[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(110)

“Yes, Master C’baoth,” Luke said, bracing himself as he stepped over and gingerly sat down. It was, to his mind, a thoroughly uncomfortable chair: too warm, too large, and far too ornate. Even more than the rest of C’baoth’s home, it had an alien smell to it, and a strangely disturbing aura that Luke could only assume was a lingering aftereffect of the hours the Jedi Master had spent in it judging his people.

Now it was Luke’s turn to do so.

Taking a deep breath, trying to push back the fatigue that had become a permanent part of him, he nodded at the two villagers. “I’m ready,” he said. “Please begin.”

It was a relatively simple case, as such things went. The first villager’s livestock had gotten through the second’s fence and had stripped half a dozen of his fruit bushes before they’d been discovered and driven back. The animals’ owner was willing to pay compensation for the ruined bushes, but the second was insisting that he also rebuild the fence. The first countered that a properly built fence wouldn’t have failed in the first place and that, furthermore, his livestock had suffered injuries from the sharp edges as they went through. Luke sat quietly and let them talk, waiting until the arguments and counterarguments finally ended.

“All right,” he said. “In the matter of the fruit bushes themselves, my judgment is that you”-he nodded to the first villager-“will pay for the replacement of those damaged beyond repair, plus an additional payment to compensate for the fruit eaten or destroyed by your livestock. The latter amount will be determined by the village council.”

Beside him C’baoth stirred, and Luke winced at the disapproval he could sense from the Jedi Master. For a second he floundered, wondering if he should back up and try a different solution. But changing his mind so abruptly didn’t sound like a good thing to do. And anyway, he really didn’t have any better ideas.

So what was he doing here?

He looked around the room, fighting against a sudden flush of nervousness. They were all looking at him: C’baoth, the two supplicants, the rest of the villagers who’d come tonight for Jedi judgment. All of them expecting him to make the right decision.

“As to the fence, I’ll examine it tomorrow morning,” he continued. “I want to see how badly it was damaged before I make my decision.

The two men bowed and backed away. “I therefore declare this session to be closed,” C’baoth called. His voice echoed grandly, despite the relatively small size of the room. An interesting effect, and Luke found himself wondering if it was a trick of the room’s acoustics or yet another Jedi technique that Master Yoda had never taught him. Though why he would ever need such a technique he couldn’t imagine.

The last of the villagers filed out of the room. C’baoth cleared his throat; reflexively, Luke braced himself. “I sometimes wonder, Jedi Skywalker,” the old man said gravely, “whether or not you have really been listening to me these past few days.

“I’m sorry, Master C’baoth,” Luke said, an all too familiar lump sticking in his throat. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed, he was never quite able to measure up to C’baoth’s expectations.

“Sorry?” C’baoth’s eyebrows rose sardonically. “Sorry? Jedi Skywalker, you had it all right there in your hands. You should have cut off their prattle far sooner than you did-your time is too valuable to waste with petty recriminations. You should have made the decision yourself on the amount of compensation, but instead gave it over to that absurd excuse of a village council. And as to the fence-” He shook his head in mild disgust. “There was absolutely no reason for you to postpone judgment on that. Everything you needed to know about the damage was right there in their minds. It should have been no trouble, even for you, to have pulled that from them.”

Luke swallowed. “Yes, Master C’baoth,” he said. “But reading another person’s thoughts that way seems wrong-“

“When you are using that knowledge to help him?” C’baoth countered. “How can that be wrong?”

Luke waved a hand helplessly. “I’m trying to understand, Master C’baoth. But this is all so new to me.”

C’baoth’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “Is it, Jedi Skywalker? Is it really? You mean you ve never violated someone’s personal preference in order to help him? Or ignored some minor bureaucratic rule that stood between you and what needed to be done?”

Luke felt his cheeks flush, thinking back to Lando’s use of that illegal slicer code to get his X-wing repaired at the Sluis Van shipyards. “Yes, I’ve done that on occasion,” he admitted. “But this is different, somehow. It feels : I don’t know. Like I’m taking more responsibility for these people’s lives than I should.”