The Last Of The Jedi_ Death On Naboo Part 7

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Ryoo Thule had been up before dawn. She had walked down to the lake to see the sunrise. She had noticed on the way to her home, as she climbed the steep grade back to the house, that she was out of breath. Yet she didn't feel winded, exactly.

She pressed a hand to her side, then against her heart. She was an elder now, but she was still surprised when her body told her so.

She remained robust and strong, still capable of walking the steep, winding paths of the cliffsides along the lake. She just had to learn to walk slowly, not scamper up the way she had when she was a child.

That must be it.

On those early morning walks her family strolled beside her. Not the family who still lived, her daughter Jobal, her son-in-law Ruwee, their child Sola and her children, her own namesake Ryoo and her sister Pooja. Not her sister and her children.

It was her husband, long dead, who walked beside her. Her good friend, Winama Naberrie (how they had plotted to marry off their children! How surprised they'd been when they'd actually fallen in love!) and her beloved grandchild, Padme. In some ways Padme felt closer to her now that she was gone.

From an early age Padme had been on her way to somewhere else. Oh, she had been the most loving granddaughter possible, but her visits had been respites from a busy life. She'd never suggested, by word or look, that this was the case. Her whole heart had been in those visits. Ryoo had felt it just the same, because she was closer to Padme than any of her other granddaughters.

She'd had her secrets. Ryoo knew that. She'd known before Padme had that she was in love. She'd known that love was entwined with heartbreak.

Padme's death had broken her own heart. Ryoo had, according to custom, been the overseer of her funeral. She had kissed her granddaughter's cold cheek. She had tucked small white blossoms into her clothing and hair. She had wept on a cold floor.

The grief was still a stone in her belly, but she'd found peace here. Padme had loved this place, and Padme was all around her. Padme was part of the galaxy now.

Part of her stays. Somewhere out there in the stars. I feel it. It is enough to feel it. Perhaps someday...

Ryoo stood at the window looking out at the azure lake. She pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart flutter. Why had she woken this morning with such a sense of foreboding? Why did Padme feel so especially close to her today?

What was this feeling? Why was she so restless?

She had been here for six months, mourning. It was time to return to her life in Theed. She wasn't too old to find a renewed sense of purpose. Padme would want that.

Maybe that was the source of her anxiety. She knew it was time to let go of her grief, and she was reluctant. She had to remind herself that leaving this place wouldn't mean leaving her memories of Padme behind.

Ryoo paused by the comlink station. Its insistent blinking told her of messages she should listen to. But she wasn't ready. Not now. Later. Her family was used to her returning messages later in the day. They wouldn't worry. They knew her grief needed solitude.

Ryoo smiled at that insistent red light. It spoke of the warm voices of friends and family, eager to bring her news or check on her well-being. It contained the threads of her life.

It was time to pick them up again.

She would leave tomorrow. It was time.

She heard footsteps in the reception hall below. Strange. She was alone here, without servants, and the neighbors weren't close. She would have seen a gondola, or a speeder, if someone had come to visit.

She walked down the stairs, her slippers whispering on the stone.

He stood, his face in shadow. His robe was deep maroon, the color of dried blood. For a moment her steps faltered. It was as though Death himself had come to call.

Then she recognized the flutter she had felt all morning, the unease. It wasn't old age at all, it wasn't restlessness or the realization it was time to be gone.

It was fear.

Padme, Padme, I'm afraid.

She told herself she was being ridiculous. She'd been right; she'd been here too long alone. She walked forward, her hand outstretched, ready to greet the stranger, for on Naboo every stranger is a. potential friend.

He threw back the hood. She saw his eyes, and suddenly she understood, with absolute certainty, what she'd felt the moment she'd awakened. She'd looked for the streaks of lavender that meant the sun was rising, light infiltrating darkness. Now she knew what had been chasing her throughout the day, what she'd believed, what she'd feared.

She was going to die today.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

The old woman was still strong. At first she appeared to greet the stranger with respect. She even offered him tea, which he refused. Malorum hadn't received the t.i.tle of Inquisitor for nothing. He knew when even the most skillful being was holding back.

No matter. He would find out. He had come to the end of his journey. He had no more time to waste.

"I know about Naboo rituals," he said. "I know that you were in charge of your granddaughter's funeral."

The woman, small and st.u.r.dy, her white hair coiled in back of her head, smiled in a condescending way that made Malorum's vision go red for a moment. "No one is 'in charge' in our funeral rites. I was there to support our grieving family. Naboo, you see, is not hierarchical like your system. Yes, we have a queen, but we elect her, as well as her advisors."

Malorum felt his teeth grind. "I don't need a lesson on Naboo political philosophy."

She inclined her head, but he could see its meaning. She thought him a pompous fool.

She would learn.

"The grandmother is there to make sure everything runs smoothly. This can be quite complicated in a state funeral," she continued.

"Senator Amidala died of what, would you say?"

"We don't know."

"Were there marks on her body?"

He saw her flinch. She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Who brought her to Theed?"

"I don't know. I was summoned after she'd arrived."

"She couldn't have come on her own," Malorum said dryly. "She was dead when she got here."

The grandmother's cheeks suddenly flushed with anger. She didn't like the casual way he spoke of her beloved granddaughter. Yet he was choosing his words with great care. The only way he would get anything out of this woman was to anger her.

"Whoever brought her to us did so with great care and gentleness, and that was all that concerned us at the time," she answered.

"She was pregnant."

Her lips pressed together.

"Did the family know who the father of her child was?"

"That is a private matter."

"Would you like to spend some time in an Imperial prison?"

"No, not really," the woman said. "But if you think threatening me with it will give you the answers you want, you're mistaken."

She looked at him. Her eyes were dark gray dusted with gold. Unusual eyes. He was almost mesmerized for a moment, seeing himself reflected in them, seeing all the contempt she felt. He got a sudden flash of what she was inside, what she was feeling.

Love. Great love.

Strength. Courage.

He pushed those irrelevancies aside and looked beneath.

Something she'd suspected, something only she suspected .. .

"Padme did not share with us the father's name," she said. He could see perspiration around her hairline. She was nervous. "We didn't ask. Such things are private matters on Naboo. Because of the Clone Wars we hadn't seen her in several months. She was the light of our lives, and our sorrow and grief is more than you could possibly know. Why you think you have a right to come here and question me is beyond my understanding."

"I do have a right," Malorum said. "The Emperor has given me that right. I am his personal representative."

He was talking, but the words were too familiar, he had said them so many times. He was listening now. He was hearing what she was feeling, not what she was saying.

"Did you know Anakin Skywalker?" he suddenly barked.

"He was a friend of my granddaughter's," the old woman said.

"Did you ever suspect that he was the father of her unborn child?"

Something flashed in her eyes, not anger this time. Something . . . it was the key.

She knew something.

No . . . suspected.

He thought of the intuition inside him, what he thought of as his "river." It had always been there. When he was younger he believed he was just smarter than anybody else. Now he knew it wasn't intelligence, it was another sense, bigger than he was. His frustration was that he couldn't control it the way he wanted to.

But it was here now, and he could focus it on Ryoo Thule.

His gaze must have unnerved her, for she looked away. He felt something rise in her, some hope, something she was grasping even as she battled against his will. Something she did not want him to know, and would never betray.

The knowledge ripped through his brain like a rip in fabric, tearing away his misconceptions. He almost leaped with the exaltation of it. Only the most strict discipline, the habit of years of interrogations, kept him standing, with the same expressionless face.

The child was alive.

She had spoken of her granddaughter, but never of the child she carried. That she did not was in itself a signal.

"The child is alive," he said. He could see on her face that she believed it.

Now the questions came quickly as he advanced upon her, as she shrank before him.

"Have you ever seen the child?"

"Has anyone contacted you about the child?"

"Has anyone visited the child?"

"Did Padm know the child was living before she died?"

"Did she give the child to someone?"

"Is someone hiding the child?"

"Where is the child?"

The questions kept coming. The old woman threw up her hands as if to ward them off like blows.

When she regained control and lifted her face, it was filled with defiance. She knew little, he could see, and she would tell him nothing.

So he killed her.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

The beauty of the lake was astonis.h.i.+ng. Varykino perfectly fitted into the landscape, turrets and domes rising from the rocks and water as they sped toward it, so close to the lake that their Naboo water craft, a gondola speeder, kicked up a wake.

Ferus barely noticed the deep jewel color of the lake, the arcing sky overhead. Before the gondola speeder had come to a halt he vaulted off it. He was filled with foreboding.

He and Solace left the others behind as they Force-leaped up the cliffs, finding toeholds and handholds while in midair. The others charged up the path.

The door to the graceful villa was wide open. He charged inside, his lightsaber held aloft.

Ryoo Thule lay crumpled on the stone floor. He leaned down and with great gentleness touched her cheek. It was warm.

Suddenly her eyes opened, giving him a shock. He'd thought she was dead. Her life force was almost extinguished.