Author's Note: Gah, I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I was consulting with Eruvyweth about this chapter, and that took much longer than it should have. There was a bunch of confusion, things were said, mistakes were made, and the upshot of it all is, here is Chapter 17, I hope it's worth the wait.

Kuat being as near to Coruscant as it was, it took them only a few hours to reach it. Anakin consulted the datachip he had been given by the Council and found the last known location of the missing Jedi on this planet. Scrolling through the information, a thought struck him.

"Does anybody know what happened to the clones?" he asked, to no one in particular. All three people looked up at him, jerked from their respective thoughts. Anakin felt the need to elaborate. "I mean, everyone knows they're traitors now. Where can they go?"

Siri's head tilted to the side, a sign that she was interested. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted. "I suppose—well, if they were a regular army, they'd probably split up, become bounty hunters or something. But our clones don't have the mentality to fend for themselves. All they know is organized battle. My guess would be that they'll all just wander off somewhere and die eventually."

Tanith looked as though she disagreed. "Couldn't they come back to the Republic?" she asked. "I mean, you said that it was a pre-birth command," she said, nodding toward Anakin. He had explained to his crew the circumstances of Palpatine's death and the attack of the clones, downplaying his role in the bizarre drama as much as a possible. "So if it's failed, then it seems as though they'd be safe for us again."

"But we don't know what else he put in there," Anakin pointed out, "and we've got no way of finding out. For all we know, he told them all to shoot the person closest to them exactly six months after he died."

"Unlikely, but possible," Siri conceded amusedly. For the first time, Aelir spoke up, drawn in spite of himself into the conversation.

"And the command was never canceled, as far as we know," he said. "So it appears likely that we'll be seeing attacks on random Jedi from now on, whenever a leftover clone and a Jedi happen to be in the same place."

This was something that none of the others had considered yet—it had been universally and automatically assumed that the clones' savage act had been an isolated incident.

"I think Siri's right," Aelir concluded. "Being let loose will just bewilder them; they'll die soon enough."

Anakin shrugged. "They've still got Grievous, though," he reminded the assembled. "What if he decides to reorganize them?"

"He couldn't," Siri said dismissively. "He would have taken his orders from Palpatine; he certainly wasn't behind all that we thought he was. He's not particularly ingenious on his own."

"Well, the Council thinks so, anyway," Anakin said. "They've decided to ignore Grievous on Utapau while they clean up the mess on Coruscant…wait, where did Tanith go?" As soon as the words had been uttered, the healer reentered the room which she had mysteriously exited at some point during the conversation.

"We've just been given clearance to land," Tanith told them, standing in the doorway. "It's almost night on this side of the planet, so we should hurry, before it gets any darker."

"How did you know that?" Anakin asked. Tanith gave him a look.

"Well, I am Force-sensitive."

The ship began its slow descent downward into the atmosphere of Kuat, and Anakin was reminded strongly of the maxim beginning, Ask a stupid question…

As they landed in one of the public docking stations, they were able to see that Tanith had been correct; all that remained of the Core sun's light were the faintest streaks of glowing gold across the horizon, swiftly giving way to the harsher artificial lights that illuminated the streets. Kuat was very much like Coruscant in almost all ways, but to a lesser degree. It was not yet quite so crowded, so it was separated into cities rather than combined into one—nor so decadent, so buildings were not as tall as when the wealthy sought to physically separate themselves from the corruption below. In fact, Anakin considered, one could have said it was Coruscant, but better.

They landed on one of the many public docking bays, elevated over the rest of the city, and the four Jedi filed out. Anakin took in a deep breath, looking out over the many lights of the city of Orent. It was so, so big…

"We should talk to someone who knew they were here," he decided, thinking out loud. "The person who asked for Jedi help, so probably somebody in charge. Does Orent have a mayor?"

"Well, if it did," Aelir said, "they'd probably be in that. During daylight, at least." He indicated a large building below them, far more intricately built than the structures that surrounded it and made of some dull, onyx-like metal. There was a wide staircase leading up to its large doors, over which something was written in Basic, but they were too far away to see what it was.

"All right," Anakin decided. "We'll try that." He started walking, and his three companions followed. They took a lift down to the surface, then quickly made their way through the dim, fast-clearing streets. There were only a few sentients left here—peddlers packing up for the evening, a couple young people who had obviously had too much to drink, mothers calling their reluctant children inside. Walking quickly, they reached what looked to be the town hall in a very short amount of time.

The doors were not yet closed, at least, opening onto a wide floor of black tile flecked with gold. But there didn't seem to be anyone around. The four Jedi stood in the center of the room, looking about perplexedly.

"We should come back tomorrow," Siri suggested. "Spend the night in the ship."

"No, we've got to do this quickly," Anakin said firmly. "Wait—there—" He had spotted a sign on the wall, bearing the symbol of an arrow and claming to lead them in the direction of the mayor's office. "Here we go. If we hurry, we could leave tonight."

They started walking again, their footsteps echoing loudly on the polished floor as they bounced off the walls into the silence. Fortunately, the mayor's office was very close and clearly marked, with a bronze plaque beside the door reading, "Mayor Lavin Sespius". Anakin knocked, and at first there was no sound from inside. Then a harried, muffled voice answered sharply, "Yes, who is it?"

He stepped inside. This room was as lavishly decorated as the rest of the building in which it rested, its only furniture a sleek wooden desk and chair sitting on plush green carpet. The atmosphere was one of simplicity and peace; the man standing behind the desk, however, seemed oddly out of place. He was thin and balding, feverishly shoving flimsies and assorted junk from the desk surface into a leather case. So intent was he on this task that he didn't even bother to look up at Anakin as he muttered, "What d'ya want? Do you know what time it is?"

"Sir," Anakin began, a bit unnerved by the abrupt greeting, "My name is Anakin Skywalker—I'm here on behalf of the Jedi Council. You asked for help from them about a month ago, didn't you?"

The man's head shot up, and he eyed Anakin warily. "Yes, but they've already come," he grunted finally. "Don't need you."

The nervousness was quickly replaced with a growing irritation. Taking care to hide his annoyance, however, Anakin continued. "I'm not here to help you, sir," he said. "We've lost track of the Jedi that were sent here earlier, and we were wondering if you could help us find them. Do you know where they might have gone?"

At last, the mayor's hands stopped moving. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, sucking his teeth loudly as he thought. The sound grated on Anakin's already fraying nerves.

"The woman and the boy?" the man inquired finally. Anakin nodded. "They found some speeder bikes, went to check out an old fort a couple miles south from here." He considered for a moment. "Took…maybe a dozen clones with 'em."

"Thank you."

The office was spacious for a room of its sort, but not so large that you could fit four Jedi into it without looking as though you were trying to intimidate someone. Siri, Aelir and Tanith, sensing this, were waiting in the hall when Anakin stepped out. The door closed behind him with a quiet sucking noise.

"Well?" asked Siri. Anakin hesitated, taking a breath.

"He said they went to look at an old military building to the south. It shouldn't take long—we can look for them there." What he did not say was, But I already know what we'll find.

It took hardly thirty minutes for them to find the fort in the dark. Siri, the most experienced in the ways of the Force, soon discovered one of the speeder bikes the mayor had mentioned. Or rather, what was left of it: the metal had been twisted with heat and was riddled with bolt holes, and the front end was smashed to bits. Tanith was the one who found its rider, who was in little better state than his vehicle. Of his Master or her speeder, there was no sign.

Tanith was visibly shaken—Anakin gingerly took the body from her trembling arms, wondering if she would be able to cope with the rest of this mission. How old was he? Anakin wondered as he looked down at the boy's pale face. Twelve? Thirteen?—certainly not older than fourteen. His eyes were wide, and though his features had relaxed in death, the faintest expression of fear still remained on them. Had they seen what was coming before it had happened, or were they taken completely by surprise? It didn't take much imagination for Anakin to believe that those eyes were staring at him—he closed them gently with two fingers, then looked up.

"The clones could still be around here," Aelir said quietly. "We should go now, quickly."

Anakin nodded his agreement, and with a single flash-lamp to guide them, the four Jedi carefully picked their way through the darkness. Their journey was slower this time, partly because they were now hampered by the weight of Anakin's newly-acquired burden, and also because hurrying felt like impatience, and impatience in the presence of such a grievous tragedy felt like a desecration. Thus, it was more than an hour before they reached the ship.

As theirs was not a cargo ship, the hold was small, but still quite sufficient to hold what it must. Together, Aelir and Anakin unfolded one of the long, black bags that were made for times such as these and closed the boy inside, then laid him in the hold. No words were spoken between them the entire time.

Somebody gave the ship's computer its coordinates and calculated a jump to hyperspace while they were so occupied—the ship took off, and the four Jedi could be found sitting around the table in the central room, just as before. But all gaiety had gone, and somehow no conversation was could be made. It was impossible to think of anything but that long, black bag sitting in the hold. After a few hours of this, they split up and went to their respective rooms. But none of them got much sleep that night.

Visits to the other planets were made just as quickly, although they did have to stay around for a couple extra hours on Kamino to explain to the Prime Minister exactly why no more clones could be made in the Republic's name. But at last they were on their way again: four down, one to go, was the general consensus, although no one said it out loud, and Anakin still had five days before he had to be back on Coruscant. Ryloth was fantastically close to the cloning planet, and by Anakin's calculations they would arrive there at some point during the night.

By the next morning, the ship had already landed somewhere on Ryloth. Anakin was the first one awake; something was nagging at the back of his mind. It wasn't a warning, exactly—it was more as if the Force were prodding him in the ribs. Look up, pay attention, be aware… So, with nothing else to do—by Coruscant time it was just barely dawn—Anakin decided to leave the ship and take a look around.

No sooner had he walked down the ramp than he was suddenly struck by two realization: the first was that this was the same field in which he and Windu had landed, the last time he had been on Ryloth. The second was a bit more ominous: floating over the treetops, in the direction of Ere's hometown, was heavy, black smoke, so thick in the air that Anakin's throat burned. The Force prodding had changed now—it prickled dangerously at his senses, making sure he understood that whatever now lay beyond those trees, it was nothing good.

Morbid curiosity almost got the best of Anakin as he wondered whether to wake his companions or not. At last, he decided to take what appeared to be the more prudent course of action, and quickly roused them. He was too upset to be very kind about it—Siri, Aelir, and Tanith only felt a hand on their shoulder, roughly shaking them awake, before Anakin had moved on to the next person. Within only a few moments, they had all assembled in the central room.

"Anakin, what's going on?" Siri demanded, her voice none too sweet. She was not a morning person.

"You don't feel that?" Anakin asked her. About to answer, Siri hesitated as he tentatively poked about with the Force. It wasn't long.

"What—?"

"There's smoke coming from one of the towns nearby," Anakin said tersely, answering her question before she asked it. "We need to check it out, now."

By now Tanith and Aelir had felt it as well—a dark, ragged blotch in the Force that was certainly not supposed to be there. In seconds, all four of them were ready and on their way toward the source of Anakin's worry.

He was not worrying in vain. No sooner had they stepped beyond the thick ring of trees than a horrendous sight met their eyes. Buildings lay in ruin, their gray stone blackened by small, still-burning flames that licked at their sides and fires that raged still within them, reducing to ashes all that had lain inside. Rubble littered the street, crunching underfoot as the Jedi advanced, stunned. Anakin was the one who voiced what they all were thinking.

"What the krif happened?" he asked.

"Clones can't have done all this," Aelir murmured bewilderedly. "It's Jedi they're after, not civilians. And to completely raze the place—"

"Look," said Tanith quietly. The gazes of the other three followed her pointing finger, and saw, lying in the wreckage of the nearest house, a Twi'lek corpse.

Anakin shut his eyes tightly. Force, I can't take any more death, he thought wearily. If he had been speaking, the words would have come out as a whimper. For what seemed an eternity, the four Jedi stood where they were, looking out over the destruction before them. At last, Anakin opened his eyes again, somehow fortified.

"Spread out," he ordered automatically. "Look for survivors, and see if you can find any hint as to who did this. Aelir's right—it couldn't have been clones."

It did not occur to him to marvel that they obeyed him without a word. Their original mission forgotten, the four Jedi walked away in separate directions, desperately searching for answers. Within minutes they had gone their respective ways, until each had disappeared from the others' sights. Anakin, for his part, went north, directly into the heart of the town. By the time he had left this place last time, he had been able to find his way around fairly well, but the lack of buildings completely disoriented him, and now he had no idea where he was.

The further in he went, the more bodies littered the ground, left where they had fallen. Anakin knelt by one, a young woman with light green skin, and examined her wounds without touching her. Not just blasters, then: this one had been stabbed. But who could conceivably have a motive for destroying an entire city—and not simply its people, but smashing its buildings in and burning them, inasmuch as it was possible, to the ground? He stood again, wishing desperately for a drink of water; smoke was so abundant in the air that his throat ached every time he took a breath.

He was vaguely aware that he should, in all probability, be feeling much more pain than this at the thought of so many senseless deaths. But as Anakin wandered aimlessly through the ruins, he could not muster any more sadness than he would have been able to had he been told that someone he did not know, millions of miles away, had died. And as he became aware of it, he wondered at it. Once—it seemed centuries ago—he had been so acutely aware of every suffering and every death around him that he could not go anywhere near a place like this. When had that changed?

To feel sadness in death is to be human, Obi-Wan had once told him comfortingly. No matter what the Masters say, there is no shame in that.

But that opened up a whole new train of thought, one that Anakin had no desire to follow to its conclusion. He pushed it from his mind and continued on his dreary way, kicking at misshapen chunks of stone in his path. All of a sudden, his task seemed completely useless; anyone looking at this place with half an eye could see that nothing living could have survived the scourge. Even plants shriveled and died as the little flames swallowed them up, and then, still unsatisfied, continued on its destructive pathway.

There was no danger from this quarter, however; the only major fires were the ones inside the wall-less buildings, and these were limited to the furniture and bodies of those indoors. The house nearest Anakin, at least, had yet to succumb to this fate; its fire had died early, but its walls had been smashed down to the foundations, baring its interior to the world. It was awful to see a plain wooden chair standing in the middle of what had once been the living room, yet untouched by the horror around it. Anakin almost laughed out loud when he saw it—that wild, hysterical laughter that was not really laughter at all—but he swallowed it, and with a forced calm walked into the center of the "room". He almost wanted to save the chair and take it with him, for reasons unknown even to himself, as if to say, "This was the sole survivor of the massacre on Ryloth!"

Anakin shook his head abruptly—these were not safe thoughts, nor even entirely sane ones. He groped for the numbness he had felt before, wanting to retreat back into its unfeeling safety. There is no passion; there is serenity. Just thinking it made him feel a bit better. In a situation so terrible and new, it was old and familiar, and Anakin clung to it. There is no emotion; there is peace. His fear was ebbing, and though the smoke still hung thickly in the air, Anakin could breathe a little better.

And then, looking down, he saw a little white hand poking out of the pile of debris that covered this ground.

Breathless, Anakin dropped to his knees, praying that white skin was not such an anomaly as he had first thought. Hastily he shoved the rubble aside, careless of the angry red scratches the action left on his hands. They couldn't, they couldn't have— But even before the last fragments of rock had been cleared away, Anakin already knew what he would see.

Aiin's wide, dark eyes were blank—that was what struck him the hardest. Where before they had sparkled with excitement and life, the light behind them had been killed. Tears that Anakin hadn't thought himself capable of shedding before now ran swiftly down his cheeks. She was only a child, he thought dully. She never did anything wrong, she was just a child…

At last, he struggled to his feet, the tears still wet on his face. He had to take her back, was the only thought in his mind. No, she wasn't a Jedi, but he couldn't leave her, not in a place like this. But even as the thought passed through his mind, he felt a prickling at the nape of his neck, as though someone were watching him. Almost without thinking, Anakin dropped instantly to one knee, and just barely felt a cold rush of air as something flew over his head. He looked up swiftly, to see a vibro-shiv slide to a stop on the ground before him.

Get close to your opponent, his brain recited automatically. Daggers and vibro-shivs were easier to counter when they weren't being hurled at you from a distance. Instantly Anakin jumped to his feet and whirled—before whoever had thrown the weapon could repeat their action, a powerful wave of the Force sent them, sprawling, to the ground.

He was only ten yards from where Anakin had stood, and yet the Jedi had not sensed him coming. Chagrined, Anakin raced forward, determined to find out who would still be hanging around in such a place, but the man was quicker than that. Rather than lie on his back and wait, he leapt up immediately and pulled another vibro-shiv from his belt. And just when Anakin reached him, he recognized that face, which until now he had seen only in holo-vids and stills.

It was the face of Karan Toi.

Anakin's shock cost him a precious second, and Toi was not one to waste time. He lashed out at Anakin, and the Jedi only just managed to block Toi's right arm with his left. Too late Anakin remembered that his left arm was not entirely healed. He only had to hold it for a few seconds, but even those few seconds were too much—his arm fell, trembling with pain, and the vibro-shiv sliced a long gash into the right side of his face. Even as he cried out, Anakin kicked out as hard as he could, and Toi, who had not been expecting such a blow after landing his own, was taken completely unawares. For the second time in less than a minute he landed on his back. The vibro-shiv fell from his hands, much too far away for him to grab it from where he laid, and Anakin, finally remembering his lightsaber, had the blade under Toi's chin in moments.

There was silence for a time. Anakin was panting for breath, and there was a strange taste in his mouth—blood, he realized, dripping from the cut on his face. He spat it onto the ground.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded hoarsely. Toi was insolently silent, looking up at his assailant with an infuriating expression of amused boredom on his face. Anakin would have liked to close his eyes, as the action always helped him concentrate, but at the moment he could not think of anything stupider. Keeping his gaze steadily on Toi's face, Anakin pathed an urgent message to Siri. Within only a few minutes, he felt her presence behind him. In all that time he did not speak to Toi again, sensing the futility of his words.

"Is this one of the ones that did it?" Siri asked breathlessly, running up to him. "I—oh!"

She had recognized his face as well.

"I need you to tie him up," Anakin said shortly. "Do you have laser cuffs or anything like that on you?"

Siri groaned as she searched through her utility belt. "Nothing," she admitted. "No, wait—" From a loop in her belt she pulled a standard cable launcher. "We can use the cord." She shot the cable launcher at the ground, then cut out a large section with her lightsaber, of at least three feet. With Anakin still holding Toi at bay, she knelt quickly and tied his hands before him. He complied without protest.

"I'll take him back to the ship," Anakin said. "You find the others, tell them what's happened, and meet me there."

Siri nodded and left. Anakin looked down at his prisoner. "Get up," he commanded, disgust in his voice. Without a word, Toi did so, all the while with that same patronizing look on his face, as though Anakin were playing a little game with himself and Toi were humoring him. "Move," was the next abrupt order, and Toi obeyed that as well, Anakin directing him where to go.

They reached the ship in short order, and not once had Toi struggled or tried to run. He was shrewder than most in realizing that, if he did try to make a fool-hardy break for it, his captor would have no qualms about striking him down. As soon as they got on board, Anakin found a pair of laser cuffs and replaced Toi's temporary bonds with them. A preemptory search found no weapons on him, and, at last satisfied, Anakin locked him in one of the extra bedrooms.

When he returned to the central room, the rest of the Jedi had already gathered there. Sitting around the table, all three looked up anxiously as he entered.

"He's secure for now," Anakin said by way of assurance.

"Did he say what he was doing here?" asked Siri directly, but Anakin shook his head as he sat beside her.

"No—actually, he didn't say anything at all."

"There were no survivors," Aelir put in, "and we didn't find any Jedi. At least, not by the time we were called back here."

"It doesn't matter," Anakin said dismissively. "We won't find them, not in this mess."

"Do you think he did it?" Tanith asked. "Killed all those people, and everything?"

Anakin swallowed. "I don't know," he answered softly. "I know he's capable of it."

Siri, who until now had been looking directly at him, dropped her eyes uncomfortably to the ground at these words, as though unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

"We could mind-trick him, I suppose," Aelir said, but there was doubt in his voice. Even as he spoke, Siri shook his head.

"He's not Force-sensitive, but he still knows how to combat that," she said. "It wouldn't be the first time they'd tried to get a Jedi to interrogate him."

"Well, one of us should try, anyway," said Tanith, looking around the table for support. "I mean, there's no harm in that, and we've got to know."

"I'll do it," Anakin said suddenly. He saw Siri's mouth open in protest, but left the table before she could speak. Whether she thought it wise or not, he would open the wound one last time.

Karan Toi's thoughts, as he sat in his makeshift cell, wavered between vexation and serenity. On the one hand, he had underestimated his opponent's strength, something that lost other men many a battle—and then there was always the fact that his captor had been nothing more than a boy, which was downright humiliating. But then, of course, there was the other hand, which more than made up for its predecessor: there had been a few setbacks, to be sure, but this would hardly be his first time in prison, and escape got easier every time. Yes, one always had to look on the bright side of things.

Sitting on the bed, Karan leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. No sooner had he dozed off, however, than the sound of the door opening interrupted his rest. He opened an eye, to see the boy standing in the entrance way.

"Do you mind?" he asked sharply. "I'm trying to sleep."

Half of him really did want the kid just to leave so he could bide his time in captivity as he chose, but the other half, which never stopped being practical, was appraising the boy. Tall—and still growing, no doubt—with blue eyes and dark blond hair that reached almost to his shoulders. (The cut on the side of his face was still open, Karan saw with some satisfaction.) The seriousness of his expression belied his youth, but he still looked more the part of naïve adolescent than stern, solemn Jedi. No braid, Karan noted, but still young—so he was no longer a student, but only just into Knighthood. Luck had been with him; he had managed to capture one of the most wanted men in the galaxy, and now he wanted to prove himself by being the first man alive to crack into the mind of Karan Toi.

"I want to talk to you," said the boy. He had a low voice, one that matched the seriousness of his face. "I need to ask you a question."

Karan sighed. "Look, kid," he said, "you're wasting your time. I'll tell you all I'll tell anyone else, right now: my men and I got a commission from a rich guy who wants to be even richer, to take that Twi'lek place as far to the ground as it'd go. There's a spice mine right underneath the town, and he wanted it no matter how much it cost. No, I won't tell you his name, and no, I won't tell you where my men are."

"Don't patronize me!" the boy snapped. His cheeks flushed angrily. "If that's your story, then keep it that way. It makes no difference to me. The fact that all of those people are dead is enough to condemn you. That's not what I have to ask you."

Karan was vaguely curious, but not enough to lean forward. The kid waved a hand, and a chair moved from the other side of the room to just a foot from the bed. The Jedi sat down, facing his prisoner fearlessly. Reckless, thought Karan disapprovingly. Too reckless, boy. It was either a false sense of invincibility that allowed the boy to move so close to the universe's most feared assassin, or else he just didn't understand with whom he was dealing. That, Karan admitted to himself, or the kid was very, very brave.

"About four months ago," the boy began, "you were on Tatooine, just after escaping from Galactic Prison, right?"

Karan nodded, but he was wary. He made it a rule to never answer more questions than he felt were necessary, but he couldn't see where this was leading.

"Did you know that the Senate had four Jedi on that planet as well, searching for you?"

He pursed his lips, in and out. It was a habit he had developed from several years of death sticks, even though he wasn't smoking one at the moment. He sure would liked one, though…

"I knew something was up," Karan conceded. "Didn't know there were four of you."

"You captured one, though," the boy said, very swiftly. Yes, this was his question. His eyes never wavered from Karan's as he spoke. "One of the Jedi. Do you remember him?"

Karan sat back, eying the boy with annoyance. "You ask too many questions, kid. That's going to get you in trouble some day."

"Answer me."

Silence. The kid's eyes had hardened. This was no game he was playing. A drop of blood trembled on his eyelash, but he didn't appear to even notice.

"Answer me, and don't lie. I'll know if you're lying, and I'll kill you for it."

Karan snorted. "You think you're the first person that's ever made that threat?"

"No, but I'll be the first to carry it out."

In and out, in and out. Krif, he really wanted a death stick right about now… He didn't like that kid's eyes—how could he have thought they were blue? They were cold, slate gray, and they never seemed to blink…

"I remember him."

"Describe him, so I know you're telling the truth."

"Reddish hair, medium height, had a beard, eyes like—like yours—"

He saw the boy swallow, take a breath that just barely trembled, but that awful gaze of his never wavered. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"What did you do with his body?"

Damn those eyes, Karan thought furiously, he wanted to tear them out. Jedi Masters of the highest order had been unable to make him speak, forced solitude and imprisonment had done nothing to his will, but this boy, a mere child, inspired in him what no one else could, and that, strange emotion though it was to him, was fear. It did not occur to him to doubt the boy's promise of death, and he did not want to die by his hand.

"We threw it into the desert—left it for the scavengers."

There, and that was the truth.

The boy's eyelids closed slowly, and the single crimson drop fell from his lash—it looked for all the world like a tear of blood. His fingernails were digging into the skin of his hand. At long last he opened his eyes—they were blue again, Karan noted wearily, warm blue—and his hand as well, revealing four thin, crescent-shaped bruises. Without another word he left the room, locking it securely behind him.

Karan Toi leaned his head against the wall and shut his eyes, trying to get some sleep. All of a sudden, he was so very tired…