The Crystal Star (9 page)

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 "cctradict"'?" Jacen asked.

"Don't be impertinent," Tigris said.

"What's "impertinent"'?" Jaina asked.

She did not know what either ^w 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 glowed 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! Jacenffwas 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 --x 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

unnec 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 receiveg 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.

Tigris rose, then hesitated.

Lord Hethrir cannot have forgotten the reception tomorrow morning, Tigris thought. Is he testing me

again?

I long to serve him some other way than carrying messages! I long to earn the right to be purified. I'm not

afraid of the danger! Perhaps, Tigris thought, Lord Hethrir believes I forgot the reception. Perhaps he

thinks my hopes are so arrogant that I cannot remember my duties.

"Is a member of the Empire Youth in residence, my lord?" "Certainly not. They are all working for the

Empire Reborn, undermining the New Republic." Lord Hethrir sounded impatient.

"Then, sir, shall I ask the Head Proctor to negotiate with your guests?" Tigris asked.

"My guests--?" Hethrir said. "The Head Proctor?" "Tomorrow morning, sir." Hethrir paused.

"I'd no more leave the Head Proctor to receive my guests than I'd leave you, foolish Tigrisffwas he said

sharply. "I have no intention of departing before my guests arrive! Why did you think I might?" "I

misunderstood," Tigris said quickly. "I beg your forgiveness." Hethrir sighed. "You continually apologize,

but you never change in such a way as to make apology unnec. That is what you must strive for!" Tigris

hung his head. He could not think of anything to say, except that he was sorry, and he did not want to say

he was sorry again. He was aware of the depths to which he had disappointed Lord Hethrir. He picked

at the cuff of his ragged brown robe, knowing how far he was from replacing it with the rust-colored

tunic of a helper, or the light blue jumpsuit of the Proctors.

Hethrir rose. His white robes rustled.