Thanks go out to Barbossa'sApples, Mara look-a-like, Amanda, Jedi-Princess, and Da Mess Maker for your reviews.
Jedi-Princess ― If I could find it and knew where to send it I would send you my copy of the book that feature Prince (weaselly) Xizor! ― Do you mean Shadows of the Empire? If so, I have that. I reference it a few times throughout Journey of Discovery. But thanks for the offer.
Zipporahvulcan ― I hope by now you can get to these chapters. Must've been a glitch at ff.n right when you were trying. No one else has mentioned having trouble.
A Journey of Discovery -- Book Two: Pledge
Chapter Four
Luke and Mara trudged onward for hours, bantering off and on through their mindlink, but mostly just putting one weary foot in front of the other in silence, both lost in their own private thoughts. Eventually the snow turned to sleet, stinging their eyes mercilessly. They were almost grateful when the sleet changed to rain, even though their so-called weatherproof flightsuits didn't keep the chilling dampness from penetrating to their bones.
Sundown was fast approaching when the hapless pair crested a small hill and looked down into a tiny village nestled in a picturesque valley.
"I don't see any spaceports," Mara commented, pulling the sodden scarf down as her teeth chattered in the cold drizzle.
"No," Luke agreed, peering through the dusky gloom. "I don't either. But we're not here to acquire a new ship—"
"We're not?" Mara interrupted sarcastically. "Stang!"
"We're here," Luke continued smoothly, purposely ignoring her tone, "to get a new stabilizer rod, and if possible, get a message out."
Carefully making their way down the slick hillside, they entered the village proper, curiously studying the quaint shops and homes as they traversed the cobblestone streets. Slushy snow squished under their booted feet.
Flickering flames of light shone through old-fashioned glass windowpanes, and citizens, bundled up against the cold, hurried through the light drizzle. A few of the more inquisitive, pausing to observe the strangely dressed newcomers, pointed and whispered among themselves.
"I haven't seen any species yet other than human," Luke observed. "I wonder if the whole planet is human-only, or if the settlements are segregated?"
"Frankly, I don't care," Mara groused. "But we can't just wander up and down the streets, Jedi, discussing their isolationist practices," she continued. "We're going to have to stop and ask for directions at some point. I, for one, would like to get out of this rain."
Luke was ready to find a warm, dry spot himself. "All right," he responded slowly, looking around at the surrounding buildings. "Over there." He pointed down the street. "Looks like some kind of cantina."
Mara took off in the direction he indicated without a moment's hesitation, with Luke hurrying to catch up. He stopped short, though, as he noted that the shingle for the Lucky Red Bone Pub was written in Basic. The style of the script was archaic and the words were spelled a bit differently than normal, reminding Luke of ancient writing he had seen in historical documents. But it was Basic nevertheless, and a planet whose human inhabitants spoke Basic surely should have been on their navigational charts.
All conversation in the pub ceased as the two drenched, orange-garbed travelers entered. Luke took the initiative and addressed the wide-eyed gawkers.
"Hello," he began, sensing no antagonism, only curiosity. "Uhm... we were wondering if..."
He was interrupted by the booming voice of the bartender. "Greetings to ye both, young strangers." He welcomed them with a thick, guttural accent. "Come, have a seat. Can I get ye somethin' to drink?"
"No, thank you," Luke returned, trying to place the man's brogue. "We just need some directions."
"We need to find a repair shop," Mara put in, still standing even though a nearby patron had pulled out a chair for her.
"Aye, we'll help ye all we can." The bartender came closer, motioning to an empty table near a large fireplace. "But at least let me get ye both a tankard of ale," he added, as a sneeze escaped Mara.
"Ale nothin', Efam," a large-boned, middle-aged matron objected. "Why, these young folks are chilled clear through. What they need is some hot tea." She bustled off to where a kettle sat on a primitive-looking cooking unit.
Luke tugged on Mara's sleeve and gestured for her to join him at the table. "You're buying, right?" he whispered. "You did bring credits along, to pay for a new rod, didn't you?"
"You're a real sport, Farmboy." Mara smirked, smiling at him. "Guess I can spring for a cup of tea. Consider it your reward for coming after me." She fished through her pack and pulled out a credit chip. "Though I still maintain I really didn't need your help."
"Whatever you say, Mara," Luke returned, draping his sodden blanket over the back of his chair.
The woman returned with two steaming mugs and a cheery smile. "Here ye be."
Mara handed her the credit chip. "Will this be sufficient?"
The woman stared at the foreign object, turning it over curiously. "What be this?"
"Oh." Mara held out her hand when the woman handed it back. "Do you only take Imperial script?"
The woman laughed heartily as she helped herself to a chair at their little table. "Ye two don't have any dekas, do ye now?"
"If that's your currency, then, no." Mara looked at the two warm mugs around which she and Luke had cupped their frozen hands. "So I guess we can't pay for the tea," she murmured.
"Ah, lass." The matron smiled toothily. "What kind o' welcome would it be to visitors if I was to quibble over a cup o' tea.
"Now then, me name is Filia," she continued, holding out a hand in greeting. "That be me husband, Efam." She nodded at the bartender. "And what might yer names be?"
"I'm Luke." Luke returned her handshake, and nodded his head toward his companion. "And this is Mara."
Luke and Mara soon learned they had landed in Zembuhl, which was the largest of several isolated villages in the area. One by one, Filia introduced all the patrons in the pub. Some came up and shook hands, while others raised a mug or hand in a friendly greeting. Luke did his best to catalog each name and face into his memory.
(What are you doing, Skywalker?) Mara sent as she accepted an outstretched hand. (We'll never see these people again. You don't need to memorize all these names.)
(You never know,) Luke returned, smiling at the next introductee. (We may need all their help to get off this planet.)
"What village be ye from?" said Efam, as he came over to join the conversation.
"We're from Coruscant," Mara answered.
The occupants of the pub all glanced at one another in confusion.
"We've not heard o' that one," Filia responded.
"Perhaps you know of it as Imperial Center," Mara went on, thinking that maybe the Emperor's name for the seat of government would be more familiar.
"That's an impressive tag fer a village, lass," Efam returned, "but we still don't know o' it."
"It's very far from here," Luke put in, giving Mara a cautionary glance.
"We're all glad to meet ye," Filia was saying, "wherever ye be from. Winter Festival is the only time we see new faces here."
"Winter Festival?" Mara asked.
Filia and several others gave her perplexed looks. "Isn't that why ye two are here?"
"No." Luke shook his head, setting down his mug. "Our ship broke down, and we need a part to repair it."
"Ship?" a bearded man at the next table questioned. "Why, the nearest sea be a fortnight's travel from here. And why would ye be sailin' in the dead o' winter, if ye weren't comin' fer the Festival?"
(They think we mean a seafaring ship,) Mara sent to Luke with a frown, then turned to the speaker. "No, that isn't the kind of ship—"
Luke laid one hand on her arm to interrupt. "We were fishing, and were blown off course," he interjected into the conversation, "and lost our... maps. So we just started walking until we reached... here."
Wherever in blue blazes 'here' is, Mara thought sourly.
"Fishin'?" someone asked. "Just ye... and the missus?" The man's bushy eyebrows raised as he eyed Mara speculatively.
Luke hurriedly nudged Mara with his foot before she could voice her indignation at the man's label for her. "We were scouting... for new locations... for the spring," he fumbled, purposely ignoring the glare he knew Mara was sporting and hoping against hope she would hold her tongue. "And we're not married," he added. "We're partners."
Another patron, seated near the bar, spoke up. "Those are strange clothes ye both be wearin'. Are they some kind o' new fishin' garb?"
"Something like that," Luke replied carefully, knowing his explanations were shaky at best. "They're supposed to make us easier to spot, if we get lost."
"Sounds like ye are lost, laddie," the man snorted, eliciting a round of guffaws.
"Oh, hush, Hener," Filia admonished him. "Don't be makin' fun o' the poor things."
"Just shows what can happen when you leave a man at the helm in a storm," Mara put in dryly. This time a titter of laughter came from only the women in the pub.
Efam cleared his throat to get back to the business at hand. "What kind o' part be ye needin' fer yer boat?"
"A long metal rod," Luke replied. He reached over and pulled the two broken pieces of stabilizer rod out of Mara's pack. "Like this."
"Hmmm." The men of the pub all gathered closer to inspect the piece of hardware. "Never seen nothin' like that before," one of them commented, scratching his chin in thought. "Could be Hiley would be able to fashion somethin' like that fer ye, though."
"Hiley? Who's that?" Mara perked up. Maybe there was hope after all. "Where can we find him?"
"Hiley crafts tools an' such out o' metal," Filia explained. "But ye won't be findin' him anywhere tonight. He's already gone home fer the evenin'."
"In the morning, then." Luke gave Mara an encouraging smile. "We'll just stay the night somewhere..."
"Oh, my." Filia clapped her hands together in sudden thought. "Ye have no place to stay, do ye?"
At the negative shakes of two wet, bedraggled heads, she continued. "Efam and me'd be glad to let ye stay in our home, but I'm afraid ye'd find it a bit crowded, what with our seven children."
"Aye," the bearded man added. "Most of us are full up. Me and the missus got more relatives visitin' fer Festival than we got beds fer."
"We don't expect any of you to put us up," Luke assured them. "We'll be fine."
(Speak for yourself,) Mara grumbled silently, giving him a frown. (I was looking forward to a real bed.)
"There be a boardin' house," Filia informed them. "It's run by me ol' chum, Merta. But with the Festival, don't know if she'd be havin' any rooms left."
Mara looked at Luke hopefully, then turned to Filia. "Can we go find out?"
"'Course, lass. I'll take ye over there right now."
"But we still don't have any... anything to pay for a room," Luke objected, even as Mara began picking up their packs.
"P'shaw, lad," Filia said with a laugh. "Merta's more soft-hearted than I am. She'd never turn ye away."
Luke reluctantly gave in, and after thanking the pub's occupants for their help, he and Mara followed Filia out into the night.
―――――
(Scouting for fishing locations?) Mara scoffed silently to Luke as they made their way down the street. (In a blizzard?)
(I grew up in a desert,) he returned testily. (What makes you think I know anything about fishing?)
(Then you should have made up a different cover story.)
(Like what? We were on a cruise ship, checking out spots for sightseeing tours?) He gave a derisive snort. (You actually believe these people know what space travel is?)
He was saved from hearing any mocking retort when Filia informed them that the large, three-story, clapboard building they were approaching was their destination. As far as Mara and Luke could tell, this was one of the taller structures in the village.
"Merta!" Filia called out as they entered.
"That you, Filia?" a pleasant voice answered. Wiping her hands on her apron, a plump, jovial-faced woman emerged from a nearby dining chamber.
"Aye, Merta," Filia greeted her friend. "I got a couple o' cold, wet travelers here who be needin' a room."
"Two rooms," Mara and Luke spoke up simultaneously. They looked at each other, then just as quickly looked away.
Merta gave a short chuckle. "Sorry to disappoint ye, but I only have one room left. And I only be havin' that one cause it's way up in the attic."
Luke glanced at Mara, but she was steadfastly studying a crack in the worn planks under their feet.
"That will be fine," Luke finally spoke up. "But we, uh,... we can't,... we don't..."
"What he be tryin' to tell ye, Merta," Filia put in, "is that they don't have any dekas."
"Don't they now?" Merta placed her hands on her wide hips. Making a half-hearted attempt at looking stern, she turned to face the newcomers. "So what would ye be offerin' in exchange for this room?"
"We're hard workers," Mara spoke up quickly.
"We'd be glad to work for our keep," Luke continued.
"That be so, heh?" Merta smiled broadly at them. "Well, I might be able to find some chores 'round here for the both o' ye. I could be usin' some help, 'specially here at Festival time."
"Of course, anything at all," Luke readily agreed, glancing at Mara as she covered another sneeze.
"Then why we be standin' in this drafty hall?" Merta snatched up an oil-filled lamp. "Let's get ye two into a warm bed."
Luke quickly shot a sideways glance at Mara, but she once again refused to meet his gaze.
"I'll be seein' ye all tomorrow." Filia smiled as she headed back toward the door. "Sleep tight, young ones, and don't be lettin' the bedbeetles bite," she added with a wink.
(Why is everyone obsessed with getting us into bed together,) Mara groused silently, as she and Luke followed Merta up a narrow stairway.
(You're not expecting me to answer that, are you?) Luke returned, following behind her.
(I'm not expecting you to do anything tonight, Farmboy.)
Luke wasn't quite sure if she didn't want him to do anything, or didn't think he was capable of it. And he wasn't about to ask for clarification.
"Here we be," Merta puffed, out of breath from the three-story climb. She opened the door to reveal a rather spacious room, its sloped ceiling indicative of its position under the roof's eaves. Setting her lamp on a small table, she lit another lantern that was mounted on the wall.
Luke's gaze swept around the room, and he appreciatively eyed the assortment of furniture occupying it. A pair of wooden chairs flanked a small table, their blistered paint suggesting they were occasionally left too close to the large stone fireplace. A plain-looking chest with three drawers stood sentry next to a high bed, its carved headboard apparently from the same type of wood as the rest of the furniture.
Wooden furniture of any kind was unheard of on Tatooine, and Rebel accommodations rarely included more than a plasteel desk and chair and a durasteel-frame bunk. To Luke, the hand-crafted bureau and well-worn chairs were just as wondrous as the luxurious furnishings he'd encountered in his Imperial suite.
Merta paused as she noticed the young man drinking in every aspect of the unadorned garret, while the girl merely stood waiting indifferently. "I know 'tis not very fancy up here."
"No, no, it's fine," he assured her.
The landlady nodded in gratitude. "Well, ye'll need to get a fire goin,'... uh..."
"Luke," he supplied, before glancing at his companion.
"Mara," she added her own introduction.
"Aye, pleased to meet ye." Merta gestured toward the fireplace along the outer wall, then looked pointedly at Luke. "Ye'll need to bring up more wood from outside, to keep yer fire goin' all night." He took the hint and bent to stack wood inside the hearth from an adjacent log rack.
Merta motioned Mara to follow her as she entered a small doorway on the opposite wall. "There be a bathin' chamber fer ye in here," she announced, lighting another wall-mounted oil lamp. "Ye might want to be startin' a fire in here, too," she added, "if ye plan on takin' a bath tonight. There's buckets ye can fill with water." She pointed toward an ancient-looking pump sticking up from a wooden cabinet. "And then ye can heat them on the stove, or hang them over the fire." She nodded her head back toward the outer room.
Mara frowned at the squat, black, heating apparatus that sat on a slab of bricks.
"Ye may have to pump a few minutes fer the water to get all the way up here," Merta was continuing, but Mara was busy staring at the oval, footed bathtub. She was already imagining herself sinking down in a tubful of warm water. The last time she'd been in a bathtub had been... with... Mara bit her lip as she glanced through the doorway to see Luke coaxing the flames to life in the stone fireplace. She studied him a second, then looked back at the tub.
"It might be a tight squeeze, but ye both are small. I think ye'd fit."
Horrified, Mara jerked around to stare wide-eyed at Merta, who was standing with her hands on her hips and a wide grin on her face.
"No, no," Mara sputtered. "We're not... It's not... We're just friends," she finally spit out.
Merta gave a hearty laugh. "Don't worry, lass. I was young once, too, believe it or not."
Obviously these people don't know us very well, Mara thought to herself. At the same time, though, her mind was adding Luke to the image in her head.
Merta proceeded to show Mara the rest of the not-so-modern amenities of the small chamber. The two women then went back out to the bedroom and found Luke hanging his flightsuit over a chair near the fire.
"Mara, I think if we drape our clothes around the fire, they should all be dry by morning," he announced with a smile.
"Sure," Mara replied. Which meant they'd have nothing to sleep in. Wonder if Luke thought that far ahead? Probably not. Then again...
"Ye don't have any other clothes to wear?" Merta broke into the conversation.
"No," Luke answered for both of them, then cleared his throat in attempt to cover the rather loud growling of his stomach. "Sorry," he apologized. "Guess it's been awhile since we've eaten."
Merta chuckled merrily. "No food, no clothes, no money. What a sorry pair ye are, fer sure." She didn't look behind her to see the scowl on Mara's face. "Tell ye what ― as soon as ye get settled in, one of ye come downstairs and I'll fix ye up some supper to bring up here. And I might even be able to dig up some clean clothes for ye."
"That would be very kind of you," Luke returned graciously. He closed the door behind Merta as she left her two newest boarders.
Luke took a deep breath, then turned around to face Mara. She was leaning against the edge of the bed, bending to undo the fasteners on one of her flight boots.
"So, here we are," she muttered, not looking up. Luke crossed the room and, crouching down, helped her pull off the heavy boot. When both boots were off, she wrangled out of the top half of her wet flightsuit. Luke reached to help as she pushed it down over her hips.
"Getting in more practice pulling my clothes off, Farmboy?"
Luke's hand stiffened mid-reach, and a stricken look filled his face. "Sorry," he muttered softly, before rising and crossing to one of the windows.
"I was just kidding, Skywalker." Mara blew out a breath. Most guys would have pulled at her clothes that much more eagerly. But Luke wasn't like most guys. Besides, she didn't want to be around someone who was anxious only to get her undressed. Calrissian had made more than his share of offers along those lines. No, the only man she wanted to be close to was now bracing himself against the sides of the window sash, staring silently out into the night. And she was driving him farther away with each sarcastic comment.
"We were lucky to find this place," Mara continued, determined to alter her abrasive nature, at least as far as Luke was concerned.
"Hmmm," came the noncommittal reply.
"This is much better than sleeping out on the ground." Mara ran one hand under the covers. "I think this mattress has feathers in it." She glanced at Luke, who didn't even acknowledge he'd heard her. "We ought to get a good night's sleep, at least."
Mara frowned at his rigid posture. Now what was wrong? He was usually a regular chattercube. "Hey, you decide to quit talking to me? What's so interesting outside?"
"It's snowing," Luke finally murmured quietly, still not turning around.
"Which makes me that much more glad we're in here instead of out there."
"You shouldn't be here at all," Luke bit out in a frustrated voice.
"What?" Mara could sense guilt gripping him as tightly as he was gripping the window frame. But guilt over what? Over the ship malfunctions? Over what had happened just now? Or last night? She was the one who had lain down next to him; he certainly had no reason to feel guilty.
Mara rose and gently laid a hand on his arm. "Luke, what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry I got you into this whole mess," he muttered, turning to look at her at last, sorrow filling his face.
"It's not your fault," she countered. "Mon Mothma sent us on this blasted mission. You couldn't help it."
Mara narrowed her eyes at his renewed silence. "Skywalker?"
"She sent me. Not you," he choked out, biting his lip as he shifted to once more look back out into the night. "It was my doing," he admitted in a dejected voice. Luke was certain that Mara may very well never speak to him again, but he felt compelled to disclose his deception. 'Confession is good for the soul,' Aunt Beru always said. So why did he feel so miserable?
"What do you mean?" Mara questioned, her low, emotionless voice not revealing her reaction.
"I'm the one that insisted you come with me on the mission." He glanced over his shoulder at her again, his culpable expression underscoring his strained confession. "I practically refused to go without you."
The hardened woman that had been Palpatine's virtual slave would have had a vibroblade to the Jedi's throat for such an unpardonable offense. But for reasons Mara could not begin to fathom, regret over her current situation was the farthest thing from her mind, while hearing his explanation seemed paramount. "Why?" she breathed.
"I don't know... I mean... I do... but... I didn't want us to be apart..."
Mara considered the underlying motive behind his actions. He'd defied Mon Mothma, just to have her with him. A feeling of warmth spread through her, disturbed only by the pathetic look he still wore. "So why the long face? I'm here, we're together,..."
"Mara, you could have frozen to death in that ravine!" He spun around, clutching her upper arms. "The ship could have crashed and killed you. We may not be able to get off this planet..."
Luke's worries only served to produce an amused smirk on Mara's face. "I have to hand it to you, Jedi ― you do know how to show a girl a good time."
"I'm serious, Mara." Luke pulled her a little closer. "I put you in danger, just because of my own selfish reasons. I couldn't bear it if I lost you..." His voice trailed off as he gazed into her emerald eyes.
"Luke," Mara whispered softly. "I'm pretty tough, you know. You're not going to get rid of me that easily."
Luke raised one hand and caressed the side of her face, then threaded his fingers through her still-damp hair. "Mara, I..." He took a deep breath. "I..."
A shiver ran through Mara as she waited for him to finish his sentence. Was he going to say he loved her? And how would she answer?
Luke felt Mara tremble in his arms. "You're cold. I need to go get more firewood." He pulled back from her embrace. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Now? You have to stop RIGHT NOW and go play chivalrous knight? Mara pushed him away none too gently. "Fine," she bit out, not allowing herself to look at his face.
As Luke bent to pick up the log carrier, Mara squatted down and began rummaging through the few remaining pieces of wood next to the fireplace.
"What are you doing?" Luke asked, doing his best not to upset her more than he apparently already had.
"I want to start a fire in the stove in the 'fresher, and I need some short pieces."
Luke grabbed up three fair-sized logs, set them on end, whipped out his lightsaber and cut them neatly in half. "Do you want me to help you start the fire?"
"No!" she bristled. Mara felt hot enough to start one by spontaneous combustion. How could he start to say some momentous statement of how he felt, finally, and then just stop! And why was this upsetting her so much, when his unexpected confession of being solely responsible for her being on this mission had invoked just the opposite reaction in her?
Luke stared at her as she grabbed up the truncated firewood. "I'll be right back," he repeated, not surprised when he didn't receive a reply.
Mara straightened up and blew out a breath as she heard the door close behind him. Relax, Mara. You're nervous; he's nervous. You both need to relax. Mara willed herself to calm down, and a satisfied little smile appeared on her face. Yes, they needed to relax, and she knew the perfect way to do just that.
Well, what did you think of the villagers so far? I was patterning them a little after the villagers in Brigadoon. Hopefully not too silly. wink
