Before the Storm - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [99]
Luke extended his awareness, searching the ruins, the hills. “We’ll have to talk about this later,” he said. “These were Imperial agents. There’s no telling how close or how far away their friends are. We have to leave. We have to get back to the ship, now.”
“No—no, not yet—”
“Akanah, no matter what you think, we can be harmed—”
“Is the river harmed by the rock a child throws?”
“We don’t have time to debate this now,” Luke said impatiently. “The Mud Sloth may not be much, but I don’t want to lose her. This planet isn’t what I had in mind for my retirement, and I’d rather not have to play hide-and-seek with an Imperial gunship to get out of here.”
“Where do you suggest we go?” Akanah asked.
“It doesn’t matter. Away from Lucazec, as fast as we can. We’re not going to find the Fallanassi here—the only explanation for all this that makes sense is that your people escaped both the Empire and the mob. The Empire doesn’t know where they are, and we don’t want to be the ones who show them. It’s time to go.”
Akanah shook her head slowly. “There’s something I have to show you first,” she said. “Come.”
Backing away, she led him through the arch into what had once been her home. Light streamed in through the windows and broken roof of the common room, but the sleeping cottages were cool and dim beyond the light trap.
“This was my mother’s space,” Akanah said. “There—can you see it?” Her sweeping gesture took in the full width of the back wall.
“See what?”
“Listen for the sound,” she said. “Like water slipping through sand. Drop all your shields.”
Luke tried to concentrate on the wall, but confusion was the enemy of concentration. “What is it—is there something written there? Am I supposed to see it, or hear it?”
“Yes,” she said, her one answer covering all his questions.
“You’re a lot of help,” he said, squinting.
“Let go of the Force,” she said. “It can’t help you in this. You’ve trained yourself to see the shadows. Let yourself see the light.”
Drawing a deep breath, Luke tried to focus on the wall—to open his awareness to every aspect of its existence as a material object traveling through time, every immanent quality perceivable on any plane. Color and texture, mass and temperature, the feeble tug of gravity, the faint glow of radiation, its solidity deflecting the currents of air, its opacity blocking the light, its contribution to the scent and flavor of the air, and a hundred more subtle measures that defined its reality.
“Let me help,” she said, taking his hand. “Do you perceive the wall?”
“Yes—”
“Take it away. Stop perceiving the substance. Make it disappear from your thoughts, and look inside it. Stay open—let me guide your eyes.”
Then he saw it—not written on the wall, but written within it, the pale white shapes of symbols drawn not with matter, but with some elemental essence swirling within it.
“Is that it?” he asked, as though she could not only guide his eyes but see through them.
She smiled and tightened her grip on his hand. “The way home is always marked. That is the promise made to us.”
“Can you read it? What does it say?”
“I know where we have to go,” Akanah said, and released his hand. “Can you still see it now, without my help?”
The symbols had been brightening, but they vanished abruptly when the contact was broken. “No—it’s completely gone. I can remember the shapes, but I can’t see them now.”
Nodding, she said, “It doesn’t matter. If you can see Current scribing with guidance, I can teach you to see it on your own. It’s how children learn.”
“Is there more—in the other cottages, or outside, on the other buildings?”
“No. Just here. This was meant for me.”
“The attack—it came after you’d been in the house,” Luke said with sudden understanding. “They knew there was something there. That’s why the Empire still had agents here. They were just waiting for someone who could read it to show up.”
“But would the Empire risk sending a ship this deep into New Republic territory?”
“That depends on how badly someone still wants the Fallanassi,