Disclaimer: I'm only using some of the Star Wars concepts for my story and nothing belongs to me.
This chapter follows Lady Tarralyanna of the Sith on her mission to the neighbouring country and describes her adventures.
Cassie
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CAP. IX – The MagicianLady Tarralyanna felt as though she had walked into a dream and everything was new to her. The songs of the birds, the fragrances born by the wind, the colours of the landscape fleeting before her eyes... she did not attempt to hide her surprise and her companion could not stop staring at her. She resembled a child which was seeing the world for the very first time.
For the first time, she had been sent on a mission with the general accompanying her (or she accompanying him, as he thought). It was supposed to be a friendly visit to the land of Quentaa, but to Tarralyanna, it was so much more. Thus she rode on and on, taking in her surroundings and noting the flowers and trees she read about in books. The flora and fauna of Gotan did not have much to offer, but the further they rode due south, the more Tarralyanna felt as though she was riding through a garden.
The general was exhausted; his brow was dripping with sweat, his legs were trembling, and his heart was thumping erratically against his ribs. He simply could not understand how she could ride for hours and hours if she had not done that before, whereas he was practically born on horseback. But she is a Sith, he thought to himself angrily, reminding himself for the umpteenth time that she could hear his thoughts, too. He thought he heard a suppressed chuckle from up ahead. He frowned.
"My Lady," he choked, trailing behind her. "Should we not water the horses?"
Tarralyanna, of course, knew what was on his mind and knew that it was not his horse he wanted to water and feed, but himself. She smiled.
"In an hour," she said firmly, "Our horses are very good; and I desire to pass through this valley and reach the canyon before the sun of Cyrron gets unbearable."
He was startled with her familiarity of the land through which they were riding; she has never been here, and yet she knows every curve and every valley, their names and all, how far they stretch and how many miles they had till they reached what. This was beyond him; of course, there were maps, but no one could just memorise the whole thing and just have it dropping out of one's sleeve, could he? Which was exactly what Tarralyanna did, as soon as her Master revealed to her where she was going.
A memory suddenly flashed before her eyes; a vivid, painful memory of a ten-year old girl running in the snow. So angry she could hardly speak, she was running along the designated route around the Temple, her fists clenched under the enormous gloves she was wearing. She was cold, she was weary, and she hated her Master for doing this to her. Of course, she could stop and rest, but he would know. Seeing without eyes, he knew very well whether his students were following his orders and his punishments were severe. Slowly, she learned that it was for the best to obey him and just push her weariness aside.
Running so and barely putting one foot before the other, she could see her brother running at the opposite side and puffing audibly. At that time he was still Albinian, before the fatal accident occurred. Amidst ice and snow, in temperatures so low their blood felt frozen within their flesh, breathing in something so cold it could have barely been called air, they were forged into the Sith they would one day become, masters of their bodies they shaped according to their needs and their talents. There was a time Tarralyanna could no longer bear it and tried to kill herself, only to be saved by her Master.
And there was the first time she practised with her Saragon. Having crafted it herself, according to the instructions in the book her Master gave her, she showed her masterwork to her Master. He took it in his hands and had been examining it for what seemed like eternity. At long last, he put it away, smiled and nodded at her without a word. The following two months were a nightmare. She kept injuring herself with the Saragon's blades, which she even tried to file to make them blunter, but to have her Master send a dozen daggers chasing after her when he found out what she did. Of course, despite of Tarralyanna's ducking and running, most daggers managed to hit their target, resulting in even more injuries atop of the old ones, which experience taught her that matters could always be worse, and that insincerity, an attempt to minimise one's suffering, can only lead to more suffering when it comes to training. She would spin the Saragon high above her head for hours, passing it from one hand to the other with her eyes closed, until she completely mastered these movements, and could vary the rhythm in which she was doing it, never dropping it and never injuring herself. With the Saragon, it was all a matter of circular motion, and the ability to keep it in the air. Having succeeded at this, she was told by her Master she should start using the Force while doing it. Tarralyanna was livid. Why did he tell her that only now, when everything was over, when she obviously learned to do it the hard way? "Because, my young apprentice," he told her patiently, "even though you could have used the Dark side to help you in wielding the Saragon, you will find that every strong tree has a strong trunk, that is, a solid foundation. And now that you do, now that you have a strong, sturdy trunk, you can busy yourself with growing flowers."
She wondered whether the Jedi went through such ordeals; and the books and her Master, giving her scanty answers about the nature of the Jedi teachings, although he allowed them, revealed to her that they did not. Why? Why did she have to do this, then? When she was a child and when she asked such questions, her Master used to tell her: "Because that is my will, and you shall obey me". But as Tarralyanna grew up, he once told her: "Because we are Sith; we do not satisfy ourselves with dabbling. We do not sleep, we do not eat, until we have mastered what we have decided to learn. We are riders of twilight, dwellers of sacred halls of rage and wisdom; and there, leaving weakness and laziness before the door, we forge our swords and polish them for battle. We do not only study the Dark side; we seek to excel at all, abridge every difficulty, trample over every danger, slay all our enemies and always advance. We cannot allow ourselves to be ill, we cannot allow ourselves to rest or to while the hours away; for there is always work to be done, and victory and glory accept only the worthiest in their circles of fame."
When Tarralyanna and the general finally stopped, before the grand mouth of the canyon gaping before them, the general almost got convinced it was never going to happen. He was so sore and so numb he almost fell off his horse, watching the Sith jump down easily and unsaddle hers. She raised her hand and a couple of dry twigs zoomed through the air toward her. The general unsaddled his horse and let it go; he ceased tying it up because the Sith never did and her horse always came back to her. She would give a shrill, eerie whistle and her horse would come running back to her, brushing its head eagerly against her knees and bringing the general's horse along with it. And the general simply could not fathom how her horse got so attached to her in such a short time span.
Dried branches and logs zoomed through the air as the general drank water from a large skin and once the Sith deemed they had enough firewood, she pointed her finger at the neat pile and it set on fire. Then she sat down and bowed her head, closing her eyes. The general was too accustomed to her quiet ways and her desire not to speak to him unless she had something very important to discuss with him to be surprised with this, so that he seated himself away from her and began eating instead.
"Eleven people," she said suddenly, in a quiet, vibrant voice, what made him look up. "Bearing arms. Coming this way, through the canyon."
"My Lady?" asked the general, getting to his feet and making a few reluctant paces in her direction.
"I have sensed them," she said, now opening her sapphire eyes, which flashed. "They might be travellers, seeking to plunder every passenger. Ready your weapons, Korrugen, and stand at ready. I shall handle the matter, should they veer aside."
She always called him by his first name, as did the ruler of Gotan; this did not flatter the general, quite on the contrary. But he furrowed his brow, slowly withdrew his heavy double-edged sword and crossbow from his belt and sat a little away from her. The Sith was now chewing something red, some kind of fruit he did not recognise, slowly and diligently, as though it was a ceremony of some kind, her Saragon hanging from her belt along with her short sword and her bow which she wore slung across her chest, resting on her back. He reluctantly asked her about her weapons, and she handed him her Saragon to have a look at it. He did not exactly expect her to show it to him, but the fact remained that he was a general, after all, and that to be interested in different weaponry could only be considered as understandable for a man of his calling.
"Where did you get it, my Lady?" he asked her, stunned at the beauty and deadliness of the weapon, passing with his fingers over the numerous blades protruding from every steel sphere – they were kept so sharp that he cut himself.
"I have constructed it," she said in surprise, turning her head toward him. Did he think someone else would make her Saragon? "According to my Master's instructions, when I was twelve. It is a traditional Sith weapon, and the right one for me, he said. I have perfected it over the years, of course. Added many things to it. Along with that flat piece of Montaar's tooth – eases the grip on it."
"Montaar?" echoed the general, eyeing the jaded shiny black piece in the middle, "The tooth of the poisonous mountain snake? Is it not a legend?"
"You have never seen it, Korrugen?" she asked with a laugh. "It is a serpent, not a snake. I have caught it in the mountains, killed it, and brought its teeth back with me. They are hard to break and yet they make it easier for me to hold the Saragon; and thus a perfect addition to my weapon."
The chain connecting the spheres consisted out of many intertwined thin chains; and yet it was perfectly flexible, perfectly light, compared to the weight of the spheres. At the bottom of the black tooth in the middle there were various scribbles in a language Korrugen could not identify.
"Sith glyphs," she answered his thoughts; it took some getting used to, but she was doing this all of the time, answering his thoughts, not thinking whether he perhaps wanted to keep his thoughts to himself – Lady Tarralyanna proved to be most tactless about some things. That was her name written in Sith, but she did not tell him that.
"They are veering aside," she said quietly, looking at the ground before her calmly and the general placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. He cast an anxious glance toward the trees to their left, expecting someone to emerge from the thicket and asking himself how she could be this calm. They were pretty good trackers, then, he thought, because he and the Sith have been riding along a standard path but veered to right, riding over the rocky parts of the wood where it was almost impossible to find tracks.
A group of people leading horses appeared there soon enough, and they halted at the sight that met their eyes. Tarralyanna's face was hidden under her hood and she was still staring at the ground. Korrugen got to his feet, lifting his chin.
"Just be calm, old man," said the foremost newcomer, pointing a large bow with an arrow that miraculously found its way there at him. "And give us all you have. There will be no need for any blood-spilling."
Korrugen cast an anxious glance at Tarralyanna, who was still sitting with her head bowed; he believed that she either could not understand the seriousness of the matter, or that she was thinking. Either way, he thought that he would best handle the matter and protect his Lord's protégé, as this was a serious situation, for these robbers and wanderers would shrink before nothing.
"Do you have any idea who is it that you are trying to rob here?" he asked in a loud voice. Lady Tarralyanna made a barely perceptible move.
"Not that I care," said the man, laughing. He was half-Droddian, half-Albinian. A terrible combination, thought the general. "But do tell me."
"I am the general of the army of Gotan," said Korrugen in a deep voice. "And this…"
"Save it," said Tarralyanna suddenly, jumping to her feet. "They will not listen."
"A lady!" exclaimed one, cracking a smile. "This changes matters!"
What else he wanted to say, he never got around saying, because Tarralyanna waved her hand; and he suddenly caught on fire and started screaming. Korrugen had his crossbow in his hands and was shooting at the nearest man he could aim, whereas Tarralyanna deflected a few arrows that fizzed toward her from the direction of the robbers, and directed them back at them with a point of her finger, at the same time taking off her own bow, and firing out five, or six arrows in a row, killing all of them in a span of a few seconds, before the general could blink twice. He lowered his hand with the crossbow in it as they toppled down, one over another, and turned to stare at her, who was looking very cross indeed. Her usually calm features were now thick with rage, and even though he was not Force-sensitive, Korrugen could clearly feel her anger oozing from her.
"What have I said?" she asked in a voice trembling with rage. "Can you not understand Albinian?"
"I… I thought you were…" he stammered out, as she made a forward pace, her sapphire eyes dangerously narrowed and flashing.
"I heard what is it that you thought," she hissed. "And it is just despicable. Does I need to demonstrate my power to make you obey me? Does not the word of the ruler of Gotan suffice?"
The general tried to calm himself down and try to explain, but the following moment, he found himself dangling upside down in the air. He let out a frightened yelp, frantically flapping with his arms and trying to move his legs, which seemed to be held by an invisible hand. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the angry Sith, who stood disturbingly close to him.
"I had to kill those people because they cannot walk around spreading stories of the Sith, do you understand?" she hissed out in his face, with him realising only now why she was so angry and thinking it would be about time to start begging for mercy. "And you were about to tell them who I was, were you not, you senseless CRETIN!"
"I were not, I swear, my Lady, I wanted to say…" he choked, trying to speak from such an awful position. To swallow was difficult by itself.
"I know what is it that you thought!" roared the Sith, waving her hand. The general found himself spinning quickly and he felt paralysed. He could have sworn he felt dread and horror enveloping him, something that had nothing to do with him playing a crazy merry-go-round. "I heard all of it!"
"My Lady, please, it will not happen again…!" he uttered as she turned him faster and faster, wondering whether the ruler of Gotan gave her the licence to punish and kill his servants, and concluding that he probably did. And just as he started to think he was going to faint, he suddenly dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.
He looked up to see her striding away, all fury, staring into one spot on the ground, her pretty face appearing inhuman and distorted with rage.
"You have sworn allegiance and given your life over to my Master," she said a little more quietly, as he scrambled to his knees, trembling. "And I am his student. Thus your life and your allegiance also belong to me. Do you understand that? Has my Master not explained that to you?"
"He… he has, my Lady," he whispered, trying to think back of such an occasion, but all he could think of was the sentence 'they will be treated as I am'. This, obviously, encompassed everything. The ruler of Gotan was infamous for being concise.
"Clear up that mess," she said, pointing a negligent hand toward the bodies. "Burn them until nothing but ash remains, and then scatter it over the river so that it gets washed away. I shall inform my Master of this."
"But how…?" he asked, falling silent as she turned her head toward him. Her rage distorted her pretty features and Korrugen could no longer recognise her.
"The Dark Lord sees and knows all," she whispered. "And I should be very much surprised if he did not see this, Korrugen."
The general distanced himself away and dragged the bodies, one by one, over to the fire and dropped them in. She could have done this with a wave of her hand, but she was sitting with her eyes closed, her hood over her head, shielding her against the relentless sun of Cyrron. As he did so, his glance fell upon the arrows that she fired at the robbers; they all struck their hearts, or where the Droddian's heart was, underneath his belly, that is, with lethal precision. She did not even look to see that they were Droddians, he thought, confusion and a strange wave of fear spreading through him. This child, this pretty woman, murdered ten of them within a few seconds; and as much as it was surprising to learn that she has never seen a dog in her life, that she was amazed with the most natural of things, like birds and beasts and valleys, nothing his Lord said about her had been exaggerated. She was a deadly killing machine and the only thought that appeared in his mind now, was – if she was his Lord's student, ergo he was her teacher, then where does this put him? What all has he been hiding from his Court? What sort of plans did he actually have?
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They got back on their horses shortly afterwards and the general had too much to ponder to notice what Lady Tarralyanna was doing. She was leading the way again, riding in a quick trot, her black cloak, which she would never take off, even in this warm weather, billowing behind her. Great, threatening stone cliffs rose around them, being perfect hideouts for ambush, but Tarralyanna's senses were as sharp as a razor.
The encounter with the robbers was not on Tarralyanna's mind. On the whole, she was quite satisfied with her performance. However, what was on her mind right now was the mental conversation she had with Tammutyen. She retold him everything that happened, unwilling to disturb her Master as she sensed he was busy, and asked Tammutyen to inform their Master of what happened. Tammutyen was very excited, she sensed; and he was very proud of her. He, a Sith of action who would have loved if something like that happened to him, never tried to hide his appetite for battle and bloodshed. As soon as she asked him to convey the message, his presence faded away and she knew he rushed to find him. Thus she was left content.
In the evening, at the thirteenth Luth hour, they finally arrived to the end of the Canyon and settled down there. The general's manners completely changed. He no longer needed to remind himself of what exactly she was, because he had seen it for himself and was beginning to see why the Jedi were so afraid of the Sith and were so eager to destroy them.
Lady Tarralyanna was quiet and punctual. Before dinner she would wrap herself in her cloak, sit down in the shade of a tree, close her eyes and remain unmovable for hours. Once she opened her eyes at long last, she would eat her dinner. And while the general thought it was just polite to wait for her, although he was starving and did not dare make a sound while she was sitting with her eyes closed, not wanting to disturb her and having no idea what she was doing, the Sith preferred to eat alone. After that she would turn in and sleep right until the third Cyrron hour, when she would wake up, always at the same time, always eating mysterious red fruit for breakfast along with a large cup of some odd brownish tea that smelled simply awful to the general.
She neither seemed to be angry with him nor was trying to act friendly. She was simply following her routine and enjoying the landscape. The incident with the robbers actually had a good effect on her. In fact, after she killed those half bloods there by the Aalyan river, she felt the Dark side was much stronger with her – her senses were as sharp as the blades of her Saragon, which she was diligently sharpening every now and then.
Upon the evening of the fourth day they arrived to the capital city of the land of Quentaa, where the guards at the entrance stopped them.
"We are ministers of the ruler of Gotan," said Tarralyanna haughtily, sitting bolt upright in her saddle, and pulling out something from her cloak with her gloved hand. The general cast a glance of interest at it. It was the seal of the ruler of Gotan and the symbol of his power as a King and a ruler, embroidered on a piece of black material. The guards were still sceptical, but they let them pass. As they rode through the busy streets of the town, they were followed about by soldiers on horseback, what did not seem to trouble the Sith. She was riding placidly with her hood drawn over her face, eager to get away from the sun which was getting stronger and was making Tarralyanna more and more uncomfortable. The general already thought about this many times. He could not remember a single instance he saw the two Sith outside without their hoods on.
"Hail, strangers," a tall Albinian greeted them, coming through the gate leading to the King's palace, stopping sheer before them with his hand resting on the hilt of his long sword that dangled a few inches above the ground. He had clear brown eyes and was wearing a look of interest on his lined face, his hair cut short. He was accompanied by a dozen guards, who looked apprehensive. It was clear that he was sent to greet them, when the word that two suspicious strangers bearing the seal of the ruler of Gotan spread. "What are you doing in these parts of Horukaan?
"We are the ministers of the ruler of Gotan," said Tarralyanna again, showing him her seal, at the sight of which he recoiled a little and looked up at her once again – he recognised it, if the witless guards at the front gate did not. "We are here to see your King."
"Come, my friends, welcome," said the Albinian, bowing low to her, and what the guards dispersed, noting that they were no longer needed. "We must apologise for the over-caution which might have been to your inconvenience. We have had too many intruders in the past three years, and too much disorder; and by the order of the King, special safety measures have been taken."
"We understand," said Tarralyanna, jumping down from her horse and handing the reins to an ostler, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Tarralyanna proceeded toward the palace which gleamed in sunlight without looking back at Korrugen, who managed to extract himself from the saddle only with greatest difficulty – they rode hard the whole day and he decided not to protest this time, and thus give the Sith a reason be angry with him. But his age and his hours spent in idling were catching up with him, he concluded with sadness.
"Ministers from the noble land of Gotan have come here many times," the tall Albinian went on, not daring to look at Tarralyanna, who was glancing over tall, majestic fountains that adorned the front yard – it was, after all, a land famous for its rivers, clear streams and beautiful lakes. "However, it is the first time I had the honour of welcoming you. Forgive me, I am Lonloy, Head of Protection and I am in charge of the safety of the Palace."
"Lady Tarralyanna," she said, looking quickly at him from under her hood as they now entered the Palace.
The vast, rectangular entrance hall had a transparent floor, showing a small pond underneath, which was teeming with frogs. Golden cups laced the walls, whence sweet water poured down into stone bowls, and then dropped down through the holes made in the transparent floor into the pond, filling the vast hall with trickling of water.
"I am the ruler of Gotan's assistant," she said, giving Lonloy a quick smile. "And, I am honoured to say, his personal trustee."
"Well, my Lady, I do hope you will find our humble land interesting," said Lonloy. He was treating her with every dose of respect she deserved, and she was very surprised and happy with this. She expected yet another outburst of despise and disbelief, if not for some other reason, then because she was female. Lonloy cleanly overlooked the fact she was wearing boots, along with the fact she had a bow and a sword hanging from her belt. This both surprised her, as it worried her. She quickly reached out with the Force, as quietly as she could, to probe around for his thoughts. His head was full of surprised exclamations at her appearance, but his demeanour was a result of his great trust in the King to be the judge of matters. So, she thought, we shall see now.
They were led through a wide corridor with rivers painted on either side, the ceiling painted light blue, hosting many chandeliers with crystals shaped as drops, and with candles swimming in water bowls. They proceeded to a vast hall, where they were kindly asked to wait, and were offered chairs. Tarralyanna was looking around herself, having completely forgotten about the general, who had been angrily trotting after her, and who now sat down beside her, fuming. Six small fountains lined the walls of the drop-shaped hall, made completely out of crystal, what offered a clear view of the water, which glittered as it trickled from the top of the fountains like a downpour of diamonds. A large blue spiral was painted on the floor, clearly representing a wave. It reached the small elevation, where a few chairs, including a throne, stood. Behind the throne hung the Banner of the Land of Quentaa – a large golden cup, held by three pairs of hands, indicating thus the three races that lived in the land, with water pouring out of the cup and over the extended hands. Above all stood a crown, indicating the king, and his name written in the ancient Quentaa alphabet, which resembled a confusion of curly lines. Underneath the cup there were similar symbols, probably standing for the name of the Kingdom of Quentaa written in the same archaic alphabet. Ancient Sith is so much different, Tarralyanna thought. Its alphabet (glyphs, rather than letters), was precise and it was always clear which letter was which, even from afar.
The King swept in at last, accompanied by his Vizier and his Chancellor, who walked behind him with their hands crossed, casting interested glances at the newcomers. Korrugen got to his knee, whereas Tarralyanna merely bowed. She knelt only before her Master and that was that. The King of Quentaa was an Albinian in his fifties, who, however, did not look like it. He smiled at the two of them as soon as he entered, spreading his arms. He was wearing a light blue robe, and a blue cape that swirled behind him as he walked. All of what they wore, she thought, resembled the movements of water, and she wondered how they made such light materials that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. They were almost like spider webs – and yet they seemed perfectly warm for that time of the year and were not transparent, contrary to what one might think.
"Welcome, my friends!" he said jovially, looking down at Korrugen, at whom he nodded, his smile deepening, as he must have met him on a dozen of occasions. His glance paused on Tarralyanna. She lifted her head and approached the throne, handing him a thin scroll and the seal of her Master without a word. The King sat down on his throne, waving an idle hand to the Chancellor and Vizier, propping himself against his knee and began to read. His countenance grew more serious with every word he read, and after he finished, he lifted his eyebrows and looked at Tarralyanna with deep interest. His warm hazel eyes surveyed the haughty figure of the Sith, at what he said, not tearing his glance off her:
"Leave us."
The Vizier and Chancellor seemed very reluctant to do so, but the King nodded sharply at them, after what they bowed deeply and left.
"Sit down, Lady Tarralyanna. And you, general Korrugen," said the King quietly, still watching her. She drew down her hood, exposing her face, and sat down, the very picture of the Sith knight she was, dressed from head to foot in black, her trousers tucked in her boots, her Saragon protruding from underneath her cloak.
"The ruler of the land of Gotan has always been my good friend, and, I am not ashamed to admit, despite of my age, my good advisor," said the King serenely, smiling at her. "And I am not very surprised to see someone like you by his side. He always knew how to draw the powerful and had no fear before anything. But to see the legend come to life before my very eyes is very… interesting, to put it mildly."
Korrugen, who had no idea she carried a message from the King of Gotan, a personal message, this concluded that the scroll revealed her identity, however, not his Lord's identity.
"So… the legends are true," almost whispered the King, now shamelessly drinking in the Sith's peculiar appearance, and then shifting on his throne, with a hint of apprehension passing over his features. "The Sith have returned to power."
Tarralyanna graced him with a quick smile.
"I must confess, you are not exactly what I expected," said the King with a nervous laugh.
"I imagine I am not," said Tarralyanna with a laugh of her own.
"Do you know what is it that the ruler of Gotan desired to say with 'council', Lady Tarralyanna?" asked the King, "What are his intentions?"
"I daresay he wishes to speak to all his friends, and present us to you. Me and my brother," said Tarralyanna with a mysterious smile that intrigued the King. At the mention of a brother, he lifted his enormous, bushy eyebrows. "Lord Tammutyen. He remained at Gotan, but he is also a Sith knight."
"Really?" asked the King, now with a definite note of nervousness in his voice which he tried to cover up with another smile. "There are… two of you? The world has not seen so many Sith at once in centuries, I believe."
Tarralyanna laughed to his joke, whereas the King ran his hand through his wild hair, thoughtful for a moment and trying not to look apprehensive. Two Sith! He did not want to ask about the ruler of Gotan's plans anymore; he only desired to be left alone so that he could process this disturbing piece of information.
"Naturally, I shall depart for Gotan as soon as possible," he went on, probably perceiving the tense atmosphere which was in fact Lady Tarralyannaßs doing, as she was probing for his thoughts. "And until I am ready, you are very welcome to stay in my Palace. You may address Lonloy for anything you might need. I must instruct my Steward in all matters of importance… Terrible times, Lady Tarralyanna, terrible times indeed."
The King shook his head sadly, his expression now quite serious.
"So much trouble, even here, in the capital town of Quentaa… not to mention our borders… so many wanderers, plunderers and highwaymen…"
"The Lord's orders were to assist you in any way as well," said Tarralyanna in a loud, ringing voice, straightening up. The King was now on his feet and was slowly and thoughtfully descending the stairs leading up to the throne. Her words, however, made him pause and look at her. "I believe he would want me to help you to at least sweep the streets of your capital town."
He was staring at her as though he was uncertain he was hearing well. Remembering the legends of the Sith, he was very reluctant to allow this. As far as the King knew, they were notorious for their rage, killing sprees and bloodbaths; but the high crime rate in his country rang as a warning bell in his head, and he slowly nodded. The King was not the kind of person who would try to evaluate Tarralyanna and try to judge just how powerful she was; she was a Sith and this was all he needed to know. Neither her beauty, nor her fragile figure could make him question her identity.
"For that, Lady Tarralyanna, I would be more than grateful," he said quietly. "I shall inform Lonloy that you shall be leading his patrols. He shall inform you about the laws in my country."
The King was obviously very careful not to say anything definite, but Tarralyanna knew he wanted to avoid a bloodbath, and yet he did not want to decline her help, as the ruler of Gotan was his advisor and a good friend. The other reason was because he did not want to decline her help because he believed that might offend her. And he did not want to have an angry and an offended Sith on his hands. Tarralyanna gave a wide, snide smile.
"Do not worry, King of Quentaa," she said softly. "I shall merely catch the criminals; what happens to them is none of my concern. The ruler of Gotan has his laws, as you have yours."
"Yes, yes, quite," said the king quickly, palpably relieved. He flashed a smile at her. "I am very much in your debt, Lady Tarralyanna."
He bade them goodbye and left. Shortly afterwards, before Korrugen had the chance to decide whether he should speak to Tarralyanna or not, Lonloy appeared, looking deeply worried and on alert. His smiling eyes were now filled with terror, as the King, obviously, had to tell him everything.
"My Lady," he said nervously, bowing to her. "The King informed me of your wish to help with the patrols. How do you desire to proceed?"
Tarralyanna had to laugh at his stiffness and this only served to make Lonloy more apprehensive. Did he say something wrong, he wondered?
"Can you pick a dozen of your best men by tomorrow, Lonloy?" she asked, tying up her cloak under her chin and hitching away her sword, still looking very amused.
"But of course, my Lady," he replied, not looking at her but at his feet. "And more, if there is need."
"A dozen shall suffice," she said, smiling at him with that bewitching, mysterious smile which confused him. "Tomorrow, at the first Luth hour, wait for me in front of my chambers. We shall go hunting then."
"Very well, my Lady," he said, bowing again to her and now following her out of the hall. Hunting? "What is it that I should tell them? What should they be ready for?"
"For anything at all, of course," she said vaguely. "Until then, the general and I shall rest. We had a long and eventful journey."
"Of course, of course," said Lonloy, thinking that whoever tried to attack her is probably at the bottom of the Aalyan river, and he was of course right. "What are your requirements?"
"I require peace and quiet, and warmth," she said seriously. "Those are all my requirements."
"They shall be met, my Lady," said Lonloy.
Tarralyanna could indeed find no fault in her chambers. There were thick, dark curtains put over the large windows for her convenience, and when she first entered, she felt as though she was back home, in Gotan, in her own chambers. There was a candle here and there and welcoming warmth was coming from the fireplace in the bedroom. Content, she bade Lonloy goodnight, planning a meditation beside the fireplace, where she could swim in the surges of the Dark side as long as she desired.
oooooooooooooooo
The following day, having woken rested and requested breakfast from a Malaskian woman who was not a slave, as it was the case in Gotan, but was paid for her service, she spent some time practising with her Saragon in the middle, largest room, after what she had her lunch and met Lonloy, who was nervously waiting outside her quarters. 'I take you for a very intelligent and reasonable man,' rang the voice of his King in his head, who was looking weary and old all of a sudden, 'to know that it is not wise to displease a Sith, nor it is advisable to treat her with anything but respect. Keep your distance and act wisely. I can only speculate about the ruler of Gotan's intentions, but if it involves two Sith… well, you can devise the rest, I am certain.'
Lady Tarralyanna emerged from her quarters looking rested and eager. She was carrying her sword again, but she had disposed of her bow in her quarters. However, as she came out, adjusting her belt, Lonloy could clearly see another weapon, a curious one, hanging form her belt and clanking as she walked. Her boots were now clean, along with her thick, black cloak. Unbearable heat was coming from her chambers, which he sensed before she closed the door behind her. So the part of the legend which said that the Sith lived in Gnath, the volcano land, was quite true, he concluded.
"My men are waiting outside, my Lady," he said after he bowed to her.
"And what is it that you have told them?" she asked.
"Nothing definite, merely announced a guest in a patrol," he answered in trepidation, as she asked exactly the question he had been dreading. "I did not know what to tell them, and thought it was for the best to leave that part to you, my Lady."
"That is very wise, Lonloy," she said with a smile at him. He was startled; she was young and beautiful and nothing like the terrible Sith he heard about. Is it really possible that she was a Sith? Perhaps she was just a Jedi who recently turned to the Dark side, he thought. There had been such cases throughout the history, but the Jedi Order hushed them up as soon as possible. The people of Horukaan could only gossip and guess.
She was amusing herself with probing around for his thoughts while she was putting her gloves on, what he observed with the corner of his eye. It was a marvellous, cloudless day, with the vault of violet beaming at them, a yellowish glow following the sun of Luth, and Lonloy would have liked very much to be able to dispose of his cloak in such an agreeable weather; however, he did not think it would be appropriate to swagger around in a shirt in front of the Sith. Maybe she would feel offended and think he was taking this patrol seriously?
"Very well," she said authoritatively, standing before the dozen people who were staring at her apprehensively, not knowing what to think, fiddling with her gloves, her face concealed under her hood. "This is what we are going to do." She was speaking the commonly known Albinian language most of people understood, but which varied in dialects from country to country. "You are going to walk behind us, and stand at ready. The Head of Guard is going to issue orders to you. Do you understand?"
Everyone nodded, still confused.
Lonloy nodded at them sharply, hoping against hope that they would not attempt something foolish and that they would obey, as he warned them beforehand; he merely told them that there would be a guest leading a patrol, and that this was an explicit order of the King and his will, declining to answer any questions about this mysterious person. Thus the little procession departed from the Palace, Lonloy walking behind Tarralyanna, who was glancing around herself with interest.
"Walk beside me, Lonloy," she said sharply after a few paces. "I need your guidance and council. What is that in the distance?"
She was pointing at a low structure resembling a beehive, built in white river stone.
"That is the Temple of Ortemis," he said slowly, "She…"
"Oh, I know of her," she said eagerly. Indeed, studying mythology and pagan worship was one of her great interests, and she literally devoured all books on the subject. "Born out of the foam amassed at the foot of waterfalls of Aalyan river, down by the sacred Stones. A beautiful legend."
Lonloy lifted his eyebrows, wondering at her knowledge. But she did not seem to notice his surprise at all, merely proceeding onward and casting one last glance at the Temple before it disappeared from view. This was interesting, she thought happily. She was searching through the Force, listening, stretching her ears and sight through the streets ahead of her, waiting to hear or see something one might consider as a 'criminal act'.
"Is selling water diamonds legal?" she asked all of a sudden, after a long period of silence, during which it almost seemed as though she was merely sightseeing. Lonloy did not notice she was walking with her eyes closed. Her weapons clanked as she walked.
"No," he answered quickly. "Water diamonds are dug out by the monks, down by the sacred Stones, and they would make them a gift to the rare ones whom they found worthy. But…"
"Well, that man over there is trying to sell a few to the odd-looking woman in yellow," she said. She trusted his discretion that he would not start turning his head in all directions.
"Which man?" asked Lonloy, barely able to suppress his surprise, but not looking anywhere in particular. He was very careful and very wise; after all, he spent many years in service to the King.
"The tall man wearing a blue striped cape, down there, by the fountain with Ortemis' statue on top," she said, not looking at him. The said statue was at least seven hundred feet away, and Lonloy could not possibly see how she knew this.
"Right," he said curtly, waving toward one of his men, whispering something in his ear, at what he and his colleague departed down the street, appearing to be nothing more but passers-by, as Lonloy instructed them not to wear their uniforms. They caught the man easily, who was kicking about and protesting but was nevertheless brought before Lonloy and Tarralyanna. Lonloy cast a wary glance at her, who stood bolt upright and was casting interested glances around her, at the shops and at the passing people, all of whom were looking back at her but quickly looking away as soon as they noticed she was accompanied by the Head of Guard who was very well known among the people. They could not see her face, but they could sense there was something strange and intimidating about her.
"What is the meaning of this?" the man screamed. Then his glance met Lonloy's, who coolly looked back and approached him. Tarralyanna followed him eagerly.
"I have done nothing wrong!" persisted the man.
"No?" asked Lonloy sharply, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. "Have you not been selling water diamonds to someone?"
The man's face went white and he swallowed; obviously there was some truth in this, thought Lonloy, his heart leaping with joy, as he could clearly see nervousness and fear on the man's face.
"Let us have them."
His men searched him, turned all of his pockets inside out, rummaged through his clothes and belt, but found nothing. They looked desperately at their commander, who now felt as though he swallowed an ice block. His reputation… gone? Replaced by the reputation of a paranoid crime-obsessed madman?
"They are in his left boot," whispered Lady Tarralyanna in his ear. There was sweetness in her breath, he noted, and for a moment he stood rooted to the spot, shocked with the fact he felt her breath on his skin; however, he regained control of himself quickly and bent forward, tugging at the man's boot. From the boot fell out a small linen bag and he quickly shook out its contents on his palm, to set his eyes on a dozen water diamonds, the sunlight of Luth reverberating from their rough, unpolished surfaces.
"Hold him firmly," said Lonloy gleefully to his men, in an excited; they tripled the grip on the man's forearms, staring at the diamonds with their mouths half-open.
"Ah," said Tarralyanna, leaning over his shoulder and smiling. They were of the same height, he noted in astonishment. "They are beautiful."
Without an invite, she picked one up, turning it over and looking at it from under her hood. They seemed almost magical to her, and she felt the diamond vibrate in her hand slightly, responding to her power. She knew there were substances that were Force-responsive, but the water diamonds were not on the list. Perhaps the ancient Sith did not know of them?
"You three," said Lonloy commandingly. "Take him to the prison. The rest of you, follow us."
Tarralyanna wheeled about, still surveying the crystal fondly. Lonloy was about to ask her whether she desired to keep it, before she lowered it back into his hand with her gloved one, avoiding his touch.
"Beautiful things," she said, Lonloy's people now muttering behind their backs and discussing what just happened. "I like your country, Head of Guard."
Lonloy smiled uncertainly, deciding that he would not ask her how she knew the man was smuggling water diamonds and simply followed her in her crusade through the streets of the capital. She zigzagged, made detours, paused, looking at statues and magnificent buildings, and Lonloy and his men followed her about like a battalion of faithful dogs.
"Those three are discussing how they killed an old man called Garoffee for a handful of Aalyan silver," she said, sitting on a bench in the shade and drinking water, Lonloy sitting beside her at her request.
"That woman over there, she sold her three sons to a Droddian slave trader," she said half an hour later, caressing the leaves of a stout tree in the town's gardens, and seemingly not paying attention to what was going on around her.
"That man over there, wearing white trousers – he is a foreign beast trader, and he is currently offering those two women exotic blue-furred rabbits," she said, feeding an animal that resembled a sea cucumber in the park, leaning over a pond. It had a small mouth and a pair of black eyes that were blinking at the Sith with interest, sensing her power, thus swimming over to her as soon as she appeared, whistling to it. She thought that the creature was simply fascinating.
So it went on and on. And each time, though the person denied, Tarralyanna could either find proof, or could find a witness that would suddenly start spitting out the truth, after Tarralyanna waved an inconspicuous hand at them. It was like Caelian magic.
"Well," she said with a deep sigh, as the sun of Luth began to descend lower. "My senses are weary. I should like to go back to the Palace now. Is there an enclosed space within the Palace, where I could practise with my weapons and be left alone? Where no one could see me?"
"Of course," he answered blankly, not tearing his glance off her. "I shall… forbid anyone to approach the place. Choose one that you feel is appropriate for your needs, my Lady."
"Excellent," she said, smiling, as though the prospect of training excited her. "Let us return, then."
ooooooooooooooo
Lonloy came back to the King at the thirtieth Luth hour with a blank look on his face. He could not make heads or tails of this whole day, and what just happened. He did not know there were so many criminals, right under his nose; and she… she just pointed them out to him, the whole time appearing to be sightseeing and making detours to strange places, like the town's public thermae or the park.
"Well?" demanded the King of him as soon as he swept in, barely standing. "Did you catch anyone?"
"Anyone?" whispered Lonloy absently, staring at one point into space, faces and voices rushing through his weary mind, still seeing those bewitching sapphire eyes. "My Lord, we have no more place in the prison to spare."
"What?" whispered the King, not believing his ears.
"Aye, my Lord," answered Lonloy, now turning to look at him pleadingly, as though begging for an explanation and throwing himself into a chair without an invitation, unable to stand any longer. "She… just pointed out people to us, and they were… criminals. Stolen goods, murder, conspiracy, illegal trade… My Lord, the list never ends! And such horrible things they have done, such dangerous things, illegal trades of the worst imaginable kind!"
"How… how did she know?" asked the King, his eyes wide. Excitement and horror mixed within him like poison.
"I have no idea," answered Lonloy, now realizing that the King was as clueless as he was, shrugging his shoulders. "She did not even look at them. She just spilled out facts before me, describing people to the last detail, giving me fragments of their conversations, names of stolen goods, what they have done and where they were hiding the artefacts… it was like magic."
"Magic?" echoed the King in a hollow voice. "Such a thing exists only in Lateen, and I gravely doubt I have heard of a Caelian who could perform such a trick."
"She is truly a Sith, then, my Lord?" asked Lonloy desperately, trying to ascertain himself of it, to believe that alien-looking woman was indeed the very thing the whole world feared. Lonloy was sharp and wise, but he had little education, and legends dating from the Second Age were definitely something most people avoided, as they would rather be in search for 'the cheerful and inspiring', than dig through dark times of the Great War.
"'I am sending my personal trustee and my right hand to you,'" the King read from the scroll Tarralyanna gave to him the day before, as though not certain he understood the matter well himself, "'to accompany you back to my territory in these dangerous times. She shall guard you and shield you better than any of your generals. She is a Sith knight, and she has been trained very well. I shall ask you, my friend, to keep this a secret, and to share it only with your greatest trustees. We cannot afford the Jedi Order to hear of her, although I daresay it shall be unavoidable in the future.'"
ooooooooooooooooooo
At the same time Lady Tarralyanna was meditating in her quarters, a blissful smile frozen on her pale face, sitting wrapped in linen amidst blazing torches and enjoying the warmth and darkness. Her jewel rested on her forehead, to ease her recovery from the strenuous day, happily pulsing there. However, as she swam in the powerful surges of the Dark side, she heard her Master's voice.
"Master!" she gasped, reaching out to him at once through the Force.
"I have seen your work, my Apprentice," she heard his mental voice. "You have done very well indeed. But you have done enough."
"I understand, my Master," she answered promptly. "I shall not help anymore."
"Request the present you want," he continued – she felt she could almost feel his hand hovering over her head. "I allow it."
She still remembered the Force exercise she was doing every day as a child. She had to describe what each and every Malaskian in the Temple was wearing, what he was doing and thinking. The exercise was hard, but her Master was very persistent; he inspected her every answer by reaching out with the Force himself, and little Tarralyanna, of fourteen Horukaan years, was doing this while sitting beside Tammutyen, who was equally weary and close to bursting into angry tears. As it were, this exercise was not as hard for her as it was for him. He still bore the scars he earned when his Master burned his hand as he was trying to make things up, unable to strain his senses anymore. This exercise was quite different than the others, Tammutyen concluded; for the more annoyed he got, the more he was losing his concentration, and it was very hard to retrieve it. He preferred physical training.
"Execute my will, my Apprentice," the Dark Lord went on, in a more serious tone. "Work hard. May the mighty Darkness be with you."