Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [37]
The enormous building TC-16 had called a workshop topped two hundred meters in height and was crowned with latticework spires and towers that evoked strains of eerie music from the steady wind. Arrays of tall skylights lit the vast interior space, in which thousands of Xi Charrians toiled. Arcades of exquisitely engraved columns supported a vaulted ceiling of exposed roof trusses, among which roosted several thousand more Xi Charrians, suspended by their scissor feet and humming contentedly.
“The night shift?” Anakin wondered aloud.
Their pair of escorts led them into a kind of chancery, whose tall doors opened on a spotless room that could have passed for the captain’s cabin of a luxury space yacht. Occupying a thronelike chair in the center of the room was the largest Xi Charrian the Jedi had yet seen, being attended to by a dozen smaller ones. Elsewhere, groups of tool-wielding Xi Charrians were going over every square millimeter of the chamber, scrubbing, cleaning, polishing.
Without ceremony, TC-16 approached the Prelate and tendered a greeting. The droid had tasked his vocoder to provide Obi-Wan and Anakin with simultaneous translations of his utterances.
“May I present Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Jedi Anakin Skywalker,” he began.
Waving away his retinue, the Prelate pivoted his long head to regard Obi-Wan.
“TeeCee,” Obi-Wan said, “tell him we’re sorry to have disturbed him during his ablutions.”
“You’re not disturbing him, sir. The Prelate is attended to in similar fashion at all hours of the day.”
The Prelate chittered.
“Excellency, I speak your language as a result of my former employment in the court of Viceroy Nute Gunray.” The droid listened to the Prelate’s response, then said: “Yes, I realize that does not endear me to you. But may I say in defense that my time among the Neimoidians was the most trying of my existence. To which my physical appearance surely attests, and is cause for my great shame.”
Clearly mollified, the Prelate chittered again.
“These Jedi have come to seek permission from you to pose questions to a devotee in Workshop Xcan—a certain t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak.”
TC-16 supplied the glottal stops and clicking sounds necessary to pronounce the name.
“A virtuoso engraver, to be sure, Excellency. As to the Jedi’s interest in him, it is hoped that a work of art to which he devoted himself will provide a clue as to the current whereabouts of an important Separatist leader.” The droid listened, then added: “And may I add that anything that brings joy to the Xi Char brings contentment to the Republic.”
The Prelate’s eye grooves found the Jedi again.
“The lightsabers are not weapons, Excellency,” TC-16 said after a brief exchange. “But if permission to speak with t’laalak-s’lalak-t’th’ak rests on their surrendering the lightsabers, then I’m certain they will comply.”
Obi-Wan was already reaching for his lightsaber, but Anakin looked dubious.
“You did say you would follow my lead.”
Anakin opened his cloak. “I said I’d try, Master.”
They handed the lightsabers to TC-16, who presented them to the Prelate for inspection.
“It hardly surprises me that you see room for improvement, Excellency,” the droid said after a moment. “But then, what tool could fail to benefit from the touch of a Xi Charrian?” He listened, then added: “I’m certain that the Jedi know you will honor your pledge to leave the imperfections intact.”
“That went better than expected,” Obi-Wan said as he, Anakin, and TC-16 were being escorted into the heart of Workshop Xcan.
Anakin wasn’t convinced. “You’re too trusting, Master. I sense much suspicion.”
“We can thank Raith Sienar for some of that.”
Almost two decades earlier, the wealthy and influential owner-president of Sienar Design Systems—a chief supplier of starfighters to the Republic—had spent time among the Xi Char, mastering ultraprecision engineering techniques he would later incorporate into his own designs. Revealed to be a “nonbeliever,” Sienar had been exiled