Star Wars_ Darth Bane 02_ Rule of Two - Drew Karpyshyn [123]
The planet had its share of sentient predators, too. The handful of people who still lived on the world survived by picking through the remains of the battles that had once raged over its surface and in the skies above, finding damaged items and old technology they could restore and sell offworld. Most of the junkers, as they were called, were simple folk just trying to get by. But a few had become desperate criminals, willing to kill over anything of value—like Caleb’s missing collection of medicine and supplies.
Or maybe the healer had fallen victim to some disease or affliction even he couldn’t cure. If he had died of natural causes, it wouldn’t take long until the various desert scavengers carried off the last of his remains, leaving behind no evidence of what had happened.
It was clear there was no help to be found here, but there was no point in going anywhere else. Bane had a day, at most, before the orbalisk toxins reached lethal levels in the tissues of his body. Zannah simply stood there, unable to even think what she should do next. And then she remembered another detail from her Master’s tale.
Caleb had tried to conceal his daughter from Bane. Her Master had easily discovered her cowering inside the shack; there was no other place to hide in the small camp. At least, there hadn’t been ten years ago.
“Wait here,” she said to Darovit, leaving him to watch over Bane on his gurney.
She went back into the shack, kicking the sleeping mat aside to reveal a small trapdoor in the floor. She used the Force to fling it open, and was rewarded with the sight of a man staring up at her from a small cellar.
His expression wasn’t one of fear, nor even anger. Not exactly. He looked more like he was weary; as if he knew his discovery was going to lead to a long and tedious exchange.
“Out,” Zannah said, stepping back and dropping her hand to the handle of her lightsaber.
Without a word, he climbed up the cellar’s small ladder until he stood beside her inside the shack. He looked to be in his late forties, a thin man of average height. He had straight black hair that hung down to his shoulders, and his skin was brown and leathery from a decade of exposure to Ambria’s burning sun. There was nothing about his appearance to suggest he was a man of power or importance, yet Zannah could sense his calm inner strength.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked him.
“I’ve known ever since you and your Master built your camp on this world,” he said quietly.
“And you know why I’m here?”
“I sensed you coming. That was why I hid.”
She peeked down into the cellar, noting that it contained a number of small shelves lined with bottles, bags, jars, and pouches that held the medicines and healing compounds he used in his vocation. There were also a number of ration kits piled in one corner, along with a handful of small, square supply containers.
“When did you build that?” she asked, curious.
“Shortly after my previous encounter with your Master,” he answered. “I feared he would one day come back, and I wanted a place for my daughter to hide.”
The man suddenly smiled at her, though there was no joy or mirth in the expression.
“But now my daughter has grown,” he told her. “She has left this world, never to return. And you have no power over me.”
“Are you saying you will not help my Master?” Zannah asked, not even bothering to put a threat into her voice.
“There is nothing you can do to compel me this time,” he replied, and she sensed a deep satisfaction in his tone. She realized he had been preparing for this day for over ten years.
“The war between the Jedi and Sith is over,” Zannah told him. “My Master is no longer a soldier. He is just an ordinary man who needs your help.”
The man smiled again, flashing his teeth in a feral grin. “Your Master will never be ordinary. Though soon enough he will be dead.”
One glance down at the man’s