Darth Bane - Dynasty of Evil

by Drew Karpyshyn

  Lucia was also dressed in blue and gold-the royal colors-but she wore the dress uniform of the Doan military: dark blue pants with a gold stripe running up the leg and a tight, light blue shirt covered by a short blue jacket with gold trim buttoned up to the collar. Like the three Jedi, however, her head was bare.

  The Twi'lek stepped forward with a bow. "Greetings, Your Highness. My name is Ma'ya. My companions are Pendo and Winnoa."

  Serra returned the bow with a tilt of her head. "This is Lucia, my companion," she returned.

  Ma'ya's eyes flicked down to the blaster prominently displayed on Lucia's hip, but all she said was, "Please, follow us. Master Obba is waiting to speak with you."

  From the briefings she had reviewed during the trip to Coruscant, Lucia knew that Obba was a member of the Council of First Knowledge. As keepers of ancient Jedi lore, they often provided advice and guidance to the Jedi High Council. He had also been the Master of Medd Tandar, the Jedi who had died on Doan.

  The three robed figures led them from the landing pad through a well-tended garden, dotted by a number of memorials and statues. A small crowd of children rushed past them at one point, laughing.

  "Younglings from the trainee dorms," Ma'ya explained. "During afternoons they are given time away from their studies to play in the gardens."

  Serra didn't reply, but Lucia could see the flicker of sorrow in her eyes. She knew the young couple had been trying to start a family in the weeks before Gerran's death, and seeing the children no doubt brought back painful memories.

  They continued on in silence, the Jedi leading them to the foot of the northwest tower and then inside. They climbed up several flights of winding stairs; toward the end Lucia noticed that the princess had become short of breath, though neither she nor the Jedi had the same problem.

  And then, somewhere roughly a quarter of the way up the tower, they stopped outside a large door. Ma'ya knocked, and a deep voice from inside called out, "Come in."

  The Twi'lek opened the door, then stepped to the side with another bow. Serra entered the room, Lucia following a single step behind. Their escorts stayed outside, closing the door.

  At first glance, the interior of the room might have been mistaken for a greenhouse. A single large window on the far wall allowed sunlight to stream through, making it exceedingly bright and overly warm. Potted plants of at least a dozen different species lined the walls; another half a dozen grew from boxes along the windowsill, while still more hung from planters affixed to the ceiling. There were no chairs, no table, and no desk. It was only when she noticed a small, straw-woven sleeping mat rolled up in the corner that Lucia realized this was the Jedi Master's personal chambers.

  "Welcome, Your Highness. You honor us with your visit."

  Master Obba, an Ithorian, was standing with his back to them looking out the window. In the elongated fingers of one hand he held a watering can. Setting it down on the floor, he turned to face them.

  Like all Ithorians, he was taller than the average human-easily over two meters in height. His rough, brown skin looked almost like bark, and his long neck curved down and forward before looping up again, making it seem as if he was leaning toward them. Looking at the eyes bulging out from either side at the top of his tall, flat head made it easy to see why the nickname Hammerhead was often applied to the species.

  "This is my adviser, Lucia," Serra told him, sticking with their planned cover story. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Master Obba."

  "It was the least I could do, given your circumstances," the Ithorian explained, his voice deep and resonant. "My condolences on your husband. His death was a terrible tragedy."

  Lucia was no expert in the subtleties of politics, and she couldn't tell if Obba was simply a compassionate soul expressing real sympathy, or an expert negotiator trying to put the princess emotionally off balance by mentioning Gerran.

  "My tragedy is mirrored by your own," Serra replied in the formal tone of a practiced diplomat. Whatever the Jedi's intentions, his words had no visible effect on her demeanor. "Allow me to apologize on behalf of the royal family for the unfortunate passing of Medd Tandar."

  The Ithorian's head dipped in acknowledgment. "I grieve for his death. And it is of critical importance that we learn the identity of the person or persons responsible."

  Lucia felt her heart skip a beat, though she gave no outward sign of her anxiety.

  "I understand," Serra assured him. "The authorities on my world are doing everything in their power to bring those responsible to justice."

  "I want to believe you," Obba replied, "but you can understand if I have my reservations. Medd was killed during an attack on your enemies. There are some who believe your father-in-law was behind the attack."

  "That makes no sense," Serra objected. "The king wants to improve our relationship with your revered Order. That was why he agreed to let Medd come to our world in the first place."

  "There are some who believe the king used Medd to help find his enemies," Obba countered. "They claim that was his plan all along."

  "Medd's death was a tragic coincidence, not a part of some devious plot to exploit the Jedi," the princess insisted. "He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for the king, he had no knowledge of the assassination whatsoever. I give you my word."

  "Unfortunately, your word will not be proof enough to allay the fears of those in my Order."

  "Then let them use logic," Serra argued. "My father-in-law is not a fool. If he wanted to use the Jedi to seek revenge, he would have been smart enough to cover his tracks. He would have waited until after Medd had left before ordering the attack."

  "Sometimes when we are blinded by grief, we aren't able to look past our immediate desires," the Jedi noted.

  "Is that what you really believe, Master Obba? Or are you just looking for someone to blame for the death of your former Padawan?"

  The Ithorian sighed. "I admit my own judgment in this may be clouded by my personal feelings. That is why I must trust in the Force and allow it to guide my thoughts and actions."

  "There is no emotion, there is peace," the princess remarked.

  "You have studied our Code."

  "Only informally."

  "I should have suspected as much," the Master told her. "I can feel the Force is strong in you."

  Lucia's eyes popped open in surprise, though Serra took his observation completely in stride.

  "I fear I am too old to be recruited into your Order, Master Obba," she said with a faint smile.

  "Even so, the words of our mantra can serve you well," he admonished her. "You must be ever wary of the temptations of the dark side."

  "Like the talismans Medd was sent to find?" Serra countered. "That is what this is really about, isn't it?"

  The Ithorian nodded gravely. "As much as I grieve over his death, I must put those feelings aside and focus on the purpose of his original mission."

  Lucia was impressed. So far the encounter had gone almost exactly as Serra had predicted. During their preparations for the meeting, the princess had told her the Jedi cared more about ideology and the battle of light and dark than about living people. She had planned to exploit that knowledge to turn the conversation away from discussions of who had hired the assassin:with a little help from Lucia.

  The Jedi love to feel superior, Serra had explained during the shuttle ride. They consider it their duty to educate and inform the ignorant masses. If you ask one of them a question, they can't help but answer it. We can use this to our advantage during our meeting.

  "Forgive my interruption, Master Obba," Lucia said, recognizing the opportunity he had given her, "but are these talismans really that important?"

  "I believe they are," the Ithorian replied.

  "But:how can you be so sure?"

  "I am a member of the Council of First Knowledge," he explained, launching into a lesson just as Serra had said he would. "We are keepers of the wisdom of the Jedi. We maintain the Great Library, we ov
ersee the teachings of the younglings, and we seek out the ancient histories and Holocrons that will bring us greater knowledge of the light side of the Force. But we are more than just caretakers. We are also guardians.

  "Not all knowledge is pure; some is touched by evil. There are secrets that must remain hidden; forbidden teachings that should remain forever buried. There is a dark side to the Force. Unchecked it brings death and destruction."

  Lucia nodded as if absorbing every word, but inside she felt nothing but scorn. The arrogance of the Jedi knew no bounds. As a soldier serving in Kaan's Brotherhood of Darkness, she had developed a rather different view of the dark side. The Sith taught that emotion, fear, anger, and even hate-should be embraced. She had learned to draw strength from the so-called evil of the dark side, and it had helped her survive through war and years of suffering.

  The Jedi would never understand this. They lived in isolation, meditating in great towers at the center of the galaxy. They had no idea what it was like for the outcasts, the disenfranchised, and the forgotten people forced to live on the fringes of society.

  "The Council of First Knowledge is sworn to keep this terrible power from being unleashed," Master Obba continued, oblivious of her true feelings. "But the influence of the dark side is scattered throughout the galaxy, as are the tools it uses to spread: ancient texts of Sith sorcery; amulets imbued with malevolent energy; tainted crystals that can corrupt the minds of the innocent.

  "Sometimes these artifacts are discovered by accident, and they fall into the hands of unsuspecting victims. They become agents of the dark side, wreaking havoc across the galaxy:unless we get to them in time. We are trained in the handling of dark side artifacts. Some can be destroyed, but others are too powerful and must be safeguarded."

  "How would something like that end up on a remote world like Doan?" Lucia asked, still playing her part.

  "Humans have been living on your world for at least ten thousand years," Obba was only too willing to explain. "When the mining operations began several centuries ago, ancient burial mounds, crypts, and grave sites were often dug up, as were the remains of primitive villages abandoned long ago. On rare occasions entire cities had even been discovered, entombed millennia earlier in mudslides or ancient volcanic eruptions.

  "Some of these early civilizations worshiped the Sith and followed the ways of the dark side. When the people disappeared, the artifacts of their faith were often left behind."

  "How did you first hear about these artifacts?" the princess suddenly asked, seizing on an idea.

  "Nothing but a rumor," Obba admitted. "We heard word that a mining team had discovered a cache of items and was offering them for sale to offworld collectors. Based on the descriptions, we felt the items might have been Sith talismans. So I sent Medd to investigate."

  "If you heard about these items," Serra speculated, "then it's possible others could have heard of them as well. Medd's killer might not have been an assassin sent to avenge my husband's death. It could have been someone interested in finding the talismans."

  "I have considered that possibility," the Jedi Master confessed. "Though I had hoped it was not so."

  The Ithorian turned his back on them, clearly troubled. He began to pace slowly back and forth in front of his plants, as if to calm himself before speaking again. Once again Lucia was amazed at how easily the princess had controlled and directed the encounter.

  Obba had commented on Serra being strong in the Force. That might help to explain the commanding presence she seemed to carry. But, Lucia wondered, was it possible the princess was so powerful she was able to manipulate a Jedi Master?

  "Those who are trained in the ways of the Jedi are taught to live by the rules and tenets of our Order," Obba said at last. "We believe in self-sacrifice, and we believe that the power of the Force must only be used when it serves the greater good. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, there are those who fall away from our teachings. They give in to weakness. They succumb to ambition and greed. They use the Force to satisfy their own base wants and desires. They reject our philosophy and fall to the dark side."

  "You're talking about the Sith," Serra whispered. Lucia thought she heard fear in the princess's voice, but she couldn't tell if it was real or simply part of the game she was playing with their host.

  "Not the Sith," he corrected. "I am speaking of the Dark Jedi."

  "What's the difference between a Sith and a Dark Jedi?" Lucia asked.

  The Ithorian stopped pacing and turned to face them, instinctively addressing his audience like a teacher giving a lesson.

  "The Sith were the sworn enemies of the Jedi and the Republic. They sought to wipe us from existence; they sought to rule the galaxy. They united their strength in the Brotherhood of Darkness, drawing countless followers to their cause with false promises. They amassed an army of individuals foolish and desperate enough to believe their lies, and they plunged the galaxy into a war that threatened to destroy us all."

  Lucia remained silent as Obba spoke, though she tensed involuntarily at his description of her and her fellow soldiers.

  "A Dark Jedi, on the other hand, has much smaller ambitions. He-or she-thinks only of himself. He acts alone. The ultimate goal is not galactic conquest, but personal wealth and importance. Like a common thug or criminal, he revels in cruelty and selfishness. He preys upon the weak and vulnerable, spreading misery and suffering wherever he goes."

  "And you think such a one might be involved here," Serra noted. "You have someone in particular in mind."

  Obba bowed his head in shame. "Set Harth. As a Padawan he lost his Master to the thought bomb on Ruusan. I took him under my wing, and eventually I recommended him to the other members on the Council of First Knowledge. Like Medd, he became one of our agents, scouring the galaxy for dark side artifacts and lore.

  "But the temptation of the dark side proved too strong for Set. He rejected the Jedi teachings to pursue wealth and personal gain at the expense of others. Too late we learned that he had kept many of the artifacts he uncovered for himself. By the time I realized what he had become, he was gone, vanished into the galactic underbelly of lawless mercenaries, bounty hunters, and slavers."

  "So you fear that Set Harth, this Dark Jedi, may have killed Medd Tandar on Doan?"

  "If the killer was not an assassin hired by someone on Doan, then this seems to me to be the most likely possibility. If Set somehow learned about the artifact cache on Doan, he would have sought to claim it:and he would have killed anyone who got in his way."

  "He sounds like a dangerous man," Serra noted.

  "Now that the Sith are extinct," Obba proclaimed, "Set Harth may be the most dangerous individual in the galaxy."

  Serra stared at him. She thought of the black-armored man who had haunted her dreams for the past twenty years, and remembered the words of her father:

  The Jedi and the Sith will always be at war. They are each wholly uncompromising; their rigid philosophies make no room for mutual existence. But what they fail to realize is that they are merely two sides of the same coin: light and dark. You cannot have one without the other.

  "How can you be so sure the Sith are gone?" she demanded. "Weren't there rumors that some of the Sith Lords survived the thought bomb that destroyed the Brotherhood of Darkness?"

  "That is true. One did survive," Obba explained. "But now he, too, has fallen:though his defeat came at a terrible cost."

  "I don't understand."

  The Ithorian sighed, an anguished, mournful sound. "Come. I will show you."