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Authors: Tim Lebbon
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delighted with the talents she possesses and those she is introduced to,
and thrilled at how adept she already seems. Ter’cay pushes her. Tests. And she performs,
pushing back with silent requests for harder tasks, more complex problems. Her relationship
with the Force expands rapidly in that silent place, and she feels fully a part of
it for the first time. Suggestion, telepathy, control, her skills grow and expand
with each passing moment. She enjoys her time there with Master Ter’cay. And yet many
times she realizes the strength of her pride when she forgets that Dal is not finding
any of this easy.
He cannot flow with the Force, and the more Ter’cay works withhim, the less Dal wants to try. Lanoree becomes frustrated and annoyed with his frequent
displays of petulance. In the evenings, when they are eating and relaxing, she tries
communicating with him. A sisterly touch on his mind, borne of love and concern. Yet
she’s met with a deluge of chaotic thoughts—frightening, furious, and yet scared.
As dusk falls on the third day and they make their way back to the temple, Lanoree
is enlivened by her successes and saddened by Dal’s failures.
She takes his hand, surprised when he holds on. And she smiles at him.
She has an idea.
A subtle push and—
They are walking along the river back at home, close to Bodhi Temple. This is the
one place where Dal feels most at peace with himself. Weave birds have been here recently,
and countless golden threads are carried on the breeze. The river flows fast and heavy,
swollen by recent rains in the hills of the Edge Forest. The air smells of blossom
and hangs heavy with the promise of a family meal that evening, when their father
will cook rumbat stew and their mother will read some of her poetry. It is beautiful
.
It is false
.
Dal squeezes her hand so tightly that she feels bones grinding, and the hook hawk
wounds start to bleed again. Then he crumples to his knees in the sand and vomits.
Lanoree kneels beside him, wondering if she has done wrong. He
hates
her touching his mind, using the Force to invade his thoughts. They have fought about
it more than once. But after so long in this strange place, she’d thought that perhaps
he would have welcomed those thoughts of safety and calm, those images of home.
When he looks up at her, she sees the venom of his gaze.
She cannot touch his mind again to say sorry.
CHAPTER FOUR
HIS OWN MAN
Never place all your reliance in the Force. It’s always there, but that does not mean
it can always be called upon. Each Je’daii is his own person with his own talents.
Learn to use them. Nurture them. If the Force is the dream, you are the dreamer, and
sometimes you have to wake up. Sometimes, you are all you have
.
—Master Shall Mar, “A Life in Balance,” 7,523 TYA
Tre Sana had already told her more than the Je’daii Masters who had sent her on this
mission. They had mentioned a loose network of rich Kalimahr apparently involved in
Dal’s Stargazer sect, and Tre had backed that up with talk of tracking down a particular
person to question. They had spoken of dark matter being used to attempt activation
of a supposed hypergate. But they had not mentioned the Gree at all.
What was known about the Gree was so far back in history, so deep in time, that it
had taken on the sheen of myth and legend. Lanoree wanted to get back to her ship’s
computer to find out what she could.
But first she had to discover who, or what, was following her.
She imagined that this district of Rhol Yan must be somewhere at the lower end of
the tourist experience—the streets were grubby; some vendors very probably dealt in
illegal goods, services, or substances; and the clientele of the various establishments
displayed little evidence of being mere visitors. A rough area, but not one in which
Lanoree felt out of place. Every city on every planet had them, and she had visited
and thrilled at how adept she already seems. Ter’cay pushes her. Tests. And she performs,
pushing back with silent requests for harder tasks, more complex problems. Her relationship
with the Force expands rapidly in that silent place, and she feels fully a part of
it for the first time. Suggestion, telepathy, control, her skills grow and expand
with each passing moment. She enjoys her time there with Master Ter’cay. And yet many
times she realizes the strength of her pride when she forgets that Dal is not finding
any of this easy.
He cannot flow with the Force, and the more Ter’cay works withhim, the less Dal wants to try. Lanoree becomes frustrated and annoyed with his frequent
displays of petulance. In the evenings, when they are eating and relaxing, she tries
communicating with him. A sisterly touch on his mind, borne of love and concern. Yet
she’s met with a deluge of chaotic thoughts—frightening, furious, and yet scared.
As dusk falls on the third day and they make their way back to the temple, Lanoree
is enlivened by her successes and saddened by Dal’s failures.
She takes his hand, surprised when he holds on. And she smiles at him.
She has an idea.
A subtle push and—
They are walking along the river back at home, close to Bodhi Temple. This is the
one place where Dal feels most at peace with himself. Weave birds have been here recently,
and countless golden threads are carried on the breeze. The river flows fast and heavy,
swollen by recent rains in the hills of the Edge Forest. The air smells of blossom
and hangs heavy with the promise of a family meal that evening, when their father
will cook rumbat stew and their mother will read some of her poetry. It is beautiful
.
It is false
.
Dal squeezes her hand so tightly that she feels bones grinding, and the hook hawk
wounds start to bleed again. Then he crumples to his knees in the sand and vomits.
Lanoree kneels beside him, wondering if she has done wrong. He
hates
her touching his mind, using the Force to invade his thoughts. They have fought about
it more than once. But after so long in this strange place, she’d thought that perhaps
he would have welcomed those thoughts of safety and calm, those images of home.
When he looks up at her, she sees the venom of his gaze.
She cannot touch his mind again to say sorry.
CHAPTER FOUR
HIS OWN MAN
Never place all your reliance in the Force. It’s always there, but that does not mean
it can always be called upon. Each Je’daii is his own person with his own talents.
Learn to use them. Nurture them. If the Force is the dream, you are the dreamer, and
sometimes you have to wake up. Sometimes, you are all you have
.
—Master Shall Mar, “A Life in Balance,” 7,523 TYA
Tre Sana had already told her more than the Je’daii Masters who had sent her on this
mission. They had mentioned a loose network of rich Kalimahr apparently involved in
Dal’s Stargazer sect, and Tre had backed that up with talk of tracking down a particular
person to question. They had spoken of dark matter being used to attempt activation
of a supposed hypergate. But they had not mentioned the Gree at all.
What was known about the Gree was so far back in history, so deep in time, that it
had taken on the sheen of myth and legend. Lanoree wanted to get back to her ship’s
computer to find out what she could.
But first she had to discover who, or what, was following her.
She imagined that this district of Rhol Yan must be somewhere at the lower end of
the tourist experience—the streets were grubby; some vendors very probably dealt in
illegal goods, services, or substances; and the clientele of the various establishments
displayed little evidence of being mere visitors. A rough area, but not one in which
Lanoree felt out of place. Every city on every planet had them, and she had visited
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