Star Wars_ Planet of Twilight - Barbara Hambly [26]
Leia shivered with distaste as she shut the doors again.
In the end she tore strips from the heavy interfacing between the velvet of the robe and its silken lining to bind the lightsaber to the small of her back under her long, billowing red-and-bronze figured gown. Liegeus Vorn had worn a sort of loose tunic, trousers, and vest, probably standard in an economy poorly supplied with raw materials or the leisure for frivolity in fashionable fit. At a guess, whatever clothing they gave her to wear would be too big. Every hand-me-down she’d ever gotten from the Rebel pilots during the years on the run had been so.
Moving around the room to search had cleared her mind a little. Luke, she thought. Luke getting into the B-wing, sliding the cockpit closed—Luke’s spirit thanking her for the final touch of farewell.
She had no idea where Ashgad’s house was in relation to the city of Hweg Shul, which according to the Registry was the only large settlement on the planet. Even given fairly primitive transportation they could be hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. If Ashgad had ships of at least planet-hopper capability—not to speak of synthdroids—he probably had landspeeders as well.
She scratched the back of her wrist, where a small red bug bite showed her that whatever those little bugs were, they were pests. The sleepy temptation still lay heavy on her, to return to the divan on the sunlit terrace, to sit blinking out over that endless nothingness of glittering gravel, contemplating its colors: grayish whites, pinks, dusky blues, and green like unpolished tourmaline, an endless bed from which the sun glare winked like a leaden kaleidoscope.
I can’t, she thought, shaking straight her gown again and pulling on the velvet robe. When the drug wears off a little more I’ll have to put out a call to Luke.
If Luke hadn’t contracted the plague on the ship. If his B-wing hadn’t smashed into the planet with his dead or dying body aboard.
She leaned her forehead against the handleless corridor door. I got out of the Termination Block of the Death Star, she thought grimly. I can get out of here.
“You’re to leave her alone!” Ashgad’s voice, muffled and distant, came to her through the door.
Dzym’s reply, soft though it was, sounded shockingly near. The secretary must have been less than a meter from the door. “What can you mean, my lord?”
“I mean Liegeus told me you’d visited her.” Ashgad’s voice grew louder, even though he was keeping his tone down. The tap of his boots brought him to where Dzym must be standing. She could almost see him, towering over the smaller man. “Stay away from her.”
“She is a Jedi, Lord,” murmured Dzym, and there was a note in his voice, a dreamy greediness, that twisted Leia’s stomach with nauseated panic. “I was only seeking to keep her under control.”
“I know what you were seeking to do,” replied Ashgad shortly. “The sweetblossom will keep her under control without help from you. You’re not to go near her, understand? Skywalker’s her brother. He’ll know if she dies.”
“Here, Lord?” Dzym’s voice sank to a whisper. “On this world?”
“We can’t take the chance of the Council naming a successor. Until everything is accomplished, let her alone.”
His boots began to retreat. There was no sound from Dzym. He hadn’t budged, standing next to the door. She heard Ashgad stop, probably looking back. Still in arm’s-reach of her, Dzym murmured, “And then?” She could almost see him rubbing his gloved hands.
There was a long silence.
“And then we’ll see.”
Luke hung for several minutes in the seat restraint, getting his breath. Part of his mind he kept stretched out to the Force, manipulating the power of fusion and heat to keep the small impulse fuel reserves from exploding; part he extended, listening, probing across the harsh landscape for signs of danger.
People were on their way.
His mind picked up the radiant buzz