So, believe it or not, I'm still alive! It's been a crazy couple of months, but fingers cross things will settle down and I can start updating more regularly. No promises, but that's the dream. Let me know what you guys think about this chapter. I'm really interested in the more philosophical side of the Force and beliefs about it, but I may have gone a little too in-depth about it. Let me know if I need to cut it down. Thanks!
Chapter 20: New Beginnings
Kyrena woke the next morning feeling significantly better. The helpless, lethargic acceptance of yesterday had mostly faded away now, and she was determined to make the best of her situation. Besides, it could have been worse; she was going to be a Jedi! Or at least trained as one.
She tried to keep that thought at the forefront of her mind as she moved towards the refresher. They didn't have an auto-washer, making do instead with a bucket for dirty laundry presumably washed by hand by members of the Order, probably as some sort of penance. She stripped off her clothes and dropped them into the bucket, gloomily wondering if they'd just burn them or just hide them away somewhere.
You know what? No. They can shove me into this, but this is still my life, and these are my clothes dammit!
She picked the clothes back up and shoved them under the mattress of her bed. She smiled as she stepped into the shower and let out a pleased sigh as hot water streamed down on her. Being totally backwards and behind the times did come with some benefits after all!
Carth sat with his arms crossed and his face set. "You're kidding me."
Bastila sighed. "I'm sorry Carth, but it's not my decision. Kyrena has chosen to accept Jedi training, and as such, she's now under the control of the Jedi Council, not the military, and the Council has decided that she needs to be here, training, without any distractions before her . . . before our mission. You're all to return to . . . to whatever it was you were doing before all of this happened."
"Go back to the part where she decided to become a Jedi, without telling any of us about it, in a secret Council mission, and now she can't talk to us at all . . . because that doesn't sound at all like she's being forced into anything, now does it?"
"Nope, definitely not," affirmed Mission, who'd mimicked Carth's stance. If she was offput by being in agreement with the soldier, she showed no sign of it. Zaalbar roared, and Mission nodded decisively. "You said it Big Z."
Bastila looked up at the towering wookiee somewhat mystified, but shook her head. "I'm sorry, truly I am, but there's nothing I can do." She turned to go.
"So what," cried out Mission, desperation creeping into her voice, "I'm just supposed to go back to . . . back to . . . I can't go back, you know that!"
Bastila looked away and kept walking.
Mission's lower lip trembled.
"Hey, Mission, don't cry. We're not beaten yet."
She looked up at the soldier with undisguised hope. "You mean that, Carth?"
The soldier smiled. "I may just be an old man, but I've still got some tricks left up my sleeve."
Mission couldn't help but smile, just a little. "Alright, old man, we're with you! What's your plan?"
Bastila delivered the message to Canderous, who lay on a creeper beneath the swoop bike he'd trollied out into the open fields for some test flights, but all he did was grunt.
"Did you hear me? You can't stay here."
Canderous grunted again. "I heard. If you think you can make me leave, you're welcome to come over here and try."
Bastila sighed, shrugged, then turned to make the walk back to the academy.
And that was that.
Kyrena reported to the courtyard in front of the academy with a straight back and butterflies in her stomach. The Jedi tunic had been a little more complicated than she anticipated, but she'd gotten it figured out without too much trouble. Master Vandar was there waiting for her. Silently he lead the way out further into the courtyard, following the little trail of stones through the carefully manicured lawns, and out to a small spot at the foot of a blba tree.
"Teach you how to feel the Force, I must," said the little Master. "But first, questions you must have."
That was putting it mildly. She had so many questions she didn't even know where to start. Questions about the Jedi, their purpose and role, their relationship with the Republic, and a million more besides. Kyrena tried to sort through the mess, to get at the most critical aspect. What she did know was that the Jedi served the Force, which was both the source of their power and their defining feature.
A familiar question popped into her mind that would answer most of the important questions. "What is the Force, exactly?"
Master Vandar's long ears twitched. "Good . . . good. An excellent question, Apprentice. And a difficult one, it is." The Master sighed. "Explain to you, I will, what I can." He began to speak, explaining the concept so fundamental to his being that only prolonged contemplation allowed him to put it into words an outsider could hope to understand. He told her that the Force was like an energy field, surrounding, connecting, and created by, all forms of life. For those who could reach out and sense it, it was a powerful tool.
"But don't the Jedi serve the Force? How can you serve an energy field?"
Master Vandar smiled. "Good you are, at asking difficult questions." He frowned and closed his eyes, choosing his words with care. "A purpose, there is, behind the Force. Guide us, it can, to fulfill its purpose."
Kyrena's eyes widened. "A purpose? You mean it's . . . conscious? So the Force is . . . god?"
"From a certain point of view, perhaps it is. Yet from others, it is not. Many theories have the Jedi considered. Many theories. Perhaps the collective unconscious of the galaxy, it is. Explain, it would, why conflict we so often face between those who can sense it. Clearer, it will be, when touch the Force yourself, you can. Now apprentice, reach out with your mind. Help you, I will."
That is correct, Admiral."
It hadn't been easy, but after a lot of effort, and calling in a couple of favors, Carth had managed to get none other than Admiral Dodonna herself on the com. She leaned back in her command chair aboard her flagship the Intrepid. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "First off, I'm relieved that you and Bastila are alright. But it's not like the Jedi to keep High Command in the dark, especially for something that keeps Bastila off the front lines."
Carth wanted desperately to ask how the war was going, but he held silent. This wasn't a casual exchange between two equals, after all. The Admiral seemed to hear the silent question anyway. "The war has not gone well in Bastila's absence. We lost the Sarapin system two weeks ago, and if they manage to swing to galactic east and meet up with their forces pushing towards Chazwa they could complete cut us off from the Kuati shipyards."
Carth winced.
The Admiral chuckled with black humor. "I see you appreciate the seriousness of our position, Commander. As such, I'm assigning you and the Ebon Hawk to . . . keep tas on our illustrious allies. If this mission of theirs is so sensitive they aren't willing to share with High Command, then we won't be the ones to mess it up. Report only to me personally, maximum operations security conditions. My XO will give you instructions for contacting me."
Carth snapped a salute, sensing his dismissal. "Yes ma'am."
Kyrena stared at the little rock with an odd mixture of hatred and desperation. She'd been throwing all her mental capacity at it for the last two hours, trying to push it with her brain. It was about as effective as it sounded.
"Feel the Force, you must."
Kyrena closed her eyes to avoid seeing the rock's silvery bits glinting mockingly in the morning sulight. She reached out to the Force once again, trying to pull in the power she felt there. Once again, it resisted her efforts; it just flat refused to be controlled.
"Do not push, young one. Open yourself, you must. Lower the shields of your mind, you can."
She tried again. She really did, but it was like telling her she had a third arm she didn't now about and that she had to flex it. She didn't even know how to find it, much less use it. And deep inside, she doubted she could do it. She was just a person, no hero, much less a super hero.
"Think on the times that felt, you have, new knowledge, confidence in something you could not explain."
Kyrena frowned. She hadn't felt anything like . . . wait. The night before she'd gotten the Sith armor, she'd chosen that specific Sith because she'd had a good feeling about it. Carth had just about gone ballistic over it. Could that be what he was talking about? And she'd known the moment she heard about the captured Republic officer that it was Bastila. She hadn't reasoned her way to it, hadn't even really thought about it, she'd just known. And she'd felt uncertainty, felt like she'd had to wait before she set the Sith on the Black Vulkars, and because of that she'd gotten Gadon's message and Carth had been able to see her. Maybe . . . maybe she could do this.
She started to feel something at the perimeter of her mind, like a sight seen out of the corner of her eye, or words on the tip of her tongue.
And then she remembered. She'd felt that on the swoop bike; she'd had knowledge of things she didn't know.
And she'd had it with Bendak, with strength, viciousness, and violence beyond her own.
Master Vandar recoiled as the barriers he was gently prodding to open slammed shut in Kyrena's mind, leaving him with just a taste of the wave of fear that had swept through her.
"Something wrong, there is?"
Kyrena leaned forward, breathing heavily, eyes wide. "Is there any way to . . . to stop feeling the Force?"
Master Vandar drew on all seven hundred years of his experience to remain calm and reassuring. He was not nervous or uncertain, precisely; he'd seen far too much in his long life for that. No, he simply recognized that he had to walk with great care here.
"Why do you ask, Apprentice? Felt something, you have?"
She nodded, eyes still staring sightlessly into the distance. "I . . . I think I have. Sometimes it's been just as you describe, but sometimes . . ." she shuddered. "Sometimes it's not. Sometimes it's . . . dark and violent. I don't like it."
Vandar did not show the surprise that briefly echoed through him. For there to be such conflict so soon . . . but of course, her case was unusual. "The Dark Side, you have felt. Powerful, it is. Prey upon doubt and fear, it does. Learn to use the Light Side of the Force, you must, to keep yourself free from its influence."
The woman turned, face pale, and stared into the ancient Master's eyes. "If I learn to use this Light Side, will it protect me from that?"
Vandar nodded, sensing that this was an important, even a critical moment. He put the conviction of centuries into his voice, speaking with absolute certainty conveyed through both his voice and the Force. "Protect you, and guide you, it will."
Kyrena heard his certainty, but more than that. She felt it, too. And he was right, it was different. It felt good, it felt right. She breathed out and relaxed her mind, and this time it came. She could . . . she could feel everything around her, feel their . . . their . . . reflection? No, that wasn't quite right. Master Vandar felt huge, much bigger than his tiny body. Their echo maybe? That was closer, but still not quite right. Her mind flew through dozens a metaphors trying to put words to her experience until one clicked. The thought felt like catching sight of a familiar landmark in the distance, an instant mental reorientation as everything fell into place and she knew where she was.
The Force was like a pool, an infinite pool of water, and she could feel the ripples made by each person, each creature, as they passed by. She closed her eyes and just felt, taking comfort in the pool's warmth. It was remarkable, incredible, completely mind-blowing, and yet it also felt utterly normal. It fit so perfectly into a gap she hadn't realized was there, so seamlessly, that it just seemed right, like she'd regained her sight or her hearing instead of gaining some new and unknown ability.
She wasn't adventuring into the unknown; she was coming home.
Kyrena let go, the last of her hesitation draining away, and felt Vandar's presence, felt the other people in the academy, felt the small creatures nearby, felt . . . oh!
Bastila's eyes popped open as she sat in quiet meditation, her efforts at centering herself broken. Something, no someone had just touched her mind through the Force. It was Kyrena!
She blocked the probe, unprepared to deal with her just yet, and her jaw dropped. The thoughts were blocked out, just as they were supposed to be, but the presence, the emotions, they were still there. She'd known that she shared some sort of connection with the woman, had had a Force Bond explained to her, but she'd never expected it would be like this.
Kyrena couldn't see herself in her Force sense. It wasn't actual sight, of course, but there weren't any better comparisons she could think of off-hand. But she could see that there was some sort of chain or conduit of some sort leading away from her. Unconsciously her head turned to look in the direction it led off to while her mind followed it, curious. And at the end she found the ripples of . . . Bastila? Kyrena opened her eyes and found herself staring at the Academy. No, not at the Academy—she was staring straight at the spot of her shared quarters with Bastila inside of the Academy. And Bastila . . . she was there, inside it.
"The Bond with Bastila, you sense?"
She nodded.
"Powerful, it is. Protect you both, it shall."
Kyrena was only half listening. Most of her attention was on Bastila's sudden sense of surprise, even shock, before her thoughts vanished behind some sort of barrier. Surprisingly, though, the connection did not vanish. It was still there, still pointing the way to Bastila, but all she could feel were distant emotions that felt flat and muted. She forced herself to pull back, to focus on Master Vandar's voice as he spoke again.
"Impressive, your connection to the Force is. Sense much, you do, for one without training, and . . . curious, I am."
Kyrena blinked. Master Vandar had almost sounded whimsical for a moment, a far cry from his usual I'm-on-a-deeper-level voice.
"Reach out with your senses. Feel the presence of the blba tree, can you?"
Kyrena was what might generously be called distracted by the time she arrived inside the academy on the training grounds for her appointment with Master Zhar. "Welcome, Apprentice," spoke the twi'lek Master.
Kyrena nodded and forced herself to ignore the distracting feelings of everyone moving around her in the academy. It helped that she felt a sudden surge of irritation coming from the Master. "Yes, Master, sorry."
He nodded. "I am to instruct you in combat using the Force. I understand that you had extensive combat training in the military. While I respect those abilities, and they will prove useful to you, fighting with the Force is fundamentally different than fighting without it."
Kyrena was surprised to hear him speak approvingly of non-Jedi fighting. They were on such a different level that she expected at least a little condescension. Had been prepared to resent it, in fact. She mentally shrugged and moved on.
"In combat, the Force guides a Jedi's actions, but it does not, and cannot, control your actions. Within the infinite variety of possible actions, we organize our thoughts into various styles so that we may more easily and more quickly choose a specific reaction. The first of those fighting styles is called Shii-Cho. Now, if you will stand, I will demonstrate the initial movements of this style . . .
It came easily to Kyrena. She was most quickly comfortable with Shii-Cho, which was in fact based largely on non-Force combat techniques, but the handful of moves from other forms, especially Ataru and Soresu, felt comfortable to her. Oh she didn't know all the moves, of course, but the style, the feel of moving and thinking from that perspective, that she picked up quickly. The time passed quickly, and she was surprised when Master Zhar broke their meeting for lunch.
The twi'lek directed her towards the common area where lunch would be served.
It was a cafeteria. Well, she hadn't been expecting anything quite this . . . ordinary. She stood in line and waited to get a tray piled high with vegetables from a young apprentice she didn't know, then turned to face the eternal question—where to sit.
Fortunately, she didn't have to make that decision herself. Even before she'd arrived at the cafeteria she'd known exactly where Bastila was Jedi waved her over and Kyrena walked over slowly, balancing the food on her tray. She placed her tray across the table from Bastila and clambered into the bench, awkward in the loose Jedi tunic she wore.
"Good afternoon," Bastila said neutrally. Her emotions felt mixed, uncertain, but they were still muted behind that wall she had thrown up between them.
"Good afternoon," Kyrena replied. Bastila kept her eyes resolutely on her food. Kyrena shrugged and poked at some sort of vegetable with a fork. She searched for something casual to talk about to try to break through the ice that had cropped up between them. "So what, is this vegetarian Thursday or something?"
There was not a piece of meat to be found in the thick lentil soup and steamed vegetables.
Bastila blinked, and Kyrena could actually feel her surprise. "All Jedi are vegetarians. We don't kill sentient or semi-sentient beings if at all possible. I . . . I thought you knew that."
Kyrena dropped her head onto her arms, which were folded across the table. "No, I didn't know," she said, her voice muffled. It felt like one thing too many. It was just . . . everything was different. No, that wasn't it. It was more like she knew she had skills, had talents and abilities in lots of areas, but all of a sudden her worth, her ability, everything was based off of an entirely new scale, based on something she didn't know at all. She was struggling to muddle through all of this, but she couldn't fall back on her other talents to encourage her. She was supposed to be a Jedi now—telling herself she was great at combat crawling through the mud didn't do much to make up for struggling to feel the Force when that was the only thing that mattered to these people.
Come on Kyrena, cut yourself some slack. You just started this whole Jedi thing, it will take time.
Her own mental cheerleading didn't help much. She just felt separate, isolated . . . alone. Which was crazy, as she wasn't even alone in her own head anymore.
Speaking of which, Bastila was feeling concern . . . cautious concern.
"Kyrena, I sense something is bothering you. What's . . ." she hesitated for a half second. "What's wrong?"
Suddenly what was bothering her clicked, and Kyrena raised her head, her eyes damp.
"Bastila, why aren't you happy for me? I'm supposed to be a Jedi now, on your team, helping you stop Malak. But all you feel is anxiety and nervousness about me. Why? What am I doing wrong? Please, I need your help! You're the only person I know here, the only friend I have!"
The wall on Bastila's emotions broke, and Kyrena felt a flood of sympathy and sorrow. "I'm sorry, Kyrena, truly I am. My feelings are . . . well, they're complicated. It's . . . it's not you, it's me. You're not doing anything wrong."
She hesitated a moment more, then came to a decision and nodded to herself. "It's just, well, sometimes you remind me of someone I once knew. Things did not turn out well for her, and I'm afraid I've been letting some of those old feelings color my thoughts and feelings about you."
She reached out and put a hand on Kyrena's arm. "Really, Kyrena, you're doing very well."
Kyrena smiled and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. She didn't have to ask if Bastila really meant that. She could feel it. "Thanks." She pulled herself upright and grabbed her spoon to take a mouthful of soup. "So," she said, forcing her voice to return to a more casual, businesslike tone. "What are you studying today?"
Bastila smiled back. "Well, this morning I practiced my Battle Meditation with Master Vandar. This afternoon Master Dorak and I are going to discuss some of the . . . possible motivations Revan may have had in making the decisions she did."
Kyrena had to laugh. "This morning I tried and failed to move a rock with my mind, and then Master Zhar tried to teach me what Shii-Cho is."
"Give it time. We all have to start somewhere. When I was an apprentice I was afraid to even talk to the Masters."
Kyrena appreciated the effort, and it was working somewhat. "Yes, but you were what, five years old at the time?"
Bastila gave her a lopsided grin. "Something like that. But the point still stands."
Kyrena rolled her eyes and spooned some soup into her mouth. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, this is really good!"
Bastila laughed, the first time she'd ever heard her do that.
Maybe she'd be able to get through this after all.
"Are you serious?"
Canderous laughed. "Of course I'm serious! If you were a Mandalorian, you'd be old enough to go into battle. It's about time you learned how to handle a swoop bike." He already sat astride the monster craft and kicked it to life with a roar before it settled to an eager idle. He reached out a hand.
Mission glanced back at Zaalbar. "What do you think, Big Z?"
He stared at her for a long moment, glanced up at Canderous and back, then finally nodded.
"Alright!" She grabbed Canderous' hand as he hauled her up onto the bike behind him. "Hang on. Mandalorians don't slow down for anyone!" He opened up the throttle and they roared out onto the plains together.
Master Dorak sat in the afternoon sun, looking out over the plains and clearly lost in thought, when his newest pupil arrived. Kyrena sat herself next to him quietly, unsure of whether to announce herself or not.
"Good afternoon, Apprentice Kyrena."
Of course. She'd forgotten. You couldn't really surprise a Jedi, could you?
"Good afternoon."
The Master turned his head to look her in the eyes. He looked thoughtful, nostalgic even, but she could just barely feel a tinge of sadness from him as well. It was going to take a while to get used to feeling others' emotions like that. "What are you thinking about?" she asked curiously. She immediately regretted the impulsive question. It was her first day, she didn't want to irritate any of the Masters any more than she had to.
"Sorry, I was just remembering another student of mine. You remind me of her, in some ways."
Well, if he was willing to talk about it, then . . . "Who was that?"
He grimaced, and abruptly she couldn't feel his emotions anymore. "Best you don't learn that story yet, my young friend. You are not ready for it. Suffice it to say, that things did not end well for her. I was . . . unable to save her. All I can do now is hope that she will forgive me some day for that failure."
Kyrena shrugged awkwardly as the silence stretched. There really wasn't a good way to respond to that. "Well, if you did your best for her, I'm sure she'll forgive you, Master."
He smiled, though the sadness didn't leave his eyes. "Thank you, Apprentice. It means a lot to hear you say that. And I hope time will prove you right. Now, we should begin the lesson." He nodded to himself, getting back on track. "So, Apprentice Kyrena, it is my privilege to teach you the Jedi Code. But first, I have a question for you. What is a Jedi?"
Kyrena blinked. That was either incredibly open-ended, or he was fishing for something specific and she had no idea what that might be. Well, when you didn't know the answer, the best bet was flattery. "The Jedi are the Guardians of the Republic."
Dorak stroked his chin. "Indeed. But so also are the soldiers which stand guard, ready to serve and fight for the Republic. What distinguishes the Jedi from simple soldiers? No offense intended, of course."
Kyrena couldn't resist, especially after that shot. "The Jedi don't pay taxes."
Dorak laughed, but was clearly waiting for more.
"Well . . ." her forehead scrunched up in thought. "The Jedi seem to have some sort of religious component, though nobody has really talked to me about that part yet. So, they all believe the same thing?"
Dorak leaned back thoughtfully. "I confess I hadn't thought about it in precisely those terms before, but you're on the right track. What makes us like a religion?"
Kyrena frowned. "Well . . . a lot of what you—what we talk about is mystical. We follow the will of a higher power, we have a code of conduct, and there are special rules to keep us more in tune with the higher power."
"Interesting. As I'm sure Master Vandar has pointed out to you, however, not all Jedi believe in the Force in that sense. I'd suggest that, while like most religions, we have a specific code of conduct, we are different in that we are bound together by believing in the code itself, not by a belief of why we follow the code."
"Well in that case, where did the Code come from? Why do you follow it?"
"We follow it because it works, because it keeps us from becoming something we wish not to be."
Kyrena gave Master Dorak a searching look. "But those Jedi that fall to the Dark Side, if that's what they truly wished to be, why would you try to convert them back?"
"My, but you are full of difficult questions. The short answer is that we think that most, if not all, Jedi would objectively choose not to fall. But falling to the Dark Side is not a simple choice. It is deeply subjective and deeply personal. Perhaps it will be easier to see in a different light.
"Imagine that all Jedi have been given a particular power, the Force, to use. However, the cost of this power is that all Jedi are especially susceptible to a mind-altering drug, called the Dark Side. This drug is highly addictive and alters personality to the point that they believe that their addiction is their strength. Can you see how we can be united by this common danger? By a common oath to avoid falling into such a diseased state? By a desire to rescue those who have fallen victim to it?"
Kyrena nodded slowly. "Yes, I think so. But for Master Vandar, at least, it seems that the Jedi really are a religion. He talked about the will of the Force that guides all the Jedi."
Dorak nodded. "True, and some do believe that. But you will find no requirement to believe it, and indeed many Jedi do not. In their view, the Force reflects, or perhaps more accurately is shaped by, what we look for. We are concerned for ourselves, so we feel through the Force when something will effect us. We want to make a difference in the galaxy, so the Force shows us how we might do so."
"I . . . I hadn't thought of it that way."
Dorak smiled kindly. "We've wandered into deep waters here, deeper than I 'd intended. Many of the great Masters have debated this very topic over the centuries. But let us return to our original subject. To be a Jedi one must follow the Jedi Code, and be able to use the Force. Now, have you learned the code yet?"
Kyrena shook her head.
"Very well. Please, listen closely.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force."
Kyrena frowned. "Maybe I just don't get it, but the Code doesn't seem to make any sense to me. The whole thing is a contradiction."
"Perhaps, from a certain point of view." Dorak's eyes twinkled mischievously. Then he grew serious once more. "But remember, Jedi are not defined by our belief, but by our choosing to follow the Code. It is our actions, not our beliefs, that define us. What does that imply about the code?"
"Umm . . . that the Code does not describe what the Jedi is, but rather what she does?"
"Precisely. The Code does not describe how to be an ideal Jedi, at least not directly. Rather, it defines how to make a decision as a Jedi. For example, when making a decision, a Jedi can't be driven by emotion, but rather must be calm, at peace. A Jedi shouldn't make a decision in ignorance, but rather first seek to learn as much as they can. Jedi should not make decisions in the heat of passion. Does that make sense?"
Kyrena looked away and stared over the rolling plains stretched beneath her, thinking hard. "I . . . I think so."
Master Dorak smiled again. "Well, that's more than enough food for thought. There are a number of more mundane things to discuss."
He talked a little about the history of the Jedi, of their structure and organization. He described the Jedi Service Corp., the Jedi Knights, and how they chose apprentices. He described the Jedi Masters and the Jedi Counsel, both the local and the High Counsel. It was a lot to take in, and by the time he let her go her mind was whirling.
Kyrena collapsed into bed, exhausted. Bastila arrived shortly after that and said something to her, but the best she could do was mumble something inarticulate through her pillow, and then she was out.
And that was how it went. Each day the relentless pace continued. Her grasp of the Force continued to grow with her sessions with Master Vandar. But as it grew easier, the tasks grew harder. Once she could consistently call the pebble over, she had to lift it. Then she had to lift and hold it there. It was like learning to weight lift all over again. She left those sessions mentally drained. And once she could start using the Force to guide her actions, Master Zhar deemed her ready to graduate to actual sparring and proceeded to wack the living daylights out of her. And then Master Dorak would finish her off with probing, thought-provoking questions profound enough to make her wish she was less exhausted and could keep up with him a little better.
She was being worked so hard, focusing so much on the Force, and the light side, that her darkness seemed to fade, or maybe retreat. It was a deep relief to Kyrena to have that sense of other, that cognitive dissonance, removed. And yet . . . she didn't miss it, exactly, but she felt almost like she'd lost something. Not something she'd wanted, certainly not that, but, well, it was her struggle, her demon to wrestle with. She didn't feel like she'd won, or even figured it out, it had just been . . . removed. Postponed.
Not that she'd had much time to fret over it. Still, in those odd moments between dropping into bed and falling asleep, she wondered. And she wondered what Carth and Mission and Zaalbar, and even Canderous, were up to. They had to be bored out of their minds.