Chapter 26
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Boroda Orka
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The Temple was beautiful. Not merely for its architecture, its vastness, or the elegance of its interiors, but for the lightness and tranquility that seemed to suffuse the entire place. Serenity lingered in the air, soaked into the very walls of the majestic structure; everything around me seemed to breathe it. What I had glimpsed and felt during meditation—in Chatak's workings with the Force, and even in the Zabrak herself—was everywhere here, effortless and all-encompassing.
It was... like the elves' Great Forest. Unhurried, measured, peaceful—and yet majestic and monumental all the same. There was power here. Not aggressive, but impressive in its sheer strength and, strangely enough, its wisdom.
The sentients accompanying me, and those we passed along the way, seemed to carry something of their surroundings within them, to one degree or another. Adult Jedi, little clusters of younglings, Padawans. They were all different: some watched me with suspicion, some with curiosity, a few with caution, but every one of them seemed to possess some measure of that same... wise, powerful calm. That didn't mean they all looked like venerable old sages—not at all. Children were still children, adults were still adults. It was simply that being Jedi left its mark.
I badly wanted to slip into meditation and see what the ocean of magic looked like here. I figured that if our conversation went well, they probably wouldn't deny me something as minor as sitting perfectly still for ten minutes or so in a place set aside for exactly that purpose.
I was so absorbed in the sensations around me that I didn't immediately notice the Jedi escorting me had fallen silent. Yoda answered the question I hadn't yet voiced.
"Getting to know the Temple, you are. Disturb you, we wished not to," the goblin said with a faint, knowing smile, taking his amusing little steps and leaning on his cane as he walked. "An unforgettable experience, a first visit to our home always is. For the gifted, especially."
"Thank you," I said, giving the short sentient a grateful nod. In response, he merely closed his eyes for a moment.
"Was there nothing like this where you studied?" Master Windu asked. I snorted at the question.
"No. It was dreary and dusty. The Burnt Lands, where my mentor lived, were a dull little place—rather like Tatooine, only with less sand. Scorched earth, in places fused into glass, hardly any sources of water. There were no generations of sorcerers living there, either. A large outpost, and maybe two or three spellcasters over several thousand years. No more than that," I said, scratching the back of my head uncertainly. Truth be told, I knew next to nothing about the old sorcerer's family. "You need a very particular sense of beauty to choose a place like that as your permanent home."
Calling the place they brought me to a terrace was something of a stretch. It was more like a gazebo inside a conservatory, with an enormous transparent window looking out over the city and offering a breathtaking view of the Republic's capital.
Masters, masters everywhere. Hmm... Quite a few of them had turned up. Once I stopped paying so much attention to the sensations around me, I started dredging up what I'd read about the Order back when I first got access to public information. Windu I'd looked up again just yesterday: he was more or less the Jedi Order's public face to the outside world. Spent plenty of time in the Senate, represented the Order, that sort of thing. The rest of the Council, though, I'd last read about three years ago, and only in passing at that. Back then, I'd been much more interested in the Jedi as an organization than in the individual people running it.
I dug through my memory and eventually put names to the other three Masters—and that was enough to impress me. Rancisis and Yaddle I only knew as members of the Jedi Council. Yoda, though, was the Grand Master. The biggest fish in the pond, so to speak. Which was a rather funny way to think of him, given his size. Luminara Unduli, on the other hand, I'd never heard of. Probably not anyone especially important, yet for some reason they'd brought her along.
And calling the local goblins "short-lived" clearly didn't fit either. I seriously doubted you could master Force techniques, learn swordsmanship, and build enough authority to end up running an organization like this in forty or fifty years. And if you could, I was going to develop one hell of an inferiority complex. Damn, I really should have read whatever biography was publicly available. My screwup, though.
So now we were seated around a round table. Yoda, the little big-eared head Jedi, sat directly across from me, with Yaddle on one side of him and Windu on the other; Luminara and Oppo sat between them and me. I'd drifted off into thought for a moment, so I actually flinched when Yoda spoke.
"Grateful for your help to the Jedi, I am."
"Nothing it is," I said with a dismissive wave, unconsciously slipping back into my old manner of speech. "Just got lucky twice in a row."
"Coincidence, I think not. Destiny, perhaps?"
"Destiny does not exist," I said with my usual dismissive wave, smiling mockingly. "Only a tale for the weak, it is."
"Of true prophecies, have you never heard?" Yaddle asked, looking into my eyes with curiosity.
"Prophecies are all merely pushes, urging people to act. Through an endless maze of choices they steer you toward an outcome that benefits the one who made the prediction. One way or another. Often, without the prophecy, the very outcome it warned of would never have come to pass—the fear it caused was what drove people to act in the first place." I shook my head and met Yaddle's gaze.
"And believe this, you do..." the Master prompted, watching me with curiosity.
"Life is a million roads leading to a million different ends. Only you have the right to choose where to turn, what goal to set, what decisions to make. Think it, I do not. Know it, I do. Believe it."
"Hmm..." Yaddle murmured, nodding in approval. Yoda, meanwhile, smiled kindly and made a vague gesture with one hand.
"We Jedi... a complicated relationship with destiny have. Yet truth there is in your words. A path of one's own, everyone has. False visions of the Force there have been as well—and to disaster, they have led. With caution, into the future we look, when a glimpse of it we are given."
"True," I agreed, returning the goblin's smile. "A truth of their own, everyone has. Games with the future, I want no part in. But neither have I the right to forbid them or pass judgment."
So Yoda and I got to talking, and Yaddle soon joined in as well. Interesting sentients, the two of them—and their sense of humor was... subtle. The others, though, looked a little... odd. For the first few minutes, Unduli kept shifting a puzzled look from me to the goblins and back again. The naga occasionally let out a quiet, hissing chuckle, glancing between her and the three of us. Only Windu remained Stern and Impassive throughout, apart from a slight lift of one eyebrow near the very beginning of the conversation.
Our conversation was interrupted by a droid—some model of protocol unit—which set a small, elongated metal box on the table in front of me.
"I wanted to ask whether one of your apprentices might have lost this," the Grand Master said, nodding toward the box.
What was this? Had one of the youngsters already broken loose into the wider galaxy? Couldn't our little speed demons sit still for once? Those were the thoughts running through my head as I opened the box... and stared in confusion at a piece of some kind of cylinder. From the look of it, part of the thing had been cut away.
"Uh... a lightsaber? And a broken one at that? Honestly, I can't say for certain. But when I left Jabiim, no one there was fooling around with anything like this," I said, scratching the back of my head thoughtfully before looking up at Yoda. "A hologram of the one you mean, do you have?"
The goblin merely nodded, and a hologram appeared in the center of the table.
"No," I said at once, shaking my head as soon as I got a good look at the sentient. "The first Zabrak I ever got to know even remotely well was aboard the Hammerhead. Knight Bol Chatak, she was. This one, I do not know." I looked at the hologram again and added, "A face like that, I would remember. Terrible constipation, this Zabrak suffers from. Twisted him up something awful, yes."
"Suffers no longer, he does," the green one said with a snort, prompting a quiet chuckle from Rancisis. "Dead, he is. Forgive me, Master Siith. Testing you, we were."
"Yeah, I figured that out already," I said with a snort of my own. "May I ask what exactly you were trying to find out?"
"Your name sounds much like that of our ancient enemies. The Sith. The Force, you wield, though sorcery you call it—and they wielded it as well. A piece of a slain Sith's lightsaber we showed you, and his hologram too. A sign of recognition, we were looking for."
"Ah... But they're... gone, aren't they? For about a thousand years now?"
"Alive, they still are," Yoda said with a sorrowful sigh. "Two there are. Master and apprentice. Which one died, we do not know—the apprentice, or the Sith Lord. But that a Padawan could defeat the elder of the two, doubt it I do."
"Sith Lord..." Something clicked into place. I noted it for later consideration and set it aside for now. "That isn't in any public source."
Master Windu then Sternly informed me that the information wasn't exactly classified, but the Jedi would rather it didn't spread beyond the "club of the gifted." I took the hint, thanked them for the trust, and remembered my little gifts.
The small wooden case, once opened, revealed six plain metal rings to the Jedi gathered around the table: five set with red stones, and one with a green stone.
"Adjust itself to the wearer's finger, the ring will. The stone's color shows the charge level. Clear means empty. Then green, yellow, orange, red, black. Black means overcharged—best not let it get that far, or the artifact will fail. Once worn, detectable it no longer is; only its owner can sense it. Charged to red, eight hours it will work. To activate it, turn the stone. A demonstration."
I took the ring with the green stone, stepped a short distance away from the others, slipped it onto my finger, and turned the stone ninety degrees clockwise. The full concealment spell complex activated at once. I could no longer be detected in any spectrum except the visible one, and even there I was reduced to a blurred silhouette.
For several seconds, I stood there in silence, watching the Jedi's reactions. Then I deactivated the ring.
"Only the naked eye can spot you. It conceals every emission the body gives off: heat, life, magic, thought. Everything I know how to detect. As you saw, it also blurs the wearer's outline. And there's one additional function available to anyone carrying a lightsaber. Any volunteers?"
Oppo Rancisis volunteered. The naga slipped the ring on without difficulty, and it adjusted itself to fit his finger. The blurred figure asked what to do next, and I told him to activate his saber. With a low hum, two hazy lightsaber blades sprang to life, running parallel to each other.
"Ooh..." came a quiet exclamation. "Useful. A feint."
The saber's blurred outlines lunged forward, smeared, then seemed to shift sideways. A few more swings distorted the visible image at random, making it impossible to tell exactly where the Jedi's weapon really was.
"Exactly, Master. A false blade, the artifact creates, while in the visible spectrum it slightly shifts the apparent position of the real one," I explained for the others. "And recharge the ring, a Jedi can. Direct the Force into it until the stone turns red."
"This is..." Master Unduli began.
"Quite a valuable gift..." Yaddle continued.
"Accept it, we cannot," Yoda finished.
"A gift, you called it. A tradition. The customs of other peoples, we respect. But too valuable, your gift is."
I returned to my seat and met the Grand Master's eyes with a faintly mocking look.
"This isn't a gift from one sentient to another. The Jabiim Mages' Guild is giving these artifacts to the Jedi Order. It's promotion, Master Yoda. A gift and an advertisement."
"Listening to them has given me a headache," the Korun grumbled, turning one of the rings over in his hand after yet another sparring bout with Oppo. The Thisspiasian beside him merely gave an amused snort. Yoda and their strange guest had gone off to wander the Temple about an hour ago, leaving Rancisis and the Korun behind to test the rings.
"After all my years as Master Yaddle's apprentice, used to speaking that way I became," Oppo said, then laughed when Windu grimaced. "Oh, come now. On the Council—"
"There are two of them on the Council already. Today there were three, and then they got Siith doing it too. Ugh..." the dark-skinned man sighed. "Too much Yoda."
"My name, I heard just now," came a sudden voice from right beside the Korun, making him flinch. A small blurred shape had crept up on them unnoticed.
"Ahem..." Windu cleared his throat and looked down at the Grand Master. "Testing our new acquaintance's gifts?"
"Remarkable things, the sorcerer has created," Yoda said with a nod as he came back into focus. "Great benefit, cooperation with the Guild could bring the Order. But great danger as well."
"In the hands of criminals..." Windu agreed with a nod.
"Or the Sith," Rancisis added, his expression turning serious.
"Yes. Master Siith... Young, their Guild is. When I asked about its charter, greatly surprised the sorcerer was. Almost no restrictions do their spellcasters have, beyond their own conscience, he said. Reassuring, at least, that things like this"—the Grand Master held up the ring—"difficult to make are, expensive, and require extensive knowledge, according to him."
"Where is he even from? I don't believe Jabiim has had specialists like that all this time," Oppo said, running a hand over the thick hair covering his face before looking questioningly at Yoda.
"A traveler, he is. Settled on Jabiim—'a good place,' he said. Born on a planet called Turtle, but where it is, even he does not know. A blind hyperspace jump, I suspect, though no details did he give. The Unknown Regions, perhaps. Of the Republic, the Jedi, and the Sith, nothing he knew until he met the Jabiimites."
"By the way, where is the sorcerer himself?" Windu asked.
"Left him in the Archives with Yaddle, I did. Asking Jocasta Nu to marry him, the sorcerer is," Yoda said, then gave a cheerful chuckle at his fellow Jedi's stunned expressions. "The Archives as her dowry, he wants. A fabulous bride-price, he promises. When asked whether the Sith holocrons should be thrown in as well, said no—'the Archives alone should keep me busy for a long time.'"
"Kha... kha..." the Thisspiasian broke into a coughing fit. "I'm going to the Archives. My old Master may suddenly need some help."
The Korun could have sworn he heard a muttered, "Why did I have to miss that?" from the retreating figure. But Yoda's smile told him he hadn't been the only one to catch Rancisis's words.
"What do you think about the letters for Skywalker and Tano?"
"A letter from her sister, youngling Ahsoka does not need. But young Anakin would benefit from one, I think. His fear for his mother has not left him. Nothing in the letter itself would interfere with Padawan Skywalker's training under Knight Kenobi. I hope that knowing his only family is safe will bring peace to the boy's mind."
"And what about the JMG?"
"Think on it, we must, Master Windu. Think. Darkness, I do not see in Master Siith. But Light, neither do I see. How things will unfold in the future, I do not know. Allies, will we become? Friends? Suppliers of Force artifacts to the Order, will they be? Or work with the Sith, will they choose to do? Many questions there are, but no answers have I. Perhaps a pair of Jedi on Jabiim, we should keep? The sorcerer said that any sentient can learn his magic. Wondering, I am... whether a Master or a Knight we should send there to learn."
The lovely Lady Jocasta Nu granted me access to some of the Order's archival material. Nothing classified, but there was still plenty of interesting stuff in there—if nothing else, a much more detailed account of Jedi history. So I spent the time eagerly scrolling through text files, quietly recording the visual information into the library in my collarbone while pretending merely to skim. I couldn't copy much that way, but a thirsty man drinks from every spring. I'd find time to go through it properly later.
I wasn't worried about any magical disturbances. The pseudo-living artifact was shielded, and the amount of magic I was using on my brain was negligible. I could always claim it was a technique for improving memory. Especially since, to some extent, that would even be true.
Getting into a conflict with the Jedi was definitely a bad idea. They didn't seem nearly as terrible as Alto made them out to be. The grandiose titles they'd given themselves were a bit much, of course—they clearly weren't up to keeping peace throughout the entire galaxy. Not completely, at least. But based on what I'd seen so far, calling them deranged cultists would be unfair too. And there were a lot of them. Picking a fight with a whole horde of sentients armed with glowing sticks, especially such... unconventional practitioners of magic, held very little appeal.
So I think I handled things the right way. Brought gifts, talked with them, cracked a few jokes. All in all, I showed them I was someone they could do business with... I hoped.
I handed Yoda the letters from Shmi to her son and from Romri to her sister. Both envelopes had been left unsealed to make things easier for the Jedi censors. I'd strongly advised both women to emphasize how proud they were of the youngsters, reassure them that everything was fine back home, and avoid anything likely to trigger too strong a bout of homesickness.
Deeper in the Archives, Master Unduli and the archivist were speaking quietly. Yaddle had taken Oppo Rancisis off somewhere. I let out a heavy sigh... Time to take my leave. They clearly weren't going to leave me here alone, and I felt a little guilty about taking up more of the green-skinned Jedi's time, so...
With that thought, I called Ras, told him I'd be out soon, and headed over to Luminara. I could say goodbye to Lady Nu at the same time. I'd invited her to visit our Guild library, by the way, and warned her straight away that only practicing mages were allowed into the sections containing magical literature. Still, we had plenty of material related to magic that didn't fall under those restrictions. I'd considered giving her something about Hecate, but decided not to rush that just yet.
I figured a woman who loved her sanctuary of knowledge would find the time to visit Jabiim and take a look at some truly unique material. Especially since I had no objection to people copying books from the unrestricted sections—quite the opposite, really. And once she was on our planet of endless rain, I could arrange a little accident for Lady Nu involving a ritual that went wrong and mercilessly shaved a few decades off her age. No, I had no intention of marrying her—that had only been a joke, and she'd understood it well enough to laugh. It was just... I had a soft spot for sentients who loved repositories of knowledge. Professional solidarity, let's call it that.
Original Russian story
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It was... like the elves' Great Forest. Unhurried, measured, peaceful—and yet majestic and monumental all the same. There was power here. Not aggressive, but impressive in its sheer strength and, strangely enough, its wisdom.
The sentients accompanying me, and those we passed along the way, seemed to carry something of their surroundings within them, to one degree or another. Adult Jedi, little clusters of younglings, Padawans. They were all different: some watched me with suspicion, some with curiosity, a few with caution, but every one of them seemed to possess some measure of that same... wise, powerful calm. That didn't mean they all looked like venerable old sages—not at all. Children were still children, adults were still adults. It was simply that being Jedi left its mark.
I badly wanted to slip into meditation and see what the ocean of magic looked like here. I figured that if our conversation went well, they probably wouldn't deny me something as minor as sitting perfectly still for ten minutes or so in a place set aside for exactly that purpose.
I was so absorbed in the sensations around me that I didn't immediately notice the Jedi escorting me had fallen silent. Yoda answered the question I hadn't yet voiced.
"Getting to know the Temple, you are. Disturb you, we wished not to," the goblin said with a faint, knowing smile, taking his amusing little steps and leaning on his cane as he walked. "An unforgettable experience, a first visit to our home always is. For the gifted, especially."
"Thank you," I said, giving the short sentient a grateful nod. In response, he merely closed his eyes for a moment.
"Was there nothing like this where you studied?" Master Windu asked. I snorted at the question.
"No. It was dreary and dusty. The Burnt Lands, where my mentor lived, were a dull little place—rather like Tatooine, only with less sand. Scorched earth, in places fused into glass, hardly any sources of water. There were no generations of sorcerers living there, either. A large outpost, and maybe two or three spellcasters over several thousand years. No more than that," I said, scratching the back of my head uncertainly. Truth be told, I knew next to nothing about the old sorcerer's family. "You need a very particular sense of beauty to choose a place like that as your permanent home."
Calling the place they brought me to a terrace was something of a stretch. It was more like a gazebo inside a conservatory, with an enormous transparent window looking out over the city and offering a breathtaking view of the Republic's capital.
Masters, masters everywhere. Hmm... Quite a few of them had turned up. Once I stopped paying so much attention to the sensations around me, I started dredging up what I'd read about the Order back when I first got access to public information. Windu I'd looked up again just yesterday: he was more or less the Jedi Order's public face to the outside world. Spent plenty of time in the Senate, represented the Order, that sort of thing. The rest of the Council, though, I'd last read about three years ago, and only in passing at that. Back then, I'd been much more interested in the Jedi as an organization than in the individual people running it.
I dug through my memory and eventually put names to the other three Masters—and that was enough to impress me. Rancisis and Yaddle I only knew as members of the Jedi Council. Yoda, though, was the Grand Master. The biggest fish in the pond, so to speak. Which was a rather funny way to think of him, given his size. Luminara Unduli, on the other hand, I'd never heard of. Probably not anyone especially important, yet for some reason they'd brought her along.
And calling the local goblins "short-lived" clearly didn't fit either. I seriously doubted you could master Force techniques, learn swordsmanship, and build enough authority to end up running an organization like this in forty or fifty years. And if you could, I was going to develop one hell of an inferiority complex. Damn, I really should have read whatever biography was publicly available. My screwup, though.
So now we were seated around a round table. Yoda, the little big-eared head Jedi, sat directly across from me, with Yaddle on one side of him and Windu on the other; Luminara and Oppo sat between them and me. I'd drifted off into thought for a moment, so I actually flinched when Yoda spoke.
"Grateful for your help to the Jedi, I am."
"Nothing it is," I said with a dismissive wave, unconsciously slipping back into my old manner of speech. "Just got lucky twice in a row."
"Coincidence, I think not. Destiny, perhaps?"
"Destiny does not exist," I said with my usual dismissive wave, smiling mockingly. "Only a tale for the weak, it is."
"Of true prophecies, have you never heard?" Yaddle asked, looking into my eyes with curiosity.
"Prophecies are all merely pushes, urging people to act. Through an endless maze of choices they steer you toward an outcome that benefits the one who made the prediction. One way or another. Often, without the prophecy, the very outcome it warned of would never have come to pass—the fear it caused was what drove people to act in the first place." I shook my head and met Yaddle's gaze.
"And believe this, you do..." the Master prompted, watching me with curiosity.
"Life is a million roads leading to a million different ends. Only you have the right to choose where to turn, what goal to set, what decisions to make. Think it, I do not. Know it, I do. Believe it."
"Hmm..." Yaddle murmured, nodding in approval. Yoda, meanwhile, smiled kindly and made a vague gesture with one hand.
"We Jedi... a complicated relationship with destiny have. Yet truth there is in your words. A path of one's own, everyone has. False visions of the Force there have been as well—and to disaster, they have led. With caution, into the future we look, when a glimpse of it we are given."
"True," I agreed, returning the goblin's smile. "A truth of their own, everyone has. Games with the future, I want no part in. But neither have I the right to forbid them or pass judgment."
So Yoda and I got to talking, and Yaddle soon joined in as well. Interesting sentients, the two of them—and their sense of humor was... subtle. The others, though, looked a little... odd. For the first few minutes, Unduli kept shifting a puzzled look from me to the goblins and back again. The naga occasionally let out a quiet, hissing chuckle, glancing between her and the three of us. Only Windu remained Stern and Impassive throughout, apart from a slight lift of one eyebrow near the very beginning of the conversation.
Our conversation was interrupted by a droid—some model of protocol unit—which set a small, elongated metal box on the table in front of me.
"I wanted to ask whether one of your apprentices might have lost this," the Grand Master said, nodding toward the box.
What was this? Had one of the youngsters already broken loose into the wider galaxy? Couldn't our little speed demons sit still for once? Those were the thoughts running through my head as I opened the box... and stared in confusion at a piece of some kind of cylinder. From the look of it, part of the thing had been cut away.
"Uh... a lightsaber? And a broken one at that? Honestly, I can't say for certain. But when I left Jabiim, no one there was fooling around with anything like this," I said, scratching the back of my head thoughtfully before looking up at Yoda. "A hologram of the one you mean, do you have?"
The goblin merely nodded, and a hologram appeared in the center of the table.
"No," I said at once, shaking my head as soon as I got a good look at the sentient. "The first Zabrak I ever got to know even remotely well was aboard the Hammerhead. Knight Bol Chatak, she was. This one, I do not know." I looked at the hologram again and added, "A face like that, I would remember. Terrible constipation, this Zabrak suffers from. Twisted him up something awful, yes."
"Suffers no longer, he does," the green one said with a snort, prompting a quiet chuckle from Rancisis. "Dead, he is. Forgive me, Master Siith. Testing you, we were."
"Yeah, I figured that out already," I said with a snort of my own. "May I ask what exactly you were trying to find out?"
"Your name sounds much like that of our ancient enemies. The Sith. The Force, you wield, though sorcery you call it—and they wielded it as well. A piece of a slain Sith's lightsaber we showed you, and his hologram too. A sign of recognition, we were looking for."
"Ah... But they're... gone, aren't they? For about a thousand years now?"
"Alive, they still are," Yoda said with a sorrowful sigh. "Two there are. Master and apprentice. Which one died, we do not know—the apprentice, or the Sith Lord. But that a Padawan could defeat the elder of the two, doubt it I do."
"Sith Lord..." Something clicked into place. I noted it for later consideration and set it aside for now. "That isn't in any public source."
Master Windu then Sternly informed me that the information wasn't exactly classified, but the Jedi would rather it didn't spread beyond the "club of the gifted." I took the hint, thanked them for the trust, and remembered my little gifts.
The small wooden case, once opened, revealed six plain metal rings to the Jedi gathered around the table: five set with red stones, and one with a green stone.
"Adjust itself to the wearer's finger, the ring will. The stone's color shows the charge level. Clear means empty. Then green, yellow, orange, red, black. Black means overcharged—best not let it get that far, or the artifact will fail. Once worn, detectable it no longer is; only its owner can sense it. Charged to red, eight hours it will work. To activate it, turn the stone. A demonstration."
I took the ring with the green stone, stepped a short distance away from the others, slipped it onto my finger, and turned the stone ninety degrees clockwise. The full concealment spell complex activated at once. I could no longer be detected in any spectrum except the visible one, and even there I was reduced to a blurred silhouette.
For several seconds, I stood there in silence, watching the Jedi's reactions. Then I deactivated the ring.
"Only the naked eye can spot you. It conceals every emission the body gives off: heat, life, magic, thought. Everything I know how to detect. As you saw, it also blurs the wearer's outline. And there's one additional function available to anyone carrying a lightsaber. Any volunteers?"
Oppo Rancisis volunteered. The naga slipped the ring on without difficulty, and it adjusted itself to fit his finger. The blurred figure asked what to do next, and I told him to activate his saber. With a low hum, two hazy lightsaber blades sprang to life, running parallel to each other.
"Ooh..." came a quiet exclamation. "Useful. A feint."
The saber's blurred outlines lunged forward, smeared, then seemed to shift sideways. A few more swings distorted the visible image at random, making it impossible to tell exactly where the Jedi's weapon really was.
"Exactly, Master. A false blade, the artifact creates, while in the visible spectrum it slightly shifts the apparent position of the real one," I explained for the others. "And recharge the ring, a Jedi can. Direct the Force into it until the stone turns red."
"This is..." Master Unduli began.
"Quite a valuable gift..." Yaddle continued.
"Accept it, we cannot," Yoda finished.
"A gift, you called it. A tradition. The customs of other peoples, we respect. But too valuable, your gift is."
I returned to my seat and met the Grand Master's eyes with a faintly mocking look.
"This isn't a gift from one sentient to another. The Jabiim Mages' Guild is giving these artifacts to the Jedi Order. It's promotion, Master Yoda. A gift and an advertisement."
"Listening to them has given me a headache," the Korun grumbled, turning one of the rings over in his hand after yet another sparring bout with Oppo. The Thisspiasian beside him merely gave an amused snort. Yoda and their strange guest had gone off to wander the Temple about an hour ago, leaving Rancisis and the Korun behind to test the rings.
"After all my years as Master Yaddle's apprentice, used to speaking that way I became," Oppo said, then laughed when Windu grimaced. "Oh, come now. On the Council—"
"There are two of them on the Council already. Today there were three, and then they got Siith doing it too. Ugh..." the dark-skinned man sighed. "Too much Yoda."
"My name, I heard just now," came a sudden voice from right beside the Korun, making him flinch. A small blurred shape had crept up on them unnoticed.
"Ahem..." Windu cleared his throat and looked down at the Grand Master. "Testing our new acquaintance's gifts?"
"Remarkable things, the sorcerer has created," Yoda said with a nod as he came back into focus. "Great benefit, cooperation with the Guild could bring the Order. But great danger as well."
"In the hands of criminals..." Windu agreed with a nod.
"Or the Sith," Rancisis added, his expression turning serious.
"Yes. Master Siith... Young, their Guild is. When I asked about its charter, greatly surprised the sorcerer was. Almost no restrictions do their spellcasters have, beyond their own conscience, he said. Reassuring, at least, that things like this"—the Grand Master held up the ring—"difficult to make are, expensive, and require extensive knowledge, according to him."
"Where is he even from? I don't believe Jabiim has had specialists like that all this time," Oppo said, running a hand over the thick hair covering his face before looking questioningly at Yoda.
"A traveler, he is. Settled on Jabiim—'a good place,' he said. Born on a planet called Turtle, but where it is, even he does not know. A blind hyperspace jump, I suspect, though no details did he give. The Unknown Regions, perhaps. Of the Republic, the Jedi, and the Sith, nothing he knew until he met the Jabiimites."
"By the way, where is the sorcerer himself?" Windu asked.
"Left him in the Archives with Yaddle, I did. Asking Jocasta Nu to marry him, the sorcerer is," Yoda said, then gave a cheerful chuckle at his fellow Jedi's stunned expressions. "The Archives as her dowry, he wants. A fabulous bride-price, he promises. When asked whether the Sith holocrons should be thrown in as well, said no—'the Archives alone should keep me busy for a long time.'"
"Kha... kha..." the Thisspiasian broke into a coughing fit. "I'm going to the Archives. My old Master may suddenly need some help."
The Korun could have sworn he heard a muttered, "Why did I have to miss that?" from the retreating figure. But Yoda's smile told him he hadn't been the only one to catch Rancisis's words.
"What do you think about the letters for Skywalker and Tano?"
"A letter from her sister, youngling Ahsoka does not need. But young Anakin would benefit from one, I think. His fear for his mother has not left him. Nothing in the letter itself would interfere with Padawan Skywalker's training under Knight Kenobi. I hope that knowing his only family is safe will bring peace to the boy's mind."
"And what about the JMG?"
"Think on it, we must, Master Windu. Think. Darkness, I do not see in Master Siith. But Light, neither do I see. How things will unfold in the future, I do not know. Allies, will we become? Friends? Suppliers of Force artifacts to the Order, will they be? Or work with the Sith, will they choose to do? Many questions there are, but no answers have I. Perhaps a pair of Jedi on Jabiim, we should keep? The sorcerer said that any sentient can learn his magic. Wondering, I am... whether a Master or a Knight we should send there to learn."
The lovely Lady Jocasta Nu granted me access to some of the Order's archival material. Nothing classified, but there was still plenty of interesting stuff in there—if nothing else, a much more detailed account of Jedi history. So I spent the time eagerly scrolling through text files, quietly recording the visual information into the library in my collarbone while pretending merely to skim. I couldn't copy much that way, but a thirsty man drinks from every spring. I'd find time to go through it properly later.
I wasn't worried about any magical disturbances. The pseudo-living artifact was shielded, and the amount of magic I was using on my brain was negligible. I could always claim it was a technique for improving memory. Especially since, to some extent, that would even be true.
Getting into a conflict with the Jedi was definitely a bad idea. They didn't seem nearly as terrible as Alto made them out to be. The grandiose titles they'd given themselves were a bit much, of course—they clearly weren't up to keeping peace throughout the entire galaxy. Not completely, at least. But based on what I'd seen so far, calling them deranged cultists would be unfair too. And there were a lot of them. Picking a fight with a whole horde of sentients armed with glowing sticks, especially such... unconventional practitioners of magic, held very little appeal.
So I think I handled things the right way. Brought gifts, talked with them, cracked a few jokes. All in all, I showed them I was someone they could do business with... I hoped.
I handed Yoda the letters from Shmi to her son and from Romri to her sister. Both envelopes had been left unsealed to make things easier for the Jedi censors. I'd strongly advised both women to emphasize how proud they were of the youngsters, reassure them that everything was fine back home, and avoid anything likely to trigger too strong a bout of homesickness.
Deeper in the Archives, Master Unduli and the archivist were speaking quietly. Yaddle had taken Oppo Rancisis off somewhere. I let out a heavy sigh... Time to take my leave. They clearly weren't going to leave me here alone, and I felt a little guilty about taking up more of the green-skinned Jedi's time, so...
With that thought, I called Ras, told him I'd be out soon, and headed over to Luminara. I could say goodbye to Lady Nu at the same time. I'd invited her to visit our Guild library, by the way, and warned her straight away that only practicing mages were allowed into the sections containing magical literature. Still, we had plenty of material related to magic that didn't fall under those restrictions. I'd considered giving her something about Hecate, but decided not to rush that just yet.
I figured a woman who loved her sanctuary of knowledge would find the time to visit Jabiim and take a look at some truly unique material. Especially since I had no objection to people copying books from the unrestricted sections—quite the opposite, really. And once she was on our planet of endless rain, I could arrange a little accident for Lady Nu involving a ritual that went wrong and mercilessly shaved a few decades off her age. No, I had no intention of marrying her—that had only been a joke, and she'd understood it well enough to laugh. It was just... I had a soft spot for sentients who loved repositories of knowledge. Professional solidarity, let's call it that.
Original Russian story
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