Chapter Fifteen: Seven Companions


-x-x-x-x-x-

"So, are you at least going to treat me like an adult at least? Tell me what's going on?"

Clayra's big sister and her sister's friends had been in her home for two days. Gantik had not been harmed, and Clayra assumed that Gantik had soothed Sanar's jealousy with the truth about his sham of a marriage. After all, what woman could hold her own when Gantik loved her? Maybe Sanar could…for a little while. But not even she could fight her lucky heart forever. Gantik was perfect; everyone loved him once they knew him. Perhaps Clayra's husband and sister were, even now, renewing their relationship.

Gantik lived and Sanar remained, as did her companions.

Clayra could count Sanar's Na'Lein friends on one hand: Gantik, Veras, and Teigra. None were ever the true definition of "friends". The first loved her, and the other two were only girls who knew Sanar better than most.

Now, Sanar travelled with seven people who knew her. Clayra wanted answers.

"Well? What's going on?"

In a bored manner, Sanar studied her hair for split ends. "Well, it's like this. Kyp's the Kavishka, and we eight are going to overthrow Pucijir's Order, and re-liberate women. And don't even think about asking to travel with us. You aren't coming."

"The Kavishka?" Clayra would argue her addition to the group when she had the facts.

"Turns out, Dev wasn't evil, and he was a seer. Do you remember of his stories?"

Was? Huh? "Yes, some."

"They were all true. The Kavishka is the only one who can kill Pucijir's puppet emperor."

The fair-haired woman thought for a moment before speaking. "Eight is a bad number."

"What?"

"There are eight of you—"

"Seven companions and the Kavishka."

"Okay, I'll give you that." Clayra sulked for a moment, disgruntled that her point had been so easily swept aside. "Gantik and I are coming with you."

"Over my dead body."

"I want to help! Gantik is going with you no matter what, and the group number will definitely be bad that way." And Gantik might never come back if I'm not there to remind him that he chose me.

"Numbers only have power if you give it to them. And Gantik is not coming, so there goes half your argument."

To Clayra, the words sounded like those of a protective lover, and the younger woman's temper rose. "Stop treating me like a child!"

Sanar opened her mouth to snap a retort, but she caught herself at the last moment. "Clayra, you're my sister, I love you, and I can't risk you."

"Would you 'risk' Jaina Solo?"

"You and Jaina are completely different people," Sanar explained tersely. "She—she thrives on these kinds of missions. Everyone in her family is some kind of hero, and Jaina's one of the worst. Besides, she just came out of fighting on the front lines of a decade-long war. If she had been able to come, she would have been fine."

"And me?" Clayra demanded with a sullen expression. "I've worked with the Resistance for years now, and I'm still just some glass doll?"

"You are my little sister, and the only one in our family who has a scrap of innocence left. I'm not letting you lose it."

"I was right there with you in Horaire's 'care', Sanar. The only difference between you and I is that you finally killed our tormentor."

"Our tormentor?" Sanar couldn't stifle the hard laugh. "Well," the younger girl heard her mutter, "I always get the job done—at least I can say that.

"Clayra, they left you alone. Don't talk to me about what Horaire did to you." The dark-haired woman's face was set in harsh lines as she briefly turned her eyes away.

The blonde woman stared at her sister for a moment before saying, "I'm not afraid to fight on this mission, Sanar. This is my planet, too. I may not really remember how it was for us before, but I want it for my family."

"It. Is. Dangerous." Sanar visibly reined herself in. "The things they would do to you if we didn't succeed—or even if we did… I won't let you go through that."

"I know what failure or capture will bring."

"You have no idea what they would do to you," Sanar snapped. "No…idea."

"What they did to you," Clayra replied in an unyielding tone. "That's what they could do."

Her sister's brown eyes closed as if in pain. "Clayra, sweetie—"

"No! You didn't want me to see, but I did. The bruises—the insults—"

"Stop it."

"I was there, Sanar. I was there maybe three minutes before you killed him. I have more than an inkling of what he must have tried to do to you—"

"Mujir, you're naïve." Sanar's voice was half-exasperated, half-relieved.

Clayra startled a little, then became annoyed. "He tried to—to rape you, didn't he?"

"You honestly think I would kill someone—even him—because they raped me?" Sanar laughed humourlessly. "Larifx, in their eyes it wouldn't even have been rape—just some witch's seduction."

"Then why…?"

"I really don't want to talk about this," Sanar told Clayra. In her voice was a warning.

"Why?" The younger one huffed impatiently. "It happened, Sanar. I know that it—it was awful, but if you had just let Gantik marry you, you would have been safe. He could have protected you, like he did Nichyn and I."

"Oh, so I brought this on myself, did I?"

Clayra's widened at the tight danger in Sanar's voice. "No, I—I just meant…if you weren't so proud, you might have been able to avoid it."

"Shut the lafit hell up, Clayra."

The blonde's eyes widened painfully before filling with tears. "W-What?"

"The pride of a thirteen-year-old girl would have neither stopped nor spurred on Horaire." Sanar's voice was twisted into something unrecognizable to her sister. "All it meant was that I didn't break."

"Thirteen? But that—" Clayra blinked several times, rapidly. "No. You wouldn't have let him—"

"So we're back to me letting him do whatever he wanted?" The elder snorted derisively. "Oh, come on, sis, why don't you say what you really think: I asked for it, didn't I? Oh, I probably even seduced him, bewitched him. Is this the kind of trash Gantik has been filling your head with?"

"Stop talking about him like that!" Clayra demanded.

Horaire's treatment of Sanar was forgotten for the moment, as Sanar had hoped.

"Why? Someone's obviously been working on you since last I saw you, and Gantik is already in my bad book."

"I thought you two kissed and made up," Clayra grumbled. Still, her mood lightened a little at Sanar's continued displeasure with the man. Perhaps she could get her husband to love her after all.

"Why? Because I haven't killed him yet? He and I have had a little talk, and he's going to physically survive, if only because you have." Sanar did not mention that the "talk" had consisted mostly of Sanar threatening and verbally degrading Gantik in a manner that would have impressed a Sith, if not a certain, sadistic High Priest. She would get to that after Pucijir's Order was destroyed.

"Why is this such a big deal to you?" Clayra wanted to take back the words as soon as they left her mouth. What if she reminded Sanar of Gantik's wonderful, beloved nature, and her big sister pursued him? There would be no hope of Clayra, then.

"Gantik has known from the start that playing with you is the worst sin he could commit in my eyes. Even without considering our…past, I can't forgive him. Ever."

"So you won't go back to him?" Clayra asked hopefully.

"What?" Sanar blinked and straightened on her stool. "'Go ba—' What are you even talking about?"

"Nothing," the younger woman said quickly and with a bit of glee. "Absolutely nothing. Forget I said anything."

"Now, wait a minute—"

"So that tall man and his…his wife?...they don't know this planet or its customs," Clayra babbled. "They're even more dangerous than a Holy Brother in your midst. Leave them here—they only want to be together this soon after their marriage anyway—and Gantik and I will come in their place." Clayra had certainly learned to distract her sister, when the situation called for it.

"I already told you, there isn't a womprat's chance in Corellia's hells that you are coming. And that is final."

-x-x-x-x-x-

Or it would have been final, if Clayra wasn't right about Cerasy and Tiran. And if Sanar hadn't had another "Vengeance" dream about the number seven. And if Kyp hadn't agreed with Vengeance about number superstitions.

"She's your sister," Cerasy said defensively when Sanar yelled at her for listening to Clayra. "She'll be fine. Anyway, what did you expect?"

"I am going to get you for this," the Na'Lein woman hissed to the bounty hunter the next day. The group had packed their bags and were preparing to leave for a Resistance safe house. Clayra and Gantik rode with them, despite Sanar's vehement protests.

"Look, Blue, you know Tiran and I would help in a second, but right now we're just walking, talking trouble. At least Miko and Krista have experience with Intel; they'll blend in quickly. Me and Tiran, on the other hand…"

"I'm sure Veras and Krista don't help," Sanar muttered suspiciously.

Cerasy shrugged. "We don't mesh well with the group, it's true. Krista and I have never gotten along well, and Tiran can't think before he talks around Veras. It's just asking for trouble."

"Whatever."

"Sanar, I want to talk to you—"

The dark-haired woman froze out her sister when Clayra approached her with a sulky look on her face. The night before, Clayra and another woman named Brufth, had altered some clothes for Sanar, Krista and Veras. Sanar now fiddled with her head scarf, and turned to Kyp. Both were already on their kaxis, and prepared to leave.

"Do we have everything?" she asked.

He scanned the courtyard, and the leaving party. Kaxis—check. Everyone who was coming, whether Sanar willed it or no—check. Enough food to last them until well after they reached the upcoming Resistance cell headquarters…check. "I think so. Any reason to delay?"

Sanar sighed. "No. Maybe if we leave while the sun's this hot, Gantik and Clayra will give up."

He looked at the sunny, late morning sky. Then he looked back at Sanar. "I don't see it happening. She's a Klis, after all."

"Well, now she's a Whilem, and Gantik's always been a lying coward," Sanar muttered dangerously. "I'm hoping he'll at least fake humanity, and take Clayra back with him."

Kyp called for the others to mount their kaxis. "I thought you didn't want her anywhere near him," he remarked.

"I don't, but I really don't want her around the Jirs. Gantik is the lesser of two evils."

"Well, then, let's hope you're right about him backing out, or we'll be dealing with both evils."

"Maybe I should have another 'talk' with him," she thought out loud. "Step up the terror, a little. I can be pretty scary."

"You aren't lying," Kyp agreed under his breath, just to annoy her. Kicking his kaxi in the sides, he gestured for the others to follow him out of the courtyard, and down the winding path to the south.

"Sanar?" Clayra interrupted in a thready voice. "Ca—can you look at me? Please?"

The older woman turned to look at her sister with impatience. "Dear sister. You wanted to come along. Congratulations: You are. Very unfortunately. Now you get to go introduce yourself to the others so that they can think you're half-way necessary to this fight. You won't get that from me."

Clayra visibly faltered, then regrouped in self-righteous indignation. "I'm extremely valuable."

"Of course you are—just not on this mission."

"You have no idea what I can do." Clayra's eyes blazed; I can be safe and loved, they said.

Sanar did not reply. Clayra fell back. Kyp only just checked his impulse to snap something in Sanar's defence. Sanar probably wouldn't appreciate it, especially since Clayra was her little sister.

"I kind of expected you two to get along," he remarked. Sanar probably didn't appreciate that, actually.

Sanar glared at him. "We did. Sort of. Then I left because the priests and Holy Brothers would kill her if I didn't, and Gantik did…who knows what to her. She even told me she loves him."

This time, Kyp managed to hold his mouth—for about three seconds. "You don't think she does?"

"She probably thinks she does, but this is Gantik we're talking about. Loving him is just…bad."

"You know, if you'd just let me kill him, I'm sure she'd get over it. Eventually. Maybe. And you'd get the pleasure of watching him get his comeuppance."

"I was thinking, if he's coming, maybe he'll have to deal with his Head Executioner father. If he turns coward and leaves, Clayra will follow him back to relative safety. And then I can kill him—after we overthrow Pucijir's Order. It's a win-win situation."

"You're so confident," he said wistfully.

"And you're usually an arrogant monkey lizard. What gives?" She eyed him curiously.

"Well, this is all kind of…big," he voiced. "What if we lose?"

"You're friends with the Solos, and you weren't imprisoned for Carida. The whole hero thing must have rubbed off on you."

He looked surprised.

"Well," she said uncomfortably. "Plus, you know, if you mess it up, I'll hurt you. Badly."

"Comparing me to Jaina, are you?" he asked, beginning to smirk. This could only be a good thing.

"Only with annoying qualities," she snapped defensively. "This isn't a good comparison."

"If you say so."

"Stop smirking!"

"Me?" He held back a laugh, but just barely.

"Ugh! You're so—so annoying."

He couldn't stop it; her frustration was too much, and he roared in laughter.

She stared at him; his amusement sounded rich and free over her. It barely seemed to fit with her image of him.

"Wh—" She swallowed, then found her frustration once again. "What is so funny?"

"You're just so—" snort "—so irritated with me." His laughter doubled at the look on her face.

"You—just—you—argh!"

Kicking her heels into her mount's belly, Sanar rode a good twenty paces ahead of him. "Jerk!" she yelled back over her shoulder.

"No, wait—Sanar—" He nearly fell of his kaxi in his continued amusement, but managed to spur the animal on. "I was just— Oh, come on, Sanar—"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"So, Gantik. Why does Sanar hate you so much?" Veras asked. She half-grinned at Braun as they came alongside Clayra's husband.

The dark-haired man glanced at both of them with shrewd eyes. "We were…close, once."

"Already heard that part," Veras dismissed. "Sanar acknowledged your presence for a while, but then all of a sudden she wouldn't even talk about you. Why?"

He hesitated, but it only barely reflected in his expression. "I desired a new level in our relationship. Sanar did not."

The answer made Braun's jaw tighten, and Veras' eyes narrow dangerously. "And what did you do about that?" she demanded in a low voice.

Gantik flinched. "What I tried to do—I have regretted it ever since, more than anything else in my life."

In a blink of an eye, Veras had grabbed a fist of his hair to bare Gantik's throat to her knife. "Warftha. Why hasn't she killed you yet, eh? Did you try to make it her fault? Did you make yourself a 'victim' of witchery?"

When he didn't respond fast enough, she tightened her grip. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't—"

"Veras, stop!" Clayra's shriek stalled any of Veras' further demands. "Leave him alone!"

The dark-haired woman's hold on Gantik's hair lessened only a little. She was all too aware of how desperately Clayra loved her husband. But if Sanar was hesitant to lash out at the Pucijir-lover waftha, then Veras could do this for her comrade.

"Does she know what you did?" the dark-haired woman hissed at Gantik.

"I mean it, Veras," Clayra cried. Her voice was pitched high in fear.

"Go ahead," Gantik roughly told Veras. "Sanar's plotting to make her revenge the worst imaginable. This would be letting me off easy."

Finally, the bounty hunter withdrew. "I hope you can't even scream, by the end."

With a last, rude gesture, she and Braun pushed their kaxis ahead. The couple was clearly vexed, although Braun was just as obviously reining in on his temper. Veras looked ready to explode.

Clayra waited until they left before turning her worried expression on Gantik. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly. She reached out as if to touch him, but her hand withdrew at the last second.

"I'm fine," he growled.

She flinched, then lowered her head submissively. Her reaction grated against his already bad mood, and Gantik struggled to keep from snapping at her.

"You're doing it again," she whispered, so softly he almost didn't hear her.

"Doing what?"

She swallowed, and risked a quick glance at him. "Wishing I was her." He caught sight of a sheen on her blue eyes before she looked away again.

Gantik very deliberately cooled his temper and stored it away for some other time. "Clayra—" He stopped and sighed. What could he say that he hadn't already said a thousand times before? What could he do that he hadn't already done? He had been very clear with Clayra from the beginning of their relationship. He had married her to keep her and Nichyn safe from the priests. At most, he was fond of her—maybe he even loved her, a little—but in any other situation, he would not have acted on it. She had accepted that at the start, had even used the explanation to excuse some of her flirtations and lies.

"I don't want to hear it," she said now, staring straight ahead. Her lips trembled a little. "I know."

He had a sudden image of Sanar skinning him alive. With a sigh, he decided to explain a little. "Whatever Sanar and I were to each other…that's in the past."

She looked back up at him, so fragile and so in love. He almost wished he could lie to her about his feelings, just to make her feel better. Not that coddling her would be to her benefit.

"I just want to know one thing," she told him in a low voice.

"What?"

"Were you and Sanar lovers?" Almost as if it was despite herself, two more questions followed the first in a jumble. "Was it reciprocated, your love? Did you ask her to marry you?"

"No."

Clayra looked slightly relieved, but then he continued.

"No, we weren't lovers. And no, I don't think she ever loved me in return the way I do—did her. But…yes, I did ask her to marry me." Several times, he added silently.

"Oh."

Gantik swore under his breath, frustrated by the way she persisted in being hurt. "I've been honest with you from the beginning, Clayra. I don't know what else I can do to make our relationship clear to you."

Her expression begged him to love her. He only looked straight ahead, to where Sanar was talking with the raven-haired man.

-x-x-x-x-x-

"I suppose I should introduce you properly," Sanar grumbled that night.

She scowled at the new couple, where they sat across from her by the fire. Despite her faith in Gantik's cowardliness, the man had not returned to his estate, and Clayra had certainly not followed him. Nearly ten hours later, Sanar was a little more resigned to her sister's presence on the mission.

While the others had made camp that night, Braun had set up a fire. Now, the eight of them sat around the flames, not quite ready to sleep. The fire crackled as Krista prodded it playfully, causing Clayra to jump a little. Kyp looked like he wanted to laugh, but he held back at Sanar's scowl.

"I'm Kyp Durron," the Kavishka introduced himself. If nothing else, he wanted to get the Klis hysterics and his own guilt out of the way. This family's reaction to his name had never been quite what he expected.

This time was no different. Clayra gave him a thin, unaffected smile. "Clayra Whilem."

He blinked. Turning to Sanar for an explanation, Kyp was given only a "don't even" look.

Oblivious, Clayra looked at the others expectantly.

"I'm Krista," the blonde to her right said. "This team's resident ex-Intelligence leader. And this is Miko," she continued. She gestured to the red-haired man on her right. "We…work together, or did."

Clayra raised her eyebrows at the idea of a man and woman working together, but she didn't say anything.

At the others' looks, Gantik spoke. "I am Gantik, son of Gru'loq Whilem." He glanced at his wife. "And, as she already informed you, this is Clayra—Whilem," he added. The pause was barely noticeable. "My wife, and Sanar's younger sister."

Clayra smiled politely to hide her wince. She had noticed both the pause and Gantik's inability to see her apart from Sanar. "And Sanar's younger sister." Right. Just that.

Kyp threw Gantik a thunderous glare. When Sanar elbowed him, the Jedi Master dragged his eyes away. "Sanar explained everything?" he checked. "About the Kavishka prophecy, and all?"

"I remember the story well enough," Clayra replied firmly. "I know that you, Master Durron, are our best chance to defeat Pucijir's Order."

The raven-haired man flinched. "I'm not— I'm just Kyp." He laughed uneasily. "Only Jedi apprentices call me 'Master,' and even then it's only if they're being smart alecks."

"You are going to save my world, milord," Clayra replied. "I just—"

"Clayra," Sanar spoke more sharply than she had intended. "He's just…Kyp."

"You always did hate the little things," Clayra muttered disgustedly. She moved as if to stand, but subsided just as quickly.

"The little things?" Sanar repeated incredulously. The colour rose in her cheeks, a sure warning of her temper. The others shifted uncomfortably. "It's the so-called 'little' things that—that destroy us—"

"Get off Father's soapbox," Clayra snapped. The words hung in the air, and Clayra's eyes widened as she realized what she had said, and to whom she had said it.

For a moment, Sanar was at a loss for words. Swallowing, she glanced around the fire. Krista and Miko had averted their eyes. Veras was scowling at Clayra, and Braun was watching his wife. Gantik's eyes rested on Sanar, but his expression remained unreadable.

"I…"

"My name, Clayra," Kyp interrupted sharply, "is Kyp Durron. I have earned no title as of yet, and I would not have you brand me with one."

The anger in Kyp's voice made the younger woman flinch, but she pretended to fight just a little more. "It is my choice—"

"I killed your father!" he nearly roared. "There's no choice about it."

The blonde stared, stunned into silence. "W—What?" she finally managed.

The fight seemed to drain out of Kyp. "Over twenty years ago, I was possessed by a Sith Lord, and by my own hatred for the Empire," he explained tonelessly. "I stole the Sun Crusher, and destroyed Carida's sun. It caused a chain reaction, and eventually blew up Carida itself. Your father had been exiled there, and he died that day."

Sanar's eyes dropped from the scene. She wanted to defend Clayra, who couldn't—shouldn't—have known. She wanted to believe that this would mean as much to Clayra as it did to Sanar.

But, seeing the self-loathing in Kyp's eyes as he related what he had done, she almost wanted…

"Sanar?" Gantik's eyes reflected the campfire in their black depths. "Are you all ri—"

Her glare made it abundantly clear that his attention was not desired. Bringing her temper back under control, Sanar told her sister, "Call him Kyp, or Durron, or 'The Kavishka,' for all I care. Just…no 'Master' or whatever. That's not how it is."

Clayra barely seemed to hear her. "He killed Father?" And despite their problems, and despite how much Clayra sometimes resented Sanar, the blonde's eyes pleaded with her big sister for some kind of answer. Some kind of reaction, to be studied and mimicked.

"Carida was the Imperial Academy centre. The Empire never gave up on taking back control…" Absolute, stunned silence came over the others. Sanar didn't look up to see the gaping mouths. The woman, herself, could hardly believe what she was saying. For a second, her eyes darted up to Kyp's, then skittered away again. "It was an act in war, and of revenge. It…" She stopped. There were some things she just could not say.

(Not yet, a voice hissed.)

Veras was the first to break the astonished silence. "We'll…uh, we'll head off for the night now," she muttered. Elbowing Gantik painfully in the gut, she stood. Veras glanced at Sanar one last time before she and Braun left the campfire.

Gantik grunted when Veras (not so surreptitiously) kicked him in the side, but took the hint. "We shall retire as well. Goodnight, and fair meetings to you all."

Clayra remained sitting in shock. Frowning, Gantik gently brought his wife to her feet, then led her to their tent. Sanar glared after him.

Miko and Krista made their excuses soon after. Sanar scowled at them all for being so obvious in leaving her with Durron. So she'd…pretty much defended him. So she'd basically said she forgave—Larifx, understood!—what he did. That did not mean that she and Durron "needed to talk." It didn't mean anything other than that she was being unexpectedly understanding and selfless and—

And worse: sincere.

(Dammit, she cursed.

She felt SomeThing—SomeOne?—smirk.)

The brunette stormed over it all behind an iron curtain. She was Sanar Klis, kriff it! She didn't just suddenly discover that she'd forgiven somebody for the heinous crime of hurting her. Oh, no, definitely not. Life was short. She intended to "waste" it on bitterness and grudges and revenge and—

(That's why you stayed with Jaina Solo, I'm sure. And why you need her, your best friend, the hero.

Lafit you, she snapped. She mentally blocked the voice out. I'm not listening! And I only stayed because…she's—she's Solo.)

—and selfishness. Except, of course, when it came to her sisters, and her planet, and all. But Sanar was her own lafit person, and she didn't have to forgive anyone, and she certainly wouldn't need to justify it if she did.

So when Kyp finally seemed to pull himself out of his stupor, and he opened his mouth to talk to her…

Sanar scrambled to her tent as fast as she could.