The Crystal Star (33 page)

softly.

Leia hugged him tight. "Oh, my dear.

My dear child." She held his face between her hands and kissed him on the forehead. "That makes them

hero myrmins--doesn't it?" He nodded, only a little comforted.

As Leia shepherded the children from the gathering hall, Rillao and Chewbacca met her.

"I found another group of children," Rillao said.

"Those are the helpers!" Jaina said. "They do whatever Hethrir tells them to, they're even meaner than the

Proctors." Leia exchanged a look of concern with Rillao.

These young helpers, Leia thought, may be much harder to liberate than my children, and the children

who resisted Hethrir with them.

"And we found the cook and her assistants.

Lelila, we must hurry, Hethrir is going to Asylum Station--" "So the Head Proctor told me. The Indexer

was right. But first we have to see to--" She gestured around her, distressed. Her strongest desire was to

fling Alderaan back into hyperspace and follow Hethrir.

But she could not leave the stolen children out here in nowhere by themselves. Leia hesitated, wondering

whether it would be harder to persuade Rillao to stay behind, or Chewbacca.

Chewbacca whuffled.

"Oh!" Leia said. "Of course--" "We will take them with us," Rillao said.

"We will take the worldcraft." "We'll take it away from here," Leia said.

"But we'll send it to safety." "A practical suggestion, Lelila." "How long will it take to move it?" "Only a

few minutes," Rillao said.

"In hyperspace, the worldcraft is as fast as any other ship. I will chart our course." She strode away, the

green silk pantaloons whipping around her ankles.

For the sake of the other children, Leia forced herself into a fragile calmness. Only a few minutes, she

thought.

Jacen looked up at her, his brown eyes wide. "It will be all right, Mama," he said.

"We'll find Anakin." Leia knelt and hugged him, hugged both her twins.

"I know we will. Very soon." Jaina leaned against her. "I'm so hungry, Mama." "Let's go find everyone

some dinner," Leia said.

The group of children cheered raggedly.

Jacen led the way toward the dining hall. As they approached, a tall and massive six-legged being

lumbered down the corridor toward them, tendrils wrapped around the handle of a great steaming

cauldron. Leia recognized the being as a Veubg, from a culture she remembered with great affection.

"That's Grake," Jaina whispered. "Who threw us food." The being stopped.

"What are you doing, Grake?" Leia asked.

"Taking the children's gruel to the Proctors," Grake said. "The Proctors' dinner is on the table for the

children." The children cheered and rushed down the hall.

Chewbacca hurried after them, to be sure everyone got a share.

"Go," Leia said to Jaina and Jacen. "Go with Chewbacca and get some supper." They ran after their

friend.

Leia glanced into the cauldron Grake was carrying.

"This is dreadful," she said. "It looks like old dishwater. Whatever were you planning to do with it?" "Give

it to the Proctors," Grake said.

"To see how they like it." "That's out of the question." Leia stopped. "You said --th was the children's

supper?" Grake would not meet Leia's gaze.

"How could you serve this to children?" "How could I not, madam?" Leia waited.

"Lord Hethrir ordered it." "You had the choice whether to follow the order or not!" "I did not, madam."

"Because you needed the job? Because he'd be angry at you?" "Because I'm a slave, madam. Because

Lord Hethrir has the power of life and death and punishment over me." Shocked, unable to speak for a

moment, Leia gently took the cauldron from Grake. Then she put her hands into the mass of Grake's

tendrils, and let the tendrils wrap around her fingers.

"I am most sincerely sorry for the manner in which I spoke to you," Leia said to Grake. "You are no

longer a slave. You are free. I cannot take you home for a little while yet. But I will." Grake trembled.

"Thank you, madam," she said, her voice soft and rough.

"Will you show me the kitchen?" Leia said. "And the laundry? There's work for me to do." "What am I to

do?" "Whatever pleases you." "It pleases me to cook real food for the children." "You do understand that

you're free?" "I do understand, madam. That's why it pleases me." "Thank you, then," Leia said. She

smiled ruefully. "I've never had occasion to learn to be a good cook." "Come along," Grake said

patiently.

"Never too late to start learning." She hesitated, glancing at the cauldron. "What about this?" "We'll throw

it out," Leia said. "And send bread, and fruit, and soup--real soup--ffthe Proctors." "Because it pleases

us," Grake said.

Tigris had passed his childhood on a remote, boring, pastoral world, kept from his destiny. Since Lord

Hethrir rescued him, he had lived on the quiet worldcraft.

Tigris loved Crseih Station.

The welcome dome of Crseih always overwhelmed him with its noise and activity. People poked at him,

plucked his sleeve, offered him sweetmeats and jewelry and a selection of robes, one of them a silky

white one that he wanted more than he had ever wanted anything material in his life.

But as Lord Hethrir preferred, he walked without pausing, without allowing himself to be visibly tempted.

Anakin reached for one of the sweetmeats. The sweetmeat-monger drew the tray away, spiraling its

wrinkly arms, and the tray, out of Anakin's grasp.

"Patience, small person," the being said. "You must pay, first." "Pay?" Tigris asked, curiously. He knew

the concept of paying, but only in context of Lord Hethrir's political dealings and his involvement in the

trade. Pay for food, for clothing? He tried to remember if he had paid for anything when he was a child.

He had a vague memory of trading, of being given gifts, of his mother providing aid to one of the other

villagers, then finding a bushel of fruit or a brace of game or a length of cloth on the doorstep the next

morning.

"Yes, pay! You are not a beggar and I am not a d-gder." The being extended an eyestalk and bent its

eye up and down, regarding Tigris.

"Or perhaps you are a beggar." Lord Hethrir had not even paused. He strode away, followed by the

phalanx of his Proctors. In a moment they would disappear into the crowd. Tigris scooped Anakin up

and hurried away from the sweetmeat-monger. The being followed, bulging along with limber

gracelessness.

"This is not a transaction of world-shaking magnitude," the being said.

"I have no account," Tigris said. "Nothing to transfer to you." "No one makes a transfer to buy a

sweetmeat! Where are you from, the planet of foolish people? All it requires is a coin of the least

magnitude." "Excuse me," Tigris said, slipping between two groups of beings and nearly getting tangled in

their tentacles. He had not realized, before interposing himself between them, that they were engaging in

some unexplained interaction.

The sweetmeat-monger caught up with him on the other side of the group of tentacled beings.

Tigris wiped slime from his face and his sleeve.

"I see you are from the planet of the foolish people," the being said. "You aren't safe to be around, even

to make a sale. Your pardon, small person," it said to Anakin, and disappeared.

Tigris rushed through the crowd, heedless of giving offense, trying to catch up to the end of the marching

Proctors. His lord walked quickly. A path opened before Lord Hethrir. But Tigris had to edge through.

He did his best not to run into anyone else. He wished Lord Hethrir were unaware of his moment of

distraction, his fascination with the material things being offered to him at the entryway.

Especially the white robe.

He knows what's happening behind him, Tigris thought. He always knows.

He labored after Hethrir, Anakin growing heavier and heavier in his arms. Hethrir never looked back.

The children ate with desperate appetite. It broke Leia's heart to watch them. She sat in the dining hall

with Jaina and Jacen, unable to eat anything herself. She cautioned the children not to eat too quickly, or

too much. She feared that nevertheless there would be upset stomachs tonight.

"I want to go home," said one of the little ones.

"I want to go home!" Soon all the children were clamoring for their homes, their families.

Leia knew exactly how they felt.

As Leia calmed the children, Rillao entered the dining hall.

"We'll take you home soon," Leia said.

"I promise. For now, a nice hot bath and a nice warm bed. How does that sound?" She saw a few

trembly lips and teary eyes; they wanted to go home now and Leia did not blame them.

She only hoped their families could be found.

Had Hethrir murdered their families in order to steal them? [ they all from the passenger freighters?

Or--were their families the people Winter had gone to meet, who thought their children had run away?

Rillao perched on the bench beside Jaina.

"The worldcraft will enter hyperspace soon," Rillao said softly to Leia. "Before morning, we'll reach

Asylum Station."

Hethrir strode into a lodge in a quiet park. The only sound was the ripple and splash of the water in the

pools and streams of the lobby.

Tigris followed. Anakin wriggled to get down. Tigris let him free, gratefully, then had to hurry after him as

the little boy headed straight for the irresistible ponds. He crouched down and splashed at the edge of a

still circle of water, patting the surface to spread ripples.

"My lord." The rainbow whirlwind wavered into view, hovering above one of the streams. "All is ready

for you." "Have my guests arrived?" Hethrir asked.

"Yes, my lord," the whirlwind host replied.

"They will gather to meet you when--" A purple humanoid droid clattered into the lobby.

"I simply do not understand," the purple droid said, "why you're being so disagreeable about this

situation." The purple droid followed a service droid, gesturing as he spoke. The service droid's large

carrying surface bore a couple of small valises, a scattering of opened and unopened emergency ration

packs, and a battered bunch of ugly flowers without a vase.

The carrying droid rumbled a reply comprehensible only in its indifference.

"Halt!" said the host. Its rainbow colors brightened in a threatening manner.

The service droid lurched to a halt. The ugly flowers scattered on the floor.

"What do you mean, performing an eviction through the front door?" "This is quite absurd!" the purple

droid said. "We are no more than hours late with the rent.

My human companions will return soon and pay you! They are very busy people!" The service droid

snatched up the spilled flowers with its pincers, breaking the stems and littering the floor with crushed

petals. The petals oozed pale fluid. Lord Hethrir watched without expression. The Proctors stood in

perfect array, but the droid's distress amused them.

"Mr. Threepffwas Anakin shouted. He ran to the purple droid, bouncing with excitement.

Tigris bolted after him but could not keep him from fastening his arms around the strange droid's leg.

"Master Anakin?" the droid said. "Master Anakin! Whatever are you doing here? Where are your

brother and sister? Where is Prin--yr mother?" "Bring the child back," Hethrir said.

"Who are you, sir?" the droid asked Hethrir. "I have not been instructed that you are permitted to attend

Master Anakinffwas "You have mistaken this child for someone else. You are in error. Perhaps you need

your brain circuits wiped." Tigris hurried to Anakin and managed to pry his little hands from the droid's

knee. The droid tried to interfere, but Tigris fended him off.

Anakin shrieked wildly. He kicked at Tigris's shins.

"Ow!" Tigris said. "Don't, Anakin, come away, leave the Mr. Droid alone. Your pardon, sir." "Who are

you, young sir? What are you doing with Master Anakin?" As soon as Tigris freed Anakin from the

droid's legs, Lord Hethrir strode past him, drawing his lightsaber.

The lightsaber flamed wildly. Its energy blade arced through the droid's head and body. The handle

back-flashed. Sparks pierced the air, searing it into ozone. Lord Hethrir shouted a curse--his

high-pitched shout startled Tigris even more than the failure of the lightsaber--and dropped the handle.

The blade seared a fissure into the smooth flagstone, flashed to brilliance, and faded.

Tigris had never seen anything like it.

The droid, frozen in place, toppled onto the stone floor with a great metallic clank. He shivered violently,

then fell quiet. Purple paint flaked from him, revealing patchy bits of gold.

Anakin screamed and struggled. "Mr.

Threep! Mr. Threep!" Tigris scooped him up and held him, despite his crying and kicking.

"It's all right, little one," he whispered.

"Shh, shh." Confused and angry and exhausted after the long trip and the long confinement, Anakin

lapsed into frustrated sobs.

"Fetch my lightsaber," Hethrir said to Tigris.

Frightened but resolute, Tigris bent down awkwardly, holding Anakin in one arm, and picked up the

pommel of the lightsaber. He was sure it would explode; instead, it felt dead in his hand. He offered it to

Lord Hethrir, but the Lord ignored him.

"I do beg your pardon for this unforgivable disturbance," the whirlwind host said to Lord Hethrir. "The

droid clearly has twisted circuits. It already tried to defraud me!" "Secure the droid," Hethrir said. "It's

dangerous. Later perhaps we will wipe it and recycle it." "Very well, my lord," the whirlwind said.