Heart of Ice
"Are you awake?
"How could I sleep with you by my side?" he asked, bemused, looking over at her slender form, half-hidden by the blankets.
Gently brushing his hand over her left flank he watched Solay's pale skin tremble under his delicate touch. Raising her head to look at him lazily she heaved a contented sigh and rolled around to lie on her stomach. She had closed her eyes again, inviting him to continue. Kell took to tracing the soft curves of her back and leaned closer, his long hair brushing over her shoulders, a small smile on his lips. Solay was awfully ticklish, he knew. As expected she whirled around to face him, a deep frown prettily marring her forehead.
But when she reached out to hit him Kell caught her right wrist expertly to turn her on her back. A move that did not prevent her from slapping him with her other hand. As Solay's fingers dug into his shoulder his smile deepened. He pushed her wrists down gently when he bent down to kiss her. She bit him hard, her teeth raking at the tender skin of his mouth viciously. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head Kell freed himself and licked his lips, tasting the sweet blood. She smiled at him and reached out to curl the long tresses of his hair around her left hand, twirling the loose strands around her fingers playfully. He watched in fascination. But then, suddenly, her face turned into a mask of anger as she drew him closer brutally, until their faces were only inches from each other. He was tempted to kiss her full lips again, but knew better than that.
"Why so angry?" he asked instead.
"You know why. It's what you meant, not what you said."
Very gently he lay his fingers on her left wrist, the pressure on her pale skin increasing ever so slightly. But Solay withdrew immediately, letting go of his hair with a furious pout. She had learned fast, as everyone did. But it was true: if he fell asleep next to her he could not be certain that he would wake again, for she might decide that his blood would make a most beautiful pattern on the white sheets. Being with Solay was what made him feel more alive than he had for a long, long time. And he almost regretted that he would have to kill her now that another opportunity for his amusement had presented itself. Hath Monchar had left Iridonia again, but he would return. How he hated this back and forth instead of a quick solution. It was like a very careful dance, a courtship even. The Trade Federation would consider Solay's offer and they would decide soon. Until then Algin had to be dead and Khameir Sarin on the run.
"Roj?" Solay asked, a hint of anger in her tone.
"Leave me alone."
She snorted angrily but did as he had ordered. Solay was sly, and he knew perfectly well that there was a lot of calculation and many tactics behind her madness. Undoubtedly she would find some way to make him pay, but he was looking forward to that. He loved surprises, from time to time. Just as he enjoyed a good challenge. And Khameir Sarin presented much more than that. Here was an opportunity not only to create a weapon of pure force, but also an occasion to test his last student's past accomplishments. Sidious spoke so confidently of power, but he had realized that his so-called truce with his allies put restrictions on him too. And he had felt those bonds, Kell was sure of it. Which was the reason why Sidious was looking for an apprentice right now. Undoubtedly the Sith Lord knew that his 'allies' would not take him seriously if he stood against them all on his own. But a warrior as adept and deadly as the young Zabrak could instill the fear necessary to distract them from Sidious' true intentions.
Rising from the bed he stalked over to the window, relishing the cool night air on his skin. The Sith had not changed since Roj Kell had learned the lore from the former Jedi Exar Kun. Unfortunately. His master had been a bitter man, as attached to personal power as Kell saw Sidious becoming now. But he had failed in the end, because strength alone did not ensure victory. And Roj Kell had tried to teach his own students that lesson. Still, none of them had been able to resist the attraction of all-encompassing power. They wanted to rule, they wanted the galaxy to bend the knee to them. A foolish desire. Darth Bane had been the only one who had made an attempt at securing the knowledge of the Sith when he realized that their numbers would always betray them to their enemies and that the internal squabblings would always lead to defeat. So he had established the rule that there would be only two Sith at any time, a master and an apprentice.
"Roj?"
Annoyed, he turned his head to stare at the pale oval that was Solay's face. "What is it now?"
"Nothing."
He shook his head at her, then sat beside her, stroking her shoulder gently. Sometimes she acted just like a little child. His face darkened. A child defeated me once, he thought, his thoughts wandering back into the past. Bane had understood the necessity of working not only as a team, but also in specializing on personal skills. Logically the master was someone older, seasoned in battle, and the one who guided the actions of the apprentice. That one would have to gain knowledge and expertise first, was a weapon, a tool for the master. A focal point for the Dark Side, all raw, unbridled power and potential. In that the apprentice became more powerful than the master, but more vulnerable too. Over the millenia Roj Kell had watched his apprentices closely, had seen them die, sometimes at his own hand or that of the Jedi. And he himself had always remained in the background, secure in his power and his knowledge. The Dark Side, as tempting as it was, was a destructive force that would turn on its master if not controlled properly. Roj Kell was too old to relish in the breathtaking rush of anger, hatred and fear. And he had seen far too much to take the Dark Side lightly. There was a difference between true control and mere dominance. Once Sidious had learned that lesson Roj Kell would be content, even though he knew that the other Sith would kill him if given the chance.
Tomorrow Khameir Sarin would be summoned to the town-house to discuss a deal with Solay Undan, a deal that would ultimately change his life, one way or the other.
***
Khameir let his golden eyes wander over ... the goods presented to him, to lure him. Silky black hair cascading down across her cheeks and bare shoulders, accentuating the pale flawless skin, bare feet peering out of the rich dark blue silks of her skirts, toes with carefully painted blood-red nails rested upon a footstool with such apparent abandon that the young warrior had no doubt the woman before him was well aware of the impression she was making. So this was Solay Undan, the famous mad heiress.
It would not be the first time for a job contract to take this sort of turn. But Khameir wouldn't let the heiress talk him into this. It wouldn't be professional, and it would damage his chances for a future immensely. He stood in a most formal posture, his head slightly lowered to acknowledge the lady's position, yet ... her feet were enticing. The long slender toes, with two wide golden rings decorating the long toe and the fourth, hinting at a touch of recklessness and a little barbarity, while the strong curve of the arch suggested an athleticism that might match his own. The delicate nails were carefully manicured to a most pleasing curve; the blood-red lacquer glossy and smooth, contrasting sharply with the gold of the rings. He gazed at the enticingly smooth skin, which never had graced a hard floor, or tripped upon a poorly set stone. They had a delicate scent from the rich lotion she lavished upon them but hours ago, a subtle scent of delicate lily, and an overture of rich musk.
Khameir swallowed, hands clenching in a fist to keep his fingers from reaching out to her. Noticing his reaction, the corners of Solay's mouth curled up, as she raised her ever-changing hungry eyes slowly on him, measuring him up and down.
"Hello, handsome."
Her voice matched her appearance, a sensual, decadent alto with near-hysterical vibrating overtones of a spoilt child. A voice that went with veiled glances from heavy-lidded eyes, a voice that spoke directly with the most primal urges in the young Zabrak's blood.
Forcefully Khameir jerked himself out of these thoughts. He kicked himself mentally for ogling the woman like a beast in heat. I am not a beast! He withstood bravely the scrutiny, and when her eyes finally reached hers, he stared back with barely disguised defiance.
"Khameir Sarin. You sent for me, Mistress Undan."
"Did I?" Her voice barely concealed laughter. "Well, come over here if I did."
Khameir stepped to the tiny table and remained standing there, suitably respectful.
"Closer." A foot tipped further out from under the skirts to indicate the spot where she expected him to stand. Khameir obeyed, even though he made the frown on his face a touch fiercer. "Still closer... Nice... Very nice. You might do... You have a good taste, Roj."
Startled, Khameir found they hadn't been alone in this room after all. Her lover, Roj Kell, was lounging in one of the deep armchairs. Arms crossed, he seemed to survey the scene with the barest attention, a slight frown creasing his brow. But the glance from his pale eyes seemed to bore into the young Zabrak more efficiently than a slender tip of a dagger. There was one who was more than he looked, Khameir thought. Interesting. A second one in such a short time. Seeing Khameir's surprise, Solay barked a laugh.
"Oh yes, he's keeping a close watch on me—are you not, Roj? I might have a job for you, Khameir Sarin..." She produced a stack of credits and tossed it on the table; bare toes flexed and pushed it closer to the young warrior. Khameir didn't react. Solay smirked, sitting up. She knew the art of bargaining too well to miss the hint. "A rewarding job for a good man."
More credits were added to the pile. She rose, ran a hand over his forearm. Khameir shifted stiffly away from her touch, trying not to offend the woman, and at the same time to avoid being drawn into her games. After all, she was a lady, and he was nothing, a Loner, barely more than a ghost.
"Why don't you sit down and let us discuss it. Now, let us see if I could persuade you... We'd be most grateful if you could help us out of our current predicament."
"Solay."
The woman almost yelped at the cutting ice in Roj Kell's voice, her face distorting. Khameir permitted himself a tiny sigh of relief. "I'd be pleased to serve you," he offered gratefully, trying to forward the business. The next instant Solay seemed to calm down, and as she sat down again, her feet disappeared under her skirts to Khameir's great regret. He frowned.
"It is a rather discreet matter, you see, and one that requires great skill. Which you have, I'm sure." Khameir bowed. "We have a problem. A somewhat... inconveniently placed problem."
Khameir was impatient with these games. "Yes?"
A smile crept back on her face, as she rose, walking over to where the young warrior stood. "Ah, so sure of yourself... I like that. Algin."
Khameir froze. This was not good. It would dash his hopes to gain any position under Lord Algin forever. Yet there was no way he could refuse now, and still retain his warrior's honour. He had been made part of a conspiracy, and now it was up to him to come out of it. The hesitation lasted only a moment.
"Very well."
"Good." Roj Kell rose from his chair. Thus dismissed, Khameir bowed and left, wondering. It was clearly Roj Kell who was behind this, and Solay was only a decoy, a name. But if so, why had Kell pushed her forward in the first place, and why had he afterwards revealed his role in it? There was clearly much more going on there. Was it supposed to be a test for him? If so, a test of what?
***
Once Khameir Sarin was gone Kell gave Solay a slow smile that she returned with a teasing, yet challenging grin. She scooted over to the window to watch the young warrior stride across the courtyard toward the iron gate and Kell joined her presently, laying an arm over her shoulder absent-mindedly. Desire, ambition and stiff-backed pride, all these conflicting feelings had been almost overwhelming in Sarin. And a hint of anger. Anger at having let himself become distracted by a pretty face and ankle, thereby overlooking completely that he had not been alone with his contractor. When Solay had offered the job on Algin he had barely hesitated, all caught up in his warrior's honor instead of thinking about the consequences properly.
Of course, the man was young and inexperienced in some ways, but this he should have learned in the long years since his uncle's death: loyalty was only desirable if it did benefit oneself. He should have opted against the offer and taken the news to Lord Algin instead, thereby securing his own position. That was what honor demanded, to protect his betters and to make them aware of any threats to them. Solay was a stranger to him, noone he would ever have need of, except maybe as an object of his youthful daydreaming. Lord Algin now, there was a man who could offer him much more than credits.
And yet, Kell thought, loyalty and honesty too were a virtue, to a certain extent. But for a prospective Sith they were a hindrance on the way to greater being. He ran a hand over his forehead wearily. How could Sarin ever hope to overcome his master if he remained so fiercely honest despite circumstances? The worst thing though was his single-mindedness. He had no scope in the ways of the game, no strategic skills beyond those of a common warrior. A skill that had served him well and would continue to do so. But his vision was limited and most likely would remain so, since he had not managed to widen his knowledge in the past years. He was no boy anymore, but a grown man.
Finding Solay looking at him thoughtfully he gave her a tight smile that she returned with one of her own before she turned back to watch Khameir vanish underneath the portal. Kell followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing.
No, not a boy at all. The days of game and play were long over and yet Khameir Sarin was dreaming like a fool of greater glory instead of taking his chances. The favorable ones. Would he seek to please his master in hopes of great rewards? Would he be able to carry the flame instead of being burned by its intensity? Roj Kell was well aware of the fact that he let himself be guided by first impressions right now, but they seldom failed him. And he would still give the young warrior another chance to prove himself.
"What do you think of him?" Solay asked pensively and turned to face him. Her earnest expression seemed alien on her for those who did not know her properly. But Kell could see that she was just waiting for his answer, obviously wanting him to confirm her own opinion.
"He is adequate for the job," he answered smoothly.
She clapped her hands in childish delight: "Oh, I just knew you would agree!" Turning back toward the courtyard she whispered: "And he is pretty too."
"Definitely."
"You are not angry?"
"Do I have reason for that?"
"Of course not."
But the reply was only half-hearted. Not that he cared too much either. And yet a flicker of jealousy made itself known momentarily. It was ridiculous. He had never been someone who would mourn the loss of possession, much less a lover. If she wanted to play with Khameir Sarin he would not stand in her way. She would learn soon enough that this only lead to trouble. Namely to Sidious. Ah, there was someone he needed to get riled a bit more too.
"Solay, I will be back in the evening. Don't wait for me." She frowned at him, that trademark pout beginning to form again, but he shook his head and lay a finger on her full lips gently, asking her to remain silent. "I will be back, don't you worry."
It came out more a threat than he had intended and the sudden, gleeful light in her eyes told him that he had hit right on target. She would play her game, definitely. And unfortunately for her, Sidious was not someone who tolerated outside interference in any of his schemes. But maybe a little distraction would be good for both him and Sarin.
In fact, it would be just perfect.
***
Hath Monchar looked just a little bit flustered and he sounded even more nervous, when Sidious finally received his call.
"My lord! How can I be of service?"
"The trade negotiations on Iridonia. How are they proceeding?"
"Very well, my lord. They offer us unlimited access to ports and markets in exchange for investment. And—"
"Call the trade off."
"What?"
"Call—it—off," Sidious repeated, each word sharp and cruel as a whiplash.
"But ... but ... why?"
"Because I say so. This deal would not benefit you in the least. Besides, I have my own interests in the planet."
"Ah, I see."
"I doubt it. Hath Monchar, I want you to tell Solay Undan, and only her, that the deal is busted. Give no reasons, save a matter of trustworthiness."
"She has not been leading the negotiations."
"I am well aware of that. Just do as I told you." The Neimoidian hesitated and Sidious nearly sighed in exasperation. Of course, the Trade Federation wanted something in exchange, a recompensation for that lost chance. "You may reopen negotiations with Iridonia later, once I am finished there. The planet is promising, after all."
"Good, good. My lord, if I may ask-"
"You may not."
"Of course, my lord."
Sidious broke the connection briskly, considering his next step. So you think you can turn my allies against me? Well, I can do the same to you. Solay Undan undoubtedly knew her lover well enough to realize that he was playing his own game. And if not, all the better. Currently Roj Kell was using her resources to build a base on Iridonia, that much was clear. A base! As if the old man had ever needed one. But Sidious would surely not let him play with his own allies. The Trade Federation would work for him, noone else. And besides, if the deal got busted the government would not look so favorable on Kell's endeavors anymore.
And that is not everything. Not by a long shot. Smiling to himself Sidious raised his head ever so slightly. For that was the trick: ensnare your prey until it had no way left for escape. Kell did not work that way. What he did was use his victim's own feelings against them. A clever tactic, but this time it would fail.
***
Khameir looked up at the knock on his door. "Enter." The woman slipped in and pulled away the scarf hiding her face, and Khameir forgot to close his mouth, suddenly unable to say anything. They stared at each other for a long moment.
"Well, aren't you going to bid me to sit down?" she asked pertly.
Khameir looked at his hands and put away the—something—he'd been holding; he wasn't even sure what he had been doing before she arrived. "Please, do, Mistress Undan," he finally muttered.
He tore away his eyes from the pretty face and lowered his gaze to the feet he had worshipped. A mistake. She wore dainty sandals and a silver chain was adorning each perfect ankle. His mouth went suddenly dry as he thought of what he might do with her feet and tiny drops of perspiration appeared on the tender flesh around his horns. He would have wanted nothing more than to kneel before her and hold these feet in his palms and kiss them reverently... Realizing where his thoughts were wandering, Khameir tore his gaze away. Even were she free, she's still way above you, he chastised himself, trying to keep his eyes on the floor before him. And feeling horribly clumsy for standing there, not sure what to do and where to hide his hands.
"What can I do for you, my Lady?" Almost a whisper.
"Khameir."
Smoothly she stepped up to him, but stopped when he made no move. Her sheer presence and his youthful hormones combined had effectively incapacitated the warrior, and he tried to keep his gaze away from her, as if willing the beautiful young woman—a temptress, an apparition sent to seduce him—to disappear. She sighed softly, placed a palm on his shoulder, then moved around him until the hem of her skirts disappeared from his field of vision, to appear again behind the heels of his boots. Leaning a cheek against his broad back, she snaked her arms around his waist. For once in his life, regardless of all his warrior's training and superior reflexes, Khameir Sarin was totally helpless. He couldn't come to a decision, warring between propriety and desire, the need to get away from her tempting touch and the inbred command not to touch another man's woman. Waves of heat ran up and down his spine. He pressed his teeth together, not to let a moan escape; and it was sheer willpower and years of training that he didn't throw the wanton woman on his bed and take her here and now.
"Khameir," her seductive voice whispered as her warm breath caressed the nape of his neck, "am I so ugly in your eyes that you cannot look upon me?"
"No!" he rasped, immobilized in the prison of her arms and horrified that she might have misunderstood him so completely.
"Then—look at me."
"No! Mistress Undan, please—you don't have to do this. You know I would do what you bid. Do not tempt me so."
"Khameir, Khameir." She laughed softly, letting his name roll over her lips like velvet. "This has nothing to do with... you know what. This is for me." Something pressed against his back between his shoulder blades—her mouth? "And for you."
When he didn't reply, her fingers found their way between the folds of his tunic. He shivered, feeling almost dizzy, and a tiny gasp slipped from him. "Don't tell me this art is unknown to you," she teased. "Can it be? Nah, surely not. One eyeful such as yourself, and nobody?"
"This... will only bring doom upon us," he whispered, fumbling to find her wrists and pulling them away in a half hearted attempt to release himself from her grasp, yet wishing that she wouldn't let him go. She happily complied, sensing the young man was almost subdued, but still desperately hanging on to his beliefs. Solay's clever hands slipped out from his grasp and ran over his arms to his shoulders, finally turning him to face her—and he let it happen.
"Perhaps," she laughed lustfully, "but it'll be worth it, I promise."
***
Khameir opened his eyes at the sudden cold by his side, to see that Solay Undan had slipped out of the bed and was already wrapping herself in her wide and intricate gown. Drowsily he sat up, reaching for a glass of water to down the foul taste of depravity. How in the name of the merciful goddess had he let this happen?
"Do you hate him?" he asked.
Big eyes looked at him in puzzlement from a tangle of long black hair."Who?"
"Lord Kell."
Solay laughed. "Roj! He will never know!"
"I think you underestimate him." He sought for his own robes in a heap of garments and blankets, found them and began to dress.
"Don't be such a wuss." She sat before his small mirror, trying to comb and braid her hair as well as she could. Now and then her curious eyes traveled to the Zabrak's reflection, as he sat there, a tunic in his hands, looking at her. No emotion reflected in her eyes, no happiness, no remorse, no passion, no fulfilment. Only perhaps a measure of self-satisfaction.
An image of Solay's lover arose in his mind, the snow of his hair and the ice of his eyes, so piercing that he had only withstood their gaze for a moment before turning away. Whoever first said that eyes are the mirror of soul had never seen that particular pale green pair. And whatever abyss lay behind them... Khameir wasn't even entirely sure if that was real, or a mere projection. The young warrior had rarely known fear, but as sure as the skies, he knew that given a choice, he would not want to have Kell as his enemy. And yet, to be dismissed so flippantly by a woman... In a way, Khameir felt sorry for Roj Kell. He didn't bother to reply, wondering what it was that had happened between them. Solay Undan, much as he liked her form, was not only mindless, she was heartless.
Finally her curiosity won out and she could not stand his silence any longer. "Why don't you say anything? You think I did this for revenge? And what do you know of Roj?" she challenged him.
"You live with him, I am sure you know better," he shrugged, not taking the bait.
"Don't you dare to play with words, Khameir Sarin! I know the game better than you."
He laughed, then pondered possible answers, trying to find a way to describe what he had never tried to describe before, while he padded to the kitchen to make tea. Only when they both sat down at the table did he continue. "Roj Kell is—feels—more than he appears to be. Powerful. Deep. You cannot fool him, Solay Undan." The words seemed wrong, but there weren't any better ones he could think of. "I'm telling you this because I do not wish you harm."
Solay merely smirked. Then, "Just out of curiosity. How do you know him? Have you worked for him before?"
Surprised at the question, Khameir slowly set the mug down. "No, what makes you think so?"
"He sought you out. You specifically." Solay's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What is it between you?"
"I assure you, there's nothing," the Zabrak chuckled. And then suddenly he thought of something, something he could have seen before. "Unless..." Those two men whose presence had affected Khameir like no one else's. Could it be, that out of thousands upon thousands of humans and Zabraks walking under the sun of Iridonia by the grace of the goddess, these two were connected somehow?
"What?" Solay demanded, grabbing him by the sleeve.
"Nothing of importance, probably. Just that he suddenly reminded me of someone who came to me the other day."
"Who?"
Khameir reached out with his free hand to run fingertips lightly over Solay's cheek—to calm her, maybe to distract her. "One Darth Sidious," he whispered, curious how she would react.
Solay started at the name, and quickly covered her reaction. But not quickly enough. Khameir had seen it, felt it. "You know him, don't you?" he asked. "Who is he, really? What is it that drives him? Who or what does he work for? What does he really want?"
"Want? Didn't he tell you then?"
He barked a short laugh. "Of course he told me. He said he wants to teach me. But what I don't know is why. I doubt this is his ultimate motive."
Solay's eyes narrowed into slits. "Teach you." she snarled angrily. "I see."
"What?"
Her face contorted in a mask of wrath, she jumped up, her chair crashing down. Khameir hurried to her, fearing another fit of madness. "Teach you! You!" she shrieked almost inhumanly, banging her fists against his chest. "Roj Kell, I'm going to kill you!"
He grabbed her wrists, holding her; and when, after a few moments, she seemed to calm down, he brought up her hand to kiss her palm, shushing to soothe her. Her angry mood seemed to dissipate as unexpectedly as it had come. "Let me go," she sighed finally.
"Mistress Undan—"
"I am quite alright. Thank you, Khameir Sarin." She looked at him oddly, the corners of her mouth twitching as if unsure whether to smile or snarl. Finally she reached out a hand and tugged playfully at his side horn. "Such a clever boy. Of course you should doubt his motives. Always. Good-bye, Khameir Sarin." She pushed away from him and slipped out.
"Good-bye..." Khameir muttered to the door.
***
Lord Algin seemed pleasantly surprised to see him again. But Kell could sense the concern behind that friendly facade easily. It was about time to eliminate this threat, or else Algin would move against Solay himself. Very well. He sat down on the soft chair the noble had indicated. For a moment he took the time to look out of the window. Outside the garden boasted a whole array of summer blossoms. Red and dark purple mixed with pale blue and vibrant orange against the backdrop of the foliage's deep green. It dazzled his eyes and made him smile involuntarily. Evening was falling quickly, now that the day had crossed the border toward the night and he fancied that he could see the stars peek out of the darkening sky already.
"Lord Kell?". Turning his head slowly to face him Kell smiled.
"It is such a beautiful evening, my lord. Forgive my absent-mindedness."
"No, no, I understand. Summer is my favorite season on this world too."
Leaning forward the ancient Sith nodded at his counterpart gravely: "Lord Algin, I have urgent news for you."
"What news."
"It is—ah—a delicate political matter." He wrung his hands as if fighting himself and averted his eyes to frown at the wall.
"Of what sort?"
"You know, my lord, that the competition has reached a whole new level on this planet."
"Astoundingly enough there was no competition to speak of before you came."
"Indeed, that is true. But this is taking a turn that I personally cannot approve of."
"And what would that be?"
Cool green eyes regarded the noble icily: "Your enemies have sworn to kill you."
"What?"
"They came to me, hoping to gain my consent, but I refused to give it."
"Lord Kell, you are the second most powerful man on this planet. Why would you refuse a chance like this?"
He sighed deeply and shook his head. "Such methods may be common on Iridonia, but I am not used to this. In my opinion the mind is the primary weapon of a sentient creature."
"You are a businessman, Lord Kell, no warrior," Algin explained not without pride and straightened himself unconsciously. "We, the people of Iridonia, are not like your friends on Coruscant."
A humorless smile lit up the Sith's face. He had no friends on Coruscant. Well-meaning enemies perhaps, but no allies. "Maybe you are right, my lord. There is a lot that I do not know yet, it would seem."
"I have always thought that one never ceases to learn," the other replied calmly.
"All too true. Lord Algin, permit me to make you an offer. Concerning a common friend of ours, Khameir Sarin. Have you thought about that lieutenantship?"
"Yes—"
"I have asked him to act as your bodyguard and I must say that he is quite eager to enter your service. Apparently he hopes that this way he can convince you of his abilities."
"Oh, he has already convinced me. A clever move, that. If he can save my life I will be indebted to him. He is more than just a warrior, it would seem."
"I am sure that he will not disappoint you."
"No. But why should I trust you?"
Roj Kell laughed aloud. "No subtleties, my lord. I like that. Why indeed?"
"And your answer?"
"Trust me or die," he answered softly.
"You are a quick study, Lord Kell. But you have not convinced me yet."
Chuckling to himself the Sith Lord nodded. Indeed. But then, he had not even started this persuasion. And Algin would never know what hit him. Once he was finished here he would bring Khameir Sarin the good news. Roj Kell was looking forward to the young warrior's reaction. If he made the right choice ... The smile deepened. If Khameir Sarin could prove that he was willing to go through with his pledge with all its consequences the ancient Sith might reconsider taking him as apprentice. If not ... Ah, he would see about that when the time was right.
***
Cursing, Khameir slapped his thigh angrily. It seemed as if he had a wrong pair of hands today—he just wasn't able to adjust the targeter of his blaster. The feeling that he had always had, which had told him just the right precision point, was missing. To be honest, he wasn't able to concentrate at all. Of course, he knew where to place the blame: that witch-woman who still poisoned his thoughts and robbed him of his peace of mind. Ridiculous. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply; then laid the blaster aside, deciding to take a break to calm down, instead of continuing this farce of a warrior's art. As it was he had already spent a shamefully long time on it.
He wasn't afforded that little amount of rest though, it would seem; through the window he saw a sleek and shiny speeder pulling up to his house, bearing the Undan family crest. A tall, cloaked figure climbed up, his long white mane glistening in the light of street lanterns. Roj Kell.
Khameir knew well enough that there was only one person in this house who might be of interest to Lord Kell, and there was no doubt everybody in the neighborhood knew that, too. What puzzled him though, was why Kell would proclaim his ties to the lone warrior so openly. What would he achieve from this? Even if the visit was to call off their—contract—surely making it so public would equal to admitting they had it at all! Then the only solution would be that Solay... No, it couldn't be. Kell didn't strike him as someone who would bring private matters into the public like that. But he couldn't think of any other reason ... Unless ...
Unless his instinct about the more than casual similarity between Roj Kell and Darth Sidious was right. Instinct told Khameir that there was something that reached out from them to touch him. So perhaps their interest in him was based on the same grounds? However, he couldn't figure out the whats and whys of it, so he dismissed the feeling as mere wishful thinking. A desire to be wanted and recognized.
Besides, Khameir reasoned, this wasn't meant to be anyway. Even if Kell would make an offer now, Khameir was sure the man would sooner or later learn of the tryst he had had with Solay—as he had told her earlier, this man could not be deceived. A mutually beneficial relationship could not be started on foul soil. Well, no use speculating—there was only one way to find out for sure what it was all about.
"The door is open," he called when the footsteps stopped behind his door.
"You were expecting me?" Kell said, letting himself in.
"I saw you arrive."
"Ah." Kell flashed him a smile and closed the door carefully. He looked around, noted the dismantled blaster and gave the Zabrak a probing glance. Khameir wondered if the older man could see the signs of his perturbation in it. They sat down."I will come straight to the point," Roj Kell announced. "There's something you need to know to plan the work. There's been a slight—shall we say redirection—of plans. You will gain entrance to Algin's household; I've taken care of that." Khameir's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. "You will go to Algin's household as a bodyguard, my special gift to him."
"Bodyguard! But—"
"No buts. Then... you understand, of course. Discretion is most essential."
Khameir understood, of course. In his not so long life he had seen enough machinations to recognize one. Whatever the outcome, Kell would appear innocent, a friend who had done what he could to protect Algin. Whereas Khameir, as a masterless warrior, would automatically be suspect. He was aware that the scheme would put him in double danger, but that was not what rankled him most. It was not assassination, clean and pure, a test of skills and power. He was required to actually betray his victim first. Protest flared up in Khameir as he glared at Kell with a badly concealed disapproval.
"Pardon, my lord, I do not understand. What is it you actually want to achieve?"
Kell laughed. "Observant. Isn't it quite obvious then?"
"I've pledged myself to your service, and I think I would serve you better if I understood your goals."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is not the time or place to make sure."
Khameir jumped to his feet and paced back and forth in agitation. Finally he came to a rest before the other man. "Lord Kell, you want me to go to Lord Algin, give him my word of honor to protect him as I would protect you, and then betray him."
"Well, you could put it like that, I suppose," Kell said lazily.
"I do not like it."
"You've made that abundantly clear. But the question is, will you do it?"
"And my other option is to back out from my pledge to you, to betray you. You're more than devious, Lord Kell. Will you release me?"
"I will not." Roj Kell arched an eyebrow. "So?"
Khameir lowered his eyes in defeat once again. "I do not have a choice."
Kell sighed. "Young Khameir, you will never be on the winning side unless you make your beliefs and principles your slaves, not the other way round."
"The world is based on relations between individuals," the warrior said with barely restrained passion. "If there weren't proper rules in this game, where do you think the world would be?"
"Survival is the key, Khameir."
"But not survival as a deceitful beast! Survival as a civilized being."
Roj Kell gave the idealistic young man a mirthless smile. Leaning back in his chair he closed his eyes briefly. How to bring his point across? With a sigh he looked again at the earnest expression on Sarin's face, so torn between righteous anger and disgust at his methods. Interesting. But unfortunate. Always know your own mind. Khameir Sarin did not know what he truly wanted. Maybe he needed some help there...
"I understand what you mean. I have studied many different civilizations. Tell me, Khameir Sarin, what is it that they have in common?"
"Rules."
"Exactly. And you expect me to abide by the same rules you yourself perceive as just, am I right? But you are a warrior. Without rules you could not survive. I, on the other hand, am no warrior at all. I do not care to serve and I follow the rules for as long as they are useful to me."
"But that way you will not be accepted by any community."
"Not at all. As you know, I am very well respected on Iridonia."
"I see," Khameir conceded hesitantly. "But still, it is dishonorable to take advantage of those who abide by the rules. Else there would be nothing you could rely on." He frowned. Undoubtedly he was trying to bend his warrior's mind around the complex concepts of politics. Good.
"The goal itself is important, not the way to reach it. Use the rules to gain advantage, but do not let them guide your actions primarily. Rules are not for the likes of us, Khameir Sarin."
"That is disgusting."
Roj Kell's eyes never changed at the insult, thereby giving Sarin no warning and no chance to react when he brought his hand around to take the warrior's right wrist in a bone-breaking hold. The other's golden eyes were unfathomable, but Kell could feel the pain and betrayal flaring suddenly in the young man's mind. He smiled at him coldly.
"Tell me, why should I have admonished you for your ill-considered words before executing the punishment? I could crush your hand now and you will cease to be a threat to me, but I will not do so. Because you can still be of use to me."
"Let go," the Zabrak hissed, but did not try to free himself.
"Not yet. First you will listen: Always consider the consequences before you act, be aware of your enemies and their motives. Do not engage in a fight when there is another way to defeat them. Do you understand?"
"Yes. Of course. That is the way of the warrior."
"Indeed. But you are not willing to walk that path, Khameir Sarin. You are afraid."
"What?"
"I have seen it clearly, my young friend. You hesitate to take advantage of your fellow beings' weaknesses. Undoubtedly you would give an enemy no quarter, but that is not the point. The point is to further your power and to survive. And to do both you have to eliminate threats before they become threats."
Those golden eyes narrowed slightly: "And what happens when destiny takes control of your life? You cannot plan on everything."
Releasing the other Roj Kell barked a sharp laugh and shook his head. So afraid of control, this boy. He was craving guidance and approval, as if his own judgement meant nothing. "You are right, of course. That you cannot do. Which is why you have only one true ally: yourself. Your strength, your wits, your courage. All that is at your disposal. And in time you will find that there is nothing else you need."
"That cannot be. There is nothing—" But then Khameir stopped himself short. His lips compressed into a thin line. Confusion, calculation and anger were all mixed in his head. What was he thinking? Roj Kell rose suddenly, intent on breaking the young man's concentration.
"It is possible, young Khameir. Very much so," he told him quietly.
"Yes, I know."
"You do? Astounding that you do not use your knowledge then."
Khameir raised his head defiantly: "Maybe I will."
"But first you will go to Lord Algin."
"Yes."
***
Sidious was eyeing the beings assembled around Hath Monchar with a keen eye, but kept in the shadows, a gloomy presence, visible and yet elusive. From time to time one or two of the bounty-hunters would look over at him, scrutinizing, suspicious glances, but he paid them no heed. The Neimoidian would instruct them as to who their prey was supposed to be before he met with Kell to call off their deal. The alien was positively shaking with fear inside, even though he tried hard to maintain a calm air. But the Sith Lord knew perfectly well that the bounty-hunters had already deemed Monchar insignificant. And he had no doubt that Roj Kell would have no trouble getting to the bottom of the Trade Federation representative's anxiety. The question then was how he would react to this subtle provocation. Sidious intended to throw his opponent off balance. If he could make it so that Kell had to deal with different problems, the other would have no chance to rearrange his schemes. And that was the ultimate goal. To show him that he had lost.
Once the thugs had left hath Monchar turned toward him, his large eyes questioning. "My lord?"
"What do you want now? You have your orders. Carry them out. And get out of my sight."
Dismissing the man Sidious started pacing the length of the room angrily.
Even though the he had considered, and was still considering, killing his former mentor, he knew perfectly well that Roj Kell could still be of some use to him. Especially concerning the future of his former apprentice. Knowledge is the key to everything, he mused. Kell had shown him but the smallest fraction of his vast, three thousand year old wisdom and there were some things Sidious would love to know very much. For example how the other had survived for so long.
Stopping his pacing he looked up sharply and frowned, thinking. There had been no clues to that, no other examples of a Sith that old, except, of course, Exar Kun, Kell's master. But that was an existence Sidious did not crave in the least, the same as he despised Kell's way of living. The old man claimed that he did not want power and yet he did not follow his own lessons at all. Contrary to what he was trying to teach Sidious he had no allies, noone to serve him, noone to support him. Of course the Sith Lord understood why Roj Kell's knowledge did not apply to himself: he was viewing himself as a creature existing outside society, passing through, so to say, but remaining unattached.
A cruel thought formed in Sidious' mind. Wouldn't it be just wonderful if he could manage to capture this magnificent example for independence and deny him what he desired most? To deprive him of his freedom, of his restless wanderings, and make him experience true power. A power Sidious did not intend to give up at all. It was a lesson Roj Kell had taught him maybe involuntarily. In a way the younger Sith believed that Exar Kun had never mastered his student's mind, and history showed that Kell did not accept any master. His apprentices had tended to be short-lived right up to Darth Bane. Bane had not only founded a reformed Sith Order, he had also managed to defeat his teacher. A feat Sidious was hoping to repeat and surpass. He had vowed to be Kell's master, the first one and the last. And he would learn the secret of immortality in the end.
***
"You what?" Lord Algin growled, glaring in disbelief at the man kneeling respectfully before him.
"I have served you well and faithfully, my Lord. I have proven my worth, risking my life, and not only once but several times. You have seen what I am capable of. I feel I have a right to ask this."
"Right! What right? You—you mannerless..." Algin sputtered in rage.
"I deserve that. You should have made me lieutenant after I brought your wife back to you! You know that, as do I!"
"I decide it! Whether or not I consider you suitable is my decision and mine only! Who do you think you are, playing your antics here like this?"
Their voices were loud enough to carry through the door, should anybody be eavesdropping. Khameir shifted his weight and moved his hand imperceptibly. "Then you are not going to make me lieutenant of your guard?"
"No! Not in my life! Really, the insolence! Wha—"
Lightning fast, Khameir made his move; and by the time Algin looked what it was that had caused the sharp pain, the warrior drew out the bloody blade from his body. He rose in one fluid motion, his golden eyes staring emotionlessly as the red stain on the nobleman's robe grew. Then Algin fell on his knees before Khameir, a ghastly reversal of their former positions; still shocked, the man stared at his assassin.
"But I... I... did...wh..."
An outstretched hand, not willing to let go. Blood-stained lips straining to form words which would not come out. With a thud Algin's body fell before Khameir's feet.
So. Done. He cleaned his blade in the nobleman's robes, sheathed it and listened for any unusual activities behind the doors of Algin's private chambers. There were none. The body was soon deposited in the garbage pit.
He glanced into the anteroom where Lord Algin had kept bodyguards after Kell had advised him of the threat to his life. Two figures sat dutifully at a table where he had placed them before entering Algin's private study. They looked for all the world as if having a lazy afternoon nap — if it weren't for the dark wet stains on their clothes. Naturally suspicious of an unknown Loner who had unexpectedly been allowed so close to their lord, they had drawn their swords swiftly, yet they had not been prepared. A lone warrior is bound to learn a trick or two to survive, after all. They had let their judgement be clouded by preconceived ideas, Khameir thought disdainfully, and that had been their weakness. They had paid with their lives. No doubt they would be missed soon, and others would come looking for them. It mattered little, though.
Carefully, holding his weapons at the ready, Khameir checked if there were signs of anybody else entering the room, but it was afternoon siesta time and the castle was humming its usual drowsy afternoon song—curtains flapping in the hot wind, maids chatting in the courtyard over laundry, the distant rattle of pots and kettles from the kitchens.
While the little show he had staged with Algin had been for the benefit of Roj Kell, now it was time to think of his own wellbeing. He dragged the bodies of the two guards inside and incinerated both their faces with his blaster, completely wiping out their features. Then they joined their master.
The last thing he did before leaving was make a comm call to Kell over Algin's personal secure channel. Beep... beep... He bit in his lip impatiently. "Come on, take it!" Seconds passed as tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but the call went unacknowledged.
"Idiot!" he hissed to himself finally when he couldn't afford to wait any longer. Already he had dawdled too long. So, Kell didn't want anything to do with him. But of course not, he sneered at himself as he slipped out.
Safely out of the compound, he paused briefly, then disappeared into the underbrush, just as an anguished wail sounded from the wing where the lord's rooms were located.
***
Algin was dead. The news was out and already people were crying out for the head of Khameir Sarin. That one had seen the trap laid out for him far too late. And if he was mourning his lost future now it was of no concern to the ancient Sith who lay on his bed very quietly, a faint smile on his lips. Sarin would scold himself for his stupidity and for taking Kell's offer at all. Undoubtedly he would run to Sidious for help. Let him. It would not be of use to any one of them. Roj Kell was just a tiny bit angry at the young warrior's choices. Hadn't he offered him a chance to be more than just a tool? Apparently Sarin had not been ready for that. The question now was if Sidious would give him an opportunity to redeem himself and try again. Kell doubted it. What a waste this whole affair had been. He shook his head involuntarily, prompting Solay to prop herself up on her right elbow and look down at him.
"What?" he asked quietly, suddenly suspicious.
"Who is this Darth Sidious?"
He did not even hesitate: "A friend."
Solay's mouth quirked in annoyance. Undoubtedly she was surprised that he did not ask her further. "And he is a good friend?"
"He was my last apprentice."
Her eyes froze him in their icy glare and her lips curled into a feral snarl. "Your apprentice?" she hissed menacingly.
"Yes. You do not think that I owe you any explanation, do you?"
"Of course not."
"Good. By the way, how did you know that Sidious is here?" She hesitated. "Don't bother. I am well aware of who told you."
"Are you?"
"Khameir Sarin. I am neither blind nor ignorant, my dear."
"You wanted to teach him, am I right?"
"Jealous?"
Suddenly she was above him, her face inches from his, her eyes throwing angry sparks: "You always refused to instruct me and now you were going to take up that scruffy Loner as your apprentice?"
"Which would be none of your business either. Besides, you seemed to have enjoyed that one's company very much."
"Not my business? You bet it is!" she screamed and her fingers dug into his flesh viciously. "And you are right," she hissed, "I did enjoy him."
"Solay, you are speaking out of place. But I will not punish you for this if you promise to keep out of my affairs from now on. That includes the Trade Federation, Sidious and Khameir Sarin."
"You can't be serious. Roj, we have been working on this together." Her voice was breaking.
"And who do you think you are to me, Solay?"
That shut her mouth. Her jaw working furiously she sat up. "I am not certain," she replied at last.
"Well, I am certain. Solay, don't try to compete. Keep away from Sarin and you might survive."
"Why should I try to establish contact with him now?" she snorted contemptuously. "He killed Algin and he is a wanted man. Obviously wanted not only by the authorities. This is a game between the two of you, am I right?"
"You may believe whatever you want to, my dear."
"This Sidious, is he any good?"
He smiled at her coldly: "In what respect?"
"You know what I mean."
"Indeed I do. But only time will tell. For now we have to call the Lords together and make that proposition, don't you think?"
"You are right, of course. You are always right," she added acidly and turned away from him.
Roj Kell shrugged. Her jealousy was unjustified. Khameir Sarin did not have even half of her ruthless and devious mind. Unfortunately. Now that the young warrior was out of the game he could concentrate on Sidious once more. Whatever the younger Sith was up to, he would undoubtedly experience a pleasant surprise with Sarin. Something Kell was counting on to soothe his opponent's need for vengeance that might otherwise get him killed once this battle ended. Additionally Hath Monchar had asked for another meeting and it was scheduled for tomorrow. Tomorrow. Later that day Solay would ask the Lords to attend a reception at her country residence. They had to move swiftly to keep on top of the wave Algin's sad demise had sent rolling across the plains and mountains of Iridonia. But some things could not be sped up, sadly enough.
A scowl formed on Kell's face as he thought about the impending meeting Hath Monchar had managed to delay time and again. Hadn't the Neimoidian practically begged him for an appointment just a few days back? Ah, but then he had been busy with preparing the government for a new turn of economic leadership on Iridonia. Funny, wasn't it, that they saw nothing but a businessman out for an advantage over his fellow competitors. Algin's death would raise suspicion, of course, but with the support of the Trade Federation at his back Kell could master this cliff easily. Politics was not for the weak of mind and spirit and corruption was part of the game. The only difficulty was that everyone sought to secure their own position or even rise above it. Playing those opposing stances against one another then was the safest way to gain an edge without others noticing. At least that would be the usual way for Kell. But now that Sidious was here ... So far Khameir Sarin had been the wild card in their game, but now that he was taken care of, the Lords would be the key. And Hath Monchar.
***
Sitting cross-legged on the wooden boards of the uppermost floor of his newly acquired homestead, Darth Sidious was meditating on the most recent events on Iridonia. Lord Algin's death had come unexpectedly. After all, the Sith had been under the impression that this man, the leading figure on the planet, would become Roj Kell's puppet once he had finished playing with that Undan woman. And yet he had let him be murderd by noone else than Khameir Sarin. Kell was no fool, Sidious knew, and he was fairly certain that the old man had not had this move planned. After all it deprived him of any access to the Loner, for how could he openly take the young warrior as his servant after what he had done? Impossible. Whereas Sidious, as unknown stranger, had been given free rein over the Zabrak, if he chose to. Pondering the implications he shook his head, frowning slightly.
They had started the game on the question of who would gain control over Sarin, hadn't they? Which meant that now, with the warrior having maneuvered himself into such a hopeless situation, it would be Kell's best bet to bring the man to justice and to deny Sidious the prize that was his by rights anyway. And he might succeed in that if there weren't that slight problem with the Trade Federation. As per Sidious' order Hath Monchar would inform the Iridonian government of the unfortunately busted deal with Solay Undan shortly before he met with Roj Kell to bring him the bad news. Undoubtedly the Lords would let the old man fall without blinking an eye and then his former mentor would finally realize that some people were best not competed with. Sidious smiled at that. Of course, this meant that he needed another ally first, to implicate Kell. And he already knew the perfect victim for the job. Solay Undan would not want to go down with her lover, that he was certain of. So maybe he should pay the lady a visit.
***
It was the next morning that saw Darth Sidious patiently waiting for Kell to leave the town-house on the way to Hath Monchar. So, the old man was still keeping up the appearance that he was acting without Undan's consent. As if she had had anything to say in the matter in the beginning of the deal with the Trade Federation! Once the other was safely gone Sidious stalked into the pleasant court-yard, a smile on his lips. But as he walked further he was careful to keep his face hidden.
"My lord, what can I do for you?" one of the servants intercepting him at the main door inquired politely.
"I would see Mistress Undan. Now."
"Of course."
The hallways were spacious and cool, beautifully decorated and surprisingly quiet. And Solay Undan herself was no surprise either. Roj Kell undoubtedly had a good taste in any respect. Sidious found himself smiling cruelly at the young woman rising from her seat to meet him. Wouldn't it be fun to play with her a bit just to annoy the old man? But no, she could still be of use to him. And besides, he doubted that his former mentor would care much. Her long black hair and pale eyes made her look like a sibling to a younger Kell and for a second Sidious wondered about that. By then though his hostess had come around her desk to regard him coolly.
"I do not know you, but I have heard of you," she told him, her alto voice cutting through the silence mercilessly. "You are Darth Sidious?" He nodded, slightly surprised by this turn of events. Solay Undan gave him a grim smile. "I thought that you might want to see me," she continued and suddenly there was a completely different tone in her words. Sidious laughed inwardly. Did she really think she could seduce him? But his mirth was cut short when he probed her mind out of mere curiosity and found something startling. The woman had Force potential and not too little either. Interesting.
"Mistress Undan," he replied smoothly, emphasizing the title with all its different meanings, "it is a pleasure to meet you at last." Her smile was dazzling and it became clear to him that she too was a master at the game. And yet her lover seemed to have denied her a few crucial lessons in other aspects, namely the Dark Side. Did Kell think her that dangerous then? It seemed astounding, considering that the ancient one seemed to fear nothing at all.
"The pleasure is all mine," the woman answered and lifted a hand to brush along his cheek and draw the cowl of his cloak aside quite nonchalantly. Sidious intercepted her quickly, taking her wrist as gently as he could and stopping her unfortunate advance. "So shy?" she asked, her perfect eyebrows rising slowly. Oh, she definitely knew how to play her charms. Sidious understood now why Kell had taken her. She seemed to be quite a handful and a challenge in her own right, very intriguing and craving power with a desperate hunger. The perfect apprentice. But far too ambitious for Sidious' taste.
"I may have a proposition for you," he explained and waited for her reaction patiently.
"Concerning who? Kell or Sarin?"
"Ah, a clever one. Which one shall it be?"
Solay Undan laughed: "So mysterious. Charming. But tell me, what did you offer young Sarin? To teach him?"
"I offered the same Lord Kell proposed."
Her face darkened: "And now you come to me ... I wonder why?"
"Well, I know Lord Kell better than you do, my dear, and he has never before let an opportunity slip away like that." She made a dismissive gesture.
"He knew that killing Algin would put Sarin in a desperate position. That was the plan all along." She giggled foolishly. "Oh, have I said something wrong? You did not know, of course, that Algin's death was part of the plan, or did you?" A mad light was dancing in her pale eyes, but there was something else too. Anticipation?
"No," Sidious hissed, suddenly suspicious, but then a cold smile formed on his lips. "But maybe you want to tell me about this—plan?"
"With the greatest pleasure, my
Lord."