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Near the girl, however, the young boy had not been so lucky. The avalanche had crushed him instantly. The boy had been dead long before Luke arrived.

Luke continued to work grimly, until they had excavated the body. Amid sobs of grief, he released himself from his semitrance and opened his eyes.

Gantoris stood directly in front of him. Barely suppressed anger seethed beneath his controlled expression.

“Why are you here?” Gantoris asked. “Who are you?”

Warton stepped up beside Luke. “I saw him walk out of the geyser field. All the geysers went off at once, and he just strode out of the steam.” Warton blinked in awe as he looked at Luke. “He says he has come for you, Gantoris.”

“Yes—I know,” Gantoris muttered to himself.

Luke met the other man’s eyes. “I am Luke Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. The Empire has fallen, and a New Republic has taken its place.” He drew a deep breath. “If you are Gantoris and if you have the ability, I have come to teach you how to use the Force.”

Several of the others walked up, bearing the broken, rag-doll body of the dead boy. The man carrying the boy let his stony expression flicker for just an instant.

The look on Gantoris’s face seemed a frightening mixture of horror and eagerness. “I have dreamed of you. A dark man who offers me incredible secrets, then destroys me. I am lost if I go with you.” Gantoris straightened. “You are a demon.”

Surprised, especially after his efforts to save the two children, Luke tried to placate him. “No, that isn’t it.”

Other colonists gathered around the confrontation, finding a focus for their anger and suspicion. They looked at Luke, at this stranger who had arrived in time to usher in the death of one of their dwindling number.

Luke glanced at the people around him and decided to gamble. He stared directly into Gantoris’s eyes. “What can I do to prove my intentions to you? I am your guest, or your prisoner. What I want is your cooperation. Please listen to what I have to say.”

Gantoris reached out to take the body of the boy in his own arms. The man who had been carrying him looked forlorn and lost as he stared at the bloodstains on his sleeves. Gantoris nodded back to Luke. “Take the dark man.”

Several people reached forward to grasp Luke’s arms. He did not struggle.

Bearing the dead boy, Gantoris led a slow procession out of the chasm. He turned once briefly to glare at Luke. “We will learn why you are here.”

6

Leia stood in the private communications chamber, heaving a sigh as she glanced again at the chronometer. The Caridan ambassador was late. He was probably doing it just to spite her.

Out of deference to the ambassador, she had reset her clock to Caridan local time. Though Ambassador Furgan had suggested the transmission time himself, it seemed he couldn’t be bothered to abide by it.

Two-way mirrors displayed empty corridors outside the communications chamber. At this late hour most sensible people were deeply asleep in their own quarters—but no one had ever promised Leia Organa Solo that diplomatic duties kept regular hours.

When such obligations crept into her schedule, Han usually grumbled at being awakened in the depths of the night, complaining that even pirates and smugglers kept their activities to more civilized time slots. But this evening Leia’s alarm had awakened her to empty and silent rooms. Han still had not called.

A cleaning droid puttered along the corridor, polishing the walls and scouring the two-way mirrors; Leia watched its lamprey like scrubbers do their work.

With a burst of static from poorly tuned holonet transmitters, the image of Ambassador Furgan of Carida formed in the center of the receiving dais. Maybe the poor transmission quality was deliberate—yet another rude reaction. The chronometer told Leia that the ambassador had made his transmission a full six minutes past the time he himself had insisted on. Furgan made no attempt to apologize for his tardiness, and Leia studiously avoided calling attention to it.

Furgan was a barrel-chested humanoid with spindly arms and