Chapter Twenty-Six: Devnos Klis' Little Obsession

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When she woke up, her first words were as colourful as that of any space pirate Devnos had ever met, and confirmed that his prisoner was, indeed, Jaina Solo. Only the daughter of a Corellian smuggler could know half of her frustrated language. He was surprised, however, when he heard some curses from Na'Lein'yhpaon mixed in with those from the inner worlds.

"I take it my sister taught you those?" he asked dryly.

Jaina's gaze flicked about as she took in her surroundings – a sparse room that doubled as a holding cell and a storage room. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Let me guess: she brought you back to life, Devnos thought sarcastically, and now another story is loose on the galaxy.

When Devnos laughed, Solo gave him a curious look. "What's so funny?"

"What I'm going to do to Onyx," he lied, mostly to see her scowl at the name.

"Onyx is obsolete," she seethed predictably, looking somewhat foolish, cuffed with her hands above her head, as she tried to threaten him.

"Onyx will never be gone," he disagreed, "because he was created by Zekk's dark side. And I don't think you can – or want to – rid your lover of that. Balance, remember?"

Solo glared at him, threats in her eyes – but Devnos had seen the same, all too often, in Sanar's gaze, and so the worst of it was lost on him. "The fact is," he continued, "Zekk will never be without Onyx. The two are one, no matter what lies the two have used to convince each other of otherwise. Just as you will never rid yourself of your own darkness, Jaina Solo."

"How's the head, Devnos?" she asked abruptly, cruelly, changing the subject to Devnos' own weakness.

Devnos froze, staring at her. There was no way she could know. No possible way. No one knew.

"I don't know what you're t-talking about," he denied lamely.

Solo appeared to be filing his reaction away, and he wanted to shake and beat the kindling realization out of her. That she did not comment further confirmed her lack of evidence, but that she suspected anything was too much.

Jaina Solo wasn't going to leave his shuttle alive. No matter what he bargained out of her, no matter what Sanar said, or what Lord Blasted Onyx did.

"What are you going to do with me?" Solo asked after a moment.

Devnos straightened. "You will stay here."

When she rolled her eyes, he noticed that they were lighter than Sanar's eyes. But Onyx probably would have chosen only those closest to Solo's appearance. Had Sanar worn coloured contacts? Why would she go through so much trouble?

"Duh," the Jedi replied, breaking into his sudden questions. "I meant, what are you planning?"

Devnos stretched his lips in a way that only vaguely resembled a smile. "Just leave that to me, Solo."

He was almost out the door when Solo called out, "Written anything lately, Devy-boy?"

The door swished closed behind him, and the ysalamiri were released.

Jaina Solo is a dead woman.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Something had been bugging Sanar ever since her talk with Falat, but she didn't realize what it was until she had devoted several hours to discovering it.

Devnos' journal, in Falat's possession.

Although she was bitterly sure that her brother had stopped filling his books with stories and depth and drawings years ago, he had always been borderline obsessive about them. Devnos Klis was the only one allowed to touch Devnos Klis' journals – Sanar had learned that quickly. Once, when she was ten, she had tried to find the story of the Kavishka, and thus revel in her crush on the mythical hero. She had seen Devnos scribble notes in his book, and she had figured it was as good a place as any to start looking.

Devnos' reaction had clearly impressed upon her the error of her ways.

Even before her hands had closed around the journal, Devnos had ripped it away, throwing it across the room in his panic. "What are you doing?!" he had demanded, taking her by the shoulders, rattling her so hard she thought her teeth would break.

"I j-just w-wanted to…"

"Never touch my books again!"

Sanar had pried his fingers from her arms, feeling the bruises form even as she stared at him. She and Devnos had fought, just like any siblings, but he had never before physically hurt her. She had been too stunned, too shattered, to fight back. "I—I—I'm s…sorry," she had stuttered.

He had stared at her, eyes wild, his dark hair askew, until she left the room at a run. Only then had he retrieved his precious journal. And Sanar had never touched any of his books again.

Devnos had apologized later, Sanar remembered now – for hurting her, though, not for stopping her from reading his book. "There are some things," he had explained hoarsely, "that…that you should just let me worry about. I'm your big brother… You'll understand someday."

She had let it go – as the family freak, she had to accept everyone else's relatively minor eccentricities. Still…

Sanar frowned at the memory as she splashed some water on her face. The cold drops fizzled against her skin as her face went from too warm to frigid.

The reasons for Devnos' flipping out were, and always would be, ambiguous.

"Never touch my books again!"

And that had been when he was still her reassuring big brother, who read her stories every night, and who tucked her in when their father wasn't around. Why would Devnos let Falat near his books now? True, Falat had no doubt stolen it. But…how could Devnos be so careless with something that meant everything to him?

"That's it," she muttered, smacking the blanket, on which she sat. "That's it."

She dragged herself out of her quarters to find Devnos. Falat might offer opportunities for blackmail and head games, but Sanar could not dismiss the feeling that something was very wrong.

The slave found her brother in his office, going over information about Jaina Solo. "I wondered how long it would take you," he said dryly, but his eyes ran over her, making sure that she was not yet on death's doorstep. As if worried she would notice, his gaze reattached to his datapad.

Sanar's stride hitched, Devnos' words throwing her off balance. "What?"

"Solo called you her sister. In fact, the reason she was so easy to capture was that she came to rescue you."

"Really." Sanar blinked several times before the words made sense. "She…she did. For me?" It sounded like a question, even to her.

Devnos looked up, frowning slightly. "She knew you were in trouble. That's why she came. Might I ask what motivated her to walk right into my grasp for someone she barely knows?"

His only response was a blank stare.

"She also used some language that was straight from your mouth."

"Oh."

"I was under the impression that the two of you did not get along."

Sanar all but fell into the free chair in front of Devnos' desk. "We didn't." And she had no idea how genial they were now, either. Everything was so weird lately, and she couldn't understand anything with her head pounding the way it was.

The little green man dancing on Devnos' shoulder wasn't exactly helping, either.

Her brother frowned, and the green man made a face. "Sanar, are you alright?"

No, duh, she thought, childishly. Of course she wasn't. Instead, "Falat," blurted she.

Devnos raised an eyebrow dubiously. "…'Falat'?" he echoed.

"He has it. Your journal. Falat stole your journal." It was freezing. Had she really been too hot before? Devnos' green, shoulder man was doing a jig. Maybe he was trying to get warm.

Devnos' reaction was better than Sanar – or the sprite on his shoulder – could have imagined. First came stunned incomprehension, then rage, followed by horror, until his face was purple, and smoke came out of his ears.

Or maybe that was another hallucination – the smoke, that is. But the green man almost got blown off Devnos' shoulder, so…

"He what?" Snapping the lock without a thought, Devnos tore open his secret-things drawer, rifling through the datapads and sheets of flimsi. But then he went very, very still, and Sanar knew Falat was a dead-and-rotting man – if he was lucky.

"When."

She would call him Giggles. The green man, that is. He was laughing his head off at Devnos, right now.

"Sanar…" Devnos' words bit the atmosphere.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. Again the temperature changed, and she would have killed for a cold glass of water. "I saw him with it…when you were capturing Solo."

Giggles had turned red, and was hopping all over Devnos' face, making it look as if her brother's skin was on fire.

Again Devnos dragged her attention back to him. "Has he – read any of it?" Every syllable was a boulder being thrown from Devnos' mouth.

"Yeah. He – he said there were 'very juicy' secre—"

Devnos cursed so hard and so loud that Sanar paled. Storming past her, he accidentally sent Sanar and her chair sideways, but he didn't even seem to notice. She tried to stay upright, but by the time Devnos had left the room, Darkness in his wake, the chair's legs had cracked. The wood gave, and the chair tumbled to its side, sending Sanar into a face plant.

She couldn't bear to move, and so she didn't. Against the length of her body, the floor echoed Devnos' stomps.

They sounded like heartbeats.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Devnos Klis had the reputation of a terrifying man, which he rarely used to its full power. This day was one of those "rarely's". His rage seemed to fill the whole, not insignificant lounge, until Falat realized that he was claustrophobic. His entire body shaking, only Devnos' face was still, and pale with fury.

But, for several, agonizing moments, he simply glared in pregnant silence.

Which, Falat understood, was far more terrifying than any blow or threat.

The crack of Falat's nose interrupted the silence that had infested the room. Falat's breath hissed with pain as he glared at his master, swiftly recovering his confidence now that the anvil had been dropped. "What was that for?"

"For being a dirty thief. Where – did – you – put – my – book?"

Slowly, Falat raised his hand to point at a drawer in his desk. He did not bother to conceal his interest as Devnos threw open the cabinet and grabbed his beast-skin notebook.

"It was an interesting read," Falat called as Devnos turned to leave. When his master froze, the apprentice smirked. "Particularly that of the…what was it…the Kavalier?"

"The Kavishka," Devnos corrected grimly, meeting Falat's eyes in a furious glare.

"That's right. Fascinating story – moving, even, if you sympathize with the weak. What I don't understand, though… Who was she?"

"What do you mean?" Weariness had begun to overtake Devnos' anger as the story was hashed over.

"The story talks about everyone except the Kavishka's lover. I would have dismissed her as irrelevant, considering a name is never given, but that you mentioned her at all…"

"It's only a story," Devnos said, which was true.

Falat's eyes narrowed. "I swore an oath to never accept such a simple answer."

Dread tightened her icy hands around Devnos' throat. "An…oath."

"What are those stories?" Falat pressed.

"Childhood gifts," Devnos forced himself to say.

Now Falat looked interested. "For whom?"

Devnos tried to stay silent, but IT tore the answer from his throat. "For my sister."

He spun from the room, possessing more knowledge than he had ever wanted to have.

Why the memory blanks and the pain had been more precisely, carefully targeted.

Who was poisoning Sanar.

That there was nothing he could do about any of it.

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Any comments would be appreciated :)

.Tjz