me. And even if you don't," he said when she opened her mouth, "you still need to obey.  The Jedi obey, Narasi—Padawans obey their masters, Knights obey the Masters appointed over them, and we all obey the High Council."

"And if you're still wrong?"

"If you still think I'm wrong," Tirien amended, eyes narrowed, "then learn to live with it. And perhaps entertain the notion that I have a broader perspective as a twenty-seven-year-old Knight than you do as a sixteen-year-old Padawan."

Narasi crossed her arms with a grimace. "You're wrong about her."

Tirien resisted the urge to throw up his hands, though he did arch his neck and stare at the stars for a long moment. "I haven't even expressed an opinion about her yet."

Glancing over her shoulder into the tree, Narasi said, "She's not beyond saving, Master. We're getting there."

"Good! Get there!  I hope you do.  The Force is strong in her and she's a skilled fighter, it would be a shame to see all that potential wasted.  But find a way to reach her other than learning Juyo."

Narasi opened her mouth, but just shook her head with a disgusted look and turned away to rouse Zaella. Tirien almost called her on it, but he suspected it would only devolve into another argument, and the last thing he wanted to do was drive a larger wedge between them with battle on the horizon. Once Zaella dropped down off her branch, the three of them returned to the Second Chance and passed out almost immediately.

Tirien woke a few hours later to find Gizmo nudging his cheek with his rubbery snout; Tirien had continued to let Zaella sleep in his bunk. Waving the gizka off, he grunted, "I'm not Narasi…"

"Mmnnrrawhee!"

"I'll feed it…"

Tirien blinked his eyes back to focus; Zaella had spoken, and even as he watched she lowered herself past Narasi's sleeping, snoring form, padding off barefoot to the galley and returning with a fruit slice and some greens. She shoved her hand in Gizmo's face, but he did not seem offended, gobbling up the offering in a few of his enormous bites. Zaella patted his head with a weary, slapping gesture, then hauled herself back into her bunk and buried her face in her pillow. Tirien was left staring after her, reflecting on Narasi's words until sleep reclaimed him.

When morning came in earnest, Tirien rose, showered, made breakfast, and woke the girls. Breakfast was as quiet as dinner, though more from tension than anger. When they were all dressed and—except for Zaella—armed, Narasi gave Gizmo a kiss and they stepped out of the ship.

The entire village had turned out for morning meditation; they cleared an aisle for Tirien, Narasi, and Zaella as they entered the shrine, but apprehension or worse was written on every face. Tirien, as usual, knelt within the corae, and Narasi, as was not uncommon, knelt beside Zaella outside it. Today, though, Narasi was just beyond the door, and she took one of Tirien's hands; after she gave Zaella a long, encouraging look, the Twi'lek sighed and took the other. Their meditation was more united than it had been since their landing at Sunko's farm, but all three of them had concerns of their own to settle—Tirien felt his Padawan's divided concerns and Zaella's conflict.

When morning ceremonies were done, there was nothing to do but wait.

A few Guudrians made a pass at normalcy, but most just sat in the square beneath Marekka's Tree to await the inevitable, and over time the rest trickled in—with a stout farmer last, shepherding the three Guudrians Tirien had sentenced to work the fields. Once he had ensured they were nowhere near Belka, Tirien towed Narasi and Zaella to the back of the crowd.

"You don't want to be up front to blunt the attack?" Narasi asked; she had advocated the strategy for hours the night before.

"I want to see how they treat their people before they're focused on us," Tirien replied.

"What if it's a whole bunch of Jedi Masters?"

"Or Sith pretending to be Jedi?" Zaella added.

"Then we'll need to be prepared to move very quickly, so stay sharp."

The morning crawled. Narasi started playing games with the youngest Guudrians to keep them entertained, Zaella laid down for a nap, and Tirien settled into meditation, though he kept his focus internal, seeking calm and peace; he did not wish to stretch out his feelings to the surroundings and risk betraying more to the Guudrian Jedi than they already knew. More than an hour had passed when the village bell rang and a voice shouted in Guudrian.

Tirien opened his eyes as tense conversation rippled through the square. Boss Mukka pointed, and as Tirien turned that way, Zaella sprinted past him and sprang onto a roof with the Force. Pressing her body to the thatching, she peeked over the ridge, then clambered back down.

"Three of them, on swoops" she reported as Narasi jogged over. "I saw the Chagrian's horns. The other two looked humanoid, but I couldn't tell more than that."

"Well done," Tirien said, relieved. He clung to hope they could resolve the situation without violence, but if not, three-on-three was far more favorable than the odds they might have been given. "How far out? Zaella?"

He looked at her when she did not answer at once and found her face twisted in an expression he did not understand; it was more vulnerable than he had seen her since she had begged him not to just hack her entire lek off. It took her a moment to blink and harden her face again. "At pace? Three minutes, max."

"Let's get in place, then."

Boss Mukka, her husband, and the eldest of the village elders waited at the front of the Guudrians ranks, along with Jebba in his fine robes. Tirien, Narasi, and Zaella waited behind Marekka's Tree—squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder, all three of them fit behind the trunk. Tirien centered himself in the Force while Narasi waved to a baby nearby and Zaella fidgeted, patting her empty belt and looking at her lightsaber on Narasi's.

The whine of swoop engines rose, peaked, and cut off, leaving echoes around the square. Over the dying din Tirien heard Jebba shout, "We worship you, Jedi, and we praise you with great praise!"

The chorus rose from the crowd. Once it had died, a high, feminine voice answered, "I'm pleased to hear it, Jebba the Force's son. It's been so long since I had the pleasure of visiting Marekka.  I worried your faith might have grown cold in our absence."

"Never, Master."

"That's a relief. But still, I had started to wonder…"

"Wonder, Master?"

"You worship and praise just fine, Force's son," said a second voice, deeper and harder. "How well do you obey?"

"We…we are your loyal subjects, Master," Jebba answered. "Command us and we obey."

"Really?" the same voice asked. "That's not what we heard lately."

"You have been misinformed, Master, I promise."

"Take care, Force's son," said a different male voice, gentler than the other. "This is no spy or informant. The Whispers themselves have told us."

There was a long moment of silence, then Jebba asked, "What have the Whispers revealed to you, Master?"

"There are enemies here, Force's son. Beings who don't belong."

"We have no enemies in Marekka, Master, I—"

"To lie to a Jedi is heresy," the gentler male voice said.

"And a lie it is," the harsher one added. "We saw their ship. Or have you built your own since last we were here?"

"Please, Masters," Boss Mukka said. "We have visitors, yes, but they are not enemies."

"Why didn't you send them to us?" the harsh man demanded. "Do you know the law, Boss Mukka?"

"Yes, Master, I—"

"Tell me the law."

"No offworld ship is to land in any village, only Kharkûskyat, and no offworlders to speak to us without your leave."

"Then why are there offworlders in your village, Boss Mukka?"

"You must understand, Boss Mukka, that we wish to protect you from those who would seek to harm you," said the lone female whom, even sight unseen, Tirien took for the Jedi queen. "The Sith and their agents prowl everywhere in this galaxy, seeking to do harm to those too weak to protect themselves. We can't protect you if you insist on defying us."

"Oh, they haven't harmed us, Master, they—"

"Evil wears many faces, Boss Mukka," the queen said, "and it can be patient, waiting for your trust, for the opportune moment, so you never see the strike coming."

"There must be punishment for this defiance," the harsh voice said.

Tirien looked at Narasi and Zaella and whispered, "Get ready."

"But Master…" Boss Mukka's voice quaked. "…we didn't defy—"

"Silence! The ship is here!  You know the law!"

"But we followed the law, Master," Jebba put in.

"In what way?" asked the gentle male voice.

"Our visitors are Jedi."

There was a long pause before the queen asked, "Jedi?"

"Jedi," Tirien called, stepping around the tree and into view. The Guudrians made way for him, and the effect rippled along until they had cleared a path to the the Guudrian Jedi twenty meters away. Tirien kept his hands folded before his abdomen, his robe covering his lightsaber, but as he studied the three beings facing him, he braced himself to reach for it at an instant's notice.

To one side was a burly male Chagrian in what could pass for Jedi robes, though, like Tirien, he seemed to prefer a darker color scheme of browns and black. His skin was fairer than many Chagrians Tirien had met, more blue-gray than true blue. He stood taller than either of his companions, and his lips peeled back to expose his teeth.

On the other side was a Human Tirien found unremarkable; he wore a Jedi's robes, and when he drew one side back from his hip Tirien saw his lightsaber, but he sensed little danger in the young man. The Human's wispy beard and mustache's half-hearted attempt at a goatee was doomed to failure, and he glanced from Tirien to his comrades.

Tirien noted the Chagrian's aggressive stance and catalogued the Human for reference, but his eyes lingered longest between them, where stood the Jedi queen. Nearly as tall as the Chagrian, but willowy rather than brutish, she was the most composed of the three, though the part of her full lips and the widening of her long-lashed eyes betrayed her surprise. Her robes, though colored as a Jedi's, shone with the sheen of silk, and the lightsaber hilt at her hip had the curve of a Makashi stylist's. Even from a distance Tirien could tell her lilac skin would be soft as satin to the touch, and even in stillness her long limbs bespoke the graceful movement essential to Makashi expertise.

Narasi paused behind Tirien, and he sensed her reading the situation for a second before she flanked him on the left, paralleling the Chagrian. Tirien nodded in approval, privately proud of her; he was confident she would make short work of the Human if it came to that, but Zaella was unarmed, so Narasi had taken the second greatest threat on herself. Zaella came to Tirien's right side, and Tirien felt her channeling anger to strengthen herself. He wanted to warn her off of it, but he did not have the time to spare, because he could tell the Jedi queen was about to speak.

He seized the initiative to throw her off. "I'm Tirien Kal-Di, Knight of the Republic, envoy of the praxeum ship Crescentia and of His Excellency the Supreme Chancellor." It was just true enough not to strain credulity, and Tirien thought it might disconcert them. "This is my Padawan learner Narasi Rican, and our companion Zaella Sabir. Who are you?"

The Human's eyes were round as moons, and the Chagrian's lethorns flushed darker; Zaella's lekku twitched in Tirien's peripheral vision. But Tirien himself focused on the slender Jedi queen, who blinked several times before smoothing her face and raising her chin.

"I'm Maia Kyss, Queen and Protector of Guudria," she said. "This is my First Knight, Bras Kozondo, and the High Priest of the Church of the Jedi, Jirdo Yushari."

Tirien was unsurprised to find, by her gestures, that the broad-shouldered Chagrian was the First Knight, and the Human the high priest. He had no guess on the Chagrian, but he was confident the Human was not even his own age, and Maia Kyss's voice more than her face betrayed her youth as well. "You're a long way from home, Maia."

Bras Kozondo clasped one fist with the other. "You've had your visitors here all this time and you haven't taught them any manners, Boss Mukka?"

Boss Mukka, who was on her knees, turned wide eyes on Tirien. "W-We address the J-Jedi as 'Master', sir. I mean Master!"

"And you're free to, if you insist," Tirien said, "but we Jedi reserve that style for Jedi Masters, and I'm much mistaken if any of these three are that."

Bras laid a hand on his lightsaber. "If you need a demonstration of our abilities—"

Before he could go one, Maia laid one long-fingered hand over his. "Into ignorance, we introduce knowledge, Bras. We should cure these Jedi of their ignorance if we can."

"How do we know they're Jedi?" he demanded, scrutinizing the three of them. "They might be Sith spies for all we know. Saying you're a Jedi doesn't make you one."

"How ironically insightful coming from you, First Knight," Tirien said.

Bras twitched, but Maia caught hold of his wrist and squeezed. "Because I can sense their light. Or rather, I can sense Tirien's," she corrected herself, looking from Narasi to Zaella. "But you two…no, I wouldn't have guessed Jedi for you."

Tirien could not deny that for Zaella, the former and not-quite-repentant Sith dressed in head-to-toe black and scowling at Jirdo Yushari in a way that warned of horrific consequences if the fight erupted and he challenged her. But he felt Narasi's internal flinch and gave her a telepathic nudge. Don't rise.

Narasi took a deep breath, then called, "I'm not a Knight yet. I still have more to learn."

"Yeah, I'm not a Knight yet either," Zaella added.

Maia pondered them. "Well, we all are. And because I'm charged with the burden of protecting Guudria as queen—"

"Who Knighted you?" Tirien asked.

Maia's black eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Tirien gave her his best look of feigned confusion. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, was the question unclear? Which Jedi Knighted each of you?"

"…the High Council, of course." Maia seemed to know the pause had betrayed her, for her entire face turned cold; it was like watching her turn into a sculpture of herself.

"And that was before you came here, nine years ago?"

Tirien looked at Narasi. She frowned for a second, but when it clicked she narrowed her eyes, stared at the three Jedi, then laughed.

"You'd've been what, late teens? You and the Number One Knight both?  And you, what were you then, twelve?" she added to Jirdo. She snorted. "Yeah, I'm not buyin' it. Tirien got Knighted without Trials for heroism in the field and even he was twenty-three."

"Twenty-two," Tirien whispered.

"Wait, really? Damn, Master."

For a split-second Tirien almost forgot the Guudrian Jedi were there, and was on the border of chiding Narasi on her needless profanity when Jirdo snapped, "We're just as much Jedi Knights as you are. If you are, which I very much doubt."

"Careful, squirt," Zaella said, "lying to a Jedi is heresy."

Part of Tirien appreciated the perverse enjoyment of winding them up, but he knew it was part of himself he could not afford to indulge. "If you're such true Jedi, doing the Force's work, then return with us to Coruscant. If the High Council approves of your…rule here, we'll personally ferry you back again."

Maia took her hand off Bras's arm and shook her head; her platinum hair gleamed on either side of her face. "I'm sure you'd like that—for us to leave our subjects defenseless in our absence. But I won't betray my commitment to my people.  I know the Force's plan for me."

"Do you see now?" Jirdo asked of the Guudrians in the front rank. "For years we've warned you of the lies of the Sith, of their cunning and treachery—we've tried to protect you against the threats waiting for you the moment your backs are turned! And yet you invite them into your homes with open arms!  For shame, Jebba; I expected better of you."

The shrinekeeper lowered his head; Tirien hated seeing him so forlorn. Taking a step forward, he said, "If there's any shame here, it should be for spending years taken in by three con artist tyrants. But that shame ends now."

"And now these enemies you've brought to our door plan to murder and usurp us!" Bras roared.

"I am a Jedi," Tirien retorted. "I use the Force to learn and protect, never to attack."

"And not to torture or punish, either!" Narasi added.

Zaella shrugged. "…yeah, what they said."

Maia flexed her long fingers and sighed. "You leave us no choice, Boss Mukka. There can be no law without punishment, and law is the foundation of society.  There must be punishment for this."

"Then start with us," Tirien said. Maia glanced at him, and a flicker of doubt crossed her face, but Tirien warned, "So long as we're alive, you won't harm any of them."

He and Maia stared each other down, and for a moment Tirien thought the uncertainty would win out. But Bras stepped up beside her, his shoulder almost touching hers, and Maia's eyes grew cold. "So be it."

She raised a hand, pinching thumb and forefinger together, and Tirien coughed, feeling the Force tightening around his neck. Jebba twitched as if to intervene before restraining himself, his face torn with sorrow, and Narasi lurched forward, sweeping her robe away from her lightsaber, but Tirien stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He felt Maia trying to squeeze the life out of him, but he rebuffed her attack, letting the Force flow through his muscles, keeping his trachea open, expanding his lungs to take in air, and contracting them to expel it again. The Guudrians nearest scooted back, many of them clinging to their loved ones, but when Tirien continued to stand, they started looking at Maia in confusion. Her face tightened with strain, but after they had warred with one another for a long moment, she finally dropped her arm. Tirien glanced at his companions, but Narasi was grinning, and though Zaella's eyes were wide, she seemed unharmed.

"Crushing these scum is beneath the queen," Bras announced, and raised his hand.

Tirien braced himself, but it was Narasi who choked. He reached for her in the Force in time to feel her suck in a breath and slow her lungs down, as if she was holding her breath underwater or against poison gas. It would work for a while, but Tirien was not sure she could outlast him. As Narasi raised a hand toward Bras, he took her wrist with his fingertips.

"Don't retaliate," he told her. "Breathe."

She found a second between huffing wheezes to glower at him, jaw trembling, and Tirien rolled his eyes. "Right. Use the Force to breathe.  It's his grip, but your muscles; feel the Force flowing through you, and through the air around you.  Let that Force flow into you.  Concentrate."

With physical contact, Tirien could almost hear her thoughts in her voice: That would've been a great lesson an hour ago! But she closed her eyes and anchored herself in the Force, withdrawing from her instinct to defend by counterattacking and focusing only on protecting herself. It took a long time, and Tirien felt her air supply running low, but he squeezed her wrist, and eventually the whistle of air down her pinched throat became a gasp, then finally a breath.

Bras squeezed his hand into a fist, and Narasi rose off the ground, her hands flying to her neck. Feeling the Force gathering around Zaella as she readied an assault, Tirien held out a hand to stop her. "Wait! Narasi, do you have this?"

Her claws dug into her neck so hard Tirien feared she would split the skin, but she closed her eyes again and re-centered, and after a few seconds she had her head straight and her chest expanded with a full breath. She bared her fangs at Bras, but Tirien no longer worried she would attack him—he sensed his apprentice was just using the opportunity to show her contempt. "Got it, Master."

In the end Bras snarled and let her go; Narasi dropped to the ground, catching Tirien's hand in hers but landing on the balls of her feet as if she had just come down from a ballet leap rather than attempted murder. She gave Tirien a grin so wide it showed her fangs, and he smiled back. "Well done."

"Yo! Hug later, team has a third member!" Zaella hissed.

Tirien turned, but none of the Guudrian Jedi—the Dark Jedi, he believed now—had attacked her. Zaella glanced at him, then said, "What's the matter, high priest? Not gonna give it a try?"

"Don't antagonize," Tirien said in Huttese.

Jirdo's eyes narrowed, but he said, "It isn't right for the High Priest to take a life."

"Oh, allow me," Bras said, and he wrapped the Force around Zaella's neck.

Unsure how much help she would need—she had doubtless been choked by beings far more practiced with the technique than Bras Kozondo—Tirien waited for her response. Sure enough, though her throat worked as if she were swallowing and her head trembled enough that her lekku shivered from base to tips, she forced a grin and croaked, "Harder, big boy, I like it rough!"

Tirien rolled his eyes and Narasi facepalmed, but Bras snarled aloud, and Zaella's grin twisted into mockery. Tirien realized she had done it on purpose—not to disrupt his focus, but to expose his loss of control. In her way, she was undermining their authority just as much as Tirien was.

A sheen of sweat had broken out on Bras's forehead by the time he admitted defeat. Tirien saw bruises where Zaella rubbed her neck, and she coughed several times, but when she looked up she snickered. "Figures. You're finished before I've really enjoyed myself.  Just like a guy, right Narasi?"

"Um…"

Again Bras reached for his lightsaber, and again Maia Kyss restrained him. Her voice was still soft—a garotte made of silk instead of wire. "Stun them."

All three struck as one, and Tirien rooted himself in the moment, fixing Maia herself as his mind's lodestone. He felt her power impact him, the lure of sleep, rest, and oblivion in his mind, but he fixated on Maia until the blur at the edge of his vision cleared. On his left, Narasi shrugged off Bras's attempted stun with no sign of distress; after a month of receiving stun rings from every Alderaanian royal guard who caught her unawares, Tirien doubted anything less than an ion cannon would render his apprentice unconscious if she did not want to be. On his right, Zaella, too, endured the Force Stun with only a grimace and a few shakes of her head; Tirien did not know what stun resistance training she had survived, but he was sure the consequences of failure had been enough motivation to learn quickly.

The Guudrians had pressed back to avoid the line of fire, but as the contest went on, more and more faces had gone from confusion to astonishment to doubt. Confident they had never seen their masters fail to overcome anyone, Tirien nodded to both sides. "It's all right."

Narasi nudged him, and he saw the three Dark Jedi conferring in hushed tones. Maia nodded; Bras attempted to say something else, but she held up a hand to stop him, then pointed it at Tirien. "You will submit to us, false Jedi."

He felt the pressure on his mind, but the Force there was much stronger. You are Tirien Kal-Di, it reminded him. You are the true Jedi, and you will not bow to falsehood.

"No, Your Majesty, I won't."

Bras took her hand, and they said in unison, "You will submit to us."

Their combined strength was harder to resist, stronger than either would have been alone, but the Force was with him, and he answered, "I assure you I won't."

Jirdo took Maia's other hand, and Tirien felt the strength of their bond in the Force. All three of them said, "You will submit to us."

He braced himself, but there was nothing to fight. Narasi, however, reeled on her feet, her eyes going out of focus. "I…I will…"

"Narasi!" Tirien said. "Focus!"

"I…will submit…"

"You will submit to us!"

"I will—"

"Narasi, remember who you are."

"I…will submit…to…"

She reached for her lightsaber hilt, and Tirien threw caution to the wind. Raising his voice so the Guudrians could hear, he said, "Narasi Shaelo's daughter, who are you?"

Her father's name seemed to act on her like a stim shot—she shuddered all over, gasping. But her eyes cleared and focused, and her face hardened. "I am Narasi Rican, Shaelo's daughter, and I AM A JEDI!"

Her expression morphed into ferocity, fangs bared, and though she did not even raise a hand, Maia squeezed her eyes shut with a wince, Bras jerked his hand out of hers, and Jirdo stumbled back before catching his balance. Once he seemed sure he was not going to fall, Jirdo threw a black look their way, but he looked at Maia for guidance; Bras continued to glare. When she got her eyes open, Maia glowered too.

Narasi crossed her arms. "Any more parlor tricks?"

"Don't antagonize," Tirien repeated. Maia's eyebrows flared, but as she reached for her own lightsaber at last, Tirien sensed he had an instant to spare and barked, "I wouldn't do that if I were you!"

She paused, and he seized the few extra seconds she had handed him. Opening himself to the Force, letting it empower him as if battle was inevitable, he chilled his voice to say, "So far I've treated you with mercy because I want to avoid shedding blood, even yours. But if you force us to fight, you'll find my mercy has limits.  You're a Form II stylist and the strongest of the three, but you're out of practice and less powerful than I am."

He made a show of considering her, then announced, "I'll kill you in six exchanges."

She recoiled, and this time the doubt on her face was clear. Bras took the lightsaber off his belt and snarled, "There are three of us, we can take them!"

"There are three of us too," Tirien replied, "and though you're bigger and stronger than me, First Knight, you're also arrogant and not half as skillful as you think. Four exchanges; five if I sneeze."

Zaella laughed and Bras's lethorns flushed again, but he did not ignite his blade. Jirdo looked at his companions, then at Tirien, who caught his eye and shrugged. "Dead in the first exchange. Sorry, Jirdo."

As Jirdo swallowed, Tirien added, "Or you can all stop this madness, lay down your blades, and come to terms. I'm offering you a peaceful way out; a con isn't worth your life."

Bras leaned over and whispered something to Maia, who listened without ever taking her eyes off Tirien. Zaella hissed in Huttese, "If we get locked out in the heat storm here, then give me my lightsaber!"

Narasi did not reply, but, holding Maia's gaze, Tirien said, "If—and only if—it comes to that, then yes."

He could not say whether Narasi or Zaella was more surprised, but before either could speak, Maia released her lightsaber. Bras snapped a complaint, but she flicked her fingers at him to silence him.

"It's clear to me now how these invaders—these agents of darkness—have taken hold of Marekka," she said. "After all that we've done for you, you choose to reject the Jedi, the shelter of our protection and the teachings of our faith. You leave us no choice; I hereby quarantine this village.  No Guudrian shall enter or leave Marekka, on pain of death."

Narasi stepped forward, but Tirien held out a hand to still her. Bras tried to resume the argument, but Maia turned away and walked back toward her swoop; the front rows of Guudrians cowered under Bras's ferocious glare, but when he turned it on Tirien's party, Tirien met his eyes without flinching, Narasi crossed her arms, and Zaella flipped her shorter lek over her shoulder like a lock of hair. Only when Bras finally turned away did Tirien spare a glance at Jirdo, who seemed more relieved than offended.

The Human followed after his colleagues, but stopped after a few paces and glanced back. "Jebba, you bear some fault for this. I place Marekka under interdict, and I command that the shrine be closed.  The Force will flee from you all."

Tirien reached into the Force to bolster Jebba's spirits, but as he did he sensed a whipcrack of power, and Jirdo went down, his pale robe darkened with dirt and dust. Zaella pulled back her hand and called, "Doesn't flee all that quickly, does it? Guess it's working up to a run."

Tirien froze for a moment, but by the time Maia and Bras had turned back, Jirdo had already wrenched himself upright. Snapping out his robe and throwing Zaella a look of loathing, he stormed after his colleagues. A moment later their swoop engines whined to life. Only when the sound had faded into the distance did the crowd release its collective held breath, and Tirien joined them. Without the need for pinpoint, all-consuming focus, he could look inward and see how much he had dreaded a wrong move or word that would have sparked a battle. Many of the Guudrians had been too frightened to twitch, but with the threat of instant death gone, most seized the opportunity to flee to their homes.

Amidst the rumble of running feet and a chorus of slamming doors, Boss Mukka, who had come up to her knees, plopped back down to sit in the dirt, head in her hands. "What have we done?!"

"The right thing!" Narasi said, striding out of the tree's shadow and kneeling beside her. "They won't treat your people like that anymore."

"But all this time they've protected us from the Sith. Without them…"

"And they've taught us the true faith of the Force," Jebba added. Several of the black spots in his eyes had shrunk. "To be under interdict is a terrible punishment."

"What does that even mean?" Narasi asked.

"The shrine is closed, we can no longer meditate, or invoke the Force's blessings for our crops, our children—"

Tirien sighed. "Jebba, you're a smart man, you must have realized by now that these people just made up much of what they taught you. The Force is present in all life, all the time, and no command can take it away."

Even as he spoke the words, Tirien realized the irony, and the look Narasi gave him told him he was not alone in appreciating it. But he did not elaborate to Jebba; he did not want to splinter Jebba's already shaken confidence, and he was certain Jirdo Yushari was not Nomi Sunrider or Kai Latra.

"As you say, Master," Jebba sighed.

"I've told you, you don't have to—"

"And why should I not?" the Guudrian asked in a dead voice. "It seems we've chosen your side, we might as well commit to the choice."

"This isn't about choosing sides. At least it shouldn't be."

Jebba mustered a hollow smile. "I've only been speaking Basic sixteen years, Master, but I know those are not the same thing. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go—"

He stopped, and Tirien felt his distress; the missing word, Tirien suspected, was meditate. "I'd like to go."

Tirien nodded, trying to feed him encouragement in the Force as he trudged away. Accepting her husband's hand up, Boss Mukka dusted off her clothes and looked up at Tirien. "What do we do now?"

"Narasi?" he asked.

"What?"

"We're effectively under siege. You've learned something of siegecraft, haven't you?"

"I've…oh. Oh, like the Siege of the Night Citadel?"

Tirien nodded while Zaella asked, "The what?"

"It was just a thing on Darkknell." Narasi combed the claws of both hands back through her hair and blew out a breath. "Anyway, yeah, siege. Um…Boss Mukka, can you set up guard shifts?  Adults patrolling in twos or threes during the night?"

"I can do that," Mukka said, though she did not sound happy about it.

"And let's see…the well's in town, so that's okay…do you have food stored?"

Mukka shook her head. "Only a little has been harvested so far."

"There's no need to set anything aside for the queen's tax now," Tirien pointed out. "That store can go to the defense."

Mukka winced, and Tirien sensed she was near her breaking point. Narasi seemed to get the message too; she said, "That'll be enough for now. We can handle the actual defense."

"If it comes to that," Tirien added.

Mukka bowed. "As you say, Masters. I'll see to the guard shifts."

She held her head up as Jebba had not, but her wounded spirit quaked inside. Tirien watched her go, searching for a way to bolster the Guudrians who found themselves in the crossfire of his nascent conflict with the false Jedi. Only when the Big House's door closed and he realized he was alone in the square with Narasi and Zaella did he feel their gazes on him. He turned and found Narasi with her hands on her hips and Zaella with her arms crossed.

Narasi asked, "Now what?"