Inferno (5 page)

Leia took Han’s hand and sprinted down the corridor to the next intersection. When she turned
away
from the Morning Court, Han looked over and stopped running.

“Wrong way!” He tugged her in the opposite direction, back toward the funeral. “You’re never going to make it in time—”

“I know, Han.” Leia remained where she was, using the Force to anchor herself to the floor. “But our presence has already caused too much of a disturbance. We can’t turn Mara’s funeral into a blaster battle.”

“We’re not the ones to blame!” Han objected. “
Jacen
sent the goons.”

“And what does that change?” Leia asked. “If we go out there, they’ll still follow and try to arrest us, and
then
where will we be?”

Han’s face fell as he contemplated the alternatives—surrender nicely and be hauled off to a GAG prison, or start a firefight in the middle of Mara’s funeral. Either way, they would not be doing Luke—or Ben—any good. He stopped pulling.

“Nowhere,” he said. “Looks like Jacen wins again.”

“For today,” Leia said. She started down the corridor in her original direction, pulling Han after her toward the Temple exit. “But you’re right, Han. It’s time for us to do something about that kid.”

three

Saba Sebatyne had been living among humans for well over a standard decade, and still there was so much she did not know about them. She didn’t understand why Master Skywalker seemed so lost right now, why he had stopped talking to his friends and turned all his attention inward. Surely he knew Mara wouldn’t want that? That she would expect him to stay focused and guide the Jedi through this time of crisis?

But he just stood staring at the funeral pyre, as though he couldn’t quite believe it was
his
mate up there, as though he expected her to awaken at any moment and climb down to stand beside him. Perhaps he was only trying to understand why Mara had failed to return her body to the Force, wondering—like so many other Masters—whether it still held some clue to the killer’s identity that had been missed during the autopsy. Or he could be worried that something in Mara’s past had interfered, that she had done something as the Emperor’s Hand so terrible that the Force could not take her back.

Saba only knew that she did
not
know; that Master Skywalker had been wounded in some way she could never understand and had lost himself. And she feared that if he did not return to himself soon, something terrible would happen. She could feel that much in the Force.

Saba felt the weight of someone’s attention and turned to find Corran Horn’s green eyes fixed on her back. He was standing about three meters away, discussing something with Kyp and Kenth Hamner while Cilghal, Kyle Katarn, and the rest of the Masters remained with Master Skywalker and Ben. When he noticed Saba looking, he gave a little head-jerk, summoning her over.

Saba nodded, but glanced back to make certain the dignitaries filling the courtyard weren’t growing too impatient with the delay. Tenel Ka was in the front row, kneeling in meditation alongside Tesar, Lowbacca, Tahiri, and most of the other Jedi Knights—except Jaina and Zekk, who had been ordered to continue their pursuit of Alema Rar. In chairs behind the Jedi Knights, Admiral Niathal and her entire High Command sat bolt upright, too disciplined to fidget no matter how late the ceremony was running. Behind them sat most of the Senate and the secretaries of every major department, putting their time to good use by chatting with one another in solemn whispers. The only person of note whom Saba did
not
see was the man who should have been in the vacant chair to Admiral Niathal’s right, the co-leader of the coup government—Jacen Solo.

Satisfied that the distinguished audience members were not on the verge of departing, Saba excused herself to Ben and a barely cognizant Master Skywalker, then joined Corran and the others. Kyp Durron still wore his dark brown hair long and shaggy, but at least he was cleanly shaven for the occasion. Kenth Hamner, who looked old enough to be Kyp’s father, appeared as carefully groomed and dignified as ever.

“What?”
Saba demanded. “Can you not see how all this waiting is affecting Master Skywalker? When are we going to start?”

Corran and Kyp shot each other a nervous glance, then Kenth said, “We’ll start as soon as you are ready, Master Sebatyne.”

Saba flicked her tongue between her lips, trying to figure out why they would be waiting on her. “
This
one?”

“That’s right,” Corran said. He cast a glance over her shoulder toward Ben and Master Skywalker, then lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “You felt that disturbance on the upper access level a few moments ago?”

“Yes,” Saba replied. “What was it? A newz crew trying to sneak holoz of the funeral?”

“Not exactly,” Kyp said, also speaking softly. “It was a GAG squad.”

Saba’s jaw fell. “A GAG squad?
Inside
the Temple?”

“I’m afraid so,” Kenth replied. “They tried to arrest the Solos.”

Saba thumped her tail against the slatstones, pondering, then finally shook her head in bewilderment. “Only a squad? That is not enough.”

“Not even close,” Kyp agreed. “But we’ll talk about that later. The pursuit has already moved outside the Temple, and we have other things to worry about right now.”

Saba nodded. “Of course. This one will inform Master Skywalker.”

As she started to turn away, Corran reached for her arm—then seemed to remember what could happen when one grabbed a Barabel and quickly drew his hand back. Saba sissed in relief—she would have been embarrassed to find herself biting his wrist in front of so many dignitaries—and cocked her brow.

“Do you think it’s wise to involve Master Skywalker?” Corran asked. “He has enough on his mind right now.”

“This one thinkz he does not have
enough
on his mind,” Saba replied. “Mara would not want him turned inward like this.”

“No, but she
would
understand,” Kenth said. “Humans need to grieve, Saba. We need to let him have this funeral.”

“It’s the only way he’ll get better,” Corran added.

Saba riffled her scales and looked away. There was that word again,
grieve.
She did not understand what good it was—why humans found it so necessary to swim in sorrow when their loved ones died. Was it not enough to hold them in one’s heart, to honor their memories in how one lived one’s own days? It was as though humans could not trust their minds to keep lost ones alive; as though they believed that a person was gone just because her life had come to an end.

Saba returned her gaze to Corran and the others. “We cannot let the intrusion go unpunished,” she said. “Jacen is already swinging us like a tail.”

“We won’t,” Kyp assured her. “We’ll do something right after the funeral.”

Saba nodded. “Good. But somehow this one does not think you told her about the intrusion just to ask her
not
to tell Master Skywalker.”

Corran shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “You see, Princess Leia was supposed to give the eulogy.”

“Ah. Now this one understands why Jacen didn’t come.”

“Jacen didn’t know,” Kenth said. “But that’s not really the problem.”

“Of course not.” Saba had seen enough human funerals to know there was always a speech, that it was an important part of drawing out the tears that the service was to unleash. She glanced at the crowd of dignitaries, then back to Master Skywalker and Ben. “Now how are we to give Master Skywalker his grieving?”

Corran and Kenth exchanged glances, then Kenth said, “We were hoping you would speak.”

“This one?” Saba began to siss—then recalled that humans did not like humor at their funerals and bit her tongue. “You are serious?”

Kenth nodded. “You were Mara’s friend,” he said. “If anyone understands what she meant to Luke and the rest of us, it’s you.”

“But this one is not even human,” Saba said. “She doesn’t understand
grieving.
”

“That’s okay,” Kyp said. He locked gazes with her in a silent challenge. “We’ll understand if you’re afraid. I can always fill in instead.”

“This one is not afraid!” Saba knew he was manipulating her, but she also knew he was right—refusing would not be worthy of Mara’s memory. “She just doesn’t know what to say.”

Kyp nodded sympathetically. “So does that mean you want
me
to do it?”

“No!” The last thing Mara would have wanted was Kyp speaking at her funeral. While he had been fairly supportive of Master Skywalker’s leadership of late, there had been a time when that was not so—and Mara had been a woman with a long memory. “This one will do it.” She turned to Kenth. “What does she say?”

“Just speak from your heart.” Kenth gave her a gentle Force nudge toward the speaker’s lectern. “You’ll do fine.”

Saba swallowed hard, then returned to Master Skywalker’s side and spoke into his ear. “Leia and Han were delayed,” she said. “This one will start.”

Luke’s gaze rose to the top of the pyre and locked on Mara’s face, and he said nothing. The shadows beneath his hood were almost deep enough to hide the red bags beneath his eyes, but even drawn in on himself, his Force aura beamed anguish.

Ben leaned out from behind Luke and nodded. “That’s good,” he said. “Mom would like that.”

A stream of warmth flooded Saba’s heart, and her anxiety about speaking in front of so many dignitaries vanished. She turned toward the audience and straightened her robes, then stepped up to the lectern. A silver hovermike rose to float before her throat, but she deactivated it with a flick of her talon and returned it to its charging socket. When she spoke about Mara, she would not need a voice projector to make herself heard.

The courtyard quickly fell silent. Saba took a moment to make eye contact with Tenel Ka, Admiral Niathal, and many of the other dignitaries in the audience. Then, using the Force to carry her voice to the farthest edges of the courtyard, she began.

“We have come to this sacred place to say farewell to our dear friend, to a fierce warrior and a noble dispenser of justice. Mara Jade Skywalker was one of the brightest starz of the Jedi Order, and we will miss her.”

Saba shifted her gaze to the Jedi Knights kneeling in the front row of the audience. “Her light has been taken from the galaxy, but it has not been extinguished. It lives on in us, in the times we shared the hunt, in the lessons she taught us as a Master.” She turned and spoke directly to Master Skywalker and Ben. “It lives in the love and counsel she gave as a mate, in the sacrifices she made as a mother. As long as our hearts beat, her light lives inside us.”

Master Skywalker finally tore his gaze from the pyre. Though his expression was not exactly peaceful, there was at least a hint of gratitude in his eyes, and she could tell that her words were reaching him. It was harder to tell whether she was being any comfort to Ben. His attention was fixed on the slatstones beneath his feet, his brow furrowed in concentration, his Force aura swirling with pain and confusion and a rage that Mara would have found very frightening.

As Saba contemplated what she might say to quell that rage, a low murmur arose from the audience, starting from the back of the courtyard and rippling slowly forward, growing louder and more animated as it drew closer. Saba turned back to the listeners, wondering if her words could be generating that much excitement, and found the entire audience craning their necks to look back toward the entrance.

Striding up the central aisle was a black-clad figure in knee-high boots, with a long shimmersilk cloak rippling from his broad shoulders. His face was somber and his eyes sunken in shadow, his bearing brusque. Once it grew reasonably apparent that every eye in the audience was on him, he raised a black-gloved hand in a gesture that was half apology and half greeting.

“Excuse my tardiness,” Jacen Solo said. “I was detained by urgent matters of state. I’m sure everyone understands.”

A general drone of agreement rose from the audience, though Jacen could feel Saba’s ire through the Force. He pretended not to notice her indignation and continued down the aisle, taking care to keep his presence hidden from the Force so no one would sense how nervous he felt. The Masters still had no idea he was Mara’s killer, but he was all too aware how easily the slightest slip on his part could change that.

Still, there was no question of missing the funeral. His absence would have drawn too many comments and started too many people thinking—and it would have been a clear signal to Tenel Ka that he had no intention of reconciling with Luke. So Jacen had to be here, and he had to make it look like he wanted peace with the man whose wife he had killed just a week earlier.

When Jacen reached the front of the crowd, he ignored the seat that had been reserved for him beside Admiral Niathal. He continued instead to where the Jedi Knights were kneeling, then bowed to Tenel Ka.

“Thank you for coming, Queen Mother,” he said, trying to make it appear that they had not yet seen each other since her arrival on Coruscant. “In these times, I know your journey couldn’t have been an easy one.”

“Master Skywalker was an extraordinary Jedi and an uncommon friend.” Tenel Ka’s gray eyes betrayed nothing as she spoke. “We would have endured worse to be here.”

“I’m sure your presence is a great comfort to Ben and…” Jacen paused, then finished, “
Master
Skywalker.”

Tenel Ka dipped her head in an almost imperceptible nod. “We can only hope so.”

Jacen excused himself with a polite click of his boot heels, then continued forward to stand at Luke’s side. The Force boiled with the outrage of the Masters, but Jacen pretended not to notice. Mara’s funeral was the perfect opportunity to raise the public’s perception of his standing among the Jedi—to plant the idea in the minds of hundreds of dignitaries that he was his uncle’s equal—and he could not afford to pass that by. As for his promise to Tenel Ka—well, as long as he made it
look
like he was trying to reconcile with Luke, he would still have her fleet.