Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm Part 17

Of course Baiuntu would subject himself and the serving fe male to the effects of the immobilizing perfume, she found herself thinking. How better to put someone you wanted to poison at ease than by partaking of that same poison yourself? If nothing else, it suggested that the narcotizing procedure was not fatal. Baiuntu might be the type to join his intended victims in sleep, but not in death.

She saw it all clearly now. They had been lured in and ren dered helpless-but for what purpose, to what end? Soon other Qulun would doubtless open up the room, wait for the tranquil-izing mist drifting within to dissipate, and then a.s.sist their chief and the unconscious female. As for the clan's erstwhile "guests," what was to be done with them remained a matter of some speculation. Speculation she could not track to a logical conclusion, because she was tired, so tired, and at the moment nothing could possibly feel any better, nothing could conceivably matter more, than a good night's sleep.

A part of her brain screamed at her to keep awake, to stay alert.

Fighting the perfume's effects, she managed to lift her head off the cus.h.i.+ons. It was a last, defiant gesture. Even Jedi training could be overcome. Perhaps not by force of arms. But a lightsaber was useless against the delectable, all-pervasive, irresistible fragrance of essence of paluruvu . . .

13.

"There's the grotty little dyzat! Get him!"

Tooqui didn't know why the two Qulun were chasing him, but he didn't hang around to find out. Both clan members were brandis.h.i.+ng strange, foreign weapons, and even though he didn't know what they were or what they could do, he decided right away that it would be better not to wait around to see.

Something bad must have happened. If Master Barriss was all right, she wouldn't stand for him being chased like this, by screaming, wild-eyed, angry Qulun. The last time he had seen her, she and her endlessly interesting friends were relaxing in the company of the Qulun chief.

Everyone seemed to be getting along wonderfully well well. What had happened to change that?

True, the traders were Qulun, not Alwari. But they were still people of the plains, not the hills. Perhaps they were after all no more trustworthy than a bunch of roving, s...o...b..ring Alwari, the dorgum-herding snigvolds.

If that was the case, then Master Barriss too might for sure be in danger. She and her teachers were very powerful, but they were not G.o.ds.

They were not as strong as Miywondl, the wind, or Kapchenaga, the thunder. They were only people. Bigger than the Gwurran, maybe a little smarter, but just people. They could be broken, and deaded. The Qulun were people, too. That meant they also knew of different ways of killing.

But if there had been killing, surely he would have heard something. From what he had seen, Master Barriss and her com panions were not the kind to go down without a fight. Had they been tricked somehow? Many were the tales told in the tribal canyons on dark nights of the tricks shrewd trader folk sometimes played on unsuspecting visitors.

Something bright and hot singed the hair on the crest of his mane. He accelerated, running as hard and fast as he could. Though the Qulun people had longer legs, they were accus tomed to riding and selling. If there was one thing the Gwurran knew how to do and did well, it was running. Faces peered out at him from the outlandish fold-up flat-sided dwellings. Alerted by all the commotion, a few of their occupants tried to catch him. He dodged them all, as if he were playing a game of blo-bi with his family-friendlies. No game this, though. The bright-hotness spat by him again. This time it missed him completely, momentarily illuminating the night sky above his head.

Then he was clear of the camp, his legs pumping as he raced out onto the open prairie. The high gra.s.s slowed him down somewhat, but it would also help hide him. He thought he was safe-until he heard the clumping of sadain feet coming up fast behind him.

"This way!" a Qulun shouted. "I saw the dyzat over this way!"

I am not a dyzat! he wanted to turn and yell. However, he was also smart enough to know that the moment of foolish defiance might very well cost him his life. Frantically, he hunted for someplace to go to ground. But there were no familiar hills here, no friendly clefts or crevices down which to duck. The voices of the pursuing Qulun drew closer. Any moment now and they would be right on top of him. Lights lit the night in his wake. More mechanical magic, acquired from traders in the cities. He wondered if he would live long enough to set eyes on one of those people-filled, magical, mysterious places only a very few Gwurran had ever visited.

That was when he saw the kholot burrow. The entrance was just big enough for him to squeeze into. Panting hard, he wriggled himself through the opening and started down the incline on his belly. Would the Qulun think to look for him under the ground, or just on top of it? The burrow widened slightly, allowing him to crawl faster. When it opened into an oval chamber three times his size, he knew he had reached the end. Muted by the intervening earth, the shouts and cries of the patrolling Qulun sounded more distant than they were. It would have been a perfect hiding place, except for one complication.

It was already occupied by a family of kholot.

He froze. The kholot ate gra.s.ses and grains and leaves, not Gwurran. At least, he hoped so. Flat of face and covered in p.r.i.c.kly olive-green fur, the two adults regarded him warily. Thankfully, there were no cubs in the burrow. If there had been, he probably wouldn't have made it this far.

Each adult was almost as big as he was. Their teeth, unfortunately, were much bigger: wide, heavy-duty incisors designed for slicing through large clumps of gra.s.s. If their blunt-snouted owners were so inclined, they could also slice right through his face.

He held his breath as they approached, snuffling and grunt ing, and tried not to tremble too much as they sniffed him over and up and all around.

Eyes shut tight, he tried to imagine himself a piece of dorgum dung that had accidentally rolled down into their burrow. The sounds of tromping sadains and their Qu-lun riders still reached him from above. He did not know how much longer he could remain motionless.

With a last disdainful sniff that at another time the terrified Tooqui might have taken as an insult, the pair of kholot pushed past him and headed up the tunnel. Their reaction was more than pa.s.sing strange.

Surely he couldn't smell bad enough to force them to vacate their burrow?

Then he remembered the time spent in the Qulun visitors' house, swathed in foreign smells and peculiar aromas. Evidently enough of that had adhered to his fur not only to drive the kholot out, but to keep them from biting him. Smell bad, taste bad, the two burrowing grazers had apparently decided.

There was an excited yell from above, followed by a sharp crackling sound and a pained yowl from one of the kholot. Emerging from the burrow, it had been mistaken for his quarry by one of the patrolling Qulun. As soon as the unfortunate grazer had been identified, the other Qulun had a good laugh at their trigger-happy comrade's expense. Turning himself around in the cramped chamber, Tooqui put his head partway up the tunnel and listened intently.

"Enough of this. It's late, and I'm tired. I don't care what Baiuntu says."

"Same here," declared another Qulun firmly, reining in his sadain. "Let's tell him we caught and killed the runaway, and be done with it."

"It's alone out here, without food or water or supplies. The prairie will finish it off."

This confident exchange was followed by the sound of many sadain feet moving swiftly away. Even so, Tooqui remained hidden in the burrow until he was certain it was safe to emerge.

When he finally did so, tired and dirty but alive, there was no sign of his pursuers. Finding a rock, he climbed just high enough to see over the tops of the windswept gra.s.s. The Qulun were breaking camp, and in the middle of the night at that. They must be very anxious about something to do that, he knew. As far as Tooqui knew, no nomads had ever been observed breaking camp in the middle of the night.

Were Master Barriss and her friends still alive? And if they weren't, what did it matter to him? He was alone, without food or weapons or water, several days' run from the nearest hill country of the Gwurran.

Hugging himself against the chill night wind, he took stock of his surroundings. The open plains were no place for a nervous little Gwurran!

Every sound made him twitch, every hint of movement caused him to jump.

What if there were shanhs out here, shadowing the traders' caravan? If they picked up his scent, he wouldn't last as long as a lace-winged birru in a windstorm.

Even if he wanted to help, there was nothing he could do. The best thing for him would be to start back home right now. If he was lucky, if he found some water and some things to eat along the way, and if nothing ate him along the way, he might make it back to the country of the Gwurran in a few days. He would have an exciting, dramatic tale to tell. The young ones would gaze up at him with awe, while their sometimes condescending elders would be forced to acknowledge, however grudgingly, his considerable accomplishments. For the rest of his life, he would be a big big among his people.

And yet-and yet, there was the matter of Master Barriss, who instead of shooting him as a thief had befriended him, and had interceded on his behalf when he had expressed his longing to travel beyond the traditional Gwurran homeland. Wasn't that what he was doing now? Of course, when he had made that request, he hadn't envisioned anything like this happening.

No one, not even the human Barriss, would blame him for heading home as fast as his long-toed feet could carry him.

I have to know, he finally decided. He at least had to know. If Master Barriss and the others had been killed, then he could start for home with a clear conscience. On the other hand, if they were still alive . . .

If they were still alive, he suspected that his life was going to get even more complicated than it already was. He should be looking forward to that, he tried to tell himself. Hadn't he said as much to the humans?

That Tooqui was the bravest, the fiercest, the smartest, the most most of all the Gwurran? At the time, he'd wondered if any of them had believed him. Certainly those two miserable dim dim stucky-up clanless Alwari, Kyakhta and Bul-gan, had not. Imagine to see their faces-if they were still alive, he reminded himself-when Tooqui, the very same Tooqui they had mocked and derided, showed up to rescue-save their sorry short-tailed ugly behinds! The image filled him, if not with courage, then at least with nerve.

Tooqui would show them! Tooqui would show them all. De termined now, he prepared to track the roving Qulun clan. He would shadow them from afar, waiting to see what there was to see, waiting to learn whatever could be learned. It was just as he'd said. He was the boldest, the toughest, the most resourceful of all the Gwurran!

Alone and weaponless against an entire Qulun clan, with only a debilitating feeling of helplessness for company, he knew he would have to be even more than that.

She sensed that her head was still attached to her shoulders, but that was about the only good thing Luminara could be certain of when she finally regained consciousness. Her arms were tightly tied behind her, and her legs bound at thigh, calf, and ankle. Daylight was all she could detect through the soft, permeable hood that covered her head. She could breathe, but only through her nose, as the gag that had been expertly positioned in her mouth kept her from enunciating anything more eloquent than a grunt.

Still, that was enough to provoke answering grunts from nearby. She thought she recognized Obi-Wan, and Barriss. Anakin she wasn't certain about, but the m.u.f.fled, high-pitched Ansion-ian noises most likely originated from Kyakhta and Bulgan. Evaluating different tones finally convinced her that Anakin, too, was among the imprisoned.

A voice that was not smothered by a gag quieted the communal mumbling.

"Good morning, my honorable guests. I have to thank you for what is going to prove a most profitable evening. For me, not for you," Baiuntu concluded contentedly. "The Borokii overclan you seek lies but a few days' ride north of here, but you won't get to meet with them. Instead, we've embarked on a leisurely journey to the city of Dashbalar, where my clan always does good business." Luminara could hear him striding back and forth in front of them, preposterously parading his triumph before prisoners unable to see.

"I'm sure you're wondering what's going to happen to you. You should relax. Haja, I would not think of harming you! To do so would be to violate every tenet of Qulun hospitality." Luminara could sense, if not see, him grinning. "There are many means by which word can travel quickly over the plains. It is said that if the return to Cuipernam of certain offworld visitors could be delayed for two parts of a breeding cycle, a great reward would be paid. These visitors were carefully described. You can therefore imagine my surprise and delight when you appeared outside our camp, asking for directions to the Borokii. I was overjoyed when you agreed to accept my hospitality. You will now have the opportunity to experience it at length."

She felt him approach. His musky body odor grew stronger, and his tone darkened. "While I was told not to harm you, but only to delay your return to the city, I must warn you: don't make me angry by trying anything that might impact on my profits. As we travel, you will be kept comfortable. But several of my best people will be watching you at all times. At the first sign of Jedi tricks, the perpetrator will be shot.

Yes, we ignorant people of the plains know about the Force. Don't make me have to do anything we will both regret." Luminara sensed the return of the smile as he stepped away from her. "It would devalue my clan's reputation as traders."

Somewhere close by, she could hear Anakin growling incom prehensibly through his gag and hood.

"Now, now," Baiuntu protested, "I can't understand a word you're saying.

Though I think the essence of it is clear enough. I am something of an expert on essences, as you by now must appreciate. When the time comes for the giving of food and water, you will be taken care of one at a time. Believe me, I respect the abilities of the Jedi as much as anyone.

My people and I will take no chances with you. To that end I have seen to it that the corn-links you brought with you have been destroyed beyond any hope of repair. So even should you succeed in freeing yourselves, there will be no calling for help from the despised, if profitable, city folk." Luminara could feel his heavy footsteps receding as he turned to exit the room.

"Very soon now this visitors' house, the last of our camp still standing, will be taken down and packed on its transport. Another mobile facility has been reserved especially for you. While I regret that I cannot trust you to enjoy the pa.s.sing scenery, you will at least be able to smell it.

Enjoy the cool breeze of the prairie, my valued guests. And please, no theatrical attempts to escape. I would take it personally."

As soon as one of us gets loose, you'll take something personally, Luminara thought furiously. She forced herself to remain calm, to fall back on her training. Every Jedi knows that anger muddies clear thinking, and that revenge is, at best, an archaic waste of energy.

Someone didn't want them returning soon to Cuipernam. How long was two parts of a breeding cycle? What would be the point in holding them captive and then letting them go? Behind the blinding cloth, her eyes widened slightly.

The Unity Council! She and Obi-Wan had promised them an agreement with the Alwari. When they failed to return within a reasonable period of time, the position of those on the council in favor of secession would grow steadily stronger. Would they vote for secession without waiting for the Jedi to report? Like any politicians, the council representatives had const.i.tuencies to answer to. They wouldn't wait forever. They might not even wait longer than two parts of a breeding cycle.

Certainly someone thought that was the case. Who stood to gain the most by preventing the Jedi from completing their mission? Who, besides the already committed secessionists? Who had sponsored the attack against her and Barriss, and then had directed the Padawan's abduction?

Though her nostrils were not as sensitive as those of a suu-batar, she felt sure she smelled the distant presence of essence of a Hutt.

Once they returned to Cuipernam, they would have to have a few words with this Soergg individual, she thought grimly. Some rather harsh words. What particularly interested Luminara, as it was sure to interest the Jedi Council, was the ominously greater question of who was behind the Hutt.

But before they could confront Soergg, they had to free themselves from the gilded captivity of the avaricious Qulun-and do so quickly.

Tooqui watched from within the high gra.s.s as the Qulun broke camp. Houses and the couple of trading buildings were neatly folded in upon themselves, goods stowed, the miscellany of a nomad clan carefully packed away. Trailing the procession were spare sadains and, more importantly, the six riding suu-batars that were owned by his new friends. When the caravan began to move out, he moved with them, tailing the procession from a distance. Gradually, he became bolder, slipping progressively closer to the convoy. Greater proximity enabled him to pick out individuals while still keeping under cover.

He recognized a number of the clanfolk. Foremost among them was the rotund Baiuntu. The chieftain rode in the front of the procession, borne aloft on a platform decorated with colored streamers that snapped briskly in the steady breeze, handmade wind organs, Qulun pennants, and gaudy advertis.e.m.e.nts for the clan's trade goods. So occupied was Tooqui with monitoring the clan's movements and keeping hidden that he almost forgot why he was risking his life to do so.

But he jumped for joy when, later that afternoon, his friends were brought out of a transport pulled by eight sadains. One at a time, they were exposed to the wind, sun, and fresh air. After a modest interval, each was returned to the concealment of the transport, and his or her place on the front bench seat taken by another. Trembling with excitement, he watched and counted patiently. They were all there: the four Jedi as well as the two spiteful-talky Alwari. Based on what he could see from his hiding place in the gra.s.s, none of them appeared to have been harmed. They were hooded, gagged, and bound securely enough to control even a Jedi. Blob-b.u.t.t Baiuntu might be a lie-liar and a sneak, but he certainly knew what he was doing.

How in the name of the rain G.o.ds was he going to free them? Tooqui wondered. First he would have to slip into their camp. Then he would somehow have to deal with guards. Qulun guards, bigger and stronger than himself. He had nothing to use for a weapon except rocks. a.s.suming he could manage to reach their transport undetected and take care of any sentinels, he would still need enough time to free all four of his friends, and maybe maybe the two Alwari as well. Afterward, they would have to recover their special personal things, take back their suubatars, and ride off intact and unharmed into the gra.s.slands. Ten Tooquis would not be enough to do such a thing, and there was only one of him.

Wis.h.i.+ng for more would gain him nothing, he knew. The Gwurran were a tough tribe. They had not survived inhospitable country and forbidding fauna through dint of heavy wis.h.i.+ng. Where resources were lacking, they found acceptable subst.i.tutes, or devised their own.

That was it, he knew. He had some hasty devising to do. Rea son and logic might all seem to lead toward inevitable failure, but Tooqui was able to compensate for his small self with an outsized ego. If nothing else, his own boastfulness would not let him fail.

Now, if only he could find a way to make the Qulun under stand that.

Every step, every forward lurch of the plodding sadains he was following took him farther from home, from the safety of familiar hills and the warmth of the Gwurran tribe. He tried not to think about how far he was from everything he knew. Water was not a problem, rain having collected in small pools and depressions in the hard-packed prairie dirt. But he had to spend time searching for food, and then would have to hurry to catch back up to the steadily advancing caravan. Days pa.s.sed in this fas.h.i.+on, then another, and another. Tired and filthy and homesick, he nevertheless somehow managed to keep up with the procession.

Yet another evening saw him no closer to a possible way of rescuing his friends than when he had hidden in the kholot burrow. As night fell, tired and hungry he once again sought shelter from marauding predators, and found himself having to move farther and farther away from the encampment. He regretted the loss of light from the camp's glowpoles, even if they could only be safely viewed from a distance. But safety was more important than a cheery glow in the night. If not a burrow, or a high tree, he would have to find some big rocks he could squeeze between before he allowed himself to rest.

What he encountered instead was a distant rumbling and booming. "Ou, pifyotl" he mumbled. As if his present situation wasn't bad enough, now it was going to rain. Pretty hard, too, judging by the smell of it. Wind swirled around him as if suddenly unsure of what direction to take, and the taste of impending moisture was heavy on the night air. Kapchenaga boomed off to the north, announcing his advance with steady earthward thrusts of the Light-That-Burned.

Behind him, the camp would be bracing itself for the arrival of the approaching storm: sealing house joints, fastening windows, securing livestock, and rolling up pennants and advertis.e.m.e.nts. The Qulun and their prisoners would wait out the storm safe and snug within st.u.r.dy shelters, warmed by hot food and imported offworld heaters. Meanwhile he, Tooqui, would be lucky to find a dry burrow not already occupied by some inhospitable creature.

An overhang beneath a rock would be better, he knew as he continued searching. Not as warm as a burrow, but far less likely to already be claimed for the night. Unlike an Alwari or a human, he had his coat of fur to keep him warm. At least the rain that was coming would mask his scent from roving meat eaters.

There, in front of him in the darkness-an unexpected ridge of hills. Just in time, too, judging from the rising wind. Already, fast-moving clouds were beginning to block out the stars and the light of Ansion's first ascending moon. Thunder was sounding more frequently now, and the first fat raindrops began to slap at the gra.s.s. Blinking away drip-drops, he headed for a gap between the nearest hills. A flash of Kapchenaga's breath briefly lit up the sky. Tooqui froze. These were not hills he was silently approaching. He knew that was the case not only because of what he had seen in that split second of illumination, but because the hill he was nearest to had turned a baleful eye in his direction.

Lorqual.

So startled was he that he couldn't decide whether to curl up on the ground, turn and run, or simply topple over unconscious. As a consequence, he did none of these. Instead, he just stood where he was, staring, as the rain began to fall in earnest. The sound of it pattering against the gra.s.s was familiar and soothing, but did nothing to remove the threat of the moaning mountains that loomed ma.s.sively before him.

And he had almost gone strolling blithely in among them, he realized in shock.

The lorqual were, at least insofar as the Gwurran knew, the biggest inhabitants of the plains. Though they stood only slightly taller at their two sets of shoulders than did the suubatar, the lorqual were far more ma.s.sive. A single mature adult would weigh as much as four suubatars. Their strange, stiff, brown and beige fur stuck straight out from their sides, giving them a bristly appearance. Haifa dozen solid, bony k.n.o.bs protruded from each ma.s.sive skull. In rutting season, the sound of adult bull lorqual smas.h.i.+ng into each other head to head could be heard across vast sweeps of prairie. Each of six feet terminated in an equal number of powerful horn-s.h.i.+elded toes: three facing forward and three back, a design perfectly suited to supporting the creature's great weight.

In contrast to their immense size, they had only two com paratively small eyes, one on either side of the blocky skull. But the single nostril opening was large enough for a Gwurran to hide within. Mounted on the end of a short, flexible snout that was constantly testing the air, it provided all necessary warning of possible danger.

Not that anything could really threaten a herd of lorqual, Tooqui knew.

Even the young, once they were a couple of weeks old, were too big and powerful for anything less than a full pack of prowling shanhs to attack.

Usually they were intolerant of intruders in their midst. But they ignored him. Huddled together as they were, he realized, they must be preoccupied with the impending squall. The rain that was falling would also serve to conceal his presence from them, masking his smell.

Lightning was flas.h.i.+ng more frequently now, allowing him a better view of the herd. He judged it to be sizable, though it was impossible to gauge its full extent. He could not see over or around a single lorqual, much less the dozen or so immediately in front of him. These might const.i.tute the entire herd, or there might be a dozen more animals lined up behind them, bony heads pressed against bristling flanks and hindmosts.

That was when he had the idea. It could as easily kill him as make him a hero. But after three days of hard scrambling through high gra.s.s, over rocky places, and down clammy mud holes, it was the first idea he'd had.

That it might also be his last weighed heavily on him. It very likely might not even work.

Bending, he made a Gwurran gathering basket out of the dri est gra.s.s he could find. It was something taught to every young member of the tribe, so he had no trouble performing the task in the dark, his nimble fingers weaving the gra.s.s stems together with the effortlessness of long practice. Advancing slowly and carefully through the falling rain so as not to disturb the highly sensitive lorqual, he began searching for something else. Even in the rain, it did not take long for him to find what he wanted: a basketful of stones, each somewhat rounded, and each of a size to fit comfortably in his long-fingered hand.

The easy part of his idea fulfilled, he now had no choice but to proceed to the much more difficult-and dangerous.

Still moving slowly and patiently, frequently wiping rainwater from his protuberant eyes, he tried to pick out one lorqual that looked a little drowsier than the others. In the darkness and rain, it was impossible. It might have been just as difficult in the daytime, he knew. One lorqual looked, and acted, pretty much like any other lorqual. If he kept dithering, though, he might abandon the idea entirely, and then where would he be?

With the nearest animal as likely a candidate as the next, he crept as close as he dared. Slipping the basket of stones over one arm, he grabbed hold of the lorqual's wet bristles and pulled himself up off the ground.

When the creature did not react, he began to climb. The closer he got to the top, the greater his confidence in his chances of reaching the monster's back without getting stomped.

Then he was there, on top, balancing carefully on the ani mal's wet middle shoulders. Keeping his step as light as possible, he made his way forward between upthrust bristles that were not unlike prairie gra.s.s until he found himself in the natural saddle between the creature's first and second set of shoulders. It still had not reacted in any way to his presence. Damp and cold, soaked by the now pounding rain, Tooqui found himself encouraged by his not-so-insignificant triumph. He did not waste time congratulating himself. What he had accomplished so far was nothing compared to what still had to be done.

a.s.suming a standing position behind the lorqual's neck, he braced his feet as best he could, took one of the stones from the basket, and prepared himself. He did not have to wait long. Two shafts of the Light-That-Burns brillianted the underside of fast-moving clouds. More nervous than usual because of the now raging storm, the herd stirred uneasily.

Thunder boomed. As it did so, he took careful aim and threw the first stone.

It struck its intended target just above the left eye. Letting out a startled howl of distress that sounded like a moaning moon, the lorqual next to the one on which he was standing rose and kicked out with its front legs, keeping the middle and rear pairs firmly planted on the ground. A distressed bellowing rose from those huddled nearby. A second stone flung in the wake of the first struck another member of the a.s.sembled herd. It also jerked and kicked out. A third rock hit the biggest lorqual of all right in the eye.