Chapter 2
The hangar at the Jedi Temple on Tython was small, large enough for only a few vessels at a time. There were scheduled arrival and departure times, and Tudraka was late by the time he finally managed to get out of bed. He had slept like an uneasy gundark, and he was still shaking off the last dregs of dreams when he entered the bustling hanger bay. A few technicians scrambled like gizka around a stripped down BT-7 Thunderclap transport, but otherwise the bay was quiet. The Thunderclap was a military vessel, but the s-foils and laser cannons had been removed from this one. It had received a new paint job at some point as well; blue with streaks of red, well past the point of fading. The only fresh markings seemed to be the name, The Perlemian Wanderer, painted in dark letters–bold and black–across the rounded front of the ship's starboard side wing section. It looked like a vessel that had been bought as surplus from the Republic, and then rehauled and well used as a civilian cargo freighter.
He spotted Nemriva by the lowered cargo ramp; she was hard to miss. She gave off a potent aura in the Force, making her stand out despite her nondescript fatigues. She was taking charge, overseeing the loading of the final bits of cargo. There were a Shistavanen, and a Houk, both loading what looked to be supply and ammo crates. The lupine Shistavanen piloted the repulsor cart, while the big fleshy Houk hefted heavy crates as if they weighed nothing. There was a human male nearby, going over an inventory list, and a white-haired Echani woman. The Echani stood before a hover-rack that held four suits of white, plasteel armor; she was going over every exposed millimeter of space, checking the joints, running diagnostics on the HUDs inside the helmets. Nemriva and Tudraka must have been given an escort by Republic High Command. He felt his stomach twist; he didn't need a reminder of their responsibility, or the pressure they were under to succeed. The young Jedi wrestled his feelings back under control, and approached Nemriva.
"Good morning, Master." he greeted her.
"You're late," she responded, "I told you not to be late."
"Apologies, I didn't sleep well, Master." Tudraka replied.
"You're lucky we got assigned an escort, or you would have put us behind our launch window."
"I noticed. Who are they? Commandos?" Tudraka asked.
"Strategic Information Services. You are looking at Rapid Response Team Sarlacc." Nemriva replied.
"I've never heard of SIS Rapid Response Teams before."
Nemriva laughed, a short bark that cut itself off immediately. It was the first time Tudraka had seen her express any kind of outward emotion besides frustration, and he thought it suited her, despite how quickly the tight frown returned to her face.
"That's kind of the whole point with SIS isn't it?" she asked, and then continued on, "Anyway, they'll be watching our backs on this one."
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked.
"Go help Rienna stow the armor." Nemriva waved him towards the Echani. "She's about to load them up, and she'll need a hand to get them into their compartment."
Tudraka nodded, then turned and left without response. He was glad to be away from Nemriva; she seemed to be on edge, or analyzing him, and he felt lighter as he moved over towards the Echani.
"Hello, Rienna." he said as he stepped up beside her. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Tudraka."
Rienna looked at him. Tudraka had never seen an Echani before; she was very beautiful, with fine features, pale skin, eyes the color of steel, and a shock of white hair pulled back into a tight, military regulation bun.
"I did not give you my name."
"Yeah, uh, sorry. Sentinel Nemriva mentioned it when she told me to come help you," Tudraka said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
"I prefer to be the one who gives information about myself to strangers."
"Well...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
A slight frown crossed Rienna's face, and then disappeared.
"It is fine. It has taken me some time to get used to how cavalier others can be."
"You're new to the Republic military?"
"I do not mean to offend you, but I do not like to answer questions about myself."
Her words were kind, but her tone was cold. Her face seemed like a blank mask of stone. Tudraka was taken back by her gruff demeanor. Rienna spoke again, placing the helmet in her hands back on the hover-rack before he could respond.
"I am done with these diagnostics. Come on; let us get these aboard."
She turned, and used her datapad to direct the rack in front of her. Tudraka followed, wondering why he was needed for a job that seemed mostly taken care of. The pair approached the ramp, and the big Houk noticed them.
"Well, WELL!" His voice was like the thunder of Tython's Force Storms. "Another Jedi! And this one seems fresh to his robes!"
The Houk laughed, a booming sound which echoed around the room.
"Very nice to meet you, Master Jedi! My name is Lorb! Lorb Tind!" The big reptile pointed with a meaty, three-fingered hand towards the canid pushing the cargo sled back down the ramp. "The furry fella there is Horliir, and that skinny piece of meat most folks call a human is Commander Castor Hendra. He's a big and mighty leader!"
Castor gave a short wave without looking up from his inventory lists.
"We don't have time for the back and forth, Tind," Rienna said, driving the hover-rack right passed the Houk, and starting up the ramp.
Lorb laughed again, but said to Tudraka:
"Well you heard her. Little tip, best not to make the White Lady angry; Echani are easy to offend."
"Oh, I found that out already," Tudraka replied with a wry smile.
Lorb and Horliir laughed, the Shistavanen's mirth coming out like a series of short, high-pitched barks.
"Go on, kid, we can get to know each other later." Horliir said.
"Listen to the pup!" Lorb chimed in again.
Tudraka hurried to catch up to Rienna; she wore a scowl on her face, but Tudraka could feel the warmth underneath. These people were family. The cargo doors at the top of the ramp slid open, and the pair entered the vessel, Rienna steering the rack through the cargo hold. She went out the door on the other side of the room, heading deeper into the vessel, and Tudraka followed her. They turned left up a short set of steps to a second deck, finding themselves in a square atrium with several other rooms branching off. Directly ahead was the cockpit, but Rienna turned right, and passed through another door. Tudraka saw the room was filled with a dozen low, thin bed frames, arranged into two rows on either side of the room. They were bolted to the floor, real cots and not hoverbeds; they did not look comfortable. A footlocker sat at the foot of each, but the room was otherwise unadorned. Rienna maneuvered the hover-rack into a far corner, and then gestured to Tudraka.
"There, do you see the latch?"
She gestured at the floor. It seemed like any other starship deck, but then Tudraka saw a small impression in the shape of a crescent moon; he would have missed it if Rienna had not pointed it out. He bent down, and felt the inside, finding nothing but bare metal.
"Low-tech, I know, but you have to lift."
Tudraka gave a grunt, and pulled upwards. Seams appeared from nowhere in the deck plates, and then a heavy hinge creaked, the hatch opening up. Tudraka laid the door down on the floor with a grunt, and then peered inside. The space was small, and set with several armor racks. Rienna hopped down inside; the deck came up to just under her armpits.
"Hand me those," she said, gesturing towards the armor. "Start with the helmets."
Tudraka started to pass her the equipment, helmets first. She took each piece one at a time, and inserted them into their alcoves. Finally, Rienna finished, and Tudraka held out a hand to help her climb out of the hole. She ignored it, and climbed out herself without a word. She bent, and started to lift the heavy hatch. It had to weigh seventy kilos, and she grunted, struggling to find purchase with her fingers to lift the hatch clear of the floor. Tudraka decided to help her, and he reached out instinctively in the Force. The hatch lifted up off the ground, some of the weight negated.
"No!" Rienna yelled "I did not ask for your help, Jedi! I am fully capable."
"I'm sorry, I didn't think-"
"You did not think. Exactly." Rienna shifted as the weight settled full back in her hands. "You do not know me, Jedi. I would thank you to please refrain from making decisions on my behalf until you do. If you ever do."
She wore a frown across her face. It pulled the corners of her mouth down, creased her forehead, and gave her steel colored eyes an intensity which Tudraka found unnerving.
"Of course. Again, apologies. I didn't mean to overstep," Tudraka said.
Rienna's features softened a little.
"It is fine. I also apologize for snapping. My people have a certain way; know that the honor of my labor is mine alone. I needed you to hand me the armor, so I asked; I did not need you to help me with the weight, so I did not."
"I-fair enough," Tudraka replied; who was he to judge another's culture?
"Now, with that out of the way, we move on to our rifles. Come, Jedi."
"I know we're going to take this whole 'getting to know one another' thing slow, but you can still call me Tudraka." the Chiss said.
Rienna paused for a moment, and then nodded.
"Very well, Tudraka. Come, we have more work to do." She turned, and pushed the hover-rack from the room.
Tudraka shook his head. It was going to be an interesting trip for sure.
Tudraka was trying to play pazaak, but the pair dueling in the middle of the BT-7's cargo bay were making it hard. It wasn't just the sound of their grunting strikes and blocks. It was more the fact that the pair weren't wearing any clothes. Tudraka tried to focus on the game; he was a Jedi, it should have been easy. He was sitting on fourteen, a respectable hand, but one he could still advance on. Lorb was smiling from one side of his broad reptilian face to the other. Tudraka finally decided. Draw. Eight. Bust, over twenty by two. Lorb bursting out laughing, a deep sound that reverberated in Tudraka's gut.
"Little Jedi can't stay focused with a naked woman about!"
"For shame, Jedi." The Shistavanen Horliir sat across the hold, field stripping his X-15 sniper. "Didn't think that was allowed for you folks."
Lorb let out another gut laugh. "Yeah! I didn't think ooggling was allowed!"
Tudraka tried to center himself and fight it, but his face flushed in embarrassment, turning a darker blue. He swept up his cards with one hand and started shuffling.
"Let's just play, big fella."
The young Jedi kept his eyes fixed on his cards. He wasn't good with people, and it was easier to feel comfortable if he didn't look Lorb in the face, especially while the big Houk was laughing at him. Lorb picked up his own cards, and–still chuckling–began to shuffle.
"We're just trying to ruffle your feathers, young one," Lorb rumbled. "Don't take it the wrong way."
"Of course not," Tudraka replied, trying to be cheerful. "A Jedi isn't bothered by such things, anyway."
Lorb turned over his shoulder to watch the bout.
"They sure can move. Can't say I blame you for being fascinated, Jedi."
Commander Castor and Rienna moved with rare grace. They didn't seem to notice their own nudity, their strikes and parries flowing like water, landing with the weight of mountains. The two twirled around each other as they shifted their footing, each trying to catch the other off guard. Suddenly, Reinna's feet left the deck as she launched herself forward in a jumping spin kick. Castor ducked and Reinna flew past him. He launched an immediate counter strike which Rienna barely had time to turn to block. Castor moved with grace and speed, but also with power. The Commander had short, crew cut hair, a square face, and broad shoulders. There were scars and burns splotched across his chest and abdomen like tattoos, the remainders of a hundred unsung battles.
"What martial art are they using?" Tudraka asked Lorb, his eyes never leaving the dueling pair.
"That's Echani," Lorb turned back to the table, and began to shuffle his cards again. "Looks like the third tier, but I was never one for all that fancy stuff."
"You know, I'm something of a martial artist myself." Tudraka replied.
The big lizard chuckled, the sound like boulders rolling down a hillside.
"Are you now? And you've never heard of the Echani?"
Tudraka shook his head. Lorb stopped shuffling, and laid out the cards; Tudraka wasn't paying attention. Castor had launched into a blur of an attack pattern, and Rienna blocked every strike, moving backwards under the onslaught. Then, she planted her feet, and threw a solid right hook to counter. Castor stepped into the punch, sliding his forearm over the incoming blow, turning his body, using his hips to transfer Rienna's momentum. The white-haired woman was thrown off her feet, spun overhead, then slammed down hard onto the cargo bay floor. Castor maintained control of Rienna's forearm, and twisted her arm into a painful looking angle. Rienna cried out.
"Yield! I yield!" Her open palm slapped at the deck plate.
Castor released her arm. He bent, and helped Rienna to stand.
"You surprised me, Commander. I thought I had your attack sequences predicted to the letter. I did not expect you to step into the strike." she said.
"That's why I got you," Castor had a wide smile on his face.
He held out a hand for the Lieutenant to take. Rienna scowled, but only for a moment, and then her features broke into a soft smile that matched the bright one Castor wore. She took Castor's hand, shook it, and then looked down at her body, covered in sweat and engine grease.
"I need the refresher. Thank you for the bout, sir."
"Anytime; you know all you have to do is ask." Castor replied.
Rienna turned to leave, and saw Tudraka watching them. Her eyes found his, and she frowned again. Tudraka's face burned hot, and he looked down at his cards. Rienna walked right by the table on her way to the hallway, and the Jedi willed the world to shrink down to only the paper in his hands.
"Go ahead, and look Jedi," Rienna said as she passed, "It is the closest you will ever get to a woman, after all."
Her words dripped with venom, but her emotions clashed with her tone. Tudraka could tell that she was as embarrassed as he was; he could sense that her bravado was a show to maintain her personal honor. Sarlacc Team was family, and Tudraka had intruded on their family time. He realized he had seen a side to Rienna that she did not show to just anybody, not only her body, but also her fighting ability, some piece of who she was as a person, a fragment of personality she guarded with jealousy. Something about it was special to her. Tudraka looked back at his cards, and tried to pretend he had never seen her. Lorb exploded with laughter.
"Don't mind her, Jedi, she's a handful, but a good person once you get to know her."
"I hope I didn't offend her," Tudraka said, "I didn't mean to intrude. I should have asked before we started our game."
Lorb waved one massive hand in dismissal.
"Don't worry about that. You should spar with the Commander, though. I've always wanted to see what a Jedi could do up close."
"I think I'll pass. Jedi aren't supposed to be warriors, we don't engage in such things for amusement."
"And yet warriors you are! Besides, you said you trained, right? Come on little, blue human. Just a quick bout."
Horliir snapped his rifle back together. It clicked, whirred as it charged up. Then he pulled out a CRZ-9001, and began disassembling it.
"Why don't you spar him, Lorb? Put your money where your mouth is, you big pile of lard."
Lorb let out a big belly laugh.
"No no, not me! I just ate!"
"I'll spar, I doubt mind." Commander Castor said; he had redonned a thin black shirt, utilitarian cargo pants, and he took a swig of water from a canteen he had produced from somewhere. "I'm all warmed up. Might as well keep up the workout."
"Really, I shouldn't," Tudraka replied.
Castor shrugged, but Lorb was persistent.
"Come on! If I see you fight after this, it will be when things are live; it would be nice to know I can rely on you before we come under fire."
"You think we're going to come under fire?" Tudraka asked, concern creeping into his tone.
Lorb opened his mouth to respond, but Nemriva chose that moment to enter the cargo hold. The older Jedi had her dark hair pulled back into the same tight bun as the previous day, and she wore a similar set of drabbed colored, utilitarian clothes. Her sabers were clipped to the belt around her waist.
"I couldn't help but overhear; I think it's a good idea, Padawan. I want to see what you can do as well." The bronze-skinned human sat on a bench next to Horliir. "Let's see if the Order's basic regimens are still up to snuff."
There was nothing Tudraka wanted less than to be scrutinized in front of strangers, but Nemriva's request carried the tone of an order. He was a Padawn, and she had been assigned as his Master, at least for the mission. Tudraka stood with an inward groan. He tried not to let his nervousness boil over to the surface, and found the Jedi Code repeating in his mind in an attempt to tamp it down. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no emotion, there is peace...The Chiss removed his outer Jedi robe, folded it, and left it neatly on his seat at the table.
"Don't worry, I'll watch it for you," Horliir joked.
Tudraka ignored him, and stepped down into the middle of the cargo bay. Commander Castor took another swig of water, capped his canteen, and then moved to join. Tudraka could feel the eyes of the room on him, burning into his blue skin. He took a deep breath; he had to get a hold of his emotions. Castor seemed to notice his unease.
"Don't worry kid, we'll keep it light." he dropped into a similar stance to the one he had used against Rienna. "None of that fancy Force stuff either, alright? Nice and easy."
Tudraka smiled, nodded, then dropped into his opening stance.
"Corellian Kickboxing?" Castor raised an eyebrow, and smiled. "Good."
He launched a series of strikes that came with the same flowing grace that he had used against Rienna. Tudraka blocked, and dropped back a step, creating distance then settling back into a defensive stance.
"Where did you learn it?" the Commander asked in the pause, and then he attacked again, not waiting for an answer.
Tudraka blocked two strikes, and ducked under a third, spinning back to create more distance, and settling into his defensive posture once more. He said nothing, and waited for Castor's next move. The human was probing the Jedi's defenses, feeling him out, and Tudraka had chosen to answer with patience. Castor smiled, then launched into another acceleration, more complicated, his movements changing from flowing and graceful to direct and powerful. The Jedi recognized Mandalorian Core, and the Chiss knew he had his chance. He blocked, seized his opening, and sent out a strike of his own. Tudraka hit nothing but air, his fist hitting void instead of Castor's ribs. Castor was quick as lightning, and he allowed Tudraka's motion to carry him forward, taking the Jedi off balance, his arm extended and vulnerable. The Chiss felt his opponent's hand begin to trace up his arm, and he knew that Castor was going for a throw similar to the one he had used against Rienna. He turned into the human before that could happen, keeping control of his center of gravity. The pair grappled at close quarters, and the Chiss let go with a series of knee strikes. Castor pulled his elbows down to protect his sides, and Tudraka's knees slid away harmless. Then the Commander broke the clinch, and switched styles yet again, this time dropping into another stance the Jedi could recognize: Broken Gate. The Commander threw an elbow which forced Tudraka back, and then followed it up with a sidekick that caught him in the ribs. The Jedi fell back, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He felt a flare of anger, one he fought hard to suppress. He decided it was time to stop playing; Tudraka collected himself, and performed a light sequence to drop himself into a stance, raising one foot into the air.
"You know Teras Kasi?" Nemriva seemed surprised, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest as she spoke.
Tudraka ignored her as Castor launched another attack; the young Chiss parried, and then immediately launched into the offensive. Tudraka let loose a flurry of blows-hammer punches, straights, elbows, knees, and high kicks-a display of agility and aggression that belied Tudraka's subdued demeanor. Castor flowed like water, parrying or dodging each strike as if it was nothing. The Jedi began to feel his breath catching in his lungs, and he attempted to control it, letting his center of calm pull his diaphragm deep, filling his chest. Tudraka redoubled the assault, driving Castor back towards the bulkhead of the cargo bay; if the Jedi could trap his opponent against the wall he could turn the tide. He threw one final strike, and Castor again shifted his stance, flowing around the oncoming punch like oil. He was suddenly behind Tudraka, and the Padawan felt his legs flip out from under him, the deck rushing up to meet him. He impacted with all of his weight, and his arm was wrenched behind him before he could react, twisted into an angle that was so painful he could hardly breath.
"Yield, I yield!" Tudraka yelled, and the pressure on his arm disappeared. He flipped onto his back, and found Castor's hand waiting to help him to his feet.
"Not bad, Jedi! I expected Castor to roll you faster than a smuggler on the Kessel Run!" The Houk's voice bounced around the bay; "You lasted a whole four minutes!"
Horliir was still focused on his pistol, but he gave a silent nod.
"Not bad, kid." Castor said, "I've sparred Jedi before, and they really skimp on the basic hand-to-hand during your training; too focused on those fancy swords, I guess. It was a nice change of pace. Who would've thought the Council would let their younglings learn something like Teras Kasi?"
"They didn't." Nemriva answered for the Chiss, her tone disapproving; Tudraka felt a wave of shame wash over him. "You need a change of clothes. And to meditate to focus on the mission ahead. Go clean up."
"But we didn't finish our game!" Lorb protested; Castor moved off, grabbing a towel to wipe sweat from his brow, and reaching for his canteen.
"We should take the time to commune with the Force before we arrive at Tanaab." Nemriva said. "We don't know what's waiting for us; we have to be ready for anything."
Tudraka sighed. "She's right, Lorb. We can pick it up next time."
Tudraka crossed the room, and snagged his robe from the Houk's outstretched hand.
"I'm going to hold you to our game, Jedi, we had credits on the line."
Tudraka smiled and nodded, and then stepped into the hallway. Nemriva caught up to him outside, before he could mount the stairs to the refresher.
"I don't know where you learned to fight like that, but you need to be careful utilizing such things. Teras Kasi is dangerous; it can expose you to the dark side."
Tudraka frowned.
"I was just trying to-"
Nemriva held up a hand.
"I know what you were trying to do. But a Jedi doesn't need to prove themselves. Ego is a distraction; we are on a mission critical to the Jedi and the Republic, and you need to be completely focused. I felt the anger surge in your heart during that bout, Padawan."
"You're right. I didn't think there would be any harm in—-."
"Is the Council aware of the fact you've been trained like that?" She cut him off.
"I—yes, they are aware. They've always been aware," then, after a second. "They probably wouldn't be happy with me using it."
"Then they did forbid you, didn't they?"
"Yes," Tudraka looked down at the floor, unable to prevent a wave of shame from washing over him.
"So I thought. That was very foolish of you, Padawan."
A moment of silence fell between them, and Nemriva seemed to look into Tudraka's soul. He could feel her probing at his emotions with the Force, and he opened himself to her; he had nothing to hide. The Council was fully aware of his past, and had accepted him despite it. Finally, she seemed satisfied. Nemriva's shoulders relaxed, and she nodded.
"I sense pain in your past. And much suffering. Wherever you come from clings to you like a smoke; it makes it hard to read the truth of you. You must be wary, or whatever you have seen, whatever hurt you, it will overtake you." Nemriva sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder. "But I think you're a good person at heart, and have the makings of a good Jedi. Stay focused on the moment, on the mission. This is the Jedi Way; hold to it, and you will find your true path."
"Yes, Master, I understand."
Nemriva scoffed.
"I am not your Master. I know what the Council said, but this assignment is temporary. Call me Nemriva."
Tudraka nodded, a small smile creeping over his lips.
"Nemriva. Then you can call me Tudraka."
Nemriva nodded, and smiled back, a small terse thing which still somehow managed to light up her face. She started up the steps, heading back towards the cockpit. Tudraka followed her, but broke off towards the crew barracks at the top of the staircase.
"I'll talk to you later, Nemriva." He called out; she nodded, and disappeared onto the bridge without a response.
Tudraka looked after her for a moment, and then turned towards the refreshers.
The dirt was red, and the room dark. The walls were made of red rock, and the sounds of struggle were all around him. He ran, ran as fast as he could, his breath coming in ragged gasps, The dust became sticky when it mixed with the sweat on his face, caking around his eyes. The air was thick with kicked up sand, and all around him other children of various ages were killing each other. The sword they had given him grew heavy in his hand, and he let it drop so that he could run faster.
He didn't understand what was happening. The past weeks had been a blur as they had been moved from place to place. One long, torturous string of stun batons, knuckles, and cramped, cold cargo holds. He couldn't understand anyone, and they were always yelling at him in strange voices. Then, finally, they had been herded off ship, and strange looking bugmen forced them underground, deep into caves that had been driven into the red rock. The bugmen took them down, and brought them before a giant worm-man. The worm-man was scary, and he smelled bad. He spoke with a voice like thunder, and slobbered everywhere with each booming word. Then, the giant worm-man had them tossed into a pit, the weapons clattering in soon after. The worm-man said something in a deep, guttural string of noises. There was a pause, filled with silence, and then a bugman shot one of the other children. The rest of the prisoners had gone crazy after that; they had gone for the weapons, and started to use them on each other. The older children first, but soon the rest, each one fighting for their lives. It was pure chaos, children screaming as blood caked the ground, and he still had no idea why any of it was happening.
The Rodian had come for him right away, a huge alien that towered over him. He could hear the Rodian getting closer behind him, and then something hit him hard in his left shoulder. There was a spreading warm feeling, wet across his back, and then his feet caught on a stone. He was falling, turning over while he tumbled, hitting the dirt, the red sand burning against his wet shoulder. The big Rodian stepped over him; he tried to scramble backwards, but he was so slow; his left arm wasn't working right anymore. The Rodian followed, one deliberate step after another. The alien raised a sword high over its head, and the blade dripped with something red and wet.
Something in him snapped. His experiences over the past few weeks roiled inside of him, clashed against the fear and pain the Rodian had caused, then merged together into burning hot anger. He screamed, his rage bursting forth in a guttural, unearthly roar. The walls of the room shook, loose stones rattling down from the ceiling. The Rodian lifted off its feet by several meters, floating into the air; it looked like it was screaming too, but there was nothing to hear over the sound exploding from his own mouth. Everyone dropped their weapons, and clamped their hands over their ears. Some fell to their knees, weeping, or uttering their own silent screams. Then the Rodian exploded, turning into green paste that showered down on the surrounding sand like obscene rain. The walls finally stopped shaking, the sound dying away. Everything was silent, except for him; he was still screaming, but now it sounded weak, shrill and afraid, the tiny scream of a frightened child. He was frantic, frantic to wipe the green stuff from his face. It burned in his eyes.
Then there was someone next to him. He still couldn't see, or tell who it was, but their presence was an immediate comfort. The person was like a ray of calm, soothing his anger and sadness. A pair of hands helped him clear his eyes, and he blinked them open just as the worm-man began to speak. The worm-man said something, and the bugmen looked at each other. Then some of them shot a few of the others, the bugs turning on each other until only a handful remained. The bugmen that were left began to herd the rest of the children away. The worm-man came down into the pit, sliding across the sand on his long, fat body. It stared down at them with huge dark eyes, laughing in its deep, booming laugh, like the grinding of glaciers in High Winter. The sound bounced around the stone room, and became an echo. It reverberated until he could feel it in his very bones.