Anakin wriggled furiously in Jaina’s arms, trying to get down.
“Bad mens, Jaya!” he said. “Bad mens!”
“Stop wiggling, Anakin,” Jaina said. She hugged her little brother, but that just made him struggle even more. His face was streaked with furious tears. He had stopped crying, but he was still so angry and scared that his whole body trembled.
“Papa!” he shouted. “Papa! I want Papa!” He started to cry again.
Jaina was scared, too, and confused. She pretended not to be.
They were on a perfectly circular patch of Munto Codru feather grass. Jacen and Mr. Chamberlain’s black-furred wyrwulf slept on the grass beside Jaina. Jaina wanted to wake Jacen up. But she had just woken up. Waking up had hurt. It never hurt to wake up before. Never before in her whole life.
The patch of grass was not part of the meadow anymore. It was in a big metal room. It sat in the middle of the metal floor, as if someone had cut it out with a big round cookie-cutter. Metal walls rose very high above, all around. Jaina could not see any doors. She could not see any windows. Big lights glared down at her from the ceiling.
“Don’t cry, Anakin,” Jaina said. “Don’t cry. I’ll take care of you. I’m five, so I’ll take care of you, because you’re only three.”
“Three and a half!” he said.
“Three and a half,” she said.
He sniffled and rubbed his sticky face. “Want Papa,” he said.
Jaina wished Papa was here, too. And Mama. And Winter. And Chewie. But she did not say so. She had to be the adult. She was oldest. She was almost already getting her grown-up teeth. Her right front tooth was really loose. She wiggled it with her tongue while she thought what to do.
She was two years older than Anakin. Okay, one and a half years older. She was only five minutes older than Jacen. They were twins, even though they did not look exactly alike. Her hair was light brown and very straight. Jacen’s was dark and curly. But she was still oldest.
“Down!” Anakin demanded. “Jaya, down!”
“I’ll let you down,” Jaina said, “if you promise to stay on the grass.”
Anakin stuck out his lower lip. His dark eyes sparkled with tears of frustration and anger. He was always stubborn when anyone said no to him. About anything.
“Promise?” Jaina said.
“Stay on the grass,” he said.
She let him down. He dashed across the grass. He peered over the edge. Jaina took her gaze off him for a second. She crouched down next to Jacen, wishing he would wake up. The wyrwulf twitched and moaned.
Jaina looked around for Anakin. He was sticking his foot over the edge of the grass. Jaina ran after him and pulled him back.
“I said stay on the grass!”
“Am on the grass,” he insisted. He pointed toward the floor. “Just a floor, Jaya. No krakana!”
The last place they had been, on Mama’s tour, they had not been allowed to swim in the ocean. Mon Calamari was mostly ocean, and its ocean was full of krakana. Krakana would eat anything, even children. Especially children.
Now, every time anybody told Anakin “no,” he would argue by saying, “No krakana!”
Jaina did not want to scare him. She did not know if there was anything to be scared of yet. She wished she knew how they had gotten here. Something bad must have happened, but maybe getting taken away like this was how they got rescued.
She wished Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke and Winter and Chewie and Mr. Threepio were here. Or even just one of them.
Jacen whimpered. Jaina grabbed Anakin’s hand and pulled him across the little patch of grass to her twin’s side.
“Hold Jasa’s hand,” Jaina said. Anakin grabbed Jacen’s hand in both his little fists. Jaina took Jacen’s other hand.
“Jasa, Jasa, wake up,” Anakin said. “Sleepy-bones!”
Jacen opened his eyes. “Ouch!” he said, just as Jaina said, “Ouch!” She could feel what he felt. He could feel what she felt. Jaina’s head hurt, like somebody was screaming in her ear.
Their eyes were filled with tears. Jaina’s lower lip trembled. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying. Her front tooth wiggled.
She made the scream and the hurt go away. From her and from Jacen, before he was all awake.
She was not supposed to use her Jedi abilities unless Uncle Luke was with them. Jacen was not supposed to. Anakin especially was not supposed to. Uncle Luke was teaching them what to do. How to do it right.
But sometimes it was hard not to do something. Like now.
Jacen sat up. Bits of grass stuck to his homespun shirt. Some were stuck in his curly dark brown hair. Jaina brushed her hands against her own hair, but she did not find any grass blades. Her light brown hair was very straight, so hardly anything ever got tangled in it. Jacen roughed his fingers through his hair, leaving it rumpled as usual. The grass fell out.
“Okay now?” she said.
“Okay now,” Jacen said. He looked around. “Where are we?”
“Remember what happened?”
“We were playing with Chewie—”
“—and he jumped up—”
“—and then he fell down—”
“—and then I went to sleep.”
“Me too.”
“Skiff!” Anakin said. “Jaya forgot the skiff!”
“What skiff?”
“I saw it!” Anakin insisted.
“This isn’t a skiff!” Jacen said.
He was right. The room they were in could hold a whole skiff.
“Maybe the skiff brought us here.”
“Where?” Jacen said.
Jaina shrugged. They might be on a spaceship. They might be in a great big building. They might even still be on Munto Codru, underground. Jaina and Jacen had explored under the castle. They had found halls and caves and tunnels. But they had never found any place that looked like this.
“Are you okay, wyrwulf?” Jacen bent over Mr. Chamberlain’s wyrwulf and stroked its fur. The black undercoat shone beneath the rougher, duller black guard hairs. The wyrwulf’s eyelids flickered. It whimpered and sat up, panting.
“Good woof,” Anakin said.
Jacen looked around. “Maybe Chewie is here someplace, maybe he’s still asleep too.” He jumped to his feet and walked right off the edge of the grass.
Nothing happened.
“See, Jaya?” Anakin said, pleased with himself. “No krakana!” He ran after Jacen. The wyrwulf trotted after them.
Jaina took one step after Jacen and Anakin. She stopped. She was sure that if they stayed on the grass, nothing could hurt them. But she did not want her brothers to go off alone. She was the oldest, after all.
She ran back to the center of the safe patch. She stooped and pushed aside fronds of feather grass. She was looking for her multitool. She knew it was here. She had brought it to the field to look at things with. When Chewie fell down, she had jumped up. Then she had fallen asleep. She must have dropped it.
There!
Jaina snatched up the tool. She shoved it deep into her pocket to keep it hidden. With her multitool she would be safe.
She ran after her brothers.
Her feet clanged on the metal floor. She caught up to Jacen. He was looking at the wall. Anakin did not bother to look. He kicked it.
“Bad wall!”
“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself,” Jacen said.
Anakin glowered and bumped the toe of his shoe against the wall. Not kicking. Not kicking for real,
“There’s got to be a door,” Jacen said reasonably. “For us to come in.”
“Maybe there’s a trapdoor,” Jaina said. “A secret door.” She rapped her knuckles against the metal. The knock was very solid. She looked up. “Here’s the support,” she said.
Jacen, too, looked up at the ceiling. Narrow metal beams curved over them. The lights hung from the beams.
“We have to look for a door between the beams,” Jaina said. She walked around the room, knocking on the wall. She found some hollow spots. But she could not find a door. She took out her multitool. She opened the drill part.
“You aren’t supposed to do that,” Jacen said.
“I didn’t!” Jaina said. But she touched the drill part to the wall. She was only supposed to use it on something she was making in the workshop.
Not on walls or floors or furniture. Anyway it would not work on metal, only on wood.
She tried anyway, wiggling her front tooth with her tongue while she concentrated. But the drill would not do anything. It hid itself back inside the handle.
When Jaina was seven she could have a multitool that worked on metal. If she was good. If she was responsible.
She wished she was seven. Seven was a long time away.
She opened the lens part instead. She used it to look at the wall as close as she could. She thought she found a seam. A crack?
A door opened.
Jaina jumped back. She grabbed Anakin’s hand and pushed him behind her. At the same time she shoved her multitool back into her pocket.
She and Jacen stood side by side, defending their little brother.
The wyrwulf crouched and growled.
Anakin wailed and tried to burrow his way between Jaina and Jacen, to see what was happening.
A tall and very beautiful man walked out. He had gold- and copper- and cinnamon-colored striped hair, very pale skin, and very big black eyes. His face was sharp and thin, all corners. He wore a long white robe.
He smiled down at Jaina.
“You poor children,” he said.
He knelt in front of them.
“My poor children! I’m so sorry. Come to me, I’ll keep you safe from now on.”
“I want Papa!” Anakin shouted. “Mama!”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” Jaina said with her best court manners. “We can’t go to you.”
“We aren’t allowed,” Jacen explained. “We don’t know you.”
“Ah, children, don’t you remember me? No, how could you, you were only just born. I’m your hold-father Hethrir!”
Jaina stared at him, uncertain. She had never heard of any Hold-father Hethrir. But she and Jacen had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers. Anakin had lots of hold-fathers and hold-mothers.
“Candy?” Anakin asked hopefully.
The beautiful man smiled. “Of course. As soon as we get you cleaned up.”
Their hold-parents always brought them toys, and treats that were not often allowed otherwise.
“Do you know the password?” Jaina asked. Mama had told her never to go with anyone who did not know the password.
Hold-father Hethrir sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.
The wyrwulf flopped to the deck, leaning its head on its fangs, and stared at Hold-father Hethrir.
“Children,” Hethrir said, “a terrible thing has happened. I came to visit you, to see my sweet friend Leia and my old comrade Han. To meet your Uncle Luke. But when I came, I saw a horrible thing! An earthquake!” He cocked his head at Jaina. “Do you know what an earthquake is?”
Uneasily, Jaina nodded.
“I’m sorry, children. The castle—it was so old! It fell down, and …”
He stopped, and took a deep breath. Jaina’s lower lip started to quiver again. Her eyes got all blurry. She blinked. She did not want to hear what Hold-father Hethrir had to say.
“Your mama was in the castle. And your papa, and your Uncle Luke. You were in the meadow—do you remember?—and the ground opened up and swallowed friend Chewbacca, and you were about to slide down into the horrible crack in the earth, but I was right there and I swooped down and I saved you. But I couldn’t save friend Chewbacca, and …” He glanced down, and wiped a tear from his cheek, and looked up again. “I’m so sorry, children, we could not rescue your mama or your papa or your uncle.”
Anakin started to wail. “Papa! Mama! Uncle Luke!”
Jaina clutched his hand and pulled him close. “Don’t cry,” she whispered. Anakin stopped wailing, but he still sniffled and sobbed.
“But Papa and Uncle Luke—” Jacen’s voice was trembly, but suspicious.
Jaina nudged him. He shut up.
“None of that, now.” Hold-father Hethrir smiled.
Somehow, he knew what she had done. And it made him angry, though he was smiling. Scared, Jaina pulled back inside herself. She pretended she had never touched Jacen with her mind.
“If I had landed, if the earthquake had not happened, your mama and papa would have introduced you to me. They would have told me your password. We would have had a party, and we would have been friends!”
He stretched both his hands toward Jaina and Jacen.
“Your dear family is gone, my children. The Republic asked me to take you, to keep you, to protect you and teach you. I am so sorry … that your mama and papa are dead.”
Jaina huddled together with her brothers. How could it be true? But why would anyone lie about it?
“We—we’re supposed to go with Winter,” Jaina said. Her voice trembled. “If anything hap—”
“Winter? Who is Winter?”
“She’s our nanny,” Jaina said.
“She went on a trip,” Jacen said.
“Are you keeping us till she comes home?”
“Can we call her?” Jacen said hopefully.
“She’d come right back,” Jaina said.
“Her services are no longer necessary,” Hold-father Hethrir said. “Children, children! You are important! Your abilities are precious! You cannot be raised, you cannot be taught, by a servant.”
“She isn’t! She’s our friend!”
“She has her own life to live, she cannot raise you properly with no one to pay for you.”
“We wouldn’t eat much,” Jacen said hopefully.
Jaina wanted to say Hold-father Hethrir was a liar!—and run away. But she had nowhere to run. And maybe Papa and Uncle Luke had come home, while she and her brothers were in the meadow, and maybe the earthquake had come before Papa came out to greet them, and maybe Hold-father Hethrir really had rescued them.
And maybe Winter really wouldn’t come back. Not ever.
Or maybe Hold-father Hethrir did not know that Papa and Uncle Luke and Mr. Threepio had gone on a secret mission. No one was supposed to know about the secret mission, except Chewbacca and Mama—but Jaina did! And she had told Jacen, of course, because he was her twin. Maybe no one could tell Hold-father Hethrir because then Papa and Uncle Luke would be in danger. That meant Papa and Uncle Luke might be all right. But she could not say so, because then she would put Papa and Uncle Luke in danger.
Anakin huddled against her, sniffling. He was trying not to cry, but his tears left a cold wet spot on her shirt. Mr. Chamberlain’s wyrwulf had edged closer to Jaina, too, and leaned unhappily against her side.
Or maybe, Jaina thought, Hold-father Hethrir isn’t who he says he is. Maybe he’s making it all up, about the earthquake.
Maybe he stole us.
Maybe Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke and Chewbacca are all right.
Jaina looked at Hold-father Hethrir. His huge dark eyes gleamed with tears. He gazed at her, his hands outstretched.
A second set of eyelids swept across his eyes. Jaina could see through the second eyelids. They looked like smoke. They pushed away the tears. Then they disappeared again.
Without meaning to, without wanting to, Jaina started to cry.
Don’t cry, she said furiously to herself. Don’t cry. If you don’t cry it means Mama is alive!
She made herself stop crying.
“Jacen,” Jaina said, “you have to say whether we believe him. Because you’re the oldest.”
“I’m oldest,” Jacen said. “I’m oldest, Hold-father Hethrir!”
“I remember,” Hold-father Hethrir said. “I remember when you both were born, your mama and papa were so happy, they said to me, “Here is Jacen, our firstborn son, and here is Jaina, our beautiful daughter.”
He’s a liar! Jaina thought. A liar!
“We believe you, Hold-father Hethrir,” Jacen said.
For just a second, Jaina thought maybe Jacen really meant it. But then she thought, No, that’s stupid. She was afraid to touch him for reassurance, because Hold-father Hethrir would know.
She started to cry again.
It’s all right to cry now, she thought. Because I’m just pretending, because I have to, and Mama and Papa and Uncle Luke and Chewbacca are all alive!
She and Jacen and Anakin huddled together, all of them crying, Anakin wailing, “Papa! Papa!”
Hold-father Hethrir took Jaina’s hand. He took Jacen’s hand. He squeezed gently. His skin was very cold. He pulled on Jaina’s hand. She had to move nearer to him. She wanted to move away from him.
I don’t believe he’s really my hold-father! Jaina thought. I’m not going to call him that anymore.
Hethrir put his arms around her and her brothers. Jaina shivered.
“Poor children,” he said. “Poor little children. I’m so sorry your mama and papa are dead.”
Anakin cried harder.
Jaina and Jacen cuddled him. He sniffled. He started to hiccup. He fell asleep with his cheek pillowed on Jaina’s shoulder. He hiccupped again.
“There, there, poor children,” Hethrir said. “You’ve had such a hard day. Come along, it’s time for bed.”
Jaina stood up. She picked up Anakin. He was heavy.
“We always have our supper before we go to bed,” she said.
Hethrir stood up. He was very tall. He smiled down at her.
“But you live with me now,” he said. “And at my house, it’s time for bed.”
He urged them toward the doorway. Jaina saw another person standing in the darkness. Scared, she stopped.
“Come forward, Tigris,” Hethrir said. “Don’t stand there hiding in the shadows.”
Tigris took a step forward. He was not scary at all. He was not even grown up, only twelve or thirteen. He wore a brown robe. Jaina thought it was ugly. It needed to be washed, and the hem had come down.
He had striped hair like Hethrir’s, but his was silver and black. It needed to be washed, too. And combed. Her mama would never let her go outside looking like that. He had pale skin and big black eyes, also like Hethrir’s.
“Don’t make our new sister carry the child,” Hethrir said. “Show your manners.”
Are they brothers? Jaina wondered. How could they be, Hethrir is so old. And Hethrir doesn’t act like Tigris’s brother. I’d never talk to Anakin in such a mean way.
Tigris tried to take Anakin from Jaina. She stepped back. Jacen jumped in front of her to help protect their little brother. Together, they created the barrier Uncle Luke had taught them to make. No one would be able to get through it. They would not let Tigris take Anakin!
The barrier shimmered around Jaina.
And then it fell apart like a sand castle in the tide.
“Now, now,” Hethrir said. “None of that! Didn’t your uncle ever tell you not to behave like that? You’re being very, very bad.”
He knelt down in front of them again.
“I’ll teach you to use your abilities. The same as your Uncle Luke. But you must only use them under my supervision, until you’re grown up.”
Jaina hugged Anakin tighter.
“Do you understand?”
Jaina knew what was going to happen. She knew she could not stop it.
“Do you understand?” Hethrir demanded.
Jacen had backed up right against Anakin. Their brother was protected between them. The wyrwulf growled.
Suddenly the wyrwulf slid across the deck and crashed against the wall. Jaina cried out. The wyrwulf yelped and lay still.
“Woof!” Anakin cried.
Hethrir took Jacen’s shoulders and pulled him forward, away from Anakin. He pulled him aside. He did not even bother to move Jacen with the Force powers he had revealed. He did not need to. He was a grown-up. Jacen tried to wriggle free, but Hethrir would not let him go.
“Do you understand?”
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 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! 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.
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 Tigris!” 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 unnecessary. 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. The soft fabric slid across itself as the Lord moved. The sound made Tigris shiver.
The whining hum of Lord Hethrir’s lightsaber filled the room, and the silver-gray light of the blade cast shadows on Tigris’s empty hands. Tigris raised his head, to gaze in wonder as he always did at the radiance of Lord Hethrir’s saber.
The blade vanished.
“Try once more.” Lord Hethrir said, and gave the handle of the lightsaber to Tigris.
The handle of the saber felt warm in Tigris’s grip. The lightsaber was too large for Tigris’s hands, but he clasped it as best he could.
He knew what Lord Hethrir wanted him to do.
The blade of Lord Hethrir’s lightsaber could only be activated by the use of the Force. Hethrir would not accept anyone into his inner circles who could not complete the circuit and generate the blade.
Tigris tried, how he tried, to make a connection to the Force, to extend himself, to create the blade.
The child Anakin raised his head and watched with interest.
Nothing happened. The saber remained cold and dead.
“Mine!” Anakin said, stretching his hands toward Tigris.
Lord Hethrir smiled fondly at Anakin. “No, little one,” he said. “You have no need of my lightsaber,”
He returned his attention to Tigris, and sighed again. He took back his saber and fastened the handle to his belt, beneath his outer robe. Tigris caught a glimpse of the second lightsaber he carried, a smaller one, which Tigris had never seen him wield. Tigris was convinced that if Lord Hethrir would let him try that lightsaber, the smaller one, he would be able to succeed. But Tigris had tried to hint at the possibility, just once. The memory of his lord’s abrupt silence kept Tigris from ever again making such a suggestion.
“Go,” Lord Hethrir said.
“Yes, Lord Hethrir,” Tigris said.
He had disappointed his mentor. He had disappointed himself. And he was frightened.
Children who could not touch the Force did not deserve to remain in the presence of Lord Hethrir.
Jaina woke up because she was so hungry. It was very dark! Where were the moons and the stars?
Maybe it’s all cloudy, Jaina thought.
And then she remembered what had happened.
She gasped and sat up. She stuck her hands out in front of her—Jacen had been holding her hand, hadn’t he?—but she could not see him and she could not hear him and she could not find him.
The soft place in the floor turned solid again. Startled, Jaina jumped up. The spot the room used for a bed had disappeared.
She felt her way to the door. It was still the same splintery wood. The hinges were outside and so was the latch.
“Let me out,” she said. The door did not respond. “Open,” she said. “Please.” Nothing happened. She tried a couple of other languages. None of them made any difference.
She sighed.
I didn’t really think it would work to ask, she thought.
She was scared to use her abilities to explore the door latch, but she was more scared not to try.
The moment she reached into the latch, the heavy cold blanket of Hethrir’s power fell around her.
Jaina flinched and pulled away. She had managed a brief glimpse of the latch. It was simple but very big and heavy. A handsbreadth of wood stood between the latch and Jaina.
I could take it apart, she thought. I know I could. If I could just get to it. I could even put it back together and not have any pieces left over.
She shivered again. Hethrir’s blanket lay cold and wet around her. She guessed it would go away again, if she was good. She pushed her cold hands into her pockets. She just wanted to get warm.
Her fingers closed around her multitool.
She snatched it out of her pocket.
How could I forget? she thought. She opened the wood tool. She touched it to the door. She was not supposed to use her multitool on houses or furniture. But surely this was different.
A few splinters fell away.
The door cracked open. Dull light washed over her. She jumped back and shoved the multitool into her pocket to hide it.
“Ow!” It was so dark in her room that the light hurt. She squeezed her eyes closed.
“Come out,” Tigris said. Jaina could not see him but she recognized his voice. Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she came outside.
Tigris closed the door behind her.
She saw Jacen across the room, standing in front of his door. His shoulders drooped.
She ran toward him. Tigris grabbed her and stopped her. She wriggled but she could not get away. He made her stand in front of her door. She looked around the room. A child stood in front of each door, all different children from all different worlds. None of them moved. They all looked scared and tired, and their clothes were ragged.
Older children in rust-red tunics stood straight in a double line in the middle of the big stone room.
“We do not run, here,” Tigris said. “We wait for permission from the Proctor.”
Tigris pointed toward the front of the big room. A tall young man wearing a light blue jumpsuit stood at the entryway, watching everything. He folded his arms.
“And then the helpers show us how to line up, and we walk where we are told.”
The helpers fanned out, precise and expressionless, spacing themselves as if they were herding the ragged children. The children turned obediently to face the Proctor. Across the room, Jacen stayed stubbornly where he was.
Jaina glared at Tigris and did not move.
“Why?” Jaina asked. “I want Jacen! Where’s Anakin?”
“I told you we are not impertinent here!”
“I wasn’t, I don’t even know what it means!”
“Turn!” Tigris said sharply.
Jaina glared at the floor, just like Jacen across the room.
“Do you want your breakfast?” Tigris asked.
Jaina looked up. “Yes!”
“Then do as you are told.”
Jaina scowled and looked at the floor again. Tigris had to push her around. One of the helpers did the same to Jacen.
“Walk!” Tigris said. The other children walked forward, all in step. Tigris pushed Jaina along with them.
But she did not walk in step.
Jaina scuffed her feet on the concrete. Tigris tightened his long sharp fingers around her shoulder. But he did not tell her to stop, so she kept scuffing. The noise came in between the regular tramp, tramp, tramp of the other children’s marching feet. A second scuffing added itself to the sound. Out of time with her own!
Jaina shot a glance across the room. Jacen grinned at her. Then the helper beside him turned Jacen’s head straight forward.
But the damage was done. Jaina skipped a few steps, one foot, hop! the other foot, hop! All around her, other children broke step and hopped and skipped and jumped.
A red-gold centauriform child tapped her hoofed feet in a quick dance. She cantered in place, flicking her long tail across her spotted flanks. She raised her head and yodeled a joyful howl, and both Jaina and Jacen answered her.
Tigris hauled Jaina back.
“Stop! Be quiet!”
His fingernails dug into her skin.
“Ow!” she shouted. She could pretend it did not hurt, but she saw no reason to pretend she was not outraged. “Stop it! That’s mean!”
His grip opened for a moment, then tightened again, even harder. He made her stand still. Her abilities trembled at the brink of exploding, but she controlled herself. Hethrir’s power had begun to ease away. She was scared it would come back.
The other children stood still. Across the room, a Proctor clamped one hand around Jacen’s arm.
“We all must accept discipline,” Tigris said. “You’re a child. You can’t know what’s right for you. You must obey me, as I obey the Proctors and Lord Hethrir.”
“Why can’t I skip? Why can’t I run? Why can’t I shout?”
“Because it is bad discipline. You must learn to control yourself.”
That stopped her. Classes with Uncle Luke were mostly about learning to control what she could do.
“But Uncle Luke let me run and skip!” she said. “That didn’t have anything to do with—”
“Luke Skywalker is dead,” Tigris said.
“But—”
“No more argument!” Tigris said. “Stand in line quietly and follow the child in front of you.”
Jaina was glad Tigris had interrupted her. She had almost told him she knew Uncle Luke was alive!
And Mama too, she reminded herself, and Papa, and—
Suddenly Hethrir was beside them. Jaina imagined that she could see silvery symbols on his robe, across his shoulders and his chest.
“Lord Hethrir!” Tigris exclaimed. He fell to his knees.
“What is this commotion?” Hethrir demanded.
“I was explaining our ways to the child,” Tigris said, keeping his gaze on the floor.
“Do not explain,” Hethrir said. “Command.”
“Where’s my brother?” Jaina said. “Where’s Anakin?”
“You have behaved badly,” Hethrir said. He raised his voice so all the children and the helpers could hear. “I have canceled breakfast because of the behavior of this child. You will all proceed directly to the study hall.”
“That isn’t fair!” Jaina cried. “No breakfast—no breakfast for anybody—because I skipped?”
“Hush!” Tigris whispered.
Hethrir strode from the room without speaking to her again. His white robe swirled across the floor.
Jaina was so hungry her stomach growled. She and Jacen had had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday. Her mouth watered when she remembered the chowder and sandwiches, and the fruit for dessert …
“It isn’t fair!”
“You broke the rules.” Tigris climbed to his feet. “You’re part of a group. The rules apply to the whole group.”
“But—”
“Be quiet,” Tigris said. “Lord Hethrir hasn’t canceled lunch—yet.”
Jaina looked around at all the other children. She thought they would all be mad at her. No one said anything or looked at her. She saw, for the first time, how thin they all were, as thin as they were ragged, and she thought how hungry they must all be. She wanted to say she was sorry. But she was afraid if she spoke, Lord Hethrir would take their lunch away too.
She subsided. When the line of children moved forward, she walked along with everyone else.
But her steps were a little out of time.
Jaina was so hungry she could hardly think, and so bored she could hardly stay awake. She did not understand why she had to sit in this tiny cubicle with no sunlight and no fresh air, memorizing information that popped up in the air in front of her. Most of it she knew already, like her letters, and her times tables. The stuff she did not know, she could not understand why she would want to know. She stopped bothering to remember it. The score of wrong answers mounted in big numbers hovering over her head. She did not care.
She fell asleep.
“You must be a very stupid little girl.”
Jaina jumped, wide awake. She had not heard Tigris come up behind her. She stood and glared at him.
“I am not! I’m smart! Why are you so mean?”
He stabbed one finger into her ghostly score of wrong answers. His fingernails were dirty and bitten.
“You mustn’t think of me as mean,” Tigris said. “I’m only helping you learn discipline.”
“You act mean.”
“If you don’t want me to act mean, then you have to answer the questions.”
“They’re stupid questions!”
“You’re an impertinent child. Do you think you know what’s better for you than Lord Hethrir does? You’re very ignorant!”
“I’m not! I’m not! I like to learn things! These are dumb things!”
“How high is the highest waterfall on the world of Firrerre?”
“I know how to decide what stream is the headwater of a river,” Jaina said hopefully. “I know how to figure out how high a waterfall is, even if you can’t get to the top!”
“But Lord Hethrir didn’t ask you those questions,” Tigris said. “He asked, ‘How high is the highest waterfall on the world of Firrerre?’ ”
“I don’t know. That’s a dumb question, too—who cares what the answer is? I can look it up.”
“It is one thousand two hundred sixty-three meters high. Lord Hethrir thinks all educated people should know these facts. Sit down at your screen and learn what he offers.”
She could not see that she had any choice.
“It’s still a dumb question,” she whispered.