[Legacy Of The Force] - 05(121)
“There’s no Ben in this, Jacen.” She stopped her finger a fraction short of jabbing him in the chest. “Leave Ben out of it. If you so much as breathe on him, I’ll skin you alive, and that’s not a euphemism. Last chance. Drop this Sith garbage now, or take what’s coming.”
There. She’d said it. Sith. Jacen’s grin had vanished completely, and he looked like a total stranger. The Emperor had had yellow eyes, she recalled; they said he’d once had a kindly face with normal blue ones, but if Jacen’s turned yellow, he couldn’t possibly have looked any more alien to her than he did right then. There was nothing supernatural about his ambition, callousness, and arrogance.
“Good night, Aunt Mara,” he said, and walked away.
She didn’t watch him go. She didn’t need to.
This is all your fault, girl. You should have listened to Luke. He was never fooled by all that sophistry, and you stopped him dealing with it because you couldn’t deal with a teenage boy like any mom has to. The least you can do is clean up this sewer yourself.
“Okay, buddy,” she said, not caring if a couple of Bith Senators were staring at her. “Okay.”
There were some things she couldn’t walk away from, even though they’d tear her family apart. It was better torn than destroyed, because in time it would heal. Jacen was going to die.
JACEN SOLO’S APARTMENT BUILDING, CORUSCANT
Lumiya had never had any problem with biding her time, but Jacen was becoming too caught up in the administrative tedium of his new toythe Galactic Alliancefor her comfort. And her instinct told her that the Force was restless for change.
It was late, past midnight, and he still wasn’t back.
He’s flesh. There’s something about being wholly flesh and blood that distracts you from the task, and the more flesh you sacrifice, the less heir to its limits you become. But I can’t achieve what he can. The perfect balance: strength driven by passion but not confined by sentimentality.
Lumiya waited outside Jacen’s apartment building, taking in the glittering night and feeling the imminence of upheaval like the oppressive air before a violent storm.
His accession to Sith Lord had to happen very soon. The momentum of events, and the ease with which they’d fallen into place, pointed to the gathering pace of the fulfillment of the tassel prophecies.
He will immortalize his love.
Lumiya no longer spent frustrating hours contemplating the meaning. It would happen, and it would become clear.
Jacen didn’t appear as she’d expected. He was hard to locate, a habitual hider in the Force, so she went up to the apartment, bypassed his security locks, and sat down to wait for him. It was important that he stayed focused on the spiritual side of his progression and left the material aspect to Niathal. When he had achieved his destiny, then he could return to the military arena with skills beyond Niathal’s, and change the course of the war.
First things first.
She almost expected to see Ben Skywalker come through the doors. Some of his clothing and possessions were still in the apartment, but he’d gone. He was too soft to stay the course, just as she’d always said; if he needed time off to weep and recover every time he carried out a necessary and unpleasant task, he’d proven he was fit to be the sacrifice Jacen would make, and too dangerously weak to be his apprentice. A Sith Lord could only function with a strong apprentice. Like a good government, a Sith needed a strong opposition to keep him sharp.
Eventually the doors opened and Jacen stood in the hallway, looking as if he hadn’t wanted to find her there. He had a paper-wrapped package under one arm, and some disturbance clung to him as if he’d had a fight or an accident.
“Has anything happened?” she asked.
“Oh, a disagreement with Mara about… Ben. Spare me overprotective mothers.”
“Well, she might have a point. The time’s coming.”
“You keep saying that.” Jacen walked past her and went into his bedroom. She heard him opening doors and drawers as if he was in a hurry. “I’m anticipating events like a madman and looking for signs everywhere. And nothing’s happening, unless you count getting rid of both Gejjen and Omas. I think that’s climactic enough for one week, don’t you?”
“Mundane politics.”
“Maybe. Look, I’ve covered a lot of ground these last few weeks, and grasped every opportunity I’ve had to force things into fruition.” The banging and scraping of closets gave way to rustling fabric, and when Jacen emerged he was carrying a small holdall. “I want some solitude to think. Keep an eye on Niathal while I’m gone.”