Light of the Jedi(52)
“A claim to the north is having trouble with a nest of chromants. I thought I’d go give them a hand.”
“Can’t they just bring in an extermination unit?” Indeera asked.
“Probably,” Loden said, “But maybe I want to fight a hundred chromants.”
Bell shook his head. He also wanted to fight a hundred chromants, but he knew better than to ask. He was jumping out of another Vector, and that was that.
A low whistle from the central chamber, and all four Jedi turned their heads toward the sound—the signal for an incoming transmission on the outpost’s emergency comm system. Loden reached out and tapped a control set into the tabletop, bringing the transmission into the room. A voice sounded, quiet, filled with tension.
“Uh, Jedi…this is…no. Don’t wanna get involved. But there’s a homesteader family, about thirty kilometers to the southwest of town. Two parents, two kids. The Blythes. I caught a transmission to the Ogden’s Hope security station, I monitor that channel on my comlink, like a hobby. Anyway, they were calling for help. The family’s being attacked…by the Nihil. Ogden’s Hope security won’t go. Afraid, I think. I’d be afraid, too—the stories we hear about the Nihil…But the person who called in…it was a kid. He sounded…it sounded really bad. Maybe you could go out there? Help somehow? I’m sending the coordinates. I can’t get involved, not with the Nihil. But I just…thought you should know.”
The message ended.
Ember sensed the tension in the room. From below the table, she coughed out one small sound, like a boot stepping on a piece of charcoal.
“The Nihil,” Indeera said.
“The family,” Porter Engle said.
His voice had gone very cold. Perhaps for the first time, Bell looked at the man and no longer saw the joking, bearded Ikkrukki chef he knew so well, inventor of the Nine-Egg Stew. Instead, he saw the Jedi they once called the Blade of Bardotta.
“Let’s go,” Loden said.
Avar Kriss leaned on the ornate, carved-stone railing and looked out across the lake to a small, forested island rising to a low peak in its center. A small settlement of low, orange-shingled buildings crouched together by the lakeshore, but otherwise the island looked like pristine wilderness.
“Varykino,” Elzar Mann said, stepping up beside her.
She glanced at him. He looked good. Happy, his dark eyes shining, a grin lighting up his face, though that could be due to the drink in his hand, some green stuff in a stemless glass bowl. She didn’t know what it was, but she knew Elzar, and so odds were it was the finest intoxicant their hosts had available. And considering their hosts, that meant it was probably very fine indeed.
“Very what?” she asked.
“Varykino,” he said, gesturing with his drink toward the island. “That’s the name of the island. It’s an artists’ retreat, a place for creative outcasts to live together and think deep thoughts. There’s a poet there, a man named Omar Berenko. Supposed to be brilliant.”
Elzar glanced at her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, cut short, with a natural wave to it.
“Sounds nice, actually,” he said. “We should remember it, once we’re too old for the Order to make use of us anymore. I wouldn’t mind spending my days in quiet contemplation. Maybe figure out how to catch fish with the Force.”
He took a sip of his drink, and his face took on an impressed expression.
“As long as we lay in a steady supply of this stuff. By the light, that’s good.”
“Let me try,” Avar said, and he handed her the bowl.
She sipped the liquor, a spicy, soft taste that left her tongue tingling.
“No arguments here,” she said. “That’s delicious. But go easy. We’re here to do a job.”
Elzar had one last swallow, then set the bowl down on the railing; a shining golden servitor droid promptly scooped it up and quietly withdrew, hovering not far away in case the two Jedi required anything further.
“Are your owners on the way?” Avar asked the droid. “We’ve been waiting for some time.”
“Of course, Master Jedi,” the droid replied, in a lovely chime of a voice. “Masters Marlowe and Vellis are completing some urgent business, but have notified me that they will be here momentarily. If you wish, you may take a seat while you wait.”
The droid gestured with one long, languid limb toward a seating area deeper in the lanai—plush couches and seats with various refreshments laid out on a low quartz table. She assumed this was where Elzar had gotten his drink. So much wealth on display here—just owning an estate in the Naboo lake country was out of reach for any but the richest families in the galaxy. Nonetheless, the feeling created by the décor was not one of ostentation, but of care and taste. The owners of this home were not trying to overawe—every choice was made with an eye toward simplicity and integration with the natural environment. Which, of course, was impressive in its own right.
As if to underscore the point, a gentle breeze blew across the patio, rippling through the millaflowers dangling from vines hanging from the arbors overhead. Their fragrance saturated Avar’s senses, and the song of the Force swelled with the beauty of it all.