Jedi Apprentice 4: The Mark of the Crown (звёздные войны)

by Джуд Уотсон

  Suddenly, Qui-Gon felt a disturbance in the Force, a ripple of distress. It could only be from Obi-Wan. He must return to Galu immediately.

  He searched for Elan, finally locating her as she was leaving the children's dome. He quickly told her that Giba had been behind the attack.

  "What is it to me?" she asked, avoiding his gaze.

  "This attack was planned in order to destroy you," Qui-Gon said. "If he had to destroy your people, he would do it. Doesn't that tell you how desperate he is?

  You will not be safe until Gala elects a governor. And that governor will no doubt be under his control, so you will not be safe even then. Giba will go to any lengths to get what he wants. We think he is poisoning Queen Veda."

  Elan paled. Qui-Gon's belief in her surged again. She looked shaken. "I told you, the Queen is nothing to me," she murmured.

  "I know you lied about your mother," Qui-Gon said quietly. "She worked at the palace. Can't you admit the possibility that the Queen is telling the truth? I fear she is being punished because she shared that truth with me, and with you."

  Elan turned her face away. She stared at the trees.

  "Gala will fall without you," he said. "I must return. Come with me. Take a stand."

  Elan's eyes were stormy as she turned back to face him. "I will not be a princess," she warned.

  "Nor should you be," Qui-Gon replied. "Elan is enough."

  He couldn't feel his feet. Obi-Wan slipped off his boots and rubbed them to restore circulation. He had been locked inside the freezer for hours now. He had kept walking continuously in order to keep warm. He had called on the Force and visualized it as heat as well as light.

  He slipped his boots back on. He reached into the inner pocket of his tunic for the river stone Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday, when he had officially become his Padawan. The stone felt warm and he rubbed it between his palms.

  He knew he was growing exhausted. He could not keep walking forever. He closed his eyes, sending a Force-amplified message to Qui-Gon. I am in trouble, Master.

  Come back.

  What was Deca Brun planning? Did he realize that he was in league with a corrupt corporation that would plunder his planet? Did he know how evil Xanatos truly was?

  Obi-Wan's biggest worry was that Deca would contact Xanatos and tell him he had a Jedi locked in his freezer. Once Xanatos heard Obi-Wan's name, he would know that Qui-Gon was near. And once Xanatos knew that, he would try to trap Qui-Gon.

  He had sworn to destroy him.

  Obi-Wan had to escape. He had to warn Qui-Gon that Xanatos was involved. He heard faint noises outside the freezer door. Perhaps someone was coming to release him! Obi-Wan sprang to his feet. He pressed his ear against the door, ignoring its coldness.

  The voices came to him dimly. He used the Force to help him screen out the other noises: the constant hum of the freezer, his own breathing. He focused on what was happening outside.

  "I don't care," someone said. A boy's voice. "I've got my job, too. I've got a turbo cart full of meat here to deliver. It's already paid for. There will be no meals for a week if I don't get it in that freezer. You can answer to Deca Brun.

  I won't."

  "No one goes in or out," the guard answered gruffly.

  Obi-Wan focused the Force like a laser. Then again, we all need to eat.

  "Then again, we all need to eat," the guard said. "Don't move, there! I'll push it inside."

  Obi-Wan heard the lock fall away. He stepped away from the door. It opened, and a cart began to roll toward him, completely filling the doorway. Obi-Wan sprang forward. He pushed against the cart with all his strength, again using the Force to help him. The heavy cart shot back, straight into the guard.

  The delivery boy gave the cart an extra shove as it flew by. It slammed against the wall, pinning the guard. He let out a cry of anger and pushed against the heavy cart. It didn't move.

  The delivery boy took off his long-billed cap. It was Jono.

  "Nothing like teamwork," he told Obi-Wan, grinning.

  "Thanks for the rescue," Obi-Wan said gratefully.

  They ran down the hall and burst into a deserted office. The faint streaks of a rising sun filtered through the window. Obi-Wan hesitated.

  "My lightsaber," he said. "And my comlink — "

  "We can't search now," Jono interrupted. "They'll all be here soon." He tugged at Obi-Wan's elbow. "Prince Beju has jailed the Queen. She's refused all food.

  I'm worried, Obi-Wan. I think she's dying. Come on!"

  An early-morning hush lay over the city. The gray light was tinged with pink.

  Galacians were beginning to stir. Cafes were beginning to open along the main boulevard as they hurried by.

  "I spoke to the other Council members," Jono told Obi-Wan. "It was a risk I had to take. They want you to meet with them to discuss what to do about Giba.

  They've formed an alliance against him. Imprisoning the Queen was a mistake.

  Giba and Prince Beju have gone too far."

  "First I have to see someone," Obi-Wan told Jono.

  Jono shot him an incredulous look. "But there's no time to lose. Today is election day, Obi-Wan!"

  "This is important, Jono," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I have to stop at the substance analyzer's. If he's identified the agent, we'll have proof that the Queen is being poisoned. We need that proof."

  Jono shook his head. "We can't, Obi-Wan. The Council Ministers are waiting. I promised to bring you there immediately."

  "If we know what is poisoning the Queen, there might be an antidote," Obi-Wan argued.

  Jono bit his lip. "But-"

  "It's this way," Obi-Wan said, pointing down a side street. He turned the corner, knowing Jono would follow.

  It was only a few quick minutes to Mali Errat's lab. It was shuttered and dark, but Obi-Wan pounded on the door. Mali stuck his head out of a window on the second story. His fringe of white hair made a wispy halo around his head.

  "Who is it?" he roared. "Who comes so early in the morning!"

  "It's me, Mali!" Obi-Wan called. He stepped out into the street so that the technician could get a good look at him.

  "Impatient young man! Where have you been?" Mali cried, pounding excitedly on the windowsill. "I have your results. I'll be right down." Seconds later, the door opened. Mali stood in the doorway in his unisuit. A datasheet fluttered in his hand. "I am a genius!" he proclaimed.

  "What did you find?" Obi-Wan demanded.

  "I searched every record of chemical agents in the galaxy," Mali said. "Every engineered compound, every secret poison, every chemical… and do you know why I could not find your agent?"

  Obi-Wan shook his head impatiently.

  "Because it was a natural agent!" Mali roared.

  "What a surprise! Who uses them anymore? No one! It is dimilatis. An herb! It grows in the sea plains of Gala. A pinch or two is harmless. But the local people know that if it's dried, and used in certain concentrations, it mimics the effect of a wasting illness. Ultimately fatal, of course."

  "If it grows on the sea plains of Gala, it's probably in the palace gardens,"

  Obi-Wan said, thinking.

  "Come on, Obi-Wan, let's go," Jono urged. "We have to tell the Council."

  "Is there an antidote?" Obi-Wan asked.

  Mali held up a vial. "I have made one up. It will cost you-"

  Obi-Wan stuffed all his credits in the elder's hands. He grabbed the vial.

  Urging Jono to hurry, he raced toward the palace.

  Jono led Obi-Wan to a part of the palace he'd never visited, high in the tower overlooking the gardens.

  "I need to get to the Queen," Obi-Wan said impatiently.

  "They told me I should bring you here," Jono said nervously. "The guards are on the lookout for you. You'd never make it. They will bring you to the Queen."

  Obi-Wan moved to the small window. He looked down at the leafy top of a great lindemor tree. Below it spread the orderly rows of the kitchen garden
s.

  "Do you know the gardeners well, Jono?" he asked. "Are there any among them who would plot against the Queen?"

  "I don't know," Jono said.

  "They would have to know a great amount about herbs," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. "Or what about that council member with the blue-white eyes? He's always in the gardens."

  "Viso is the Queen's staunchest supporter," Jono said.

  "A council member would have access to the Queen's chambers," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. "But still, it would be strange if he brought food." Access was the key, he knew. The poison would have to be brought to the Queen by someone above suspicion…

  The thought shot through him like a laser. The green below him became a blur to his eyes. Jono. His friend was the only one who had access to the gardens and to the Queen. Qui-Gon had been right. Sometimes the obvious was the answer.

  Jono had said he missed the sea. The poison had come from the sea plains. He had the daily duty of picking flowers for the Queen's bouquet. Easy to pick a bit of dimilatis, too. And Jono was the one to deliver the Queen's nightly tea, as Qui-Gon had pointed out.

  Obi-Wan turned. Jono backed up a step.

  "What is it, Obi-Wan?" he asked. A look of concern was on his face, but Obi-Wan sensed his nervousness.

  "It was you, wasn't it, Jono," Obi-Wan said gently. "You poisoned the Queen."

  "Poison the Queen? I could not do such a thing!" Jono cried. "You know it could have been anybody!"

  "But it wasn't," Obi-Wan said. "It was you."

  Qui-Gon had often told Obi-Wan that he was often not in touch with the living Force. But now Obi-Wan could read his friend's guilt as clearly as a sensor. He saw desperation and fear in Jono's eyes. And something else: anger. He said nothing, just kept his eyes on Jono.

  Slowly, the mask of innocence dropped from Jono's face. "And why shouldn't it be me?" Jono asked softly. "Thanks to you Jedi, I was almost exiled from the palace!"

  "But to kill the Queen…" Obi-Wan started slowly.

  "Don't you understand, Obi-Wan?" Jono cried. "This is all I have! The Dunns have been part of the royal family for generations. It is what I was trained for, bred for. The honor of my family depends on me." Jono threw out his hands pleadingly.

  "The Queen depends on you," Obi-Wan countered. "Your job is to protect her!"

  Suddenly, Jono's face flushed with anger. "She would have turned me out into the streets," he said. "Once Deca Brun is elected, he will hire his people as servants. And where will I go? What will I do? Should I have to become like everyone else? Yes, I am a servant. But I live in a palace!" He flung the last word out proudly.

  "Jono," Obi-Wan said sadly. "I trusted you."

  The anger left Jono's face. "Then you made a mistake," he said softly. "You are my friend. I like you, Obi-Wan. But I guess I like living in a palace more."

  Obi-Wan turned at the sound of footsteps. Giba was coming. He would certainly be imprisoned or killed.

  "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Jono said. "Truly."

  "Save your sorrow," Obi-Wan said, striding to the window. He leaped up onto the ledge and judged the distance to the ground. It was too far to fall. But the Force would guide him. "I don't need it," he said. Then, he leaped into midair.

  The dazzling green of the lindemor leaves rushed up at him. Obi-Wan gathered the Force from the living things around him, centered it inside himself. He flew across the distance and grabbed at a lindemor branch as he fell. His fingers closed around it, and he swung forward, using the momentum to grab at the next branch down. Then to the next, and the next, until it was an easy leap to the ground. He didn't bother looking up. Giba was most likely already summoning the royal guards. He had to make it to the Council Chamber without being seen.

  Obi-Wan slipped inside the kitchen door. He ran past the startled cooks, burst into the pantries, raced past the dining areas and found the hallway leading to the wing where the Council Ministry offices were located. The halls were deserted. Obi-Wan raced down the stone corridor, wishing he had his light-saber.

  He heard the sound of approaching footsteps moving at double time. He ducked into the first room he saw. He closed the door behind him and pressed himself against it. The footsteps hurried past. He let out a breath. Safe. For the moment.

  He was in some sort of royal reception room. An ornate, gilded bench stood on a platform at one end. Rows of chairs faced it. Glittering tapestries were hung on the walls. Antique weapons were displayed behind the bench.

  There was another door at the far end of the room. Obi-Wan headed for it. He turned the handle and began to cautiously pull it open. Even as he did so, he felt it push from the other side. It flew open with the combined effort, and Prince Beju tumbled into the room. He found his footing immediately and turned with flashing eyes to Obi-Wan.

  "Hiding like a coward, are you? It's no use. The guards are everywhere. They can be here in an instant." Prince Beju strolled toward the series of tubes that called guards and servants. He reached toward the red tube.

  "You talk of cowards," Obi-Wan said coolly, hiding the desperation he felt. If Prince Beju touched that tube, he was lost. And so was the Queen. "And yet you summon the guards."

  Prince Beju hesitated. "Are you calling me a coward, Jedi?"

  Obi-Wan shrugged. "I am only drawing a conclusion. Since I've arrived here, you've spoken of me as a coward. But there has always been a guard within your call. What do words mean when they are contradicted by actions? I have faced you alone, but you only face me with others who will do your fighting for you. Am I the coward?"

  Prince Beju flushed an angry red. His hand dropped. He strode to the case displaying antique weapons. He lifted the top and drew one out.

  "Do you know what this is, Obi-Wan Kenobi?" he asked, flourishing it.

  "It is a sword," Obi-Wan answered. He had never used the weapon, but he had seen drawings of it at the Temple. It was like a lightsaber, only made of metal.

  Prince Beju held the sword up, then slashed downward at a tapestry. The rich fabric was rent in two.

  "We keep the edges honed," he said. "I studied sword fighting as part of my royal training. My father insisted." He feinted a blow at Obi-Wan, who did not move.

  "Do you think you could manage one?" Beju asked. "Or does a Jedi only fight with his own weapon? That way he always has the advantage." His teeth gleamed as he smiled tauntingly at Obi-Wan.

  "Why don't we find out?" Obi-Wan asked, keeping his tone neutral. He had to keep his mind focused on the battle ahead. He could not let the Prince's jibes get under his skin.

  Beju took another sword from the case and tossed it at Obi-Wan. Before his fingers had closed around the hilt Beju sprang forward with a downward blow.

  Obi-Wan had time to twist away, but not before the sharp blade slashed his tunic. He felt blood run down his arm.

  "Had enough?" Beju asked mockingly.

  In answer, Obi-Wan lunged forward. The clang of metal rang through the air as Beju parried his blow. Beju pushed back against him. Obi-Wan was surprised at how strong the boy was. He was in much better shape than Obi-Wan would have guessed.

  Beju pressed forward, slashing at Obi-Wan, who parried each blow. His lightsaber training helped, but he was not used to the shock that traveled up his arm each time their swords tangled. The sword was heavier than a lightsaber, and his timing and footwork were off because of it. Beju pressed his advantage, driving forward, his sword glinting as it slashed through the air. For the first time, Obi-Wan had his doubts that he could defeat the Prince at his own game.

  Doubt in battle, there cannot be. Always, in times of trouble, Yoda's teachings rose in his mind. Belief, there must be. Belief, in the Force. Reach for it, you will.

  Yes, he had an advantage that Beju did not. Obi-Wan reached out to the Force.

  He felt it build within him. Doubt left him. Belief rushed in. He would win because he had to win. The sword suddenly felt familiar in his hand. Its weight was reassuring, not strange. He leaped up on the royal ben
ch and swooped down on Beju, the sword held high, then low, stabbing, jabbing, surprising the Prince with his moves. Beju staggered back, his sword held defensively, trying to stave off the fury of Obi-Wan's attack.

  Obi-Wan's mind was clear. It was not clouded with hate or bitterness. He needed to stop Beju. He struck again, trying to loosen Beju's grip on his sword.

  But the Prince rallied. Anger drove him, and anger backed by skill can be a powerful ally. Beju launched an offensive at Obi-Wan. He struck again and again as Obi-Wan repelled the attacks, feeling the power of Beju's blows move up his arm. His shoulder began to ache.