Chapter 3
Cecil was aware of their destination, but elected to withhold this knowledge from Jim. Instead, Cecil was hard at work teaching Jim a form of wordless communication without their captors discovering.

"Stick with me Jim," Cecil wordlessly signed, "We'll get you through this, together."

Jim's head banged the side of his cage when it unexpectedly hit a divot in their road. He tried to cry out in pain, but only a garbled mess came out. A flood of uncontrollable emotions seized him and he wept in frustration and anger. His mission, to tell Master Go of the capture of that woman, to give him that bauble, how could he have failed so completely? His words were gone. The bauble was gone. The world was doomed, and it was all because he had failed.

The caravan continued on, dispassionately. They stopped once for a meal break, then resumed their course. They maintained a backbreaking pace. Both Cecil and Jim were glad they were not among the slaves who pulled the carts. It was late in the afternoon when they came to their destination.

The caravan pulled up before a grand manner-house in the middle of a plantation. The announcement of their arrival must have preceded their own arrival by a few hours, for the Master of the house and a presenting of his servants were present.

Among them, a girl of plain appearance, stood beside the Master of the House. She spoke softly. "Is this it? They don't exactly have a large selection, do they, Uncle?"

"Go on, Lucy. Examine the selection. I trust your judgment." The grin on her face indicated the altitude of praise that statement was, coming from her uncle. She then walked over to the caravan, looking over them.

She slowly looked the caged slaves one by one, meticulously examining them as if trying to determine which ones would provide the most use for Uncle's plantation. Well tanned skin meant less chance of heat stroke working in the sun, and heavily muscled meant endurance for long hours without breaks, so she was very surprised to find the pale, skinny Cecil among the pickings.

"You are not a laborer. What good are you?" She asked, intending to sound more curious than offensive.

"What good am I? I am an interpreter. I am fluent in almost every form of communication in the whole world. Your Uncle is clearly a man of high standing in this region. A person of my skills could magnify his circle of influence to any corner of the world he so chooses." He said with a flourish, which seemed more than a little out of place for someone in a cage.

"Fancy talker, eh? I'll let my Uncle know." Lucy smirked slyly at Cecil, which for the first time, was an expression Cecil couldn't read.

Jim spent the entire time Lucy spent examining the selection curled up into a little ball sulking about his failure. "Excuse me," Lucy prodded him. "Might I see your face?" When Jim ignored the request, one of the hooded captors whipped him. He writhed and once again produced the same garbled yelp he did before when he hit his head.

He turned around and faced Lucy with such ferocity, she stumbled backwards. In that instant, the furious visage dissolved into one of compassion and curiosity. This Lucy, the master's niece, was the spitting image of woman who buried the bauble into his chest. The woman who he swore allegiance to and failed. What was she doing here? How did she escape her captors?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lucy began to feel a little uncomfortable around this one. "Do... Do you know me?"

Jim attempted to ask her all the questions that flooded his mind, and when all that escaped his lips was the garbled swallowing sounds that his lack of a tongue produced he devolved into trembling sobs.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked Cecil, who put his hands around Jim to comfort his weeping.

"In an effort to defend my frail frame from our hosts, Jim here stood between me and their whips. He lost his tongue for his insolence." Cecil lied with such fluidity, it caught Jim off guard and his tears stopped short. He looked at the girl again. It wasn't her. She didn't have the same battle weariness which that woman bore. But if it wasn't her, she could easily pass for her twin. "I never go anywhere without him, so please, encourage your uncle to buy us both."

"I will ask him, but..." Lucy didn't feel certain about this Jim character. She walked back over to her uncle and told him her opinions. The uncle motioned for the caravan leader to speak with him.

"The one called Jim, he seems unstable, dangerous. Why should I buy him?"

"He has demonstrated fierce loyalty to his masters. He was wiling to defend this little trinket with his life. With this you will have all the leverage you will need ensure a long and productive ownership of this one." The slave-trader showed Lucy's uncle a little object wrapped in a handkerchief. Jim's eyes were fixed upon this object. He watched as they unwrapped the handkerchief to reveal a shard of broken mirror. Now that he knew what it was, he had to get it back at all costs.

-

Meanwhile, in the darkness of the flying fortress, sitting upon her throne of obsidian, the Queen sat gazing at a shattered mirror, which suddenly burst open with light. The image of the Lucy's Uncle and the Slave-trader appeared as though broadcast from the shard they held.

"I've found you." She sneered.

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This was originally posted on 05/04/13 at mysocialempire (dit) net/rewriting-star-wars-archive