The ship drifted to a halt as they dropped out of hyperspace. Looking out the window, Haven could see their destination appear out the window, suspended like a cool, blue marble in space. She recognized the planet at once, having seen it many times before in her visions and dreams. Standing, she changed into the clothing she had spent the last two hours altering. The assassin woman was tall and too slender at the shoulders and so Haven had carefully cut and re-stitched several pairs of pants, tops and the strange body suits the woman liked so much.
She zipped up the tight, synthetic trousers. They clung to her legs like a second-skin, a feeling she was unfamiliar with. For months she had worn the same set of tattered black robes, disguising her identity, her face and even her gender. Now there was no more reason to hide who she was, but these bizarre clothes would take some getting used to. The sensation of the tight, rubbery clothing against her skin was not altogether unpleasant, just alien, like stepping onto a new planet for the first time. Fortunately, the assassin woman's feet were relatively the same size as Haven's, and so she slipped on a pair of the woman's tall, thick boots with ease.
The bra she found fit more or less, that was good. As she shrugged it on and did up the clasp she smiled sadly to herself, thinking of the sweet-faced pilot with his solemn, wounded eyes. She had kept her promise but she knew there would be no reason for him to keep his. He would not visit her again, not after she had offended him so. She had hurt the Telosian man, struck at his pride without meaning to and she regretted it.
There was a knock at the door as she zipped up the short-sleeved, high-necked synthetic shirt. Feeling like a stranger in her own body, she turned toward the door.
"Come in."
The handsome Jedi Master stepped into the communications room, his hood back, a familiar lightsaber clasped in his gloved hand. He took a moment to look at her at a distance and then came forward, offering her the lightsaber. She took it, nervous, avoiding his searching eyes.
"Remarkable," he said gently, "How did you know to replace the crystal?"
Haven stared down at her lightsaber. It had once been a Sith weapon, but she had cracked it open, fiddled with the innards, tinkering and experimenting until it met her requirements. She had taken out the red, evil crystal and smashed it under an armful of titanium bricks.
"I read about these," she said, indicating the saber. "There were no instructions but I knew… Somehow I knew… I bought the crystal from a visiting merchant on Nar Shadaa. He didn't know what it was worth but I felt it as soon as he handed it to me."
"So I was not mistaken? You do wish to complete your training, to learn how to focus and control your power?" he asked. Haven went to the bench beneath the window and sat, cradling the saber in her lap. Mical joined her, his soothing presence settling around her like a warm blanket.
"That is my wish," she replied, nodding.
"Are you certain? You sound unhappy."
Haven looked up at him then, into his eyes, knowing that he would see at once what troubled her. His brow increased, his dark blue eyes raking over her face. She felt a powerful compulsion to talk to him, to tell him everything in her mind, to unload all of her anxieties and fears.
"I should not have let you meet him alone," Mical said. He raised his hand as if in benediction and the faint pain in her cheek disappeared.
"I upset him," Haven said simply. "I should not have brought up the Jedi. I didn't realize… I felt only a tremendous sadness, emptiness. I thought I might help him."
"You will learn to focus that instinct," Mical told her. "That much I can teach you. I cannot, however, teach you how to proceed with tact. His sadness is complicated and deeply personal. He perceives your concern as an attack, and he would rather suffer in silence than admit to his despair."
"I see that now," she said, shaking her head, feeling profoundly stupid.
"Whereas I will freely admit that I miss the Exile with all my heart, and that I long for her return, Carth has no faith in Revan anymore. To him, she has left for good, never to return, and because of that perhaps he is right. Perhaps he has made the choice for her. His unwillingness to believe in her, to keep hope, has set the course."
"I totally blew it," Haven said, the weight of her guilt riding on her shoulders. "You wanted him to come with us, didn't you? But now he'll leave. I'm sorry. I failed you already like a jerk."
"His path is not clear to me," Mical replied, looking away. He seemed to be searching for signs, for ripples from the Force, but he turned back to her with an empty expression. "His choice is not yet made. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps your candor has helped, not hindered."
"Good luck getting him to admit that."
"No, he is not one to talk about his feelings openly," Mical said, laughing. "He is a man, after all, a man brought up in the military. What we might consider honesty he considers weakness, and he will not speak plainly to close friends, much less strangers."
"I'll be more careful," she said, forcing a smile. "I won't bring it up again."
"I can't advise that, actually," Mical told her, standing. "Go forward as you naturally would, little one. Do not indulge him. He is a grown man. It is high time he learned to trust."
Mical touched her shoulder gently, imparting in that small gesture a great measure of peace. He went to the door and paused, turning back to her, his gray robes falling in a rushing mist around his feet. "We'll be landing very soon. Then your training can begin."
"Master?" she called.
"Yes?"
"Do you mean for him to be a Jedi too?"
"It is difficult for a man of his years to begin training, but not impossible. That is for him to decide. And he will decide… With your help."
She couldn't be sure, but she thought perhaps he had winked at her as he left. Haven looked back out the window, at the swirling blue surface of the planet below and its three orbiting moons hanging like fat pearls on a string of pale stars. It was strange and exciting to look at a planet covered in water and not skyscrapers. All her life she had lived among the filth and rabble, scraping out an existence in the ugliest cities in the galaxy. Something about the sight of that blue planet made her heart leap; finally she would be surrounded by trees, grass, water, clean air…
Her heart felt full and she calmed herself, slipping into a trance, quieting the excited fears that gnawed at her stomach. Soon, soon they would land and she could begin again.
* * *
Carth had expected Dantooine or maybe Coruscant to be Mical's "secret" destination. As the landing gear dropped and the hydraulics set them down gently on the planet, however, he saw that he was completely wrong.
He crept out of the med bay and tentatively made his way to the exit ramp. The ship was quiet, humming with the computerized machinery cooling down after the trip. The ramp had already been lowered and there was no sign of Mical, the Jedi girl or his brother. He pulled on the red jacket his brother had given him, guarding his arms from the sudden cool wind that trickled up the ramp toward him. It felt like early morning as he stepped out of the ship and onto the spongy ground. The sun was just rising, molten gold and silver on the blue horizon, its rays flashing out over the dense line of trees in the distance. Smooth, wet air brushed his cheeks and the lively, emerald trees surrounding the landing pad were shiny with dew. Crickets and frogs chirped in robust competition, singing and croaking as if it was their final hour of life.
It was chilly outside the ship, but he found the first hints of daytime warmth as he began to walk, the slats of sunlight offering a brief shimmer of heat. The fresh air was a nice change from the stale ship and he found his lungs expanded greedily, sucking down the rich, mossy oxygen with pleasure. Outside the landing clearing he saw a group of people standing. There were two shuttle speeders waiting, hovering just above a shallow pond. Carth approached the group carefully and found that it was Mical, Haven and a few people he didn't recognize. They wore Jedi robes, but not in the usual tan and brown; these robes were varying shades of gray and white.
As he neared, Mical turned and waved, ushering him over enthusiastically. They stood beside a series of ponds, long-legged bugs and lilies skimming the crystalline surface. His brother, Akil and Spryte—still unconscious—had been loaded into one of the shuttles, their eyes hidden behind thick blindfolds. A familiar face peered at him from the helm of the shuttle, her yellow cat eyes twinkling in the early-morning light.
"Juhani?"
"Hello Captain," she said in her gently accented voice, "Or forgive me, Admiral." She inclined her sleek head, bowing to him.
"Master Juhani was one of the first to defect to our cause," Mical explained. "She has been an invaluable asset and a wise teacher."
Haven stood a foot or two behind Mical, hiding as if shy of the strangers. She avoided Carth's eyes and he suddenly regretted speaking to her so harshly. He waited for her to look at him but she kept her eyes firmly on Mical's feet.
"And this is Master Bao-Dur," Mical said, extending his hand toward the Zabrak driving the empty shuttle. "This is Admiral Carth Onasi."
Carth half-recognized the amiable looking Zabrak, his memory kindled by the bright blue beam of energy holding the man's left arm together. He looked between Mical and Master Bao-Dur and chuckled.
A friend built this arm for me.
"Good to meet you," Carth said, waving.
"Let's be on our way," Bao-Dur said, motioning to his empty shuttle. "The sun will be up soon and the heat out here is unbearable."
Carth took a seat at the back of the shuttle, watching as Haven and Mical boarded, sitting a few seats away from him, allowing him his privacy and space. Juhani went first, speeding off away from the clearing, following a subtle path marked in the ground with paving stones. Bao-Dur followed, pointing out various features of the landscape on the way. Carth liked him immediately; he had a straightforward, military way of communicating that put him at ease.
They left the thick trees behind, flying out onto a long, treacherous causeway that gradually rose up and over the water. The ponds had begun linking together until finally they turned gradually into a wide expanse of sea. Carth looked over the edge of the causeway, watching as the water became deeper and deeper, murky shadows hinting at the enormous sea creatures below. Above them the cottony purple clouds obscured the rising sun, painting a delicate panorama behind the rocky island jutting up in front of them at the end of the causeway. Haven pointed to a group of greenish brown mammals floating on their backs, their furry stomachs strewn with seaweed; their finned ears perked up as the shuttle rumbled over the bridge.
"Lontra Salmaris," she said, "green salt otters."
"They make dens along the causeway," Mical replied, his voice whipped back toward Carth by the steady wind. He looked at Haven, wondering how in hell she would know something like that. She caught his eye accidentally but didn't look away.
"The library," she called to him. "You should try it sometime."
"They have libraries on Nar Shadaa?"
She made a face, stammering for a comeback. Mical watched them, observing silently with his calm, attentive gaze. "I never told you where I grew up."
Carth pointed to his own head. "The hair," he said, "but I guess that'll be gone soon."
"Gone?" she repeated.
"Isn't a Padawan required to shave their head or something?"
"An Enclave Padawan perhaps," Mical answered, "but not a Gray Jedi."
Carth fell silent as they made progress across the causeway. The rocky island was closer now and he could make out a series of ivory buildings jutting out from the stone itself, carved into the face of the island. From a distance the buildings would look like a hard cap of snow but he saw now that there were windows and doors and long, thin walkways winding between the different sides of the island. At the very base of the causeway, in front of the island, a wide-mouthed cove emerged, a smattering of boats bobbing in the water below.
The causeway split into two avenues, one leading up to the white buildings and the other leading down toward the cove. Juhani's shuttle peeled off, disappearing as they wound down toward the water level. Bao-Dur, however, drove straight, bringing them up and up as the causeway rose to meet the high balconies of the buildings.
"Where is she taking my brother?" he asked, leaning over the edge of the shuttle to catch one last glimpse of Gatlin and his friends being ferried away.
"He'll be embarking on a little trip," Mical replied, "to Kantu. We can't let him stay here. The Republic might get suspicious and come looking. They'll be given safe passage to Kantu's starship."
"Good riddens," Carth murmured, wondering if he would ever see Gatlin again. He suspected yes, that he would be seeing Gatlin again sooner rather than later.
The shuttle began to slow, bringing them into a tunnel carved into the rock. On either side, statues and figures had been hewn into the stone, sprawling reliefs of Jedi locked in battle. The events depicted went in chronological order, spanning decades of struggle, and as they zoomed by, Carth could swear he caught a glimpse of a figure that looked suspiciously like Revan. Maybe he was somewhere on that wall, he mused, or perhaps it was reserved for Jedi alone.
"Welcome to Gray Harbor," Mical told them as the tunnel fell away. It was warmer outside of the tunnel, the sun shining down in earnest. They emerged into a broad courtyard. Tall buildings rose up on every side so that it felt like they drove along the bottom of a steep, ivory ravine. The stone seemed to breathe around them, absorbing the sun, the walls, floors and stairs shimmering with infinitesimally small crystals. From above, silver brocade banners hung down from the windows embroidered with a dark gray symbol in the middle, a sort of cross-hair with a diamond stamped at the very middle.
Carth had seen holos of the Elder ruins on Naboo, but even those monumentally beautiful images paled in comparison to this stone city. A dizzying number of staircases led in vanishing directions, the banners and pennants over head snapping in the wind. They entered another shorter tunnel and emerged into a smaller courtyard. This seemed to be the heart of the city and Bao-Dur stopped the shuttle outside a tall set of double doors emblazoned with the same circle and diamond insignia. A small coterie of greeters waited, dressed like Bao-Dur and Mical in storm gray robes and white hoods.
The air grew thick with fragrance, and Carth noticed then that the windows and doors around the courtyard had been festooned with bright wreathes. The blue and magenta blossoms sat heavy on their stems, each the size of a grown man's fist. Bees skimmed across the courtyard, their little harry legs decorated with jewels of pollen. Bao-Dur opened the shuttle door, holding it for Mical, Haven and Carth as they jumped down onto solid ground. At once, Carth felt a deeply resonant peace flooding up from the stones beneath, as if the entire mountain of stone sat in constant meditation.
Mical led them to the greeters, pulling Haven by her elbow until she could be clearly seen by the robed figures. Carth stood a few paces off, looking at Haven, trying and failing to guess what she might be thinking. She had spoken briefly about her rough childhood, what must it be like to rise from vagrancy to a place like this? The tension in her shoulders spoke volumes and he looked at her hands. They trembled. He realized then that he and Haven were the only two people there dressed in anything but sober gray. She was dressed head to toe in tight black, standing in stark contrast to Mical's misty robe.
"Masters," Mical said, addressing the gathering, "may I introduce Haven Blake. Young Haven has been giving the Republic a hard time, and while she has no formal training, I believe her heart is open and willing."
Haven shuffled forward awkwardly, bowing her head a little, glancing around for a clue as to what she should be doing. Mical then gestured to Carth and he came forward, throwing his shoulders back as he stood at attention.
"This is Admiral Carth Onasi," Mical said. "These are the Masters in residence at Gray Harbor. I present Master Jardana and Master Chase. You've already met Bao-Dur, Juhani and myself. These others you see assembled are our Knights. There will be time later, after brunch, for you to meet them all."
While Master Jardana, simply bowed at the waist to Carth and Haven, Master Chase came forward, trotting toward Carth with a burst of unbound energy. He immediately took Carth's hand, shaking it up and down, grinning all the while. Carth couldn't help but smile, taken aback by the Master's effusive friendliness.
"It's an honor, Admiral," he said, pumping Carth's hand again. "I've long wished to meet you and thank you for your service to the galaxy and to the side of good."
Master Chase was a man of average height, with a prominent, straight nose and squinting eyes. His dark hair was close-cropped and thinning, but despite his age he had the energy and boyish good looks of a teenager. His accent was thick, rustic, but that only seemed to add to his overwhelming charm. By contrast, Master Jardana was quiet and thoughtful, standing apart but observing them closely. She was a pale blue Twi'lek woman with a sweet, welcoming smile and small but intelligent brown eyes. Carth's attention was drawn to her earrings, which were long and dangling, studded with a myriad of bright, priceless jewels. Master Chase soon turned his attention to Haven and greeted her with similar enthusiasm, hooking a fatherly arm around her shoulder before guiding her away from the courtyard. The big double doors in front of them opened, and Carth fell into step behind Master Chase and Haven, his eyes adjusting as they entered the tall, echoing hall.
"This is our meeting place," Mical explained, appearing at Carth's side. "We take our meals here, together, and if there are matters to discuss we come here to hold our debates."
"Where did you get the money for this?" Carth breathed, staring up in open-mouthed awe at the vaulted space and the exposed steel beams that held up the ceiling like the ribs of some gargantuan sea creature. High, tinted windows let in square shafts of light, illuminating the long tables and benches.
"Donations primarily," Mical replied. "There are many who agree with our way of life. While they may not feel at leisure to voice their opinions publically, their charitable contributions speak loud and clear."
"The Exile gave us her share of treasures from her travels," Bao-Dur added, walking next to Mical. "They were knickknacks mostly, souvenirs and the bulk of them went to museums on Coruscant and Manaan. I probably don't need to tell you that they auctioned for a considerable amount."
"Our needs are simple," Mical said. "We encourage the Knights and apprentices to grow their own food, fish and take care of the land. Our society is self-sustaining and that's the way we hope to keep it."
"It's nice," Carth said, hating what he was about to say, "but I shouldn't stay."
Mical flashed his eyes at the Zabrak, who quickly departed, going to sit at one of the dining tables. Carth felt Mical's robotic hand wrap around his arm and the Jedi tugged him away, out of hearing range. "Do you really think you're strong enough?" he asked.
"Strong enough? For what?"
"However misguided your brother may be, he did you a great service," Mical replied.
"Yeah? How do you figure?"
"Listen to me Carth: there is day, there is the night and then there is dawn. I think we both know that you were living in shadow. What are you so eager to return to? What urgent problem demands your attention?" Mical asked, lowering his voice. Carth glanced from side to side, wary of Mical's penetrative gaze, nervous that the Jedi would get nosey and start sifting through his thoughts.
"The fleet needs me."
"That may be true," Mical replied. "But right now your superiors are mired in political corruption. Nobody knows how to stop the threat of the True Sith, and while the Order and the Republic bicker tirelessly about who is better equipped to take on the Sith, their power only grows, feeding on the confusion and frustration."
"What happened? I thought you dropped off your man Rand with the Order."
"I did," Mical said firmly, shuddering, "And then I left. I had nothing to offer them. They are determined, as always, to return to their traditional ways, all the while ignoring that the two most powerful women in the galaxy, our best hope for survival, were pushed to the limits of their patience by the blasted Jedi code." Mical was agitated, his dislike for the Order surfacing in his slight sneer.
Carth took a step back, unprepared for this argument. He hadn't expected Mical to shift the topic to those Jedi. That Jedi.
"What are you saying?" Carth asked, refusing to balk.
"I do not seek to trouble you or rehash unpleasantness, but it is time you knew the truth. The Exile went to join Revan in the Unknown Regions, that much I'm sure you know. But it is also true that the Exile has not stayed their permanently. She has returned. She comes and goes, Carth, traveling between this planet and the Unknown Regions. The Republic forces cannot be relied upon. I am building her army. I am doing her bidding."
Carth stared at him, dumbstruck, letting the implications of Mical's story wash over in an icy, startling wave. If what the Jedi said was true, then this woman, this Exile, would know how to find Revan. Hope, like a cruel, twisting flame, burned in his heart.
"They're working together?" Carth asked, unable to mask his excitement. "Revan and the Exile?"
"Yes," Mical said simply. He paused, giving Carth a long, hard look. "Now do you wish to leave?"
"Are you two coming or what?"
Carth looked over at the table, where Haven waved at them. She sat next to the Twi'lek and across from Master Chase. Mical indicated that he should go ahead, letting Carth choose. "Stay for the meal," Mical murmured, "and make your decision after."
He nodded, going to sit next to Haven, who patted the empty space beside her. An odd gesture, he thought, considering how apish he had been on the ship. The fleeting little kindling of warmth in his chest told him that she had forgiven him already, that she wasn't one to hold a grudge. Master Chase dominated the conversation, chatting amiably about this and that, asking Haven question after question about her upbringing, her understanding of the Force. A dozen or so Knights entered from a back exit, bringing with them trays laden with bowls full of fresh fruit, plates heaped high with cheeses, steaming loaves of crusty bread and platters of meat, fish and steamed vegetables. It was good food in abundance, simply prepared, with leafy bunches of fragrant herbs strewn generously alongside the plates.
Carth ate heartily, listening to the conversation, dividing his attention between a helping of garlic steamed clams, lemon-drenched mussels and a smoked fish he had never eaten before. Everyone seemed to be quietly amused by Haven, who ate so rapidly and so much that it seemed impossible her small frame could hold all that food. Wine and fruit juice was passed up and down the table, and Carth felt himself getting a little drunk from the heady mixture of delicious food and wine.
"We grow the grapes right here on the mountainside," Master Jardana explained, nodding toward Carth's newly-empty wine glass. "If you like, I will show you the trellises later this afternoon."
"You make the wine yourselves?" Haven asked, her eyes growing wide at the idea. She too, Carth thought with a smirk, seemed tipsy.
"We do," Mical answered, his eyes sparkling in response to her infectious curiosity. He and the other Masters were elated at her keen interest in their school. Mical leaned across the table, lowering his voice as he spoke to her. With his gloved hand he plucked a lush, round grape from one of the fruit bowls and popped it into his mouth. "Tomorrow you can help begin a new batch. You won't believe how it feels to crush the grapes underfoot. The sensation is exquisite."
Carth prickled, unable to take his eyes off of Haven, whose round cheeks had suddenly grown rosy. It was not, he realized, just the wine. He didn't like the way she stared at Mical, the way her eyes lingered on his beguiling eyes and pretty mouth. Carth admitted begrudgingly that the Jedi Master glowed with the Force, that his skin appeared so smooth it was almost inhuman, dusted with diamonds. He wondered for a moment if he would look like that under the influence of the Force, if he was taught to feel it, understand it…
"Admiral, I have to admit I was most impressed by your performance at the Battle of Rakata Prime," Master Chase said, raising his cup as if in toast to Carth. "I was there aboard the Star Forge, leading a squadron of Jedi Knights. You saved one of them actually, he was at the mercy of one of Malak's warriors and would have fallen had you not shot the Sith down in time."
Carth shrugged, trying his best to keep his cheeks from coloring. "I was just doing my job."
"Certainly, but what a very good job you did," Chase replied. "I can't help but admire a man whose had no Jedi training at all, but who's willing to face down the Sith! And on their own battle station no less. And it goes without saying that your performance in the Mandalorian Wars was extraordinary. I remember hearing of you from Master Vrook. He claimed to have seen you face down an entire line of Mandalorians almost entirely on your own, with nothing but a few fresh recruits and a gun turret!"
"Is that really true?"
Carth glanced to his right, where Haven listened intently, her gray eyes focused closely on his face. He felt that blush he had been fighting creep up his neck and spread to his face. Not knowing what to do, not knowing how to confront her rapt expression, he shrugged again and buried himself in his cup. "I had lots of help," Carth said finally, "Vrook was exaggerating."
"Don't be so modest, Admiral," Mical admonished, clearly enjoying Carth's distress. Mical ate another grape, his eyes flicking between Carth and Haven, signaling something Carth refused to acknowledge. "There's a reason we'd like you to stay," Mical added, "and I'm afraid it has little to do with your charming personality. You're an asset, a born fighter and leader."
"And a perfectly charming fellow," Master Chase interjected, laughing throatily along with Mical. At his side, Haven nodded her agreement, draining the last of her wine.
"Well," Mical said, pushing away from the table and standing, "I think it's time we gave young Haven a tour of the compound."
"Certainly," Master Jardana agreed.
Haven looked to Carth, but she was swiftly pulled away by Master Jardana. The two of them, along with Mical, vanished into the sunlight of the courtyard, leaving Carth to sit at the table with the Knights and Master Chase. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, chatting and eating, drinking and laughing. He had seen the Enclave on Dantooine, lived many days with Revan in its monastic simplicity; this was something entirely different. No one here seemed to carry the heavy, solemn burden of the Jedi on Dantooine. They were happy, outgoing, smiling at him as if they had known him for years.
"It's a new way of looking at things," Master Chase said, interpreting Carth's distracted look. "Come."
Master Chase stood and motioned for him to follow. Carth walked with him to the tall doors, squinting as the bright sunlight flooded his eyes. They strolled through the courtyard; a little wicker nest for doves sat near the door and the snowy white birds hooted and pecked at the ground, scattering when a group of young apprentices ran by and into the hall.
"We are Jedi," Master Chase said suddenly, his hands clasped in front of him as he led Carth up a set of winding stairs. They emerged onto a high balcony with a silver railing. Below, the harbor and causeway spread out, hundreds of feet below them, clear and sharp in the daylight. Carth breathed deeply of the fresh mountain air, watching as Master Chase leaned one hand on the railing, his pale eyes fixed on the horizon.
"We are Jedi," he repeated, "and we are something more. This is the Exile's vision, Mical's vision. Together they dreamed a new world into existence. We are their children, in a way. They knew the old way could not endure, not when the Republic insisted on nosing around the Enclave's business. No, we need to be free to act, to train, to concentrate on the threat that looms just out of our sight."
"Sounds like the fleet," Carth said darkly.
"It is a warrior's life, you're right," Chase replied. "But for the Gray Jedi life is about finding simple joys. There is no extremism here. We acknowledge that the Dark Side of the Force is dangerous, but that our passions should not be snuffed out. Passion is as legitimate as peace, love and loss as key to the soul as serenity and sacrifice."
"'There is day, there is the night and then there is dawn,'" Carth quoted, recalling Mical's words.
"Yes, yes that's exactly it," Chase replied, nodding approvingly. "Whether you know it or not, Admiral, you are here to be healed. This place cannot be resisted; there is a magic here that goes beyond the Force. Mical and Ava felt that, it is why they laid down roots here."
"Ava?"
"The Exile," Master Chase replied. "She is an extraordinary person. You will feel a gladness in your heart when you meet her that defies rational explanation. It must be felt to be understood."
"She's coming? Here? When?"
"I'm not certain," he said, "but soon, very soon. I have sensed it." Master Chase took hold of Carth's shoulder, inviting him to look down at the courtyard where two young apprentices sparred, their wooden practice swords polished and flashing.
"Have you wondered yet why your brother found you when he did? Have you considered that what you call Fate and I call the Force may have had something to do with it? Search your feelings, Carth, there are simply too many coincidences. And as a soldier, I'm sure you know…"
"There are no coincidences."
"Yes. Your great pain, your brother, Haven and Mical and now this place – the Force is speaking to you, if you would only listen," Master Chase said, his voice a soft murmur above the insistent wind. "You're here," he said, "and you will stay. But not for the reason you think."
Carth opened his mouth to speak, to argue, but Master Chase had gone, sweeping down the stairs and into the courtyard. He watched as the Jedi Master corrected the stance of one of the sparring apprentice's, ruffling the boy's hair with fatherly tenderness. He looked around but saw no sign of Haven or Mical; he wondered if she was still afraid, if her hands still trembled.
Knowing there was nothing but time, he continued climbing the stairs, letting his feet take him were they would.