Star Wars_ Darth Bane 02_ Rule of Two - Drew Karpyshyn [41]
Upon landing, they had disembarked and boarded an airspeeder that had whisked them off toward their meeting with Chancellor Valorum. Johun had simply sat and gawked at the spectacle as they raced along the skylane, their speeder weaving in and out among skyrises so tall, the ground wasn’t even visible beneath them. Occasionally they would dive down or swoop back up as their journey led them under and over pedestrian walkways, hovering billboards, and even other vehicles.
By the end of the trip, Johun’s already bedazzled senses had been completely overwhelmed by the constant stream of traffic and the mind-boggling numbers of people who chose to live and work on Coruscant. The overall impression he took away from the experience was a sickening blur of motion set against a deafening cacophony of sound … all too much for a simple farm boy to handle.
Farfalla, on the other hand, was in his element. Johun had noticed his new mentor coming to life when they touched down, as if he were feeding on the energy of the great metropolis. The frantic pace and the madding crowds seemed to revitalize Valenthyne, the city washing away the weariness of a long military campaign on a dreary little frontier world. Farfalla even looked different here; set against the vibrant, cosmopolitan backdrop of the galactic capital, the clothes that had seemed so vain and garish back on Ruusan now looked to be the height of fashion and style.
Even at the center of the halls of power, Farfalla looked completely at ease. He gave a gracious bow of acknowledgment to the Chancellor’s assistant, eliciting a flirtatious smile from the young woman, then moved with a confident yet purposeful stride through the doorway into Valorum’s inner sanctum. Johun gave a bow of his own, stiff and forced, then scurried off after him.
The Chancellor’s office was less ornate and more functional than Johun had expected. The walls, carpet, and furnishing were all a deep, dark brown, giving the room an air of significance. There was a large window in one wall, though much to the young Jedi’s relief the coverings had been drawn for this meeting. In the center of the room were half a dozen comfortable-looking chairs set around a circular conference table; several monitors lined the walls, flickering with updates from various HoloNet news programs.
Tarsus Valorum was seated behind a large desk facing the doorway, and he rose to greet them. He was a tall man in his early fifties, though he looked ten years younger. He had dark hair; bright, piercing eyes; a straight, slightly pointed nose; and an almost perfectly square chin—a face many had called “honest and determined.” It was these traits, along with his exemplary record of public service, that had led to Valorum being appointed the first non-Jedi Chancellor in over four centuries.
Johun had heard rumors that Farfalla had actually been the one in line for the position but had declined it, so that he could join the Army of Light on Ruusan. The young man wondered if his Master approved of the man who had been chosen to replace him.
“Master Valenthyne,” Valorum said, clasping Farfalla’s hand in an efficient, well-practiced gesture of welcome. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“You didn’t leave me a lot of options, Your Excellency,” Valenthyne noted.
“I apologize for that,” the Chancellor replied, even as he turned and extended his hand to Johun. “And this must be your apprentice,” he said, taking note of the long braid that marked the young man as one who had not yet completed his initial Jedi training.
“I am Padawan Johun Othone, Your Excellency.”
Valorum’s grip was firm but not overpowering—the perfect politician’s handshake. He pumped Johun’s arm twice, then pulled his hand free and indicated the chairs around the conference table.
“Please, noble Jedi. Make yourselves comfortable.”
Farfalla took the end seat on the near side of the table. Johun sat down in