Darth Plagueis - James Luceno [58]
Plagueis considered the remarks in silence. “And yet you honor your House by going by its name.”
Palpatine’s expression softened. “For a time I thought about adopting the name of our distaff line. I haven’t rejected the dynasty I was born into. I’ve rejected the name I was given. But not for the grandiose reasons some think. Just the opposite, actually. I’m certain that you, of all beings, understand as much.”
There it was again, Plagueis thought: the deceptive cadence; the use of flattery, charm, and self-effacement as if rapier feints in a duel. The need to be seen as guileless, unassuming, empathetic. A youth with no desire to enter politics, and yet born for it.
Tenebrous had told him from the start that the Republic, with help from the Sith, would continue to descend into corruption and disorder, and that a time would come when it would have to rely on the strengths of an enlightened leader, capable of saving the lesser masses from being ruled by their unruly passions, jealousies, and desires. In the face of a common enemy, real or manufactured, they would set aside all their differences and embrace the leadership of anyone who promised a brighter future. Could this Palpatine, with Plagueis’s help, be the one to bring about such a transformation?
Again he tried to see deeper into Palpatine, but without success. The psychic walls the youth had raised were impenetrable, which made the young human something rare indeed. Had Palpatine somehow learned to corral the Force within himself, as Plagueis had concealed his own powers as a youth?
“Of course I understand,” he said finally.
“But … when you were young, did you question your motivations, especially when they ran counter to everyone else’s?”
Plagueis held his challenging gaze. “I never asked why this or why that, what if this or what if that. I simply responded to my own determination.”
Palpatine sat back in the speeder seat as if a great weight had been lifted from him.
“Some of us are required to do what others cannot,” Plagueis added in a conspiratorial way.
Without a word, Palpatine nodded.
Plagueis had no need to delve any further into whatever traumas had given rise to Palpatine’s cunning, secretive nature. He simply needed to know: Does this young human have the Force?
Two standard days later, on Malastare—a world of varied terrain that occupied a prime position on the Hydian Way—even the deafening clatter and nauseating odor of speeding Podracers wasn’t enough to distract Plagueis from thinking about Palpatine. Damask Holdings had requested a meeting with Senator Pax Teem, and the leader of the Gran Protectorate had provided the Muuns with box seats for the Phoebos Memorial Run. They had arrived directly from Naboo in the expectation of discussing business matters, but the Gran, Dugs, Xi Charrians, and nearly everyone else in the city of Pixelito were more interested in sport and betting.
“Have you picked a winner, Magister?” Pax Teem asked after two Podracers ripped past the viewing stands.
Lost in his thoughts about Naboo, Plagueis said, “I believe I have.”
His conversations with Palpatine seemed to have opened some sort of emotional floodgates in the human. The Muuns had scarcely left Naboo behind when the first of several holocommuniqués was received from Palpatine, regarding the royals’ latest plans for undermining Bon Tapalo’s bid for the monarchy. Plagueis had listened attentively, but, in fact, Palpatine had precious little to offer. Since the release of the information about the royals’ actions during the Gungan conflict, Palpatine’s father had been conducting his meetings behind closed doors at the family estate, and had forbidden his son from so much as discussing the coming election. Tapalo’s campaign, by contrast, was on the upswing, as a result of having announced a pending deal with the InterGalactic Banking Clan. The urgency of Palpatine’s transmissions suggested that he had formed an attachment to Plagueis and was reaching out to him not only as