Star Wars_ Darth Bane 03_ Dynasty of Evil - Drew Karpyshyn [59]
It might take days, or possibly even weeks, but in the end she always found her prey. This time, however, she wasn’t certain what the outcome would be. She had killed a Jedi on Doan, but this encounter would be far more dangerous. The lingering remnants of the Sith spell had been enough to thwart her efforts to peer into the past. How much stronger would the creator of that spell be in person? And who had cast the spell? The Sith Lord? Or the young woman with him?
She still intended to take the job, of course. But she was smart enough to understand that her odds of success would increase if she wasn’t acting alone.
“This man is powerful,” the Huntress admitted. “I don’t know if I will be able to kill him without help.”
“I don’t want you to kill him,” the princess replied. “I want you to capture him. I want you to bring him to me alive.”
The assassin’s lips twisted up in an angry sneer. “I’m not a bounty hunter.”
“I’ll pay ten times your normal price. And I’ll hire mercenaries to help you. As many as you want.”
“Even if we capture him, how are we supposed to keep him prisoner while we bring him back to you? Normal restraints can’t hold someone who has the power to call upon the Force.”
“Leave that to me,” the princess replied, pushing past the Iktotchi and heading toward the small hut on the other side of the camp.
Curious, the assassin followed her.
Only a few meters on either side, the hut was little more than a crate with a doorway. On the floor inside, buried under a layer of sand that had blown in from the encroaching desert, were a tattered old curtain and a threadbare rug.
The curtain looked as if it had been torn down. The rug, on the other hand, was still spread out across the far corner of the hut, though its fibers were caked with dirt.
With the Iktotchi watching from just outside the doorway, the princess pulled the carpet aside, revealing a trapdoor built into the floor. A small ladder led down to a tiny chamber below.
“My father built this cellar to store the tools of his trade,” Serra explained, climbing carefully down the ladder.
The Huntress entered the hut to get a better view, approaching the trapdoor and peering down into the darkness below. She heard a sharp crack as the princess ignited a glow lamp to dispel the gloom.
From her vantage point the assassin could just make out a series of shelves built into the cellar walls, each lined with jars, satchels, and other small containers. The princess rummaged through them quickly until she found what she was looking for: a nondescript bottle of a pale yellow liquid that she tucked into the folds of her clothes before making her way back up the ladder.
“Do you know what senflax is?” she asked once she was back aboveground.
The assassin only shrugged in response.
“It’s a neurotoxin extracted from a rare plant found only in the jungles of Cadannia.”
“What use could a healer have for poisons?” she wanted to know.
“It’s not really a poison. Senflax is more like a sedative. One that allows the patient to stay conscious while numbing all pain and sensation. It disrupts the nerves of the primary muscles, paralyzing them, but it won’t cause the heart, lungs, or other vital organs to shut down no matter how large the dose.”
“Even a paralyzed Sith Lord can kill with his mind,” the Huntress warned.
“Senflax also clouds the mind. It makes it impossible for the patient to focus or collect his thoughts; it takes away any semblance of free will. He can give simple answers to direct questions, but otherwise he is completely helpless.
“I saw my father give