Tigris took Anakin from Jaina’s arms. His eyes were sad and hopeful. Jaina could not stop him. She could not move. She could not extend her mind to her brother’s. She did not know what Jacen was thinking. He looked back at her, scared. She did know one thing. He did not know what she was thinking either.
“Jacen!” she said. “Anakin!” She could talk! But she did not talk to Hethrir.
“I see that you understand,” Hethrir said.
He grabbed Jaina’s hand and Jacen’s hand. He pulled them along after him.
“What about Mr. Chamberlain’s wyrwulf?” Jacen shouted.
“You’re too old to keep a pet,” Hethrir said.
The door closed. Behind them, the wyrwulf howled.
Hethrir was so tall and he walked so fast that Jaina had to run to keep up. Tigris strode along after them.
Jaina could hardly see anything. She tripped. Hethrir jerked her to her feet and kept going.
“Stop!” Jaina shouted. “Stop! No! Help!” She screamed.
“Help!” Jacen shouted along with her. “Help, leave us alone!”
“Jaya, Jasa!” Anakin cried.
Jaina dragged back on Hethrir’s hand. She struggled to look over her shoulder. Anakin wriggled to escape Tigris’s arms. Tigris held him tighter. Tight enough to hurt. Anakin’s eyes were bright with tears.
“You leave my brother alone!” Jacen shouted. He too fought to get away from Hethrir.
Anakin pushed at Tigris.
Tigris yelped with pain. He nearly dropped Anakin. He held on to him till Anakin’s feet touched the ground. Then Tigris grabbed his own hands together. He shook them and rubbed them against his grubby robe.
Hethrir stopped. He dropped Jaina’s hand, and Jacen’s.
Jaina ran to Anakin. She hugged her little brother. He burrowed against her shoulder. Jacen knelt on the floor beside them, hugging them both. Jaina knew his determined look.
Hethrir loomed over them. He looked angry. He stared, intent, at Anakin.
Then he smiled.
He crouched beside them. He stared hard at Anakin.
“As I hoped,” he said softly. “As I expected, from the Skywalker line.”
He reached past Jaina and stroked Anakin’s hair. The tangles smoothed out under Hethrir’s touch. Suddenly he grabbed a lock of Anakin’s hair and yanked it hard.
Anakin screamed in surprise and pain and outrage. Furious, Jaina bit Hethrir, right through his robe. Jacen pummeled Hethrir’s arm with both his fists.
Hethrir did not even flinch. And Jaina had bitten him hard.
Anakin’s abilities erupted around them all. The dark hallway lighted up. Light shone through Hethrir’s fingers. Jaina gasped. Hethrir’s hand looked like a skeleton’s.
Anakin’s light went out.
Jaina felt as if a wet cold blanket had fallen around her.
Tigris pulled Jaina and Jacen away from Hethrir. Jaina’s loose tooth fell out and stuck to Hethrir’s sleeve. Jaina was so surprised she stopped biting. Anakin stared at Hethrir, his eyes wide.
“Be quiet!” Hethrir said softly before Anakin could say a single thing. Hethrir’s voice was scary.
Jacen grabbed Jaina’s hand. She could hardly feel his fingers.
Staring up at Hethrir, scared, really scared, Anakin shivered. Jaina tried to go to him, she was responsible, she was oldest. But Tigris took her by the shoulder and stopped her.
“Do what you’re told,” he said. “Then nobody will hurt you, nobody will hurt your brothers.”
No one had ever treated her this way before. Jaina could not understand why anyone was treating her this way now.
Uncle Luke could affect her abilities, and Jacen’s, and even Anakin’s. A good thing, too! Anakin was too little to always know what he was doing. But Uncle Luke never made Anakin’s light go away. He never smothered Jaina and Jacen with a horrible wet cold blanket that Jaina could not even see, or grab, or pull off and throw on the floor. Uncle Luke helped guide her abilities so she used them properly and learned more about them. Sometimes he even added to her power to help her, to show her how to do what she was trying to do.
Not like this!
“Take these two to their rooms,” Hethrir said to Tigris. “Then return to me.”
“I will obey, Hethrir,” Tigris said. His voice was full of admiration.
“I want my tooth,” Jaina said.
Hethrir shook his sleeve. Her tooth fell on the ground. Tigris would not let her go get it.
Hethrir picked Anakin up. Jaina’s little brother did not resist. He could not resist.
“Please let him stay with us,” Jaina said. “He’s only three—”
She stopped for a second. Anakin would say, “Three and a half!” But he said nothing.
“We’ll all be good if you let him stay with us,” Jaina said desperately.
Hethrir gazed down at her. Now she knew the kindly look in his eyes was all a lie, and so was everything else he had said.
“If you’re good,” he said, “I might let you visit with your brother. In a few days. Or a week.”
He turned, his long white robe swirling at his heels, and carried Anakin into the darkness. The last thing Jaina saw of her little brother was his wide, scared eyes.
Tigris pushed Jaina and Jacen along the hallway, then around a turn. The wet cold blanket of Hethrir’s power still surrounded Jaina.
“It’s freezing,” she whispered.
“Nonsense, it’s perfectly warm,” Tigris said.
Jaina felt hurt and embarrassed, scared and mad. Even when she was little, no one had ever treated her like this. She always tried to use her abilities properly. To be responsible. As soon as she had understood what the word meant, she had known it would be important in her life.
She wished she had Mama to talk to. She was never, never, never allowed to use her abilities to hurt someone. But what about if she had to, what if it was to keep somebody from hurting her or Jacen, what if it was to defend her little brother? She was as responsible for Anakin as she was for the right use of what she could do.
She was supposed to use the barrier for defense. But she already knew that would not work.
Hethrir can stop the barrier, Jaina thought. He wouldn’t do that, if he was really our hold-father. I don’t believe he knows Papa and I don’t believe he’s friends with Mama.
Finally she thought—the thought was like the sun coming up, here in this dark hallway—And I don’t believe Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke are dead!
This time she really believed it.
She tried to catch Jacen’s eye, to see if he knew Mama and Papa were alive.
She turned her head to look at Jacen. Tigris put his hand on the side of her face—his hand was warm, and he was not mean, but his purpose was clear—and made her look forward again.
“Here we walk straight and tall,” he said. “With our eyes straight ahead, to see what we must face.”
“That’s silly,” Jaina said. “Then you miss a lot!”
“And we do not contradict our elders,” Tigris said.
“What’s ‘contradict’?” Jacen asked.
“Don’t be impertinent,” Tigris said.
“What’s ‘impertinent’?” Jaina asked. She did not know what either word meant, so if Tigris was trying to tell her that they meant the same thing, she still did not know what he meant. Now he acted as if he was angry, saying nothing and urging them faster into the dark.
Jaina wondered if she could burrow her way through the wet heavy blanket. It followed her and stayed wrapped around her. It was invisible, and when she touched her own arm she could not feel anything surrounding her.
But all the time, she felt like Hethrir had his cold hard hand on her shoulder. She kept trying to wriggle out of it, like Anakin wriggling out of her arms when she carried him. Trying to get free exhausted her.
The corridor ended in a big square stone room. The room was dim, but at least it was not all dark like the corridor. Faint gray light glo
wed from the ceiling. The ceiling was very low compared to the ceilings Jaina was used to. If Tigris reached up, he would be able to touch it. Hethrir would hardly have to reach to touch it.
The stone room had no walls, only wooden doors. Each door touched the door on each side of it. All the doors were closed. There were no windows. Jaina wondered if she could find her way outside, somehow, back the way they had come.
Or I’ll have to try every single door, she thought. There must be at least a hundred. Maybe seven thousand!
One of them must lead outside, she thought.
Then she realized, If this is a spaceship—which she had not been able to figure whether it was or not—then getting out won’t do us any good at all.
She was so tired. She tried to pretend she did not want to take a nap—naps were for little kids, like Anakin—but her eyelids kept drooping.
Tigris urged Jaina and Jacen into the big stone room. It echoed all around. He stopped, standing between the twins. Jaina was so sleepy that she leaned against him. She almost fell asleep standing up.
Tigris’s hand lay on her shoulder. It was the only warm thing in her whole world. For a second—just a second—his touch felt like a friendly hug. Jaina thought he might pick her up and carry her to a place where she could take a nap, and tuck her in like Winter did. And everything would be all right.
Then she remembered where she was and what had happened, and maybe Tigris remembered that too, because he shook her shoulder and made her wake up.
“Here!” he said. “None of that. Here we don’t sleep unless we’re in our beds. There’s no time for lazy napping!”
“I wasn’t asleep!” Jaina said, which was sort of true.
“Me either,” Jacen said.
He sounded as sleepy as Jaina felt. He must be wrapped in one of Hethrir’s heavy cold blankets, too.
But when we’re in bed it will be all right, Jaina thought. It will be warm and I can sneak my hand out of the covers and he can sneak his hand out of his covers and we can hold hands. And even if we can’t think at each other we can whisper.
Jaina’s eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred. She had never before had to think about sneaking just so she could hold her brother’s hand. She never had to think about sneaking before at all! And she could not remember the time before she could think at Jacen. She felt so cold and tired and hungry and lonely that she almost burst into tears again. She only kept from crying because she knew that pretty soon she could talk to Jacen and they could figure out what to do.
Tigris urged them forward. They reached one of the little doors. Tigris opened it. Jaina thought there would be another long corridor beyond it. She did not think she could walk down another long corridor.
There was hardly anything at all beyond the door. Only a tiny room, just the width of the door and only about twice as deep.
Jaina stopped, confused. Maybe there was another door at the back of the tiny room. But she could see no handle, no automatic controls, no mark where the door’s edge would be. The open door was heavy, scarred wood, while the inside of the room was the ugly, gray-glowing rock.
Tigris let go of Jacen’s hand and pressed him a few steps forward into the little room.
The door thudded shut behind him.
“Jacen! Jacen!” Jaina cried. She snatched herself out of Tigris’s grasp and ran to the door, grabbing for the handle. But Tigris pulled her away. From the other side, Jacen cried out her name. She could barely hear him.
“Come now,” Tigris said. “Don’t be a baby. Here we don’t shout and scream. We’re brave.”
Jaina turned around furiously. “I am brave!” she said.
She tried to hit him, but he caught both her hands and held them still, and she could not do anything.
“I am brave, and I want my brother!”
“It’s time to sleep,” Tigris said. “You won’t act so foolish in the morning. Come along.”
Maybe I can still talk to Jacen through the wall, Jaina thought desperately. Maybe it won’t be too bad.…
She turned hopefully toward the door next to Jacen’s.
Tigris led her away from Jacen’s room, all the way across the huge square hall. He opened a door to a tiny room just like Jacen’s, but as far from her brother’s as it could be.
Tigris let go of her hand. She looked up at him.
“Show me that you are brave,” he said. He glanced into the room and Jaina knew he wanted her to go inside without being told.
She looked up at him, directly into his large dark eyes.
“I want to go home,” she said.
“I know,” Tigris said softly. He hesitated, then gestured to the tiny room. “But … you cannot.”
She went in. She had no other choice. He closed the door behind her.
The ghostly gray stone faded toward darkness. Jaina searched for another opening. Another exit. A way to take apart the lock or the hinges of the big wooden door. She could find nothing, except a few splintery scuff marks where someone had kicked at the wood.
Jaina walked around her tiny room. She touched the walls. She found nothing. She knocked on the side walls, but the sound was very hollow, and she received no reply.
At the back of the room, her feet sank. She dropped to her knees and felt the floor. It was soft and squishy. The ghost glow was almost gone. She could see her fingers, but the floor was dark. She could push the floor down. The soft spot was just big enough for her to curl up on. She tried it out. She was cold, but that was because of Hethrir’s invisible blanket. She wanted her own bed. She wanted her own comforter, and Eba, the soft Wookiee doll Chewbacca had brought her, with a twin doll Aba for Jacen, after his last trip home.
The light went out. The room was very dark. Jaina shivered.
I’ll pretend, Jaina thought. We’re on a campout. But all the camping stuff got lost. Or maybe it fell in the water. It’s all wet. We have to fix it.
She thought of a soft camp mattress under her, just dried out, nice and warm. And her smart camping blanket. It knew when she was cold and it knew to warm up. It knew to snuggle down around her to keep out the wind. It liked to get wet sometimes—it liked to swim. Then it lay flat on the ground, because it did not have any feet. And it wriggled and shook until its fur was dry and warm and Jaina could wrap it around her shoulders and go to sleep. When she was little she even liked to sleep with it at home.
Mama is on the camping trip, too, Jaina thought. And Papa, and Winter, and Chewbacca, and Uncle Luke, and Mr. Threepio, and Artoo-Detoo didn’t come because he doesn’t like getting dirt in his treads, but he’s back home all safe. We had toast over the campfire, and Anakin is sleeping over there, and Jacen is here too, and we made cocoa …
A small warm point of light appeared before her, flickering like flame. She reached her hand out, and Jacen wrapped his fingers around it, and Jaina stopped shivering.…
* * *
Tigris hurried back to Lord Hethrir’s chambers.
I was foolish, he thought. Foolish and weak to coddle the children. I did them no good, to try to comfort them. I only make them foolish and weak as well!
He knelt at Lord Hethrir’s door. He did not knock. Lord Hethrir knew he was here. The Lord would acknowledge him when he was ready, when the time was appropriate.
Tigris used the waiting time to consider the errors he had made.
Finally, when Tigris’s knees had begun to ache, Lord Hethrir’s door swung open. Tigris felt the weight of Hethrir’s gaze upon his shoulders. He raised his head and looked into Hethrir’s eyes.
“You took longer than necessary,” Hethrir said.
“Yes, Lord Hethrir.”
For a moment, a moment only, Tigris thought to lie, to blame the extra time on the little children. For they were contrary and impertinent. But their impertinence had not caused him to take the extra time.
“I erred, Lord Hethrir. I spoke to the children. I instructed them, as you wished, but I spoke to them at unnecessary length. I was …
weak and foolish.”
Hethrir loomed over him. He did not express anger. He never expressed anger. Tigris wondered if he ever felt anger, or if his mind was too advanced for any such defect.
“You disappoint me, Tigris,” Hethrir said.
Tigris felt the disappointment. He was disappointed in himself. He never pleased Hethrir; he always failed.
“But you have confessed your error, so I will give you another chance. Get up.”
Tigris obeyed. Hethrir returned to his chambers, then glanced back impatiently.
“Come along!”
Astonished, Tigris followed Hethrir. Hethrir seldom invited him inside. He felt mightily honored to be brought into the beautiful receiving room, with its thick patterned carpet over golden tiles, its polished body-wood walls, its curving pipes of light tracing designs on the ceiling.
The smallest new child, Anakin, sat quietly in the middle of the rug. His energy was much diminished since Tigris last saw him. He had begun to shine again, with a weakly flickering light.
“You have confessed your weakness,” Hethrir said again. “That will help you find your path to strength. I will forgive you. What do you think of this child?”
Tigris regarded the little boy.
“He could be very strong,” Tigris said. “His light shines. You have placed him within a veil.”
Hethrir nodded. “An adequate observation.”
Tigris was thrilled by the compliment. Not precisely a compliment, but as near as Hethrir ever gave him. For once he had not displeased his master!
“Thank you, Lord Hethrir.”
“I shall take him to be purified,” Hethrir said.
“To be purified?” Tigris said, so startled he forgot his place.
This child, an Empire Youth? he thought. If my lord will present this contrary child for purification, why won’t he present me?
“My lord, he has no training—he isn’t a Proctor, he isn’t even a helper—!”
Hethrir gazed at him, without anger or comment. Terrified, Tigris fell silent.
“I will take the child to be purified,” Hethrir said again, as if Tigris had never spoken. “Take my message to the helpers: they are to prepare my ship.”
“Yes, Lord Hethrir,” Tigris whispered.
The Crystal Star Page 7
