Chapter Twenty-Nine: Musings of Death and Impending Madness
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Jaina wasn't surprised when she found herself cuffed and thrown back into her cell without a word. Not only had she made a nuisance of herself by escaping, but she had killed a Dark Jedi. Another one.
No. She had killed lots of Dark Jedi, Nightsisters, enemy pilots, even a few civilians who got out of hand and rioted, or tried to fight in a war that wasn't theirs. Jaina knew the price of killing an enemy.
That there was unmistakeable gratitude – and pleading? – in Devnos' eyes, however, caught her attention even through her lead senses.
Devnos had known – had ensured, even – that Jaina could escape. He must have seen the blinking of her hacking job on her stun-cuff's deactivation series, no matter how careful Jaina had been. No one was that blind – certainly, Devnos wasn't. In the same way that the line between Jaina and Sanar could sometimes blur, so, too, could the difference between their separate families become foggy.
Jaina knew Devnos' favourite dish, his nervous habits, and the difference between ActingDevnos and the genuine article.
Devnos was acting.
Jaina wondered if Sanar had enough perspective to see it.
Could Sanar, when Devnos curled his lip at her, see the way his eyes became blank? Or how, when he insulted her, his gaze was ashamed? Jaina knew Sanar didn't notice – or understand – the worry in Devnos' movements.
No. Of course she couldn't see it. Sanar couldn't perceive anything beyond the betrayal, or the hurt. Maybe even Jaina couldn't view the whole extent of it. Devnos had hurt her sister. Badly. Repeatedly. In a way that had nothing to do with physical beatings. Jaina couldn't forgive that.
But Devnos had known that Sanar was in danger, and he had wiggled out of his role long enough to make sure that Jaina had the freedom to do what she had come to do: protect and rescue Sanar.
It was all quite close to being incomprehensible. Why would Devnos need to act? On Na'Lein'yhpaon, of course, Jaina could readily see the need. Everyone had their own role. Sanar was the niftyax – the rebellious fighter, Jarran's corrupted legacy. Clayra let others protect her; Caesarea adapted to her surroundings' beliefs and prejudices. And Devnos…Devnos was the in-control convertee.
But Sanar, for all her hatred and bitterness, was letting go of her role. Why hadn't Devnos, when it so obviously pained him, done the same with relief?
//"How's the head, Devnos?"//
Jaina had been playing with him. A better word for "head" might have been "conscience". But it had meant something else entirely to Sanar's brother.
Note to self: interrogate it out of him when Zekk comes.
"You're playing with things you can never understand," a voice rumbled.
Jaina's head shot up as she scanned her make-shift cell. Other than the ysalamiri, she was alone. "Really?" she tested.
"Unravel a thread, and the whole tapestry comes loose – as it must. But this mystery is not yours to realize."
It could only be someone from beyond the River, but she had the strangest feeling that she knew the speaker. Or maybe… "Is it Sanar's?"
There was no direct response, but the voice said, "This is intricately woven. Don't play games, or take on someone else's part – you could destroy everything."
"Thanks for the – " She felt the presence leave " – vote of confidence."
"Talking to yourself, are you?"
Jaina started, then cocked a sassy eyebrow at the ghost before her. "Well, you know, because I haven't had a social life since you up and abandoned me for Sanar…"
Kyp's mouth grinned cockily, but his eyes did not reflect the playfulness. "You know how it is – stick around until someone prettier and more disturbed comes along. Besides, you don't need me anymore. Well," he amended, looking at her chains, "not like you used to."
"No need to worry about me. I'm rather attached to the whole my-boyfriend-is-my-hero thing. I mean, I refuse to be some damsel-in-distress, but it is kind of nice, once in a while. Besides, Zekk could use the boost."
Kyp groaned. "I'd forgotten what it's like to listen in on 'girl talk'."
"Sanar just doesn't refer to her soul mate like that, does she?"
"If she has a soul mate, she'll kill him for playing the hero too late."
Jaina settled back against the wall, her expression becoming grim. "Yeah, well, the least he could do is show up before…" She couldn't say the words. Before she dies.
Jaina had crossed that path, true. She knew that death wasn't something to be frightened of, but… Sanar deserves more from life.
"I can't reach her," Kyp admitted quietly. "Oh, on and off, but lately… I haven't been able to do anything but watch – if that. She's fading."
And with her, Kyp's strongest anchor to this world. "Did you see the fight with Falat?" she asked.
Judging by the way he said, "Falat? What?" he hadn't.
"Devnos' apprentice turned out to be a…Holy Brother." The title slid from her Sanar-part to Jaina's tongue without immediate understanding.
Kyp frowned. "A what?"
"Kind of like an Imperial Guard-turned-assassin from Na'Lein'yhpaon," she explained. "Apparently, Sanar killed the wrong priest back home." Jaina paused, then said, "That was the official explanation, anyway. I think Devnos and Falat knew of other reasons than just Horaire's death. Maybe it had something to do with – Sanar's dad."
Kyp digested this possibility slowly, and only spoke a few minutes later. "How is she?"
Jaina stalled. "You mean Sanar?"
"Obviously." Kyp looked irritated, but the live Jedi chalked his crankiness up as a cover for his worry.
"Unless we can find an antidote for Falat's poison, Sanar is dying. Which means Zekk needs to hurry up." She sighed. "If I had known we have a deadline, I would have kept the lines of communication open."
Kyp rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you treated this like some kind of game. Please."
"I wanted some time to kick Devnos' butt," Jaina said petulantly. "Did you know he put a price on my head to get to Zekk? He put a price on my head – but not for me! I've turned into some…get-the-guy, damsel-in-distress-as-bait! Can you believe it? Me."
The ghost looked at her as if she was insane. "Jaina, if I ever find a way to miraculously retake physical form, remind me to throttle you."
She glared. "Be nice, or I won't punch Devnos for you. And I'll tell Sanar that – that you sleep with a stuffed Ewok."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Well," she back-pedalled, "that you did. Before you, you know, died."
"One: Baboo was a joke. Remember? You were the one who gave him to me as a gag present when you were twelve. Two: he wasn't stuffed, because you decided to operate on him. Baboo was never the same. And three: Sanar doesn't care how I sleep – or slept."
"Oh, don't tell me she'd pass up on material for mocking you," Jaina teased, grinning.
Abruptly, Kyp dropped into brooding mode. "She might not get a chance to."
The corners of Jaina's mouth turned upwards in something resembling amusement. "The Force, for reasons unknown, assigned you to Sanar as some kind of guardian. If – when – she dies, the two of you could very well spend eternity together. I mean, who knows how long the Force scheduled the two of you to be together?" She perked up. "Hey, I ought to just tell her that; she'll stay alive for sure, then."
"Thanks, Jay."
She batted her eyes. "You're welcome. Now get going."
"Did we plan something?" Kyp asked, eyeing her with faint confusion.
"You're going to tell Zekk where I am, and to hurry up. You know, so we have a hope of saving Sanar. Now, shoo, messenger boy. Oh, and play nice with Zekk, okay? I mean it. I can wander around the River long enough to beat you up, if you're a brat."
Kyp grumbled something that sounded like "yes, mother", then disappeared.
Jaina's face crumpled into worry. Hold on, Sanar.
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Sanar's eyes made Devnos want to scream. How could they just stare ahead, lost, appalled, desperate, and not be proof of coming madness?
He knew the truth, though: it would have been better if she was going mad. She would have been in less pain that way. Instead, the only thing wrong with her was that she knew she was dying, and that even if it wasn't because of the poison, it was only a matter of time. The Holy Brothers had marked her, and Rafintair was determined enough to send his men off-planet. It was that serious.
But they didn't know how serious, Devnos thought, in an attempt to cheer himself.
"I'm going to bed," Sanar muttered in his general direction. She stood, but only stared at her bare feet. "I can't…" She sighed, and it seemed that in that action, everything swooshed out of her. Just like that, her strength disappeared. For a second, she wobbled as if she would fall, and Devnos could only watch, imprinting every sway into his mind.
Then she gathered herself together, and one foot went in front of the other, and the other dragged so that her feet were again side by side. Right foot, left foot, right, left, until she was at her door. Sanar leaned against the doorway for a second, and whispered something.
"Did you say something, Sanar?" Devnos asked, his throat completely dry.
Her head swivelled to him, then dropped. "It's just… Nothing."
She looked up again to study him, her eyes unsettlingly bright, and Devnos tensed. Any minute, he thought, she would see through it all. She would realize the vastness of what was happening, and the truth of…everything. His gaze dropped then snapped back up to her twice, as if he wanted her to figure it out.
But then he looked down again, and refused to meet her eyes. What was the point? It had failed. The Strings would just have to manipulate another group of people. Sanar was dying, Devnos was completely unable to do anything to help, and the other… Without Sanar, he would never show.
Devnos had failed.
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Sanar turned and took ten small steps before she stopped in front of her bed, but then she reconsidered. Why should she sleep? In a few days, or weeks – who knew how long she had? – she would have all the rest anyone could ever need. So, instead, she sat on the floor, leaning against her bed.
I don't want to die.
She had seen death before. She had felt it, and she had even coaxed someone out of it. Sanar knew about the River, about the joy that could accompany death – and she knew that she could easily fall for it. Her father was dead, as was her uncle, and several of her friends. With death would come seeing them again.
Daddy.
What wouldn't she give to see him again? When he had been exiled to Carida, everyone had been relieved that he wasn't executed; everyone had thought he was safe. But, apparently, Rafintair and his soldiers had not realized the extent of Jarran Klis' part in the NLY Rebellion. And so he had been exiled to a place where the only job was to work like a beast.
Sanar missed him more than anything – that had never changed, even over the years. Perhaps it was only her latching onto the one person who had never betrayed her, the only one who she could depend on without repercussions, but…
It should have been a comfort, then, as she came to the knowledge that she was dying. That she had been right about the poison, that Devnos had known, and that Falat's mission had succeeded even though he died. She was going to see her father again. She wouldn't have to be strong, or defiant, or the one who knew what they were doing, anymore. Someone else would have to take that role, while she could just…be.
But she didn't want to die – not anymore. And so, if it came to that, Sanar doubted she would be able to accept the ignorant joy that came of letting go of life.
And what if she didn't go to the Light side of the River?
//Horaire's bright, blank, dead eyes stared back at her as realization of what she had done swept over her.//
Sanar looked at her hands miserably, then hugged her knees to her. She didn't deserve a heaven. She wasn't a hero, and never had been.
But was it too much to hope that she didn't deserve a literal Hell, either?
Her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she had resolved to put it aside. She would find out soon enough what she deserved. Meanwhile, she reached under her pillow and took out Devnos' book. The stories did not, perhaps, hold the richness of Devnos' voice when he had told Sanar the tales, but they were all she had. All there was to remind her of the brother Devnos had once been.
Where did he go?
She brushed the thought aside even as it formed in her mind. Did it matter why Devnos had changed? No. All that mattered was that he had. And that, in doing so, he had left her alone.
Her fingers traced the lettering on the book's cover before she opened it. A few of the pages hung out of the loose binding, but she pushed them back in. "Just last a little longer," she whispered. "No one will need you for comfort when I die."
When I die.
The book had opened to the story of Peraq and the Quest for Truth. The pages in this section were not as worn down as some of them were, partly because it struck a chord, and somewhat because it didn't. Peraq had found the truth and redemption she had been looking for. Sanar had only looked – in vain.
Despite herself, Sanar flipped the pages to the end of the short story. Maybe she needed to reassure herself that there really was redemption, and it was just another failure on her part that she had not found it.
When the celebration was at its most joyous, Peraq left for the gardens. In her hands, she held the box containing Wickle's hair. She stopped in front of the rose bush and its thorns. This was what needed to be done.
She waited until the wind began, and then, slowly, she opened the box, and the wind picked up the black strands, scattering them amongst the bushes. Peraq was quiet as her brother's spirit was laid to rest. "May your death be more peaceful than your life," whispered she.
But that was not all she was there for; there was more to be said. Peraq cleared her throat, and thought of the ones who had tried to enslave her. "Ma kitcha," she said bravely. "M'alo keena. M'vari nonna la-kul-eil." And with a sharp nod, she turned away and walked to her future.
Sanar stared at the words, silently translating them into Basic. I am strong. I have survived. I am not yours anymore.
She would never be able to honestly say those words, now.
I don't want to die.
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Why can't you ever make anything easy, Jaina? Zekk wondered. True, it was one of the things he loved about her, but planning a rescue when she had closed her end of their bond was rather difficult. And he had the nagging suspicion that Sanar needed help. Soon.
"Feel anything yet?" Garik asked, seeing Zekk rub his temples. The diplomat had joined them at a call from Cerasy. Leia, on the other hand, had been talked into resting, as the doctor had ordered.
"Nothing. Either she's still blocking me, or Devnos is using ysalamiri."
"That blocks you?" Cerasy said, frowning.
"If the bond is already blanketed at the time when the Ysalamiri are introduced, yes," Zekk explained wearily. "We're going to need another way to find her."
Garik sighed. "Someone remind me to take that girl apart when she comes back…"
"Sure – if there's anything left of her when I'm finished," Miko growled.
Krista shrugged. "Don't forget to rip Jaina apart, Garik." She grinned widely.
"Thanks, Krista," Garik said dryly. "Maybe tell me when she's actually back?"
The blonde's eyelashes batted flirtatiously, and Miko rolled his eyes before sinking further into his chair. Zekk raised an eyebrow.
"Anyway," Krista said, "shouldn't she just be around…Tirith? That's where she disappeared to, after all."
"They could be anywhere by now," Cerasy explained impatiently. "You know that."
"Well, duh," Krista shot back. "But with nothing else to go on… Um, does no one else see how 'Tirith! Let's go!' makes sense?"
Miko patted her arm. "As soon as we're sure we don't have anything else, Kris. Okay?"
She swatted his hand back. "I'm not a kid," she groused. "Don't pat my hand like that."
The red-haired man grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Sorry, Kris," he murmured, eyes gleaming devilishly.
The others watched in amusement as Krista blushed. "Well… You know," the blonde muttered, flipping her hair. "There are just so many who make that assumption."
Miko's eyes darkened unexpectedly, and he looked down. "Right."
"Could we get back to Jaina now?" Cerasy asked, breaking up the strange drama between Miko and Krista.
"I have to agree with Cerasy," Kyp's voice broke in.
Kip's head shot up, and he regarded the man who had been used to make him. Zekk thought the clone looked embarrassed. "Hello, Kyp Durron," the replica said, sounding exactly - but nothing – like Kyp.
Kyp looked at Kip with an unidentifiable emotion in his eyes, then refocused on the group. "Jaina and Sanar are both being held on Devnos' ship, which is docked in the middle of Tirith's smaller desert."
"What are the defences?" Cerasy asked crisply, folding her arms over her chest.
"Devnos' apprentice, Falat, is dead; that leaves Devnos to fight you."
Zekk frowned. "Sounds easy."
Kyp threw him a glare. "Well, then, you won't mind hurrying up."
Uncomfortable, Kip shuffled a few pieces of flimsi. "I – is there anything else that we should know?"
The ghost looked ruffled by his clone's presence, but he recovered within minutes. "Sanar's situation is dire," he worried. "We need to get her to a med-centre quickly, and find an antidote for Falat's poison."
"What kind of time period are we talking about?" Miko asked practically, tapping a pen against the desk.
Kyp shrugged miserably. "A few days – a week, at most."
Zekk considered this for a moment. "We'll jet off immediately. Garik, you had best stay here; no offence, but you aren't exactly the fighting type." He eyed Kip for a moment. "Kip, maybe you should stay here, too. You don't look so good."
Kip didn't bother to fight the decision, and Kyp watched him with faint alarm.
"Cerasy, Miko, Krista – pack up enough for a day or two, but hurry up about it. We leave in an hour." The named three began to pack up noisily, and Zekk turned to Kyp. "How's Jaina?" he asked.
"She's better than when you left," Kyp replied sharply. But Jaina's warning rang through his mind, and he finished, "She'll be okay. I have the feeling everyone's a little too wrapped up in Sanar's problems to think too much about Jaina."
Then Kyp was gone.
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Please R&R :)
.Tjz