Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [79]
He flicked his blade quickly, ridding two of the guards of their staffs, then placing the glowing tip a millimeter from Grievous’s death-helmeted visage. “Finesse. Artfulness. Economy. Otherwise, my friend, I fear that you will end up beyond the repair of even the Geonosians. Do you take my meaning?”
His vertically slit eyes unfathomable, Grievous nodded.
“I take your meaning, my lord.”
Dooku withdrew his blade. “Again, then. With some measure of polish, if I’m not asking for too much.”
Dooku seated himself and watched them go at it.
Hopeless, he thought.
But he knew that he was partly to blame. He had made the same mistake with Grievous that he had made with Ventress, by allowing her to fill herself with hate, as if hate could substitute for dispassion. Even the most hateful could be defeated. Even the most angry. There should be no emotion in killing, no self, only the act. When he should have been helping Ventress rid herself of self, he had instead permitted her to grow impassioned. Sidious had once confessed that he had erred similarly in his training of Darth Maul. Ventress and Maul had been driven by a desire to excel—to be the best—instead of merely allowing themselves to be pure instruments of the dark side.
The Jedi knew this about the Force: that the best of them were nothing more than instruments.
Dooku grew troubled.
Was Sidious thinking the same of him now? Thinking: This is where I failed poor Dooku. Pitiful creature …
It was entirely possible, considering how wrong things had gone on Naos III. Standard days earlier, Dooku had sent Sidious a coded transmission that was as much apology as explanation, and had yet to hear from him.
He watched Grievous disarm two of the MagnaGuards.
In fact, Grievous was all instrument.
And Dooku. What was Count Dooku of Serenno?
He glanced at the hold’s holoprojector table a moment before a blue holoimage of Sidious appeared above it.
My time is at hand, he told himself as he centered himself proudly on the transmission grid, Grievous behind him, down on one knee, with head lowered.
“My lord,” he said, bowing slightly at the waist. “I’ve been waiting.”
“There have been matters that warranted my close attention, Lord Tyranus.”
“Born, no doubt, of my failure at Naos Three. The ones I sent had every opportunity to kill Kenobi, Skywalker, and the Twi’lek pilot. Instead, they decided to attempt their capture, to extract additional funds from me, as well as to bolster their reputations.”
Sidious was dismissive. “Such is the way of bounty hunters. I should have foreseen this.”
Dooku blinked. Was this an admission of failure on Sidious’s part? Was Sidious’s upper lip twitching, or was it nothing more than noise in the transmission?
“The Force is strong in Skywalker,” Sidious went on.
“Yes, my lord. Very strong. Next time I will deal with the Jedi personally.”
“Yes, that time is drawing near, Lord Tyranus. But first we need to provide the Jedi with something that distracts them from hunting me.”
Sidious’s upper lip was definitely twitching. Was this worry? Worry from someone fond of saying that things were going precisely as planned?
“What has happened, my lord?”
“The Twi’lek’s information led them to our rendezvous on Coruscant,” Sidious said in a scurrilous voice.
Dooku was stunned. “Is there a greater danger?”
“They think they have my scent, Lord Tyranus, and perhaps they do.”
“Can you leave Coruscant, my lord?”
From parsecs distant, Sidious stared at him. “Leave Coruscant?”
“For a time, my lord. Surely we can find some way.”
Sidious fell silent for a long moment, then said: “Perhaps, Lord Tyranus. Perhaps.”
“If not, then I will come to you.”
Sidious shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I told you that their search for me would benefit us before too long, and thanks