Star Wars_ Coruscant Nights III_ Patterns of Force - Michael Reaves [37]
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 transmuting into fire. You can control it. Now—can you see the lake?”
“Uh …,” Kaj said. Then suddenly as if in discovery, “Yes! Yes. I can see the lake.”
“Good. Let’s follow the river …”
They went on like that for some time—hours, in fact—during which Jax was certain Kaj would become bored or sleepy or confused and impatient. He did none of those things. He followed his river, making it go here and there, rise and fall, ripple and sing, without ever allowing it to become a white-water rapid.
After a time, Jax set a Sontaran song ball out on the floor between them and had Kaj perform the placid, soothing ritual of using the merest tendril of the Force to roll the ball back and forth between them. As they did this, they recited the Jedi Code as a call and response. The ball—which was made of a rare titanium alloy of great tensile strength—was composed of a sphere within a sphere. The two touched as the thing moved, creating a low, sonorous note that rose and fell like the breathing of an immense flute.
Jax gave the ball the barest nudge with the Force, rolling it to Kaj: “There is no emotion; there is peace.”
“There is no ignorance,” said Kaj, rolling it back, “there is knowledge.”
“There is no passion; there is serenity.”
“There is no death; there is the Force.”
The boy had hesitated at first, sometimes forgetting the words, sometimes unable to push the ball in the right direction. But he had mastered it quickly, as someone with the reflexes of a youth rather than a toddler can, and now the ball sang between them in the weaving of Jax’s threads and the gentle push of Kaj’s currents.
It was a safe-enough exercise; even an Inquisitor standing in the street below their aerie would have trouble reading the gentle warp, woof, and tidal surge of the schoolroom practice. But what they would do when more rigorous training was called for, Jax couldn’t yet imagine. Sooner or later he would have to train Kaj to control his impulses in the heat of combat, and that would take a good deal more than gentle nudging.
Still, it was, all in all, a good start. Jax was congratulating himself when Dejah tapped at the door, then entered without waiting to be admitted. Simultaneously the song ball shot past Jax, barely missing his right thigh, and hit the wall behind him with a resounding crack and a loud thrum of the inner resonator sphere. Dejah leapt back a step with a high-pitched squeak.
“Kaj—the river. Mind the currents,” said Jax, keeping his voice pitched low, but the boy was already on his feet, his composure shattered to pieces.
“I—I’m sorry,” he stammered.
“No, I’m sorry,” Dejah said contritely. “I was just wondering if you were hungry. You’ve been in here for hours. I thought maybe you could use a break.”
Jax glanced from her to Kaj, whose face had gone almost as red as the Zeltron’s. He knew he should send Dejah away and make Kaj resume his meditations. It’s what his own Master would have done. Master Piell had not been a grim authoritarian, by any means, but had known that a Padawan must learn early how to retrieve lost composure or shattered concentration.
He opened his mouth to say the words We have more work to do, but a look at Dejah’s face stopped them in his throat. Instead, he nodded. “You’re right. We’ve been at this a long time. I’m sure Kaj could use a break and a good meal—right, Kaj?”
The boy nodded mutely, his eyes never leaving the Zeltron.
“Well, come on then!” she said pertly and