The town of Hormford covered the side of a hill, with a castle at the top. Its name was a testament to the humility of the castle's lord, one Threkim Horm.
It was also currently the scene of a crime, which was still in the process of being committed. It was an unusual sort of crime, and—so far—no one had noticed.
The only thing out of the ordinary – so far – was the sight of two young men walking up the main street, straight towards the castle. The unusual thing about them was that one had his hands tied behind his back, and the other was marching him firmly along the cobbled street. People were watching. It was the most exciting thing that had happened in Hormford in weeks. Boys yelled insults and speculations at the two men and each other, girls crowded together to giggle and watch, and the women were all twice as busy with their work as usual. Most of said work seemed to take them close to the main street, which was a remarkable coincidence that everyone was careful not to comment on.
"Who is that?" asked one, in low tones.
"I don't know, some criminal," said another, carefully rearranging the contents of her basket. "That's the second one this week. Good to see his lordship cracking down on them."
"Poor lad," said a third, in between avidly discussing her need for a new door handle with the first woman, the carpenter's wife. "He's too young for this."
"Oh, Martha, you and your pity. If he's not too young for crime, he's not too young for the dungeons," said the carpenter's wife, in the firm tones of one who has never stolen, or at any rate, never been caught.
The two men drew closer. The captor looked cheerful, sending a smile their way. He looked anything but respectable, in a plain homespun shirt and a dark wool tunic that didn't quite fit, but that didn't matter. To anyone on the receiving end of his smile, nothing much seemed to matter at all.
Seeing that smile, Martha's curiosity decided that this man could be trusted, and would surely satisfy it. She smiled back at him. "Good morning, young man. And who's this?"
The young man flashed a proud grin. "This, ma'am, is Anakin Solo. Give the ladies a smile, Anakin."
Anakin only sent a sullen glare their way. He was a tall young man of eighteen, dark-haired and handsome with the bluest eyes that the three women had ever seen. The way they glared made all three women take a step back. Something about that look made you suddenly notice the way muscles flexed under his torn shirt, the broadness of his shoulders, and the indefinable but unmistakable air of power that seemed to cling to him.
The other young man did not seem to notice. "Don't mind him, he's having a bad day." He tugged at Anakin. "Come on, you, you have a date with the dungeons. Good day to you, ladies." He waved over his shoulder as he kept walking.
"Anakin Solo?" Martha echoed, watching the two disappear. "The one from the poster?"
"I heard he fought a dozen guards in Bespin," said the carpenter's wife.
"Yes, and he killed three archers near Yavin," said Martha. "With their own arrows."
"And he stole the sword in the stone over in Belleau-a-Lir."
"Just plucked them out of the air and threw them back. Just like that."
"Of course the sword's quite useless, half-rusted away, but even so..."
"And he ambushed Lady Norette and stole her jewels," said the woman with the basket, not to be left out.
"I've always wondered about that," said Martha. "Do you suppose it was her actual jewels, or her... you know..."
"He'd hardly have to steal that," said the carpenter's daughter, who'd squeezed past her mother to watch the two young men leave. Her eyes lingered on Anakin Solo's slowly disappearing back, especially one particular section of it.
Her mother slapped her ear. "You go back inside, young lady!"
"She has a point—," began Martha thoughtfully.
The carpenter's wife made a little disapproving sound in her throat. "Well, I say good riddance," she said haughtily. "I for one am quite glad that his lordship is cracking down on the criminals around here."
At around the same time, the Skywalker family was walking along the narrow road that led from Luke and Mara's cottage to the small homestead that everyone knew simply as "the Eyrie". "Walking" wasn't altogether the right term, of course. The only one to whom it really applied was Luke, who had Lienna sitting on his shoulders because she was a princess this morning and he was the royal horse.
Thalia was also a princess, but one in the best family tradition, which meant that she was exiled and carried a sword. She was alternately chasing and helping Ben, who was a smuggler (in the somewhat worse family tradition).
Mara chased and raced them both. She hadn't slept very well, but anger and determination were simmering inside her, which translated into an urge to move. The kids didn't notice, because they were too busy having fun with their mother, but Luke did. Mara's laughter had an edge to it, and whenever she caught one of her kids, she held on a little tighter than usual.
The Eyrie was less than half an hour's walk away from the Skywalker home. It consisted of a cottage, slightly larger than the Skywalkers', a generous back yard containing a stable and workshop with an overhang for firewood, a vegetable garden, and a field that was used as a paddock. It was home to a donkey, who spent most of his time eating and trying to out-stubborn his humans. The paddock sloped downwards, because the homestead was built on top of a small hill. A path led down to a stone well, and beyond that lay the forest.
A woman stood in the back yard, hanging up shirts and breeches on a line strung across it. She was short and slender, with long dark hair in braids wrapped around her head, and striking, beautiful dark eyes.
When she heard the childrens' shouting beyond the house, she smiled, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked around the side of the house.
Thalia saw her first.
"Aunt Leia!" she yelled, and abandoned her game with Ben to run towards her aunt. Leia caught her and swung her around before setting her back down.
"Hi there, Thaly! How are you?"
"Fine." The girl's dark blond curls, glinting with copper in the sunlight, were mussed as usual, and her green eyes shone. "I'm a warrior princess, look!"
She produced a stick from somewhere, and Leia feigned shock, leaning backwards. "Yikes! You look dangerous!"
Thalia gave her a look that appealed to her better knowledge. "Not to you!"
"No? Then who have you been beating up?"
"Bad guys!"
"Oh, well done!" Leia waved at her brother and sister-in-law, who had come up to join them.
"Hi Auntie Leia!" Lienna yelled from Luke's shoulders, drowning out her parents.
Luke shook his head, a boyish grin on his face as he grabbed his daughter and deposited her on the ground. "All right, young lady. I think you can walk on your own now."
"Hey, I'm the princess, I give the orders!" Lienna said, her expression that of a girl of who knows that she can get away with it if she's cute enough.
The adults, right on cue, burst into laughter. Lienna was three years old, the youngest Solo-Skywalker family member, and she was determined to make up for this by ensuring that she was the centre of attention wherever she went. She managed with a mix of blonde, blue-eyed cuteness and natural talent for entertainment. She was the kind of girl who inspired wryly ominous predictions regarding her teens in everyone who met her. The male members of her generation, it was usually felt, had better watch out.
"Aunt Leia won't let horses into her house," Luke said. "And she's a princess, too, remember? This is her castle. We'll have to do it her way."
Lienna nodded and ran up to Leia, twisting her head awkwardly to show Leia the back. "Look, Mommy did my hair like yours!"
Leia looked. The little girl's downy, white-blond hair was nowhere near long enough to braid around her head like Leia's usually was, but Mara had done her best with a Hapan plait.
"Wow, yes, I see it," Leia said, smiling. "You look really pretty." Before she could say more, Ben was tugging at her sleeve.
"Aunt Leia, look!" He pointed a dirty finger at his mouth and opened it. "I losht a toosh!"
"Lost a tooth?" Leia looked. "Oh, yes, I see. Did it hurt?"
"Nope!" Ben shook his head, his red-gold curls flying around his face. "I tied a string to it and wiggled it, and then it fell out. It bled, but I didn't mind."
"You're a brave one," Leia praised him. "Well done. But that reminds me. Do you think you can still eat apple pie with one tooth less?"
"Yeah!" Ben looked up at her, grey eyes wide. "Are you making apple pie?"
"Shhh." Leia gave him a conspiratorial smile and tapped the side of her nose. She turned to his parents, who were watching the scene with amused smiles. "Will you come in for coffee?"
Luke and Mara exchanged a look.
"Sure," Mara said. "Is Jacen coming today?"
Leia sighed. Luke and Mara usually left the children with her when they went on their trips to various towns and villages in the area, to offer their help to those who were sick or injured. Her son Jacen often accompanied them, although no one seemed able to decide whether he did more healing or more flirting.
"Jacen isn't here," she said. "He and the others left early this morning. Come on in." She led the way around to the back door.
Strictly speaking, it was the only door. Everyone always used the back door, so Han Solo had reasoned that there was no real need to have a front door at all. The only real uses for a front door were one, after a wedding when you had to carry the bride through, and two, after a death when you had to carry a coffin through. When he and Chewie had built the house, Han hadn't been too concerned with brides, and building a door just to carry a coffin through it was, he said, plain morbid.
There was a door at the front, for the look of the thing, but it had a wall behind it. So far, no one had really noticed this. Visitors always used the back door, and they seldom got any further than the kitchen.
Which was where the back door led. The kitchen was the biggest room in the house, its central meeting-place. It was bright, and warm, and it smelled of coffee and cinnamon.
The kids stayed in the yard to play, and Leia poured Luke and Mara some coffee and sat down.
"So where are your three?" asked Luke, who had noted Leia's reaction outside.
"They went to help Zekk," Leia said. "Apparently, the less I know, the better."
"Oh," Mara said, immediately sympathetic. "One of those."
No one had ever held out much hope that the children of Han and Leia Solo would lead quiet lives without trouble. Even so, Leia still worried every time they went off on yet another not-quite-explained venture. It was normal, but unpleasant. Mara, whose eldest child was not quite seven years old yet and already played at being a smuggler, could sympathise.
"Yeah, one of those," Leia said. She blew out a breath. "Oh well. They might get in trouble a lot, but at least they've got plenty of practice getting back out of it."
Anakin and his captor, meanwhile, had reached the drawbridge that led to the keep. It was down, and manned by two guards. Anakin's captor came to a stop before them. "I'm here for the bounty on Anakin Solo."
One of the guards gestured to Anakin. "That's him?"
The young man rolled his eyes. "No, that's my other captive. Of course it's him. You have seen the wanted posters, right?"
"I have," the other guard said, looking Anakin up and down. "Doesn't look like much, does he?"
"They never do, close up."
The guard conceded that with a shrug. "Looks like him, all right. What's your name, son?"
"Lars. Lars Hanson."
"Where'd you find this rat?"
"Stealing horses in Pleauvin," Lars said, naming a small village further north.
"Well, go on in," the first guard said. "They'll take him off your hands in the guard house."
"Where do I collect my money?"
"Go with the guards, they'll bring you to the lord or his treasurer."
Lars inclined his head. "Got it. Thanks. Have a nice day."
The guard house was right across the drawbridge, a big towered building with a tall tunnel through it leading to the keep beyond. Two guards took hold of Anakin, and a third led them towards the main castle building across the yard, Lars beside him.
"You a bounty hunter?" the leading guard asked.
Lars shrugged. "Not usually. But I got the tip out of the blue, and I figured hey, ten silvers is a good price."
"It is. We've been looking for this lad for months. Who found him?"
"My brother. He's good like that."
"Why didn't he go for it himself?"
"Oh, he's not really into that stuff. Couldn't catch a rat with a trap, know what I mean?"
The guard laughed, unaware of Anakin's blue eyes suddenly glaring daggers at Lars's back. "Yeah. Well, nice work."
"Thanks, uh..." Lars smiled. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Shayn Darrick."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Lars."
Darrick shook the proffered hand, amused despite himself. There was something inherently likeable about the young man beside him. "What age are you, son?"
"Nineteen." Lars looked up. "Wow. Nice place you got here."
Darrick laughed. "Not mine."
"But you get to work here. How do you become a guard, anyway?"
"What, you thinking of taking it up?"
"I'm a good fighter," Lars said. "I'm sure I could do it."
"You can always come and try out," Darrick told him. "It's not really—oh, here we are."
Lord Threkim was otherwise engaged, but his chancellor confirmed Anakin's identity from the wanted poster and the lad's own gruff admission, looking well-pleased by the whole affair. He sent Lars with the treasurer and Darrick while Anakin was hauled away by the other two guards.
The treasurer was a shy man in his thirties who shot Lars coy looks while he counted out the bounty. Lars, true to form, noticed straight away, and when the man placed the final coin in his hand, he winked. "Thank you."
"Thank you," the treasurer said. "You've done us a great service."
"No problem." Lars leaned a little closer. "Hey... any chance I could get some food while I'm here?"
"Absolutely." The treasurer beamed at him. "The girls in the kitchen will look after you."
"I'm about to go on break myself," said Darrick, whose daughter worked in the kitchen. "Come with me."
"Great. Thank you." Lars turned another brilliant smile on the treasurer and shook his hand. "It was nice to meet you. Thanks for everything."
He followed Darrick down to the kitchen, leaving the treasurer sighing over what a lovely young man he was.
The women in the kitchen agreed. Within moments of his arrival, he was sitting at the long wooden table at the back of the kitchen, surrounded by several maids as he ate black bread with sausage and roasted vegetables and regaled them with the tale of Anakin Solo's capture.
The carriage wheels rattled over the cobblestones and pondered to a stop at a street corner. Tahiri leaned forward to look down the narrow alley leading off the street. It was too narrow for a carriage. A few houses along it, she could make out the dark green sign of the dressmaker's shop.
"We're here!" she called over her shoulder.
Callista and the Rar sisters climbed gingerly out of the carriage, commenting about the filth on the street. Tahiri said nothing. It was always good when they had something to complain about which didn't involve her.
"Tahiri, stay with the carriage and turn it," Callista ordered. "Aside from that, you only move it if someone wants it moved, understood?"
"Absolutely." Tahiri positioned herself by the driver's box, hand close to the reins, the picture of obedience. Callista nodded and turned to sweep down the alley, the Rar twins close behind.
Tahiri led the horses along the street and around a small yard nearby before bringing the carriage back to the street corner, now facing the other way. She looked around, smiling. It was still a beautiful day, and knowing Alema and Numa, she had at least half an hour now in which she had absolutely nothing to do.
Across the street, a young woman was just emerging from an inn, carrying a bucket of water and some rags. She set the lot down under a window and looked around, apparently enjoying the sunshine for a moment.
Tahiri caught her eye, and smiled. "Hi. You want a hand?"
The woman studied her for the briefest instant, then smiled back. "Sure. That'd be great."
Anakin, meanwhile, had reached the dungeons. Like all good dungeons they were dark and damp, the air filled with despair and hopelessness and the cumulative smell of men with no hygiene facilities. The guards replaced the ropes around his hands with iron shackles and marched him down the small passage to a cell. They shoved him inside, looking briefly disappointed when he didn't slam into the wall, and locked the grid-iron door behind him.
Anakin sat down on the ground and listened to them leave, their banter and footsteps receding from the dungeon. Another door slammed shut, a key turned, and then silence fell.
He waited another few moments, then he moved forward until his chest bumped against the door. "Zekk?"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a man's voice came from the darkness, sounding incredulous. "Anakin?"
"Hey there. Heard you got yourself locked up."
"Yeah." Zekk sounded disgusted. "It should be illegal for one man to be so unlucky. Kriffing guard walked in at literally the one wrong second."
"Tough break," Anakin commented.
"And you? Why are you here?"
Anakin's shrug made the chains from his shackles clack. "Jacen brought me in."
"Jacen brought—?" Zekk sounded even more confused, if that was possible. "What's going on?"
"Relax." Anakin settled with his back to the wall and did his best to get comfortable. "All part of the plan."
Zekk's snort echoed from the dripping walls. "This, I can't wait to see."
Anakin couldn't help but grin. "Yeah. Me, too."
While Anakin was being locked in a dungeon cell and "Lars" was entertaining the castle's kitchen maids, a young woman strolled towards the drawbridge, looking around with an amiable smile on her face. Sunlight glinted on her brown hair, which was coiled around her head with several pins and ribbons. Her homespun blouse and skirt, liberally stained with dirt and grease, marked her as a kitchen girl or serving maid of some kind, the kind of girl who was found around Horm Castle by the dozen, unremarkable and unnoticed.
At least, mostly unnoticed.
"Hey there," one of the gate guards said, straightening from his slouch and stepping towards her. "And who might you be?"
A coy smile accompanied the hint of a blush. "Jaina."
"That's a pretty name."
Jaina rewarded that with another shy smile. "Thanks. What's yours?"
"Norys." The guard flashed her a grin. "So, Jaina. What's your business in the castle?"
Jaina hefted the basket which hung over her arm. "I'm to bring this to the kitchens."
"Well, aren't they lucky, getting a visit from a pretty girl like you."
"Oh, good grief, Norys," the other guard cut in. "You flirt in your own damned time, not on duty."
Norys aimed a cuff at his companion, which the other dodged. "Mind your own business." He turned back to the girl, who still stood before him, clutching her basket. "So, Jaina. What do I get for letting you through, huh?"
Wide brown eyes, guileless and beautiful, met his. "I didn't know there was a toll."
"There's not," the other guard said. "Let her through, Norys."
"All I want's a kiss," Norys said, smiling at Jaina. "That's not so bad, is it?"
Jaina looked down at her shoes, looking embarrassed as her blush deepened. She looked briefly distracted, but it was hard to tell. Then she looked back up, her eyes capturing those of Norys, and leaned forward. "Is it?" she asked, her voice low. "You'd take advantage of a girl like that?"
Norys stared back into her eyes, and two things happened. First, he became aware that they were the most beautiful, transfixing eyes he'd ever seen. And second, he felt suddenly and intensely ashamed of himself.
"No," he muttered. If he'd had any prior experience of it, he would have identified the feeling that washed through him as guilt. As it was, he just knew that the girl before him was suddenly making him very uncomfortable. "'Course not. Off you go. Move along."
Jaina gave him a bright smile. "Thank you."
He watched as she moved past and into the castle courtyard, and trudged along the path towards the kitchens. His companion smirked at him, and Norys gave him a glare, although he didn't really know why. The discomfort was gone and forgotten, and the girl's rejection hardly stung at all.
He was used to being shot down.
Jaina kept the smile on her face as she walked across the drawbridge and into the castle grounds. The men in the guardhouse stopped her to investigate the contents of her basket the way Norys and the other guard should have, saw only eggs, and waved her on.
The main building lay in front of her, flanked by the big, round tower on the right and reaching almost to the wall on the left. Further to the right she, made out the stables and other outbuildings.
She walked around the yard, following the path to the servants' entrance around the back. When she was behind the tower, she dropped her shawl and sighed in annoyance as it fluttered towards the tower, borne on a sudden breeze which seemed to have come out of nowhere, much like Norys's conscience.
It was a matter of moments to retrieve the bundle she'd tucked under her long skirt and carry it over towards the tower when she went to pick up her shawl. There was a small hole in the ground, covered by an iron grid, which let air and a little light into the dungeon. The iron grid was new. It had been bars once, and Jaina's eight-year-old self had been able to squeeze through it, to free her father from one of the cells that lay beyond it.
That plan was out now. But she had new resources to make up for it.
She pushed the bundle through the grid, fastened her shawl back around her shoulders, picked up her basket, and headed for the kitchen entrance.
Jacen sat at the table, eating as usual, surrounded by a flock of women who listened and laughed while he talked. One of them sat on his lap. He glanced over when she entered, but only gave her distant sort of smile before turning back to his audience.
"Captain Darrick?" he said loudly. "You never did elaborate on how I can sign up for guard duty..."
The guard, his helmet on the table beside him, regarded him with amusement. "Are you sure you want to be a guard, son?"
"Sure." Jacen looked around, eyebrows raised. "I think I could be guard, right, ladies?"
They hurried to assure him that he could, and Jaina smiled faintly and stored Darrick's name away for later.
An older woman, her eyes still bright with laughter, turned to look at her. "Hello. And you are?"
"Margat asked me to bring these," Jaina said, holding up the basket.
"Oh, good, good." The woman had a bright smile for her. "Just, uh—" She looked around, briefly flustered.
"I can bring them to the pantry," Jaina offered.
"Perfect! Thank you."
The pantry was at the other end of the kitchen, away from Jacen and his stories. When Jaina had dropped off the basket, Jacen was just building up to a punchline, all eyes on him. Jaina double-checked to make sure that she was unobserved, then she slipped through the door that led to the rest of the castle.
In his cell below the tower, Anakin stirred when he heard the faint noise at the end of the hallway. "Zekk? Time to move."
He got to his feet, one hand pulling free of his shackles. Bending over the lock on his door, he reached inside it with his mind. His sister could have picked it, given a hairpin and a little time, but Anakin needed even less than that.
He explored the lock, finding its shape. His mind formed that shape, and pushed it into the old metal contraption. There was a faint click, and he pushed the door open.
He hurried over to retrieve the satchel that was stuffed into the grid, and shoved it into Zekk's cell. "Get changed."
In the dim light, Zekk was staring at him. "Remind me again why they bother to lock you up?"
Anakin grinned. "Ask them. Hell if I know."
He had the lock open before Zekk had finished pulling the clean shirt over his head. "You'll meet Jaina outside," he said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "You're her fella, and you're taking a shortcut through the tower to meet Jacen. Her father's waiting and you need to hurry. Got it?"
"There are guards out there," Zekk protested even as he jammed a bright red hat onto his head, stuffing his hair into it.
"Jacen's taking care of it."
"What about you?"
"Relax, I'll join you later. Here." He handed over a knife. "You need to shave. You leave the minute Jaina gets that door open."
"Why can't you do it?"
Anakin made a face. "I can do the lock, but it's barred from the outside, too. Hurry up."
"I am, I am." Zekk shook his head and concentrated on the blade near his face. He'd just finished when Anakin drew to attention, and the faint sound of metal sliding against metal sounded from the dungeon door.
