"While I agree with Dejah Duare in principle," I-Five said, "it does seem to me that in light of the way Kaj came to be among us, we should be prepared to move him-and ourselves as well-if it becomes necessary."

"Why would it become necessary?" asked Dejah, looking from Jax to the droid to Kaj.

"Maybe you didn't hear Jax clearly, Dejah," said Den acerbically. "Kajin, here, defeated an Inquisitor. Which probably means that the entire College of Sith flunkies is about to come down on our heads."

Dejah swung around to look at Kaj. "But you killed him, surely?"

"I-I don't know," Kaj stammered, then looked to Jax. "Is there a way we can tell?"

Jax shook his head. "All I can tell you is that he wasn't conscious when we left the area. I didn't detect any Force threads from him at any rate."

"Force threads?" repeated Kaj.

"Metaphorically speaking."

"What difference does it make if he's dead?" Den asked sharply. "The Inquisitors aren't loners. They stay connected to their boss. If you killed him, then he just became a big, fat blank spot on Vader's sensors, and if he's still alive, he'll go scurrying back to his lord and master to make a full report."

"He's already a big, fat blank spot, Den," Jax explained. "Laranth told me that the Inquisitors have started using some sort of taozin by-product to block detection."

"How much danger do you think we're in?" Dejah asked.

"No more than we were before. But I do need to start Kajin's training."

"Good," said I-Five. "That should give you incentive to complete the lightsaber you've been working on. And, if we can find another crystal, you might even be able to retrofit the lightsaber you're carrying now to emit a less sanguinary hue."

Dejah laughed, the sound trilling and warm. "I resent that remark," she said without rancor. "I find crimson a most appealing color . . . don't you, Kajin?" She c.o.c.ked her head pertly to one side, sending a thick lock of burgundy-colored hair over one eye.

The boy nodded mutely.

"Oh please . . ." Den slid off the couch and disappeared into his room. After a moment, I-Five followed him.

Jax looked at Kaj. The boy's eyes were still on Dejah, but they seemed unfocused, vague. "You up for starting your career as a Padawan?" Jax asked.

The boy shook himself visibly. "I'm pretty tired. Is there someplace I could sleep for a while?"

Jax took Kaj to the sleep alcove in his own quarters and bedded him down, hoping he wouldn't have any Force dreams. With power like Kajin Savaros had shown, a Force dream could wreak havoc on their homestead.

He'd soft-pedaled that just now, he realized, and he said nothing of his concern to Dejah when he returned to the living room to find her sitting in the chair Kaj had lately occupied.

"This is a good thing, isn't it, Jax-this boy?" Her eyes were eloquent with the need to be rea.s.sured.

"It's a very good thing. Once he learns to use his ability-well, I can only imagine the sort of things he'll be able to do. You should have seen him. Dejah. He was nothing short of astounding. I've never seen anyone do what he did-just by instinct, I think. He handled repulsor energy as if it were malleable-clay in a sculptor's hands."

"Or light?" She smiled up at him, obviously thinking of her late partner, whose light sculptures had been the pride of Coruscant's elite collectors, and to whom she'd been completely devoted.

That devotion was an unusual trait in a Zeltron. As a species they were naturally inclined to swift, pa.s.sionate relationships, torrid love affairs, brief obsessions. Dejah was different, and Jax suspected at times that she had not completely transferred her devotion from Ves Volette to him- that beneath her air of sultry flirtation lurked a deeper current of mourning.

He shook the thought away. He was a Jedi. He didn't want her to transfer her devotion to him. It was dangerous-to both of them. But he answered dutifully and with a smile, despite the chilling thought: "Like light. In fact, it looked as if he were molding light in his hands. Then he hurled it like a weapon. He manipulated the repulsor fields as if they were curtains made of this." He moved closer to her chair to lift a corner of the synthsilk scarf that lay in soft folds over her shoulder.

She Razed up at him raptly, eyes bright, lips parted. A frisson of something indescribable tickled the back of Jax's neck. He dropped the scarf. "And he's only just turned fifteen," he said quickly, stepping back from the chair and the female in it. "He has no training, no formal practice in how to control the Force. Only his instinct, and his instinct is apparently very good."

"He must be very powerful," Dejah murmured, lowering her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I can see. That much rawpower would have to be trained, controlled, channeled." She smiled again and shook her head, sending the light dancing through her hair. "You certainly have your work cut out for you, young Jedi Master."

Jax flushed. "I'm not a Jedi Master. Barely a Jedi Knight. But you're right-I do have my work cut out for me. I'm going to have to train Kajin Savaros to be a Jedi, whether I'm up to it or not."

"What's the matter with you?"

At the sound of the mechanical voice, Den turned to find that I Five had entered his room on silent droid feet.

"What's the matter with me? I was gonna ask what you thought was the matter with everybody else around here. Well, not everybody. Just Jax and-well-you, not to put too fine a point on it."

"Ah. Of course there's never anything wrong with you, is there? You're Den Dhur, the journalist. You observe all and are touched by nothing."

Well, that took the scathing prize. "look, you meanspirited bucket of bolts, I've never claimed to be untouched or completely objective or any of that nonsense. Any journalist who claims he's impartial or uncaring or uninvolved has got hash for brains, is lying to himself and the Universal Mind, and is betraying the very purpose tor which he became a journalist in the first place. A jaded journalist is a journalist who should frippin' retire." He paused to take a breath. "I should frippin' retire."

I-Five managed to make his stationary metal eyebrow ridges look as if they had arched in feigned surprise. "Really? I should say you're too far from jaded for that. Something has obviously set you in a high dudgeon."

Den stared at the droid, wondering if this was a golden opportunity to spill his guts and receive rea.s.surance, or just a solid-bra.s.s opportunity to look like a complete idiot.

"It's that Duare woman. She's-she's ..."

"Yes, yes, I caught the childish mutterings. I"hat's nothing new. This is."

Den crossed to his bed and threw himself onto it, folding his hands behind his head and staring up at the duracrete ceiling. It had, at some point in its existence, been painted a soothing shade of gray green that reminded him of the color of the cavern ceilings back home on Sull.u.s.t. He could be there, he realized for the thousandth time, reclining on a formcouch in his own cave, having a peaceful conversation with Eyar and not in enemy territory, hiding out in a dive, staring with nostalgia at a ceiling, and having a frustrating dialogue with a protocol droid.

What had he been thinking when he decided to stay here on Coruscant? Oh well, he knew what he'd been thinking-that I-Five would never leave Jax and that he would never leave I-Five. Jax was Five's-what, adopted nephew? Adopted son? How twisted was that?

No more twisted, he supposed, than that his best friend in the whole universe was made of metal and had a synaptic grid network instead of a cerebral cortex.

"Well?" said his best friend in the whole universe, looking and sounding arch.

Den sat up. "In case you hadn't noticed, our young Jedi has brought home a stray human. A potentially dangerous stray human. I don't know if you caught the subtext of what Jax was saying-or, rather, trying not to say-but I did."

"The boy is being sought by the Inquis..."

"Not that. We're being sought by the Inquisitors. The boy is freakishly powerful and untrained."

I-Five c.o.c.ked his head to one side. "He's a raw talent, yes."

Den sighed. "Are you being intentionally obtuse, Five, or have you fried some capacitors? Jax and Laranth are very careful about when and how they use the Force- around our neighborhood, especially. Our houseguest apparently drew the Inquisitor to him through an injudicious use of the Force. Who's to say he won't suffer a similar breach of protocol here?"

"Jax."

Den opened his mouth to protest that Jax was not omniscient, but I-Five raised a hand.

"Trust, Den. This whole team that Jax has gathered around him is based on trust. If Jax thinks he can train this boy, then I have to trust that he can."

Den snorted. "Trust? You think you can trust Rhinann or Dejah or Tuden Sal?"

"No. Not even as far as I could throw them-which would be a considerable distance, actually. But every one of us knows that we can trust Jax. He's the core. The heart. All our threads connect to him. Of course, you also know that you can trust me; and I know that I can trust you. But in the final a.n.a.lysis, it's our trust in Jax that holds us together."

Den swung his legs off the bed and leaned closer to the droid, his mind reaching for something he'd been trying to articulate for some time.

"But can we trust him, Five? Can we trust him when she's working on him? Reading his emotions, playing to them, maybe manipulating him?"

"By she you mean Dejah Duare, of course."

"Who else? She's a Zeltron, Five. I'm not saying she's got ulterior motives when it comes to our Jedi. Her motives are perfectly clear. She wants him. I just think she's a distraction. And under the circ.u.mstances, Jax can't afford a distraction like that. We can't afford a distraction like that."

I-Five's metal face was as unreadable as it was supposed to be. "Jax has noted, as have I, that Dejah does not seem to be a 'normal' Zeltron. She seems capable of a longer emotional attention span, for one thing. And in Jax's estimation, capable of a surprising amount of loyalty. Jax would remind you that she could be back on Zeltros or some other world far removed from the Empire's dark heart. She has chosen to remain here with us instead. He would also remind you that she has been very useful both in our relations with Pol Haus and with the various informants-willing or otherwise-that we have occasion to use."

"I know what Jax would remind me of, thank you. I'm just surprised that you're reminding me, too."

"Are you? Well, something I will a.s.suredly remind you of is that Dejah Duare agrees with you about Tuden Sal and his plan to terminate Emperor Palpatine. I'm surprised you haven't seized on that as a means to forge an alliance with her."

On that note the droid turned on his metal heel and exited the room, leaving Den to ponder his last words: Forge an alliance with Dejah Duare?

Could be useful, he supposed. Might even occasion him to undercut her obvious attempts to slip into a more intimate relationship with Jax.

He thought about it for a while, but contemplating a possible physical relationship between Jax Pavan and Dejah Duare only made him lonely for Eyar Marath. He got up from the bed and crossed to his workstation, more determined than ever to contact her. He had half a letter composed already and now he was certain he would send it-would find out if the beautiful Sull.u.s.tan singer was still awaiting him on their homeworld.

Rhinann slouched in the formchair at his workstation, mulling over the last half hour's worth of conversations he had eavesdropped on. Oh, he'd certainly not been in hiding. With as much notice as the others paid him, he could hide in plain sight.

What was that Kubaz expression? An insect on the wall? An arthropod on the ceiling? Something like that. At any rate, something that was right in front of everyone's nose, yet went completely unnoticed.

Not that he was complaining. His social invisibility- had given him an unprecedented opportunity to observe interactions that he might not have overheard if he had been a notable ent.i.ty.

What had he observed? He cataloged the items carefully, ticking them off in his mind.

There was the growing antagonism between the Zeltron female and Den Dhur, of course-well, at least Den's antagonism toward her. He had the feeling that Dejah Duare found the Sull.u.s.tan more amusing than annoying. No accounting for taste.

There was the obvious tension between Laranth Tarak and Dejah Duare-now, that was interesting.

Dejah was still angling for the Jedi-nothing new there, but now she seemed to be casting her net at the younger adept as well. Was that merely a reflex, or did she do it to a purpose?

Then there was the boy. He clearly had everyone spooked. Understandable; Rhinann was feeling far from sanguine about his sudden appearance himself. And truthfully, he was torn: instinct told him that the boy represented either a magnificent opportunity or a potential disaster-which it was largely depended on how well the youngling responded to Jax Pavan's attempts to educate him. He was certainly an intriguing variable. What might be made of a Force-sensitive of such strength that he could overcome an armed, Sith-trained Inquisitor?

Rhinann was turning these thoughts over pleasantly in his head when an idea occurred to him that was so chilling he very nearly swooned. What if it was all a setup? What if the M'haelian boy had been planted where Jax Pavan would notice him, find him, bring him home?

What if Kajin Savaros was a mole?

Breathing gustily enough to rattle his nose tusks, the Elomin turned back to his workstation and connected to the HoloNet. It would cost an extravagant amount, but he would make certain that when he reached the Westport, there would be a ship to take him away from Coruscant at a moment's notice.

He made his travel plans hurriedly, while in the back of his mind considering ways he could accelerate his search for the bota.

Chapter Seven.

Jax started Kaj s training the next day with a series of meditations geared toward getting the boy in touch with his own center. He recognized the great difficulty of what he'd set himself up to do. He had trained as a Jedi since the age of two; spent years in meditation and study of Jedi history, Jedi philosophy, Jedi strategy. He had spent months and months in combat training, which consisted largely of learning the defensive forms from Shii-Cho to Juyo. He had spent countless hours on mental. physical, emotional, and spiritual control.

There was obviously no way to teach Kaj all of that in the compressed amount of rime they might have. And there was no way to teach it at all without using the Force.

He had to find a solution to that problem somehow, but at the moment, as he watched Kaj sit cross-legged, attempting to master his breathing and control his heart rate, he could think of none.

"The Jedi have a code that we live by," Jax said now, his voice soft, calming. He sat opposite Kaj on a woven mat in his room in a meditative posture, head up, eves closed, hands lying open on his knees.

"There is no emotion; there is peace.

"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.

"There is no pa.s.sion: there is serenity.

"There is no death; there is the Force."

He felt the boy stir and remembered his first real meditation on the Jedi mantra. He had been about six and the words-which he had heard over and over again for four years-had suddenly struck him and resonated . .. and raised no end of questions.

"Ask," Jax said.

"There is no death?"

"What do you know of the Force?" Jax asked in return. "What have you heard or been told?"

Kaj looked uncertain. "I know only that it moves through me-sometimes like a quiet stream; sometimes like a raging river. I've heard only that its power can be channeled."

Jax listened carefully to the words the boy used to describe that which he possessed but barely understood. "The streams and rivers flow into a great ocean. That ocean is the Force. It is the end of all journeys."

There was a moment of silence in which Kaj digested what Jax had said, and in which Jax kicked himself several times for the simplistic metaphor. He'd been trying to follow Kaj's lead.

"I'm from a farming family," the boy said. "I understand what water means. How it permeates everything, how its presence gives life and its absence brings death. Is that what the Force is like?"

"You tell me," Jax said. "Is that what it's like for you?"

Again, the boy paused for thought. "Yes ... and no. I mean, sometimes it's like that if I just sort of... swim in it, I guess. But when I try so hard not to let it out, then it's like water behind a dam-building up, building lip, wanting to be let out. And that's when it gets away from me. Then I think it's more like fire. It burns."

Jax pondered that. He'd never experienced the Force that way himself, nor had he ever heard anyone describe experiencing the Force that way. He wondered if the dichotomous images were partly explained by the fact that Kaj had had no early training-that his talent had grown up like a wild thing, untrammeled and free; a late bloomer compared with most. The visualization exercises that every young Padawan was taught to help him or her harness the Force were new to Kajin Savaros.

Just as teaching them was new to Jax Pavan.

"Right now try to think of the Force as water," he said. "Water you can channel. You're... you're the high mountain lake in which the river starts. You determine how fast it flows, where it channels and erodes, whether it sings or roars. If you can learn to turn the water, you can keep it from trans.m.u.ting into fire. You can control it. Now-can you see the lake?"