Part 2 (1/2)

He didn't say the rest, but she heard it. The way notto be an example is not to be there. The way notto be an example is not to be there. She looked up into his eyes, reflecting the starlight hitting the water. ”How does a farmer know about these things?” She looked up into his eyes, reflecting the starlight hitting the water. ”How does a farmer know about these things?”

”You've seen my job,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. ”I deal with a lot of things that stink.”

She laughed, despite herself, for the first time since she arrived. As she took a step away from the river in the darkness, her footing faltered in the soft ground.

He caught her. She let him.

Standing in the doorway of the hut after midnight, Jelph looked in at her sleeping form on the straw bed.

It had been wrong to let Ori stay this long, he thought-and certainly wrong to let things go as far as they had in the last nine days. But then, it had been wrong to encourage her visits to begin with.

Stepping outside, he tightened his tattered robe. After so many sultry days, there was an unseasonable chill in the air tonight. It matched his mood. Ori's presence put everything in jeopardy, in ways she could never imagine. So much more was at stake than the fortunes of one Sith family.

And yet, he'd taken her in. It was a different Ori Kitai that had come to see him, one he couldn't resist. She'd seemed so proud on her earlier visits-full of the noxious ent.i.tlement of her people, certain of both her status and herself. With the loss of one, the other had gone.

He'd seen the person underneath: tentative and unsure.

As angry as she still was over what had happened, she was also sad over the loss of a vision she had once had of herself. And lately, sadness had been winning out, her days limited to walks from his hut to the garden.

Humility in a Sith. It was an amazing thing to witness, an impossibility. Her armor melted down, the impurities seemed to boil away. Was it possible that not every Sith on Kesh was born venal? Her anger over being dispossessed seemed . . . no more than normal.

No more than how he would feel, and had felt, in similar situations. It wasn't the kind of fury that destroyed civilizations for sport. It wasn't Sith.

It struck him as wrong that the greatest misfortune in Ori's life had only made her more attractive to him. The reserve he'd worked to develop had fallen away after that night on the riverbank. She had needed him, and it had been so long since anyone had. There wasn't much market for nonent.i.ties, in the wilds or anywhere else.

But the risk was always there, accompanying the happiness.

He looked to the north. A faint streak of light nestled between the clouds and the hills. The aurora was beginning again. In a couple of nights, the northern sky would be afire. It would soon be time.

Casting a glance to the storehouse, he calculated how long he'd have to be away from the farm. It wasn't safe to have her wandering around in his absence. She would have to go.

But he couldn't let her leave.

Chapter Four.

He had left at daybreak, long hejarbo pole in hand to push his craft upriver. Her tranquillity broken, Ori had issued a stream of protests. What did it matter what his customers needed for the autumn growing season? What did he owe those people? All he got for his work was a few items that he couldn't coax out of the ground.

But Jelph had kept looking to the jungle highlands, and to the sky. He'd claimed he had more responsibilities than she knew. Ori had scoffed, longer and louder than she'd intended. That worried her, now, bringing back two of the snares he'd set for the rodents at the edge of the for-est. Jelph hadn't gone away mad, but he had gone away, despite her entreaties.

She didn't like it. He'd been the balm she needed, making all of the heartache go away. She'd been dependent on her mother's office for so much in life that it had been seductively easy to put her existence in his hands. But his leaving had reminded her that he could refuse her. She had power over no one.

And she couldn't live without him. Without Jelph, there was no one else at all.

No one but Shyn. Up ahead, Ori spied the rear door to the composting barn, cracked open to permit circulation.

Not even an uvak should have to live in that place, even if the stench came from its kind. Taking a deep breath, she approached. It had taken her most of the day to check and clear the traps, yielding a few of the varmints that Jelph used to supplement his diet. Wretched. Wretched. At least seeing the uvak reminded her that she still had some freedom, some chance to- At least seeing the uvak reminded her that she still had some freedom, some chance to- Ori's eyes narrowed. Something in the Force had changed. Dropping the traps, she ran to the barn and threw open the rickety door.

Shyn was dead.

The great beast lay bleeding on the dirt floor, deep gashes burned into its long golden neck. Immediately recognizing the wounds, Ori ignited her lightsaber and scanned the building. ”Jelph! Jelph, are you here?”

Except for a few tools lining the wall, nothing was in here, save the giant mound of filth near the front.

”I told you we'd find her here” came a young male voice from outside. ”Just follow the stench.”

Ori emerged, weapon held high. The Luzo brothers, her nemeses in the Saber corps, stood out in front before uvak mounts of their own. Flen, the elder, smirked.

”Stench of failure, you mean.”

”You looking to die, Luzo?” She stepped forward, unafraid.

The pair didn't move. Sawj, the younger brother, sneered. ”We've killed two High Lords this week. I don't think we're going to dirty our hands with a slave.”

”You killed my uvak!”

”That's different,” Sawj said. ”You may not know this, but we Sabers are charged with keeping order. A slave can't keep an uvak!”

Filled with hate, Ori stepped forward, ready to charge-only to see Flen Luzo turn toward his uvak.

”Traders told us you liked to come here,” he said, opening his saddlebag. ”We're here to make a trade.” He tossed two scrolls to her feet.

Kneeling, Ori looked at the wax on the parchment.

There was her mother's marking, a design known only to her and immediate members of her family. Such a thing was reserved for validating a final testament. Unfurling the scroll, she saw that, in a sense, this was. ”This says she plotted with Dernas and the Reds to kill the Grand Lord!”

”And the other says she plotted with Pallima and his people,” Flen said, grinning. ”She signed both confessions, as you see.”

”You could have gotten anything under duress!”

”Yes,” Flen said.

Ori scanned the doc.u.ment. Candra Kitai now pledged her eternal loyalty to Grand Lord Venn, who would keep her alive as her personal-very visible-slave. Venn would now be naming three replacement High Lords of her own, Flen said, effectively blocking any moves by what remained of her rivals' camps. Ori could guess from the sound of Flen's voice that the brothers might find themselves suddenly elevated, for their loyalty.

”As I said,” Flen added, ”we came for a trade. Your lightsaber, please.”

Ori threw the scrolls to the dirt. ”You'll have to take it!”

He simply crossed his arms. ”Your mother told us that you would cooperate. I'm sure you wouldn't want to be the cause of her suffering.”

”She's suffering already!” She took another step toward them.