Chapter 1

When he was eleven years old, Rhaga Venn killed a man.

He did not mean to. It was done in ignorance, without understanding the action or the consequences. At the time, all that mattered was the man, red-faced with fury, screaming and shouting at his mothers, the mob at his back, growing louder and angrier, the noise of it, the pain it caused his family, burning like wild-fire in his head.

The man lurched forward, arm raised. Rhaga's mothers stood firm, defiant, angry, horrifyingly small. The man shouted and struck out and stars exploded in Rhaga's mind. His fingernails dug into his palms as he squeezed his fists tighter and tighter. Hurt and humiliation rolled over him in waves. He was incandescent with them. His nerves sang, his blood pounded against his skull.

They told him what he did later. How he screamed and the man leading the mob had been flung into the air, so high that there was no chance of him surviving the landing.

All he could remember was that instant of searing fury, the single burning desire to strike back filling every atom of his being, drowning out the world.

By the time the Jedi came, he had already run away.

The enormity of his crime drove him into the wilderness, far from the farms and the villages. He was desperately hungry, shivering with fear and utterly convinced that he deserved to perish. Nightmare stories about the Sith and the monstrous Dark Side swarmed and shrieked in his head. He almost wanted a mighty warrior to spring from the stars and strike him down. Only fear for his wretched soul drove him to hide himself.

He felt her coming long before she yanked him from the undergrowth and that made it all the worse. Some stories made you think the Jedi must have wonderful thoughts, bright like stars. Her thoughts were not like that. There was something awful and cold about them, like a mirror in the morning. If she were a light, it was a stark one from which there was no hiding.

She had come there seeking a murderer. She made no effort to hide that intent or to conceal the penalty for using the Force to kill. He looked up into her grim, weathered face, crowned with horns and dark, straggly hair, and knew he would be shown no mercy. Running would have been foolish so he did not run. Begging would have been pointless so he not beg. Instead he stood there and waited, swallowing his misery until it choked him.

He did not close his eyes when she ignited her lightsaber, and the golden blade filled the world. Absurdly, there was no heat. It should have been hot, he thought. Beautiful as it was, like the heart of a fire, it should have been hot. Yet it gave off no more heat than a distant candle.

For an age, he stared into it, wondering, distractedly, whether he would feel the blow. Somehow, that he was about to die did not actually matter.

The blade went out so suddenly it left him reeling, the thunder of its absence making him rock back and nearly fall. The Jedi's hand landed on his shoulder, a quick touch to balance him again. He looked up but she was not looking at him. She was shrugging off her dark coat to wrap around him, guiding his hands to hold it tight.

She stepped away across the clearing. "Follow," she instructed, curt, as if the word took more time than she could afford. "Follow."

And he did.

She took him to a planet that had no name for the simple reason that no one had ever bothered to give it one.

There was a vast mountain range on one of its continents. They arrived on a clear day and it stood out as a great white scar across an immense grey and green tundra. The Jedi guided her ship to land in the shadow of one of the larger peaks. When they stepped out, the air was cool and fresh, a sharp contrast to the dust and ozone that permeated the little transport. Rhaga filled his lungs, savouring the taste and the way it chilled him through the heavy clothes she had given him.

The Jedi had not spoken to him once during the flight and she did not do so now, just heaved a bulky rucksack on to her shoulder and set off. She obviously expected him to follow. Or did not care whether he did or not.

They climbed along a trail that was barely there, hacking through tangled bushes and fording icy streams. An hour passed, then two, the day sinking into dusk. As sunset ignited the horizon, they crested a rise and he saw a wooden building nestling in a rocky hollow surrounded by clumps of ragged trees. Another structure, little more than a hut, sat some way further up the slope. She led the way to the door and gestured over the locks. The door opened and she went in, again without saying anything to him. Again, he followed. The room was dark and bare save for a single worn table and a heap of mats. The Jedi laid her bag on the floor and flipped it open, taking out a lantern and a bulky cylinder that he thought must be a stove.

He closed the door as she lit the lantern, then hovered near the threshold, not certain what he should be doing. She unpacked more equipment – a cooking pot, several smaller bags, bowls. As he watched dumbly, she began preparing a meal, unhurriedly and with the deftness of one used to doing so alone.

Only once the stew was simmering did she finally turn to him, expressionless and remote in the half-gloom. For a long while, they looked at one another. He wondered what she saw and was afraid to know.

"You will sleep in here." The words were as curt and grudging as before. "I, through there." She waved to an inner door barely differentiated from the wall. "You will rise when I decide and sleep when I tell you. You will cook. You will exercise. You will train. You will obey instructions when given and ask questions when you do not understand. Do you understand this?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Her eyes narrowed but she nodded as well and gestured for him to draw some of the mats over so they could sit and eat.

Later, curled up on the floor in that empty outer room, he wept into his blanket. The idea of never seeing his family again had numbed him. The reality of it tore him apart. He wanted to run home and knew that was impossible. He wanted to be forgiven and knew he could not be. But at some point, deep into the night, his tears ran out and in the silence he half-felt the Jedi's mirror-bright thoughts dancing around his dreams.