Jedha, Temple of the Whills

Day Eight, early afternoon

Just after noon on the second day after Carmen's murder, Emmkar was informed that the Jedi had arrived in the city. Walking slowly, the Head Guardian went to the walls of the temple.

He had ordered the Guardians to ensure that no pilgrims were to enter the west courtyard until after the Jedi performed his search. It was a disappointment to those who wished to see the famous statues there, but Emmkar could not risk any evidence being hidden.

He waited for a quarter of an hour for the Jedi, watching the pilgrims who passed through the gate beneath him. When the Shadow finally did arrive, Emmkar did not realize him at first, thinking he was another pilgrim. He was dressed in the brown robes common to pilgrims, and shared the same peaceful demeanor and slow walk that visitors to Jedha usually had.

It was only when Emmkar heard the greeting statue's song that he realized the man was a Jedi. The soft chime of the crystal's usual greeting, inaudible to most – even to most Force-sensitives – was different when a Jedi entered the temple; perhaps it was a response to the kyber in lightsabers.

Emmkar listened to the chiming note from the statue, pondering the slight dissonance that he had never heard for another Jedi, then made his way down to the west courtyard. Since the vision, and especially since Carmen's murder, he'd found it physically harder to move. It was as though he had to focus now, in order to make his aged bones move the way he wanted them to.

As soon as he stepped into the west courtyard, he saw the Jedi. He was a Kiffar, dressed entirely in black – an unusual choice, among the dozens of Jedi whom Emmkar had met. His pilgrim's robes had been draped over a stone bench, and he was standing before the injured statue, both hands pressed to the blackened stump of the statue's wrist. He did not appear to be aware of his surroundings.

Content to wait, Emmkar seated himself on the low wall of a nearby garden bed in the sun, and watched and listened. Sure enough, the kyber crystal in the Jedi's lightsaber did have an unusual resonance. It was new, perhaps less than two months removed from the cavern in which it had been born, but it hummed with an unusually bright life – and a tinge of death. A strange combination in a kyber crystal, especially one so young.

But perhaps that had to do with the Jedi himself, who was a Shadow. From the archives last night, Emmkar had learned that Shadows dealt far more in death than most Jedi ever did . . . at least, during times of peace. And of course, this particular Shadow had been the one to face the ancient Sith woman, Zenaya, so it could be no surprise that he had tinges of darkness in his mind and soul. . . And yet.

Emmkar blinked slowly and continued to observe the Kiffar.

It was a full minute before the Jedi finally registered there was someone else nearby. Emmkar knew because the Kiffar started to turn away from the statue, then jumped ever so slightly.

Emmkar stood, and the Jedi bowed, introducing himself as Quinlan Vos.

"Knight Vos," Emmkar said. "Welcome to the Temple of the Whills. I am glad that you are here – but sorry that you have arrived as the result of a horrible crime."

The Kiffar glanced at the serene courtyard, which was marred by the desecrated statue. "So am I," he admitted. "This seems like a peaceful place."

Emmkar gestured to the statue. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"To some extent. The kyber was cut, as you suspected, by a Sith artifact. And that artifact was a red sword." He closed his eyes as though trying to remember something. "I'm fairly sure that the sword could only cut kyber."

"Ah. . ." Emmkar clasped one hand tightly at his side. "Do you mean to say that the sword was not used as a weapon?"

"As far as I can tell. I'm pretty sure it can only be used to – harvest? –" He glanced down at his hands with a slight frown. "Harvest crystal, maybe. I can't say for sure yet. The impressions were in the statue, not the weapon."

Emmkar had met Kiffar pilgrims before, and several of them had spoken of the impressions left in kyber statues. All of those impressions, though, had been of peace and growth. . . a kind of memory, the Kiffar pilgrims had told him, that the crystals had of the Guardians who'd helped to direct their growth.

"Did the statue see what happened?" Emmkar asked quietly.

"It echoed it." The Jedi touched the statue of the Man again, then looked suddenly at the Woman. "The Lady," he said, and crossed the courtyard to touch her lowered hand. "She echoes the sense of the murder, but I can't see exactly what happened. There's an absence – a death. . . that's all."

It was similar to what Emmkar had felt as well, and he found himself leaning more heavily on his staff, disappointment filling him although he was sure the Jedi had done his best. "I hoped that perhaps a Force-user would be able to tell us who had committed the murder," he murmured. "Though knowing who committed the crime might not have helped us in catching him, I suppose."

"We don't need the name," Quinlan agreed.

"Perhaps not," said Emmkar. "But did you learn anything else? The crystals spoke of a web of sorts."

"A web? That's a good word for it." The Knight stepped away from the statues and cast a sharp, lingering look around the courtyard. "It's possible that the perpetrators are smugglers, or a gang, or . . . a cult."

"A cult?" Emmkar repeated. "Are you thinking that these people are worshippers of the Sith?"

"I don't know." Quinlan glanced around before heading towards where Carmen had died. "I don't think so, but they could be. Worshippers of the Sith . . . It's strange, isn't it, how many of those show up when a Sith returns from the dead?"

His voice was strangely, almost forcibly lighthearted as he stopped where Carmen had died and dropped to one knee, resting his arms on the other knee as he stared at the ground.

"No, that is not strange," said Emmkar slowly. "After all, Sith returning from the dead – that is a highly unusual occurrence. Is it not?"

"It's happened five or six times, according to ancient records – which is five or six times too many. But every time, for centuries after, these death-dealing cults existed, sometimes doing more damage than the original Sith they worshipped."

Emmkar nodded. "And does Darth Zenaya have worshippers?"

"Not that we know of, yet. But she will . . ." Quinlan trailed off, putting both hands against the ground. "She died instantly," he murmured, and moved his touch out farther as though searching for something.

The Head Guardian watched, horrified despite himself at how casual the Jedi sounded about the caretaker's death. Carmen had been his closest friend, a beautiful soul, and the Jedi felt her death – but felt no real horror or sorrow. Emmkar could tell that clearly enough. What must it be like, to be so familiar with death that even murders did not truly touch him?

Suddenly, the Jedi flinched and pulled his left hand away from the spot where Emmkar had been kneeling when he said his farewells to Carmen.

Emmkar said nothing, but now he could feel sympathy from the Jedi as Quinlan looked up and said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Head Guardian."

"As am I," said Emmkar softly. "She was a good woman."

The Jedi nodded. "It might help you to know that Carmen felt no pain," he said.

It did help. Even though the Guardians were supposed to fear no pain, Emmkar had never resigned himself to the thought of others suffering.

"Thank you," he said. "Who told you Carmen's name?"

"No one." Quinlan looked back at the Woman. "It was in the statue."

Stepping forward, Emmkar studied the face of the statue with its calm, downcast eyes and gentle smile. Kyber was alive, but not aware. Living, but not sentient. "The statue remembers its caretaker?" he murmured, surprised.

"Not consciously." The Jedi hummed in thought. "It's more that Carmen loved that statue, and left imprints of her own thoughts on it – strongly enough that I could learn her name. The kyber almost resonated with it. And so did the stones where you knelt near her."

"I see." Emmkar studied the Kiffar for several long seconds, with a new understanding of the shadows that surrounded his spirit. "I wonder, young Jedi, if the gift you possess is a burden or a blessing."

Something guarded entered Quinlan's eyes. "Both." He grinned, but there wasn't much humor behind the expression. "Sometimes it's good, other times it's not. Like most other Force abilities, really."

He was deflecting, clearly uncomfortable with the Head Guardian's obvious scrutiny, so Emmkar gestured at the open gate. "Has your ability told you anything about the people who own the weapon?"

"No," Quinlan said. "Not beyond that sense of an organization. I'll search the rest of this area, though. It might take me a while."

He wandered around, pausing now and again to stare at some detail on the walls or in the paved stones that Emmkar could not see. Then he walked the perimeter of the courtyard, occasionally touching the ground, the statues, the edge of the gateway, or the walls while the Head Guardian sat, watching through partially closed eyes and half-dozing in the warm sunlight.

Fully an hour passed before the Jedi returned to stand in front of him. "There were twelve people here," he said. "Only one of them – the leader of the group – came in before Carmen's death. He was the murderer. The others came after, cut the arm of the statue, and left immediately. Did anybody in the Temple see or hear anything?"

"No," Emmkar told him. "The gates are closed at night, the walls guarded by two pairs of sentries who walk around the parapet in opposite directions."

"Easy to time, then," the Jedi said.

"Yes." The Head Guardian pointed at the statues. "And during the theft, neither pair of guards heard anything. But what alarms me more is that not one of the Guardians of the Whills, including myself, sensed any threat to that which we protect."

The Kiffar narrowed his eyes at the ground, then glanced up. "Maybe that's not a cause for alarm," he said. "How long has it been since there was a threat? Have you ever felt an urgent warning from the crystals before?"

Emmkar considered for a long, long moment. "No," he said at last. "None of us have. You are suggesting that we may have felt the warning after all, and simply not recognized it?"

"Yes. If you question the others closely . . ." The Jedi shrugged. "I'd be willing to bet that every one of the Guardians had some kind of dream or thought where he or she was threatened."

Given that one of Emmkar's dreams the night of the murder – his only remembered dream, in fact – had been a strange, distant one of watching himself falling from a tower, the Head Guardian was inclined to agree.

"But there is one other thing," he said. "Now that the theft has occurred, there are many Guardians patrolling the streets of NiJedha. They have all been listening for the stolen crystal – for its song – but not even the slightest indication of it has been found. I wonder if perhaps it is no longer on Jedha. After all, dozens of ships arrive and depart each day."

"I doubt it's been removed from Jedha," Quinlan said. "Or if it has, the gang hasn't left. Whoever they are, they fully intend to take more kyber."

"So my vision indicated," said Emmkar. "But assuming the stolen kyber is still on Jedha, why can the Guardians not hear it?"

"Because it doesn't have a song anymore. It's been killed." Looking up at the walls where several Guardians stood conversing, the Jedi Knight added, "It was smart of them to kill it, too. It's the only way they'll keep the Guardians off their tracks."

"Killed?" Emmkar shook his head in momentary disbelief. "But surely that removes the value of the crystal, doesn't it?"

"In most cases, it would. . . But not if it's being sent to an alchemist who can channel dark energy through it." Quinlan Vos turned abruptly, staring through the open gate that led into the city. It seemed like he was watching for something, but after a brief pause, he glanced at Emmkar again. "After all, the Sith are known for using kyber for their own purposes."

"This is true." Sighing, Emmkar started towards the interior courtyard. "Come, young one. If you are finished here, I will find someone to bring you to the guest quarters, and to assist you in your investigation."

"Thank you," Quinlan said, gathering his discarded robe. "But don't worry about the guest quarters, Head Guardian. I might stay on guard here at night, but other than that I doubt I'll be in the Temple."

"Oh?" A weight on Emmkar's shoulders, which he'd hardly been aware of, started to lift. "You do not think, then, that anyone here has something to do with the crimes?"

"No." The Jedi's glance was knowing. "In fact, I'm absolutely sure that none of the Guardians had anything to do with it."

"Thank the Force," whispered Emmkar, who had already been trying to believe what the Jedi had just assured him of. "A traitor among the Guardians of the Whills has never existed, not in all our ten thousand years of history. For one to exist now – I can only imagine how that would affect everyone else here."

Quinlan said nothing, and Emmkar thought about Yan Dooku, whom the Jedi considered a traitor to the Order. But Emmkar himself, who thought about the Force and the Code so differently in comparison to the Jedi, considered Dooku a traitor only in the sense that he had started out as a reformer, and turned into a tyrant.

When they reached the courtyard, Emmkar paused to study a group of Guardians, all of whom were occupied in the daily tasks of sweeping and scrubbing and gardening. He had already decided who would be assigned to the Jedi, but Chirrut Îmwe did not seem to be present.

"Chirrut!" he called.

From the garden he was weeding, Baze Malbus looked up, looked around, and rolled his eyes. "I will find him, Head Guardian," he said in his deep voice, tossing aside a weed and brushing dirt from his hands. "He has probably lost himself again."

"Hardly," said a cheerful voice, and the blind Guardian appeared from the tool shed, staff balanced in the crook of one elbow as he clasped his hands gently around something. "This butterfly, however, was lost. She emerged from a cocoon she had spun in the flower pot, and could not escape the shed."

Baze looked briefly as if he was at his wit's end; then, sighing loudly, he went back to weeding.

"A butterfly. . ." Quinlan took a step closer, cocking his head. "In the desert?"

"Life thrives in many unlikely places," Chirrut said serenely, and opened his hands. A large yellow butterfly crawled up his index finger and perched there for a moment, opening and closing its wings. "If she flies into the desert, of course she will die; but she is not so foolish. There is shade for her here, as well as food and water –"

The butterfly flapped its wings, soared into the air, and floated over to a large snow-acacia bush while Chirrut smiled in its general direction. Baze, meanwhile, shot the butterfly a perplexed frown, as though concerned by its existence. Or perhaps he was wondering if the small creature had understood and listened to the blind Guardian.

Quite frankly, Emmkar would not put it out of the realm of possibility. "Chirrut," he said, stepping forward. "We have a guest here who requires your guidance. This is Jedi Knight Quinlan Vos."

The Guardian approached, and Emmkar slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe, watching as Chirrut stood in front of the Kiffar.

For a moment, Chirrut stared almost absently past Quinlan. Then he smiled and reached forward hesitantly, hand hovering in the air – as though he did not already know exactly where the Jedi was.

Before Emmkar could introduce Chirrut, though, Quinlan narrowed his eyes and took a swift step to the side.

Instinctively, Chirrut turned to follow the movement, and the Jedi grinned. "You are not as blind as you seem, Guardian."

"Physically, I am completely blind." Chirrut rocked back on his heels once or twice before admitting, "But you are correct. I see in ways others do not."

The milky-blue of Chirrut's eyes seemed almost to focus for an instant as he smiled; then he moved, reaching forward suddenly to close one hand around the Jedi's left wrist. "It seems that both of us see with a sense beyond that of physical sight."

Quinlan watched him without blinking. From the garden, Baze looked askance at his fellow Guardian, as if wondering what strange thing he was saying this time.

"You," murmured Chirrut, the sun glinting in his eyes. "You see through the Force, and the past, as well as with your physical sense of sight. I wonder, though, which of us is truly more blind."

Although the Jedi Shadow continued to hold Chirrut's unseeing gaze without flinching, his expression changed to one of wariness.

Chirrut lifted his chin and tilted his head as if listening to something from far away. "Yes," he said. "There is something obscuring your sight, Quinlan Vos."

With an abrupt motion, Quinlan pulled his wrist from Chirrut's grasp. "Something obscures the sight of all Force-users, now," he said casually, but his uneasiness was apparent.

Emmkar knew that his sudden change in demeanor did not necessarily mean anything about the Jedi Knight personally. Chirrut Îmwe had a habit of making people feel uneasy for no apparent reason – he was fully aware of it, too, and often seemed to do it on purpose.

Sure enough, when Emmkar looked at Chirrut, the blind man was gazing at nothing again, but this time there was knowing smirk on his face.

To Emmkar's left, Baze tossed a long, tangled weed aside with more force than necessary and hit Chirrut's robes. "Stop bothering the Jedi," he said.

"I do not bother him." Chirrut used his staff to flick the weed back towards Baze's face. "Any more than you bother that garden."

Baze groaned. "I'm weeding it, you fool. So that it can grow."

"Yes," allowed Chirrut. "And in doing so, you are bothering the weeds."

Quinlan only continued to stare at Chirrut, as if trying to read him.

"Knight Vos," Emmkar said, forestalling further conversation. "Before I leave you, please tell me: is there anything else you have discovered about the thieves?"

The Kiffar nodded and glanced up. "To start with, there was no real emotion involved in the theft – or in the murder. There were no feelings of anger, or revenge, or even glee. Everyone involved was . . . dispassionate, at the time of both crimes. I think this was a job, nothing more. Apart from that, I only know that they'll be back."

"What is your plan, then?" Emmkar asked.

"I'll try to track them." The Jedi's hand strayed to his lightsaber. "If that fails, which it probably will, given the number of people here, I'll spend a couple days in the city placing some leads. There were at least twelve people involved, likely more. I doubt they'd have committed their full gang to one job. If they are staying in NiJedha, someone has to have noticed something unusual."

"This is a pilgrimage site," Baze said, brushing dirt from his hands and standing upright. "We have hundreds of people coming through here each week. And we do not keep track of them."

"I figured as much. There aren't even numbered landing zones." The Kiffar tapped his fingers against his lightsaber hilt. "Well, I'll think of something."

"And when you locate the thieves?" Baze asked, with a wry look. "You will proceed to . . . what, attack them? On your own?"

"I might," Quinlan admitted. "But it's not likely. Depends on how many there are, what they're planning to do, and how many Guardians are willing or able to fight."

"Well, count me in," Baze said, as he started sweeping up the loose earth. "I have no interest in staying in the safety of the Temple while a Jedi Knight fights our battles for us."

"No worries," Quinlan promised. "My research on the Whills indicates that you Guardians don't need anyone to fight your battles for you."

"We do not," agreed Emmkar, and nodded towards a group of pilgrims. "We pursue a path of service, and sometimes, it is our ability to defend ourselves and others that allows us to be of the greatest service."

"Indeed." Chirrut thumped one end of his staff decisively into the ground. "I have a plan, Jedi Knight. You will locate the thieves. Baze and I will bring them to justice. And if you like, you may help us while we take them into custody."

Smirking a little, Quinlan studied him, then his weapon. "Something tells me that, blind or not, you're pretty good with that staff."

"Perhaps the Force tells you?" Chirrut suggested with a whimsical smile.

"Yeah. Maybe it's the Force. Well, we'd better get started."

"I will show you around the town. It will help with your cover as a pilgrim." Chirrut marched towards the gate.

The Jedi slipped his robe back on and bowed to Emmkar. "I'll be in touch as soon as I find anything," he said.

"My deepest thanks," Emmkar said sincerely.

"Try to keep up, Quinlan," Chirrut ordered over one shoulder. "The blind walk a clear path because they have none. Those with sight, however, are confused by anything in their way."

"I'm not interested in pretended philosophical debates!" Quinlan called, running to catch up.

"Then perhaps I should convert you." The blind man stopped short, causing Quinlan to almost crash into him.

"You see?" Chirrut said smugly. "Had you been blind, you would have simply run over me, unconfused."

"Yeah. . ." Quinlan said. "Speaking of being confused, I'm trying to figure out exactly what your argument is."

"So am I. Please share your insights."

They headed out the gate, still bickering, and Baze grumbled under his breath and left with the pile of weeds.

Emmkar was glad he had picked Chirrut to accompany the Jedi, both for Chirrut's sake – and for everyone else's. The young guardian had a spirit for adventure that most of the elders did not; and, although he faithfully fulfilled his duties, there was always that longing to do more. He had an irrepressible spirit and hardly seemed to be hindered by the blindness he had inherited from his grandmother, who was a Miraluka.

That in itself had been an oddity. The humanoid Miralukans had no eyes at all, and saw only with the Force; but when they married humans it was most often the case that their children were born with eyes.

Chirrut's father had human eyes, and had married a human woman. It was strange, therefore, that Chirrut himself had been born with eyes but could see only through the Force. The Îmwes had brought him to the Temple of the Whills when he was twelve, at his own insistence. Much to Chirrut's delight, the Îmwes had then settled close by, and still lived in NiJedha to this day. In between running their business of handcrafted jewelry, they helped with all the Guardians' endeavors in the city.

Chirrut Îmwe himself was the kind of person who behaved serenely but enjoyed starting debates and arguments – most of them useless. He was helpful, but also capable of a good deal of mischief. He habitually made pilgrims underestimate him by tapping his staff along the road and moving slower than a child as he guided them to various sites in the Temple – and then laughed at their surprise when he broke into a run and vanished, leaving them to find their own way back to the gate.

His occasionally childish behavior, despite the fact that he was nearing thirty years of age, was a point of frequent contention between Chirrut and his peers; especially between Chirrut and Baze, who carried out his duties with a conscientiousness that was, according to Chirrut, mind-numbing.

Emmkar had made the two of them his personal assistants for good reason. They were both extremely dedicated. One always did things properly but too somberly; the other could be flighty and impulsive, but kept others from being too serious. Life, Emmkar had learned many years ago, was not supposed to be frivolous, but neither was it supposed to be joyless and without laughter. Neither were dedication, or religion, or service . . . though recent events were making that hard to remember.

A new group of pilgrims entered the garden area, and Emmkar watched as one of Carmen's students guided them to each statue. How much longer could this peaceful existence last? No vision he had received had ever proven to be false, and a slow conviction was growing in his mind that – try as he might – the Guardians of the Whills, the Temple of Kyber, and even NiJedha itself would eventually be destroyed. But he was equally sure that the destruction would only occur when all the kyber had been taken.

That will not happen during my lifetime, he vowed silently. One way or another, I will be dead before that happens.

Then a young scribe approached, her hands clasped around a stack of papers, and Emmkar shook himself from his reverie. If need be, he would die protecting the kyber crystals; but in the meantime, he had done everything that he could. And until such time as Quinlan Vos came back with information, there were still everyday tasks to perform.