[Last Of The Jedi] - 08(8)

“May the Force be with you, Ferus,” Solace said. She put layers of meaning into her words.

“I’ll see you on Coruscant,” he answered, turning away from her concern.

Then he headed off.

“I’ll scout around,” Clive said. “Make sure we weren’t followed before we head to the safe house.”

As soon as Clive left, Ry-Gaul spoke. “Are you sure of Ferus?” he asked.

“Yesterday I would have said yes,” Solace said. “But I feel it, too. Something has happened to him since Roan died. The Emperor released him from that cell. Even after he attacked Vader.”

Ry-GauI’s eyes were silver in the dying light. “I felt the dark side of the Force. Just a vibration, nothing more.”

“We have all been tempted by anger,” Solace said. “He has lost his partner. Someone who was closer than anyone else to him.”

“So he is struggling now with grief,” Ry-Gaul said. “The danger, of course, is if his grief turns to anger.”

“His better nature will win,” Solace said. “The Force is strong in Ferus. He will remember the Jedi way.”

Ry-Gaul looked around as the shadows lengthened around them. “It is a new galaxy,” he said.

It was a remark Solace was beginning to understand was typical of Ry-Gaul. It seemed merely an observation. Yet it said so much more.

In this new galaxy controlled by the Empire, shadows were deeper. There were caverns to fall into, very deep holes, treacherous places where even the best of beings could become lost. People could turn. No wonder when they saw each other they spoke so much of being changed. They had changed, and kept on changing; they were hard and getting harder. Their rage and sorrow could tip them into a place the dark side of the Force could reach.

Not Ferus, Solace said to herself. It will never happen to Ferus.





CHAPTER FIVE


Ferus had felt Solace’s worry. He should have been better at concealment. He would have to learn that. He imagined that Palpatine was a master at it. He’d fooled an entire Senate, after all. Not to mention the Jedi Council.

The memory of what he had done at the garrison still weighed heavily on him. He’d been afraid Solace would pick up on it - and she had.

He had lied to her, too. He wasn’t going back to the garrison. He couldn’t bear to tell them where he was going, because he couldn’t bear to say Roan’s name in front of them. That was when the anger rose up and choked him.

There was one more thing he had to do before he left Bellassa. He had to pay a visit to Roan’s family.

Once they had been his family, too. Ferus had arrived on Bellassa friendless and alone. He had lived all his life in the Jedi Temple, There had been plenty of contemplation and solitude there, but you were always surrounded by the humming life and energy of the place. You felt connected. When he’d come to Ussa he’d felt as though gravity was no longer working for him, that he was simply floating through space and time, not connecting to anyone or anything. Then Roan had befriended him and grounded him. He’d brought him home.

Ferus was careful to leave the Imperial speeder at a checkpoint and take a long walk to Roan’s parents. They were living in a different home now, under another name. It had become too dangerous for them to live openly as Roan’s family. Roan had restricted his visits in the last year. Ferus hadn’t seen them at all.

He stood in front of the door, knowing that the sensor was checking him out for weapons. His lightsaber would be picked up and an alert would go off inside. But they would recognize him and let him in.

The door opened. Roan’s mother, Enna, put out her hand. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Ferus. You came.”

He stepped into her embrace. “I had to.”

She drew him inside. She put a hand on his cheek. “Thank you.”

He followed her into the main room. Roan’s father, Alexir, stood and hugged him. “Thank you for coming.” His voice was hoarse.

Feelings surged through Ferus, making him disoriented. He felt like a clumsy protocol droid with a bad servornotor, stumbling about the room greeting Roan’s close friends and family who had gathered in the Bellassan tradition of Nine Days of Mourning. No one would leave Alexir and Enna’s house until the nine days were up, and then the group would rotate visits for nine weeks. Ferus knew the tradition well. He had participated in it himself three years before when Roan’s beloved Aunt Lilia had died.

Ferus sat next to Enna. This was tradition, too. The latest to arrive always took a seat next to the mother.

“Now the family is complete,” Enna said.

Alexir turned to Ferus. “Tell us,” he said. “We know only that he died in the garrison.”