Chapter Fifty-Nine
"I don't care, First Minister Shiro," General Neeshin shouted. "I am not pulling my men back from the search."
Qui-Gon glanced over at the young Jalatan general. He, Neeshin and Shiro were in Shiro's office. General Neeshin's men had been combing not only the capital, but the surrounding provinces for Cian. Qui-Gon had accompanied them on their forays, hoping to find through the Force some evidence of where she was and what had happened to her, but he had sensed nothing, felt nothing, found nothing.
Now, some members of the Jalatan Council were demanding Neeshin stop his search. They were concerned that the resources of the military caste were being wasted.
"General Neeshin, you can not go against the dictates of the Council," Shiro cried out.
Neeshin waved his hand angrily.
"The dictates of the Council! Bah! The dictates of Chief Priest Rukal you mean. He's the one who instructed his proxy on the Council to push for this measure. And where is he anyway?"
"Salu Rukal has been relaxing at his citadel," Shiro said. "Since the Council decided to postpone the vote on the resolution to establish relations with the Republic he has been in Jholan province."
Neeshin turned quickly to Qui-Gon.
"What about you, Master Jinn? Surely you don't support this?"
Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe.
"General Neeshin, I am only here as an emissary. I can not interfere with the internal workings of your government. If it is the wish of the Council for you to cease your search for Cian, than that is what must be. However, with First Minister Shiro's permission, I shall continue to look for her.
"Be assured, my friend, you have my permission."
Qui-Gon nodded his thanks to Shiro.
"You can't possibly hope to find her alone," Neeshin fired back.
Qui-Gon gazed back at Neeshin, his blue gaze fierce.
"I will find her, General Neeshin."
Neeshin shook his head. Then, with a crisp angry salute, he turned on his heel and marched out of the office.
Shiro sighed as he rose from his desk. He went over to where Qui-Gon stood by the window. The two men stared out at the darkening sky
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Tydre grimaced as he knelt next to Cian. She lay on a cot in one of the cells deep within the citadel. Tydre had wanted to take her someplace less bleak, but Rukal had ordered him to bring her here.
Tydre dipped a cloth into a bowl he had placed on the floor and soaked it in the medicinal solution. Turning, he gently applied it to the bruises and scratches on Cian's face and body.
Cian didn't move. Her eyes were open, but she had not blinked nor made a sound since Tydre had brought her to the cell. It was as if only her body remained and whatever had animated her and made her a living being had fled.
As Tydre continued to nurse her, he remembered how Rukal had sent for him and angrily ordered him to remove Cian from his bedchamber. He had then gone off to attend to some private business.
Tydre had walked over to where Cian was lying on the floor. She was unclothed, her body pulled up into a fetal position, her dark red hair lying in disarray about her. Tydre had jerked one of the sheets off the bed and wrapped her in it.
He was certain his master would berate him for it later, but he didn't care. He was not going to carry her naked through the corridors and her gown was too torn for Tydre to clothe her in. It was apparent that Rukal had failed in his attempt to turn her to the dark side and, enraged, had taken his frustration and anger out on her.
Now, as Tydre bathed her body and tended to her injuries, he wondered for the first time what kind of man he had given himself in service to. Tydre did not consider himself a brave man or an intelligent one or even an ambitious one. He merely had a gift, an ability to sense the presence of the Syad about him. A gift Rukal had apparently detected when he had come to Tydre's village and found him begging on the streets.
The Chief Priest had taken Tydre in, fed and clothed him and then promised to teach him the great secrets which would twist the world and its inhabitants to his will. And, for a young man who had been on his own since he was fourteen turns--hungry, alone, and reviled by his betters--such power had seemed the answer to all his prayers.
Yet, as much as Tydre tried to adhere to the tenets of the dark side as taught by Rukal, deep inside him remained the boy he had been before the floodwaters swept away his home and his parents. Tydre wasn't even sure why Rukal had, out of all his acolytes, chosen him to be his aide.
But now, as Tydre gazed upon the bruised and violated body of the woman who had come, trusting and alone, to meet with his master because he, Tydre, had bid her come, he felt something inside him he had not felt in a long time. He felt shame.
He placed the cloth in the bowl. He reached over and picked up a gown he had found in one of the closed-off rooms of the citadel. It was old and somewhat worn, but it was better then the sheet Tydre had wrapped her in. He quickly dressed Cian in it. She did not move as he did so. She continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyes empty.
"Well, are you done?" a voice behind Tydre said irritably.
Tydre jumped and turned around.
Rukal stood in the doorway.
"Master, I think there's something wrong with her. I think she may be dying."
Rukal strode into the room. He leaned over and peered into Cian's eyes. He then placed his fingers alongside her head and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and turned to Tydre.
"She is not dying. She is hiding. Taken her awareness someplace far within her mind. Someplace where she thinks she will be safe." Rukal chuckled nastily.
"But, surely you're not going to give her to your master? Not in this state?"
Rukal looked over at Tydre and glared.
"Why not? She may still prove useful to him. And trust me, Tydre, if she thinks she can stay hidden from my master once he has her within his power, she will learn she can not. She feigns death but when he has her, if she dares defy him as she did me, she will wish, no, she will beg for death."
"But, and forgive my impertinence for asking, Master, was it necessary to hurt her in this way?" And he gestured towards the bruises on her face.
Rukal snarled. "She would not turn. She swore to give herself to the dark side if I let her save the Jedi. But she refused. She lied to me, Tydre."
Tydre was afraid to point out that if Cian had lied, she had only answered a lie with a lie. The Jedi's presence in the citadel had merely been an illusion.
"But, my master," Tydre whispered. "And again, please forgive my impudence, but was it also necessary to....to violate her?"
Rukal's eyes glittered and he slowly licked his long thin lips.
"She needed to be taught a lesson, Tydre. She needed to know I am master here." He stared at Cian for a long moment, his pupils dilating. "A painful lesson for her, I fear, but a most delicious one for me. Now finish with her."
Rukal turned and left the cell.
As Tydre looked back down at Cian, he wondered if Rukal had gone mad for he had not been so cruel when Tydre had first met him. However, ever since he had come under the influence of his mysterious and unknown master, he had become more brutal and vicious.
Tydre gazed at Cian for a long moment. She had said she was sorry about the death of his parents. No one had ever said that to him before. He reached out and gently stroked a lock of her dark red hair, then quickly drew his hand back, fearful Rukal might return and see him.
Then, as Tydre made to rise, a voice whispered in his mind; a soft, gentle voice that sounded remarkably like that of his long dead mother. This is not right, Tydre. You can help her. You can save her.
Tydre sighed deeply. He knelt, picked up the bowl and cloth and left the cell.
To be continued...