There it was again, that strange presence looming on the horizon. Odd. He recognized this life signature, the pattern of energy this soul put out into the universe. They had worked together once, briefly, until circumstances had forced them to go their separate ways. How odd, he thought with a frown, and how timely.
He stalked the merchant quarter of Iziz, cloaked in a robe that fell in a silvery gray mist around his feet. His arm was aching, or rather, his shoulder ached and it resonated in every direction. Frowning, he opened and closed his right fist, testing the pain, trying to decode it. Perhaps it was the weather invading his joints, or a tiny tremor from the Force informing him of trouble to come.
All around him commerce reigned. Men in colorful silk scarves and tunics hawked their wares. The sun glinted and then exploded off of jewels and precious ores of all sizes and styles. Alabaster bone combs gleamed like ocean trench pearls, perfume bottles and tiny, fragile capsules of essential oils breathed their fragrant life into the dusty air. He saw beautiful, handmade earthenware to his right, endless rows of cloth sacks containing strong spices, aromatic leaves, teas and medicinal powders to his left. The air surged, filled up with so many combating smells.
He could walk among the sellers and buyers here and remember a happier time. Well, for the people of Iziz it had been worse, a scary time of upheaval and uncertainty. But for him? He had been at peace then, living in the incandescent presence of the woman he loved. And the trade quarter, the bustle and laughter and shouting and money-waving made his memories palpable, near.
But he was not there to reminisce. He had a job to do and this strange presence he had sensed was drawing closer. They might even intersect, he thought, bemused at the idea. Agh, the pain was back. He flexed his arm, testing its vibrant strength. The merchants ignored him as he meandered through the square; they sensed, or perhaps knew, that he would not be attracted to their foods, their baubles, their exotic treasures from all over the galaxy.
Something stopped him. He glanced to his right where a short man with a bushy silver beard hawked necklaces. His training had taught him to reject the physical, to give up material wealth in exchange for spiritual enlightenment and meaning. But that was the old training, not the new. He strode confidently to the man's tent and picked up the glint of dark silver that had caught his eye. It was an unusual and lovely necklace, deep with the vibrations of the earth. Wherever the ore had been mined, the planet had experienced many tragedies, seen decades of struggle and hardship. The necklace hummed with memory. A bright, violet jewel had been placed in the center of the necklace, tear-shaped and bright.
"How much?" he asked the merchant.
"Four hundred," the old man replied firmly.
"That's extortionate. I'll give you two."
He handed the merchant two hundred credits and palmed the necklace into his robes. She would like it. He would add it to the collection of things he had saved up for her return. He might have had the necklace for free and that old swindler nearly deserved it, but he was more than happy to pay a fair price. There was no need to abuse his power, not when the feeling of spending money was so oddly enjoyable. It was something he had missed.
The heat of midday was climbing, reaching its apex as the surface of the planet roasted and endured. There was a little time yet before he needed to be on his way. The sun beating down on the back of his neck, piercing the anonymity of his hooded robe, drove him inside. He stepped off the unpaved road into a discrete matsham. The merchant quarter was filled with these little cantinas drilled into the sides of the white plaster buildings. It looked more like a human-sized morril hill than a shop.
Inside it was cool and fragrant. Iziz natives sprawled out on cushions around low tables, smoking water pipes and blowing horrok lily-scented smoke over their cups of iced tea. He took a table at the window and wedged himself into a corner. Without prompting, a young girl dressed in a simple tan-colored robe and brown slippers padded over to him. She made a little bow, her nut-brown hair drifting across her big, childlike eyes.
"A pipe," he said. "Tea, a big one, iced, and rose tobacco please. And a plate of whatever you've got today."
The girl bowed again and took the money he offered her. She seemed to notice the generous tip and hurried her stride. He settled back into the pillows, sighing as a feeling of serene pleasure overtook him. This was a time to savor, the electric moment before strife. With that fascinating and odd life presence on the horizon he had a feeling his afternoon would be very eventful. While he waited for the girl to return, he looked around at the other patrons. They spoke in hushed tones, nodding gravely over the long, snaking hoses of their water pipes, their noses alight with the white curls of smoke.
The man sitting near the kitchen entrance had just come from his mistress's home. He was worried that his wife would smell his lover on his collar. The young boy reclining near the door eating a large pastry was anxious too, nervous that his mother would catch him skipping out on school. Almost all of them worried about something – a wife, a lover, a child. He wondered if they could see on his face that he had no anxieties whatsoever, that his destiny had led him to a place of profound tranquility, the kind of harmony ordinary people only dreamed of.
The girl returned, placing a plate of curried bean paste and pickled lime chilies next to the water pipe. She loaded the pipe, deftly pressing the rose-flavored tobacco into the silver canister. Then she scurried away and returned with his tea. He watched the condensation slip down the sides of the tall glass as the girl lit the coal on the pipe, bowed, and disappeared.
He pulled out the necklace he had bought as he began to puff on the pipe. He ran his thumb over the smooth, silken jewel and watched it wink back at him. Yes, it was a good day, a pleasant morning, and soon it would become so very interesting.