blankets and remaining baskets of food. Fable held on to to Jaalib's hand as
they sprinted over the ridge. Their voices and laughter reverberated against
the hollowed side of the mountain, as they slid down the precarious face of
the moss-covered bank and into the shadowy protection of the antiquated
theater.
An overhanging eave of solid rock covered the main stage and the first
few rows of the audience pit. Cob - webbed and damp, the ancient structure
stood in a silent tribute to its creators. Ragged tapestries hung from the
rock walls, covered with mold, grime, and clay from the decaying structure. A
few prop swords and robes were arranged on the inner panels of the stage and a
multitude of candles and pedestals stood to either side of the audience pit,
centuries-old relics left behind by a more playful, tolerant age.
"I used to come here as a boyea?Jaalib confessed. Extending his arms to
either side, he declared, "Now this was true theater, by candlelight, in an
age which understood and coveted its artisans."
"Uhl Eharl Khoehng," Fable whispered dubiously. "What's it about?"
"It opens on a distant world, in a kingdom built in the center of a dark
forest. After many years of ruling this kingdom, the good, wise king dies and
his handsome sonea?Jaalib winked, "the Edjian-Prince, takes the throne."
"I thought you said this was a tragedy."
"It is a tragedy, "Jaalib scolded, "and that becomes apparent when the
Edjian-Prince decides to expand the kingdom and begins sending expeditions
into the forest to mark trees for felling. The men he sent never returned." He
narrowed his eyes, moving his face very close to hers. "And that is when the
older folk began whispering about uhl Eharl Khoehng."
"Stop it!" Fable hissed, batting his hands away as he tried to frighten
her.
"The Edjian-Prince was intrigued. He began sending daily messengers into
the forest, carrying his invitation to the Eharl Khoehng to dine with him in
the palace. None returned. When there were no more messengers, he sent small
armies, keeping only the best and strongest warriors to guard the kingdom.
They did not return. When the townspeople demanded a halt to this dangerous
ambition, the Edjian-Prince ordered his remaining army to drive them all into
the forest. None. not even the soldiers, were heard from again." Lighting two
candles, he moved the pedestals into the center of the stage. "Only the
Edjian-Prince and his faithful old hunt servant remained."
"He sent the old man?" SlappingJaalib's thigh, Fable hissed, "This is a
terrible story! What happened to the Edjian-Prince after the old man left?"
"When his servant did not return, the Edjian-Prince barricaded himself in
the palace. Without his armies or his subjects, there was nothing to stop the
Eharl Khoehng from attacking. One quiet night," Jaalib whispered, "the Eharl
Khoehng did come, invading the Edjian-Prince's dreams. He promised safe
passage through the forest. Eager to make peace, the Edjian-Prince went into
the wood, where he remained for nearly a decade."
"What!"
"The Eharl Khoehng tricked him. While he did have safe passage through
the forest, food, clothing, and shelter, the Eharl Khoehng held him prisoner,
using illusions to trap him in the labyrinth of the forest." Jaalib blew out
one of the candles. "Ten years of guilt took its toll. The prince thought he
heard the voices of his subjects crying out to him. Then one day, he was
startled by the spirit of his beloved huntsman. The old man reported that the
Eharl Khoehng had turned the townspeople into trees and left them there in the
woods, conscious, but unable to move or speak, except when the wind blew
through their branches."
"And then?"
"And then," Jaalib whispered, "unaffected by the Eharl Khoehng's
illusions, the huntsman led his master on a journey to the outer edge of the
forest, where the Eharl Khoehng was waiting for them." A malevolent shadow
fell over his face asJaalib stepped into the center of the stage, posing
beside the lit candle. was 'Worship me and call me master and all that I have
shall be yours, including your kingdom," the Eharl Khoehng said."
"And what did the Edjian-Prince do?"
"He went mad," Jaalib began in the narrative voice. "He ran back into the
wood and set fire to it. By the time he was finished, there was nothing left,
not one tree. "This is the only kingdom I deserve to rule," he declared, "and
the only kingdom that the Eharl Khoehng can claim." was Taking one of the
blackened tapestries from the wall, he threw the thick material over his left
shoulder and continued the narration. "Dressed in the rags of his former life,
hands and face blackened with soot, the Edjian-Prince went before the Eharl
Khoehng, falling to his knees in homage. In his loudest, most humble voice, he
cried, "Long... live... the king."
Visibly moved, Fable applauded, shaking her head with wonderment. "Your
father played that part?"
"The Edjian-Prince was my father's greatest role," Jaalib said absently.
"No one has been able to bring the same dignity to the role." He sat down on
the edge of the stage. "And when the time is right, we'll produce it again and
I will be the Edjian-Prince and he shall be my nemesis, uhl Eharl Khoehng
himself."
Fable chewed anxiously at her lower lip. "Jaalib, why didn't you become a
Jedi?"
"All I ever wanted to be was an actor," he remarked, swinging his legs
against the stage. "And that's exactly what I've become. I've learned the
lightsaber and other meditations of the Jedi, mostly to appease my troubled
sense of loyalty. Beyond these, my father seems reluctant to teach me any
more. And I'm reluctant to ask."
Staring at the rows of candles, Fable was reminded of the wax cylinder
exercise. "The lightsaber exercise, the one using the ball bearings? Can you
do it with candles?"
Jaalib shrugged. "That's how he taught me. I never used the wax cylinders
until much later."
"Can you show me your secret? Your execution is almost flawless, elegant
and equally effective."
Assembling the pedestals in the familiar circle, Jaalib motioned for her
to step inside the exaggerated diameter. "May I?" he teased, gently embracing
her from behind. He placed his hands on top of hers and ignited the
lightsaber. The elongated shaft pulsed with magnificence and power, throwing
light across the stage and the first few benches in the pit. Fable stiffened
for a moment, feeling his body so intimately against her. But as he guided her
through a slow rotation with the lightsaber, she relaxed and concentrated on
his directives. "What do you see?" he whispered.
Staring down the line of unlit candles. Fable's eyes traced the straight,
angular path. "No," Jaalib whispered, reading the expression of her body.
"This is why you're having such a hard time."
"You've been watching me?" she hissed, elbowing him in the ribs.
Jaalib laughed softly. "You're trying to think in linear terms, spatial
dimensions. It's not like flying a starship. You can train your eyes, which
&n
bsp; you've done quite well, but sooner or later, he'll catch you." Moving her
gently to the side, he added, "You may let your eyes dictate where the lines
begin, but let the Force guide you. It's not like clearing a room and then
moving on to the next. There is no sequence, except the one you create as you
move along. There are always several paths, right to left, top to bottom, any
combination."
He removed the lightsaber from her hands and began the cadence. His
movements were slow and deliberate so that she could follow him, but even
these motions were faster than her most frenzied attempts to complete the
exercise. As the lightsaber swept over the tops of the candles, the small
wicks exploded with flame, but the wax tips remained unscarred by the weapon.
Quickly moving around the circle to blow out the flames, Jaalib handed the
lightsaber back to her. "Now you try."
Fable swallowed doubtfully, wondering how she would follow such a
flawless performance. Igniting the lightsaber, her eyes traced the several
lines of candles as they extended out in every direction. She arced swiftly
through the circle, feeling the confidence of her former self return. Ten,
fifteen, eighteen. As she reached the last movements of the cadence, she lost
control, pitching forward as she spun frantically on her heels.
"Easyea?Jaalib crooned, catching her in his arms. "You were doing
wonderfully until you lost your concentration." Blowing out the candles, he
said, "Try again. And this time, remember, the Force is a waterfall. Nothing
can stop or turn it off. Nothing can divert the flow." Scolding her with a
stern finger, he added, "Doubt and uncertainty form barriers, but only if you
let them."
"Now you're starting to sound like your father."
In response, he bowed ceremoniously, then motioned toward the candles.
This time, as she moved through the circle. Fable allowed the rain to guide
and open her to the Force. The steady beat of the drops against the stone
benches steadied her concentration and she completed the cadence without
incident.
She disengaged the lightsaber, trembling slightly as she turned from the
center of the circle. The Force was flowing through her, still channeling her
conscious mind. Jaalib was behind her and Fable could feel his heart racing
above the gentle vibrations of the Force. Before her nerve could fail, Fable
turned and kissed him passionately.
"Shall we try it again?" he whispered.
"Rogue!"
Jaalib grinned, winking mischievously. "The cadence, I mean." His grin
deepened as he stepped into the circle and began to blow out the candles.
The Force was with her and Fable felt it, flowing through her mind and
body. She imaged the power channeling through her arms and hands and grasped
the lightsaber from her belt. Visualizing the path in her mind, she moved
through a series of precise parries and feints, disintegrating the first
several balls with faultless execution. As she began the second half of the
cadence, Brandl whispered, "Execute each motion as though it were your last.
Someday, your life may depend on it. Or the lives of others."
For nearly two hours. Fable worked through the first cadence and was
moving onto the second. Obviously fatigued, she began making poor judgment
errors and scorched the tops of the last ten cylinders, slicing through the
last one at the conclusion. She stepped back into the ready stance, gasping
for breath.
"As you progress, you will learn the limits of your abilities," Brandl
stated. "You are excused for the remainder of the day."
Bowing respectfully, Fable pulled her jacket from a nearby branch and
started on the trail back to the theater. Jaalib was waiting for her with a
sweet cake and the promise of a bath and a kiss. "How did it go?"
"I made it to the second cadence!" she whispered with excitement. "And
Jaalib, I think I saw him smile."
"Now that is good news."
Glancing over her shoulder, she winked at him. "I think I'll go to bed
early tonight, as a reward. Do you mind?"
"Not at all. Father and I are working on the last act of the play." He
smiled pleasantly, betraying his affection. "See you in the morning."
Fable awoke to a terrible sense of foreboding. Quickly dressing, she sat
tentatively at the edge of the bed, hugging her knees against her chest as she
scanned the shadows. Something was terribly wrong and she could feel it.
Cradling the lightsaber in her lap, she took a deep breath, assured that she
was ready for the worst, whatever that may be, whenever it might come.
The familiar knock came at her door. "Come in," she replied, eager to
share her concerns with Jaalib. But as the door opened, she was greeted by the
foreboding shadow of her mentor. "Where's Jaalib?"
Brandl snarled. "I forbid this to happen. I forbid it!"
"Where is he? I want to talk to him!"
Advancing into the room, Brandl cornered her. "The theater on Iscera will
be opening in a few days. I sent him there to make preparations for our
production. By the time he returns, you will be gone."
Fable followed Brandl into the corridor with heavy, angry strides,
allowing her emotions to seethe within her. On the verge of a temper tantrum,
she braced herself as common sense called on her to reason. She had come to
Trulalis to improve herself, to get an edge on the enemy who pursued her, and
then to return, if possible, to her friends in the Rebel Alliance. Falling in
love had no place in that design.
Brandl set a bowl of steaming broth at the end of the table and sat down
on the opposite end. Fable slammed herself into the stool, barely able to curb
her temper. "So what's it like to be a pawn for the Emperor!"
"I brought pleasure to my master through the tears of his subjects."
Momentarily distracted by the sincerity of the spontaneous soliloquy, Brandl
stared into his bowl. Recovering his cynicism, he glared across the small
table. "The Emperor's ideas are quite noble. It's his methods which eventually
offend those of lesser vision."
"Sounds like you're still loyal to him." Through narrowed eyes, she
retaliated. "Why not, he only tried to kill you."
"In time, you will learn that an old friend is very much like a good
mirror. The longer you stare into x, the harder it is to find the flaws."
A shrill whine echoed from high above, sending a peculiar reverberation
through the theater. Fable felt a chill as her ears recognized the distinct
sounds of a shuttle flying overhead. Its exhaust boosters could be heard above
the whine of the ion drive, as the pilot circled, looking for an appropriate
place to land. "That's Vialco. Isn't it?"
Brandl closed his eyes and was silent. Fable straightened her shoulders
as she rose from the table, turning her back on the Jedi. "No more bad dreams,
" she whispered with firm resolve and stepped from the shadows of the theater
into the dawn. Her body knew every hollow and rise in the unmarked trail that
led to the picturesque grounds of Kovit's graveyard. She stared across
the
entrance mound to where Vialco stood among the tarnished graves and markers.
For a moment, the fear and horror of their first encounter returned in full
force.
"You've matured much faster than I expected," Vialco declared. "I never
imagined Lord Brandl to be such a gracious host."
Vialco walked among the raised tombs, brushing his gloved hands over the
rough-hewn stone, as if drawing power from the shadows lurking at the site of
each grave. His face was gangly and angular, unattractive, with gaunt cheeks
and unusually large brows. Sensing her peripheral thoughts, he whispered, "No,
no more bad dreams, girl. I've come for the harvest." A sinister determination
shadowed his pallid face. "What shall it be, hmm?"
Fable shifted her weight to one foot, cocking her hip arrogantly. As
Vialco ignited his lightsaber, she calmly drew her own, assuming the ready
stance. She parried his first, preemptive attempts to break through her
defenses, losing no ground to him, and met his surprise with a coy smile.
"We are much improved," he commented. "Have I left too much time for you
to prepare?"
"Lord Brandl did say you were a coward," Fable taunted. "But I already
knew that."
Vialco's face flushed with rage as he began a series of short lunges,
forcing Fable to move back along the perimeter of the muddy basin. Feinting to
the left, she swung around behind him, delivering a swift kick to Vialco's
behind. Enraged by her insolence, Vialco turned on her, gripping the