[Thrawn Trilogy] - 02(80)

“It’s from there that I usually give my justice to the people,” C’baoth said, standing up and stepping out of the carriage. “But we will not be so formal today. Come.”

The people were still standing motionless, watching them. Luke reached out with the Force as he stepped out beside C’baoth, trying to read their overall sense. It seemed expectant, perhaps a little surprised, definitely awed. There didn’t seem to be any fear; but there was nothing like affection, either. “How long have you been coming here?” he asked C’baoth.

“Less than a year,” C’baoth said, setting off casually down the street. “They were slow to accept my wisdom, but eventually I persuaded them to do so.”

The villagers were starting to return to their tasks now, but their eyes still followed the visitors. “What do you mean, persuaded them?” Luke asked.

“I showed them that it was in their best interests to listen to me.” C’baoth gestured to the cottage just ahead. “Reach out your senses, Jedi Skywalker. Tell me about that house and its inhabitants.”

It was instantly apparent what C’baoth was referring to. Even without focusing his attention on the place Luke could feel the anger and hostility boiling out of it. There was a flicker of something like murderous intent- “Uh-oh,” he said. “Do you think we should-?”

“Of course we should,” C’baoth said. “Come.” He stepped up to the cottage and pushed open the door Keeping his hand on his lightsaber, Luke followed.

There were two men standing in the room, one holding a large knife toward the other, both frozen in place as they stared at the intruders. “Put the knife down, Tarm,” C’baoth said sternly. “Svan, you will likewise lay aside your weapon.

Slowly, the man with the knife laid it on the floor. The other looked at C’baoth, back at his now unarmed opponent-“I said lay it aside!” C’baoth snapped.

The man cringed back, hastily pulled a small slugthrower from his pocket and dropped it beside the knife. “Better,” C’baoth said, his voice calm but with a hint of the fire still there. “Now explain yourselves.”

The story came out in a rush from both men at once, a loud and confusing babble of charges and countercharges about some kind of business deal gone sour. C’baoth listened silently, apparently having no trouble following the windstorm of fact and assumption and accusation. Luke waited beside him, wondering how he was ever going to untangle the whole thing. As near as he could understand it, both men seemed to have equally valid arguments.

Finally, the men ran out of words. “Very well,” C’baoth said. “The judgment of C’baoth is that Svan will pay to Tarm the full wages agreed upon.” He nodded at each man in turn. “The judgment will be carried out immediately.”

Luke looked at C’baoth in surprise. “That’s all?” he asked.

C’baoth turned a steely gaze on him. “You have something to say?”

Luke glanced back at the two villagers, acutely aware that arguing the ruling in front of them might undermine whatever authority C’baoth had built up here. “I just thought that more of a compromise might be in order.”

“There is no compromise to be made,” C’baoth said firmly. “Svan is at fault, and he will pay.”

“Yes, but-“

Luke caught the flicker of sense a half second before Svan dived for the slugthrower. With a single smooth motion he had his lightsaber free of his belt and ignited. But C’baoth was faster. Even as Luke’s green-white blade snapped into existence, C’baoth raised his hand; and from his fingertips flashed a sizzling volley of all-too-well-remembered blue lightning bolts.

Svan took the blast full in the head and chest, snapping over backwards with a scream of agony. He slammed into the ground, screaming again as C’baoth sent a second blast at him. The slugthrower flew from his hand, its metal surrounded for an instant by a blue-white coronal discharge.

C’baoth lowered his hand, and for a long moment the only sound in the room was a soft whimpering from the man on the floor. Luke stared at him in horror, the smell of ozone wrenching at his stomach. “C’baoth-!”

“You will address me as Master,” the other cut him off quietly.

Luke took a deep breath, forcing calm into his mind and voice. Closing down his lightsaber, he returned it to his belt and went over to kneel beside the groaning man. He was obviously still hurting, but aside from some angry red burns on his chest and arms, he didn’t seem to be seriously hurt. Laying his hand gently on the worst of the burns, Luke reached out with the Force, doing what he could to alleviate the other’s pain.