Star Wars_ Shatterpoint - Matthew Woodring Stover [84]
You are sent for. She is not to be defied. Vastor turned and tugged on the reins, but Mace had them in his fist, and they might as well have been bolted to a cliff.
Vastor's eyes flickered with distant danger: lightning from a storm below the horizon. You will regret this.
"I am a Jedi Master, and a Senior Member of the Jedi Council," Mace said patiently. "I am a general of the Grand Army of the Republic. I am not to be sent for. If she wants to see me, she will find me at the steamcrawler track before dusk."
The lightning in the lor peletts eyes came closer. I have said I will deliver you.
Mace matched his stare exactly. "Funny: that's almost what Nick said. He didn't have much luck with it either."
My orders-'Are your problem." Mace let the reins fall and spread his open hands. He went perfectly still, perfectly relaxed, perfectly calm, except for the sizzle of the Force that arced like static electricity from the two lightsaber handgrips to his empty palms. "Unless you choose to make them our problem. You can do that right now, if you like."
Vaster let the reins drop as well. He stepped away from the grasser and turned to face the Jedi Master squarely. His immense shoulders bulged, and muscles across his chest went rigid in acid-etched definition. The air shimmered like a mirage around him: anger beat against Mace like a hot wind in the Force. You will come "with me.
"No."
Dark power clutched at Mace's will. You will come with me.
Slowly, reluctantly, Mace slid himself out of the saddle and slipped to the ground. He took two steps toward Vaster.
And stopped.
"I no longer enjoy your company," the Jedi Master said. "Go now. Do not return to me without Depa."
Vastor's eyes widened. His mouth worked soundlessly.
"You and I should not be alone together. There may be a fight."
Tendons stood out in Vastor's neck, winching his head downward and pulling his lips away from his sharp-filed teeth.,' do not wish to fight you, doshalo. Despite the rage smoking off him in the Force, his voice was soft. Depa will be angry to find you dead.
"Then you'd best be on your way," Mace replied reasonably. "Don't want to make Depa angry, do you?"
Apparently he didn't: Vastor's growl thinned to a snarl of frustration.
And what should I tell her you are doing here?
"Nothing that I can be bothered to explain to you." Mace turned back to his grasser and took its reins once more. "Any questions Depa might have, she should ask me herself."
Though pretending to busy himself with adjusting the grasser's tack, Mace paid absolute attention to Vastor's white-hot stare burning its way into his shoulder blades. He stayed loose and balanced, ready to spring in any direction should the lor pelek lunge for his back.
Instead, he only heard a snarl and a growl and several short, deep yips: Vaster had said something to one of the Akk Guards who watched the prisoners. With one last glare that Mace could feel as though a lens focused sunlight on his skin, Vaster whirled away and plunged into the jungle, loping up the line of march.
Mace watched him go, bleak satisfaction on his face. He thought: So much for being the welcome guest.
The Akk Guard whom Vastor had spoken to gave Mace a dire look, echoed by the three akk dogs nearby. Mace ignored them all, and a few seconds later the Akk Guard stomped off to find his partner and the other akks. Mace caught Nick Rostu's eye and beckoned. Nick turned the children's grasser over to one of the Balawai and trotted over to the Jedi Master, keeping one eye turned toward the departing Akk Guard. "Shee. Those guys give me the creeps. Looked a little tense there, Master Windu. What did the big guy say to you?"
"Here, hold him." Mace handed the grasser's reins to Nick. "How much did you hear?"
"Some of what you said. Got some guts, you do." Nick stretched up to scratch