Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [219]
Anakin felt his own smile turn melancholy. “Just the other day, you were saying that my power is no credit to me.”
“I’m not speaking of your power, Anakin, but of your heart. The greatness in you is a greatness of spirit. Courage and generosity, compassion and commitment. These are your virtues,” Obi-Wan said gently. “You have done great things, and I am very proud of you.”
Anakin found he had nothing to say.
“Well.” Obi-Wan looked down, chuckling, releasing Anakin’s hand and arm. “I believe I hear General Grievous calling my name. Good-bye, old friend. May the Force be with you.”
All Anakin could offer in return was a reflexive echo.
“May the Force be with you.”
He stood, still and silent, and watched Obi-Wan walk away. Then he turned and slowly, head hanging, moved toward his speeder.
The Chancellor was waiting.
FREE FALL IN THE DARK
A chill wind scoured the Chancellor’s private landing deck at the Senate Office Building. Anakin stood wrapped in his cloak, chin to his chest, staring down at the deck below his feet. He didn’t feel the chill, or the wind. He didn’t hear the whine of the Chancellor’s private shuttle angling in for a landing, or smell the swirls of brown smog coiling along the wind.
What he saw were the faces of Senators who had stood on this deck to cheer for him; what he heard were exclamations of joy and congratulations when he returned their Supreme Chancellor to them unharmed. What he felt was a memory of hot pride at being the focus of so many eager HoloNet crews, anxious to get even the slightest glimpse of the man who had conquered Count Dooku.
How many days ago had that been? He couldn’t remember. Not many. When you don’t sleep, days smear together into a haze of fatigue so deep it becomes a physical pain. The Force could keep him upright, keep him moving, keep him thinking, but it could not give him rest. Not that he wanted rest. Rest might bring sleep.
What sleep might bring, he could not bear to know.
He remembered Obi-Wan telling him about some poet he’d once read—he couldn’t remember the name, or the exact quote, but it was something about how there is no greater misery than to remember, with bitter regret, a day when you were happy …
How had everything gone so fast from so right to so wrong?
He couldn’t even imagine.
Greasy dust swirled under the shuttle’s repulsors as it settled to the deck. The hatch cycled open, and four of Palpatine’s personal guards glided out, long robes catching the breeze in silken blood-colored ripples. They split into two pairs to flank the doors as the Chancellor emerged beside the tall, bulky form of Mas Amedda, the Speaker of the Senate. The Chagrian’s horns tilted over Palpatine as they walked together, seemingly deep in conversation.
Anakin moved forward to meet them. “Chancellor,” he said, bowing a greeting. “Lord Speaker.”
Mas Amedda looked at Anakin with a curl to his blue lips that, on a human, would have signaled disgust; it was a Chagrian smile. “Greetings, Your Grace. I trust the day finds you well?”
Anakin’s eyes felt as if they’d been dusted with sand. “Very well, Lord Speaker, thank you for asking.”
Amedda turned back to Palpatine, and Anakin’s polite smile faded to a twist of contempt. Maybe he was just overtired, but somehow, looking at the curlings of the Chagrian’s naked head-tentacles as they twisted across his chest, he found himself hoping that Obi-Wan hadn’t been lying to him about Sidious. He rather hoped that Mas Amedda might be a secret Sith, because something about the Speaker of the Senate was so revolting that Anakin could easily imagine just slicing his head in half …
It gradually dawned on Anakin that Palpatine was giving Mas Amedda the brush-off, and was sending the Redrobes with him.
Good. He wasn’t in the mood to play games. By themselves, they could talk straight with each other. A little straight