“Not allowed,” the giant in the doorway said again, this time with a stomp of his tall, heavy boots. The ground shook beneath his statement.
Boba felt a chill of fear, and remembered his father’s words: Welcome your fear as a friend, but never show it to others. He made his voice sound casual, almost friendly. “What’s not allowed?” he asked.
“The unpermitted,” was the terse reply. “Now come with us, young sir.”
Us? There was just him, just the one giant. But that was enough. “Come - where?” Boba asked.
“The Count, ready to see you. Follow us, please.”
Boba knew he had no choice. The creature wasn’t going to move until Boba did as he said.
CHAPTER TWO
Boba followed the giant, past more closed doors, to an ornately carved door at the end of a long hall.
The giant knocked, then entered to a signal Boba hadn’t heard. Inside, the room was larger than the others. It had furniture, too. A desk with carved legs had a holoprojector on it. A holographic comm unit was ready for transmissions in the corner of the room.
Behind the desk was a tall picture window. The window faced a different direction than the window in the other room, but overlooked the same view, surrounded by the same woods. What’s going on? Boba wondered.
A man in a long cloak was standing at the window, looking out. He turned when Boba entered the room. A smile as thin and as sharp as a dagger creased his long, narrow face, slicing his white beard in two. In a single glance, Boba could feel his dark presence. This was something more than strength. It was power.
“Young Boba Fett,” the Count said in a sonorous voice. “I hope you slept well. I see you found the clean clothing that was left beside your bed.”
Boba nodded, fingering the coarse tunic. “Yes, sir.”
“And the accommodations?”
Boba nodded again. The breakfast hadn’t amounted to much, only a shuura. But he wasn’t about to complain.
“Excellent,” said the Count. “And I believe you have met Cydon Prax. He assists me with all things.”
The hideous giant bowed and Boba bowed back. His father had taught him to spot a killer when he saw one. And Prax looked like he could easily be a killer, if pushed the wrong way. Boba felt a tinge of anger, too. Prax now stood where Boba’s dad had stood before, at the Count’s side.
“Prax will look after you and take care of your needs,” the Count continued. “You must let him know if there is anything you desire. Anything at all.”
Boba nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” He wanted to seem agreeable - almost subservient. He wanted Prax to think of him as an obedient little kid. That way, neither Prax nor the Count would know what was really going through his head.
“Since the unfortunate death of your father, I have been pleased to take on the responsibility for your care and upbringing,” said the Count. “As you no doubt know, that was Jango Fett’s last and fondest wish.”
It was? Boba thought. The Count’s words were kind, but why was his voice so cold?
“I have many obligations that may, unfortunately, prevent me from giving you my total attention,” continued the Count. “However, I welcome you to my quarters here on Raxus Prime. You may find them a little primitive. We are engaged in an important archaeological project here. I will expect you to respect my rules and stay out of the way.”
“Yes, sir,” said Boba. It was easy enough to please adults. All he had to do was nod and agree.
“Good.” The Count’s smile was as bright and cold as an icicle. “Cydon, leave us.”
Cydon Prax gave a nod and lumbered out of the room. The Count slowly approached Boba and asked, “Have you ever heard the name Tyranus?”
Boba nodded. It was a simple question, but the Count’s tone was ominous.
“Your father may have mentioned it to you in connection with his work on Kamino, developing the clone troopers. I believe I’ve heard you say that he and I were the same person. When you were on Geonosis, you looked at me and said, ‘Isn’t that Tyranus?’ Do you remember that?”
“I remember,” said Boba. Where is this going? he wondered.
“You might ask, why would someone have two names, Tyranus and Dooku?” the Count suggested mildly.
“I learned from my father not to ask too many questions,” Boba said. He could see from the Count’s eyes that this was the right answer.
“Excellent,” said the Count. “Your father was very discreet. I believe you will be, too.”
“Yes,” said Boba, wanting to reassure the Count.
“A useful man, your father,” said the Count. “And I see you are your father’s son. I am sure that with the proper training, you will be as useful someday.”