by Greg Keyes
"Jaina is not under their power."
"Not directly, no. But if the Yuuzhan Vong perceive her to be the central figure in some important event, they may create a situation that will force her into that role. It is a form of shaping."
Isolder gave her shoulder a comforting pat. "She is a strong-willed and resourceful young woman."
"Fact," Tenel Ka agreed, "but the path she is taking concerns me. In claiming affinity to their Trickster goddess, she has thrown down a challenge they cannot
refuse. And in taking on this role, she has already begun to assimilate the Yuuzhan Vong's expectations. I do not like to contemplate what Jaina's 'great destiny' might be, as defined by these invaders and her response to them."
"Is this so different from what we all must do? No one is born free of the burden of expectations."
She cut him off with a swiftly upraised hand. "If you're trying to nudge me onto the throne of Hapes, you might as well save your time and mine."
Her father was silent for several moments. "You have seen your mother since your return?"
"Of course!"
"Then you have seen the truth if you do not take the throne, someone else will have to."
Tenel Ka began to pace, trying to think of some rebuttal. But the specter of Queen Mother Chelik was all too credible. The woman was niece to Ta'a Chume and a legitimate heir. She would swiftly repudiate her daughter's attempt on Isolder's life, and no one would be able to prove her involvement. But Tenel Ka would know, of course, and so would her ailing mother.
No wonder Hapes had a history of distrust for those with Jedi powers! The ruling queen mothers survived by their ability to dissemble and manipulate. They did not appreciate those who could see through their plots and perceive the venal natures doubly hidden beneath scarlet veils and beautiful faces.
Tenel Ka had few illusions about her family. Chelik was not the worst of Ta'a Chume's possible successors. Alyssia, younger sister to Chelik, was even more devious. Alyssia was too canny to make an open attack on Prince Isolder. More likely, she had slyly manipulated Chelik's daughter into acting on her mother's behalf. The girl would be executed for this crime, and the loss of an heir weakened Chelik's bid for the throne.
Such was the royal family, its court, even Hapan culture. Tenel Ka could not conceive of a life defined by these values. Would she, like Jaina, reshape herself to the expectations of her foes?
"Will you at least consider the possibility?" holder pressed.
Tenel Ka ran her hand over her red-gold hair, plaited as always into the braids of a Dathomiri fighter. "I'm not a ruler, but a warrior."
"Who better to lead in time of war? Surely your grandmother has also urged you along this path."
"I haven't seen much of her," she said. It hadn't escaped her notice that since their arrival, Ta'a Chume had taken more interest in Jaina than in her own royal heir. There was no jealousy in this observation, but a great deal of concern. Jaina was no fool, but she couldn't possibly know the truth of the old woman.
A terrible thought occurred to her. Perhaps the real threat to the Hapan throne came not from the branches of the family tree, but from the root. Ni'Korish, the queen mother before Ta'a Chume, was remembered for her virulent hatred of the Jedi. But perhaps Ta'a Chume understood the potential of a dark Jedi ally, and sought to coax Jaina down this path for her own purposes. With Darth Vader's granddaughter beside her, Ta'a Chume could easily scythe through the various plots and reclaim her throne. A woman who could order the death of her eldest son's betrothed, and perhaps even the man himself, was capable of anything.
"You look worried," the prince observed. "Is all well with Ta'a Chume?"
"She is as she ever was."
"I see," Isolder said slowly. "Then I would say that there is ample cause for worry."
Tenel Ka gave a grim nod. For the first time, father and daughter were in complete accord.
The banquet hall in the royal palace glittered with candlelight, a charming anachronism that the Hapan diplomats seemed to take in stride. There was much about this world that reminded Jaina of her mother's stories of Alderaan-the tradition, the formality, the emphasis on beauty and art and culture, the sense of being transported into a vital and vibrant re-creation of past times.
Musicians played softly in alcoves upon instruments Jaina had only seen in books. Fresh flowers filled the room with a heady scent, and servants moved with quiet efficiency to remove plates and refill glasses.
The use of human servants disconcerted Jaina, but there was not a droid to be found anywhere in the palace. Nor did the food have the flat, homogeneous flavor that came from a synth unit. Since this was a diplomatic dinner and Jag Fel was the son of an Imperial baron, he had been invited. He sat across from Jaina, resplendent in a formal black uniform. All things considered, she might have enjoyed the experience .. . had she been in a better state of mind, not to mention a more comfortable gown.
She tugged at the laces cinching her waist and looked up to see Jag Fel observing her. "I'd be happier in a flight suit," she said ruefully.
"No doubt, but you look lovely all the same."
It was a polite phrase, an expected response. Jaina had received similar compliments at a hundred diplomatic affairs. But none had ever set her cheeks flaming-a response that none of her Jedi training seemed able to mitigate.
She deliberately turned to watch the first dance. Prince Isolder led his daughter through the elaborate steps. Tenel Ka danced as she fought-with singular grace and fierce, absolute concentration.
"I wonder what might happen to a man who stepped on her toes," Jag mused.
Jaina shot a startled look at him and noted the faint, wry lift to one corner of his lips. "Their heads are mounted on the trophy room wall," she said with mock seriousness.
A slow smile spread across his face, and Jaina's heart nearly leapt out of her low-necked gown. She glanced at the floor. Other dancers were joining in. On impulse, she nodded toward the growing crowd and said, "They've created a diversion. We could probably sneak out and look around for those trophies."
Jag rose and executed a formal bow. "May I have the honor of shared evasive maneuvers?"
Chuckling, she took his offered hand. They merged into the swirling crowd, working their way toward the doors.
They emerged into the hall, hand in hand, grinning like mischievous children. This was a new side to the somber young pilot, one that intrigued Jaina. Judging from the expression on Jag's face and the sense of wonder coming to her through the Force, this playful moment was something new to him, as well.
One of the paneled doors opened, and a slender, red-clad figure stepped from the banquet chamber into the hall. "Jaina. I'd hoped to have the opportunity to speak with you."
The lighthearted moment vanished. Jag greeted the former queen with a crisp, proper bow and excused himself. He nodded to Jaina and then disappeared back into the swirling crowd. Ta'a Chume led the way to a small receiving room across the hall. Neither woman spoke until they were settled down.
"Enjoying yourself?" Ta'a Chume inquired.
"I think I was about to."
The queen's eyes took on a speculative gleam, but she
did not comment on the turn of phrase. "Teneniel Djo should have led the dancing, but she did not attend. Do you know why?"
Jaina shook her head.
"Her health did not permit. She was expecting a second child, an heir to the throne of Hapes, or at the very least a son who might find a suitable wife. Then came the attack upon Fondor and the destruction of the Hapan fleet. Teneniel Djo is not precisely a Jedi, but she is what I believe you call Force-sensitive."
"That's right," Jaina confirmed.
"She felt the destruction of the fleet, the deaths of our pilots. The shock was more than she could bear. The child was born too soon, and born dead. Teneniel Djo has never fully recovered."
The disdain in Ta'a Chume's voice put Jaina on the defensive. "It's possible to feel actual pain through the
Force, and to experience strong emotions. One of the things a Jedi learns to do is guard against constant bombardment. Teneniel Djo's sensitivity was stronger than her shields. That doesn't make her weak."
"Be that as it may, I am not interested in philosophy, but governance. My son's wife is not able to attend a diplomatic dinner, much less lead the entire Consortium into war. Isolder is no fool, nor does he shirk his duty. It's time for him to divorce Teneniel Djo and find a new wife, someone capable of ruling during a time of war."
Jaina regarded the older woman warily. "I'm not sure why you're telling me this."
"You're in a position to understand such complexities. Your mother was a ruler-a queen of sorts-for many years. Tell me, what came first in your family?"
"She walked a better balance than most people could have," Jaina said shortly. "My father doesn't complain. Much."
"A very pragmatic response," Ta'a Chume approved.
"I see you don't subscribe to the myths surrounding marriage. It's not at all what the poets try to make of it, but rather a pragmatic, mutually beneficial alliance, one that is entered into when expedient, and abandoned when it is of no further value."
Jaina began to get a lock on Ta'a Chume's target. "You're considering my mother for Teneniel Djo's job, and you want me to act as intermediary. With all respect, Your Majesty, you might as well jettison that idea with the rest of the trash."
The queen's eyebrows shot up. "Are you always so direct?"
Jaina shrugged. "It saves time. Who knows how long we might have circled around that point, otherwise?"
"Perhaps so. Then let's speak of more pleasant things. Baron Fel's son seems a promising young man."
"He's an excellent pilot."
"So are you. But if you are to be an effective leader, you'll have to know enough of men to be able to take their full measure." She paused for a sour smile. "Don't expect too much."
Jaina rose. "I'll keep that in mind."
The queen watched her leave, then her gaze shifted to a painted screen. "What do you think?"
A young man in festive garb strolled into the room. "I think I've missed something," Trisdin observed. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're nudging your protegee toward this would-be nobleman with bad fashion sense."
Ta'a Chume sent an arch glance toward her favorite. "Colonel Fel's formal manner lends itself well to court life and conventions, and his military record is most impressive. He is earnest and handsome and idealistic- very much as Prince Isolder was at that age."
The woman smiled like a hunting manka cat. "Jaina
Solo has little understanding of her own personal power and appeal. She must discover it before she can use it."
"Ah!" he said slowly. "An unseasoned girl is not likely to take on as daunting a task as a married prince, especially not a man who courted her mother, and who is father to one of her friends."
"Jaina is not worldly enough for my purposes just yet. Perhaps this Jag Fel can help." Ta'a Chume aimed a cool smile at her favorite. "Feel free to contribute your own efforts to the cause."
Trisdin's blue eyes narrowed at the casual, offhanded manner in which she offered his services. "It would be my pleasure," he agreed, not without malice.
The glance Ta'a Chume sent him showed understanding but no offense. "Charm the girl," she instructed. "Offer her a sympathetic ear when her handsome young pilot meets his unfortunate but inevitable end."
She walked away, leaving Trisdin staring after her. He intended to do all that Ta'a Chume asked-he really had little choice in the matter-hut he could not help but wonder what his own "inevitable end" might be.
And knowing Ta'a Chume as he did, Trisdin suspected that Prince Isolder would be the next to offer consolation.
SEVENTEEN
Jaina eased open one of the ballroom doors and peered in. Her eyes swept the glittering assembly, looking for a tall, straight figure clad in somber black. The room was a swirling sea of bright colors and glittering jewels.
There was no sense of Jag's presence, either. Like some of the people she knew-Wedge Antilles, Talon Karrde, and her father-Jag projected a strong presence through the Force, an energy very different from that of a Jedi but powerful in its own way.
And now that she thought of it, here was yet another gap in the conventional Jedi view of the Force. It couldn't perceive or affect the Yuuzhan Vong, or account for people like Han and Jag. Maybe "light" and "dark" were not opposites after all, but simply two aspects of a Force far more varied and complex than any of them believed possible. She stretched out with her senses, trying to catch some glimpse of these larger horizons.
Suddenly a powerful presence flooded her awareness, and these thoughts vanished like the blade of a switched-off lightsaber. Jaina whirled to face Kyp Durron.
For a long moment she simply stared at the Jedi Master, disconcerted and slightly disoriented by the rush of his power over her senses. At the moment of his arrival she had been without shields, without boundaries. Jaina felt as if she'd awoken from a deep trance to find herself gazing directly into a sun.
He reached around her and firmly shut the door, leaving them standing alone in the corridor.
Jaina's shields swiftly returned, and the details of this unexpected meeting began to take focus.
Kyp was somberly dressed in sand-colored Jedi robes, and his silver-shot mane had been tamed into dignified curls. Carefully controlled anger rolled off him in waves, and the expression in his blazing green eyes left little doubt concerning its target.
Jaina's chin came up in an unconscious imitation of her mother's regal poise. "Kyp. I suppose you left dozens of mind-controlled servants and guards behind you, stumbling around the palace in confusion. That's your style, isn't it? Not to mention the only way to explain your presence here."
"Getting out will be easier. You'll be with me."
"I don't think so," she said coolly.
"Think again. I'm here to take you to your brother's funeral."
That was the last thing Jaina had expected. Kyp's blunt pronouncement tore a veil from her heart, and for a moment the terror and fury and agony of Anakin's death filled her senses.
Jaina hurled away these emotions and replaced them with an anger that matched Kyp's. She planted her fists on her hips and stared him down. "You're going to 'take me'? You and what Sith Lord?"
He stabbed a finger at her in a gesture that reminded her a little too much of her father in a parental snit. "Don't challenge me, Jaina."
"Give me one good reason."
His eyes raked over her, and the expression in them dispelled any fatherly comparisons. "You couldn't channel the Force wearing that dress. There isn't enough room in there for it to squeeze through."
Jaina's cheeks flamed, but no suitable retort came to
mind. Worse, she had to admit that his words touched on the truth. She'd left her lightsaber in her room-the clinging scarlet gown wasn't designed for such practicalities.
A disturbing truth came to Jaina if she had her light-saber at this moment, she would use it. Kyp lifted one eyebrow, as if he sensed her unspoken challenge.
This was uncharted territory for Jaina, and she was not at all sure of her course. But one thing was abundantly clear-she could hardly avoid the funeral now that Kyp had brought it so forcefully to her attention.
"I'll change," she said stiffly.
Kyp shrugged a leather strap off his shoulder and tossed her a canvas bag. He jerked his head toward the side room where Jaina and Ta'a Chume had spoken. "In there."
Teeth gritted, eyes blazing, Jaina marched into the room. The door shut behind her, and she whirled to find Kyp standing there, arms folded.
"Oh, you'll definitely want to rethink this last decision," she told him.
He nodded toward the painted screen. Muttering, Jaina strode over and put the barrier between her and the Jedi Master. In the bag was a pair of low, soft boots that she recognized as her mother's, Jedi robes identical to those Kyp wore, and a lightsaber
. Jaina switched it on and considered the blade's distinctive blue-violet hue.
"You went into my room."
"That's not a capital offense. Turn off the lightsaber before the temptation to dispense justice overwhelms you," he said dryly.
She thumbed it off and turned her attention to the complex fastenings of her borrowed gown. Finally she stripped it off and tossed it over the screen. The loose Jedi robes were a relief-or would have been, under different circumstances.
Finally she came out, grim-faced but resolute. "Let's get this over with."
Kyp led the way to a side door, past a surprising number of guards and servants who appeared every bit as disoriented as Jaina had expected.
Jaina's indignation surged high, then ebbed just as quickly. She couldn't exactly fault the rogue Jedi for doing what every other Jedi did without guilt or debate. Uncle Luke routinely used mind control to sway people in small, day-to-day matters, as had his first Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. No one seemed to question whether it was appropriate for a Jedi to use the Force to overpower other minds. In this regard, Kyp was no different from any of the more conservative Jedi. He just happened to be unusually good at this particular trick.
They passed through the grounds and to the outbuilding housing royal transport of various kinds. Kyp settled down on a landspeeder. His long fingers moved deftly over the controls, and the vehicle hummed to life.
Jaina sat down behind him. The landspeeder rose and skimmed quietly through the streets. They left the royal city behind, passed through the docks and circled the edge of the vast refugee camp. Kyp headed for the dense shadows of the public forest, and then eased the land-speeder through narrow paths that wound up a steadily climbing slope.
As they sped up the mountain, the trees began to thin and then gave way to scrub. Twin moons rose, casting their pale light on the strange rocky formations crowning the mountain. Gathered there, their somber faces clearly visible in the light of a hundred torches, were her family and friends.
Kyp pulled up the landspeeder a respectful distance away. Jaina quickly scrambled off and strode toward the gathering. It was bad enough to arrive with Kyp, worse