Master of Disguise (9781484719763) Read online

  Ferus was starting out slowly. He would fight smart. He would save his energy and pace himself. Anakin decided to surprise him.

  He launched an assault so fierce that he saw Ferus’s eyes flare with astonishment. Ferus retreated fast, needing to collect himself. Anakin came after him, swinging his training lightsaber without pause. He almost touched him, but Ferus twisted away just in time, turning the movement into a twisting leap. He surprised Anakin by immediately swinging back a backward blow. Anakin ducked, feeling the whistle of air created by the power of Ferus’s swipe.

  Ferus was tall and solid, but he was also agile.

  He was expert at using the ground.

  Unlike Tru, he used both hands equally well.

  The rocky terrain was perfect for his style.

  He jumped, spun, and leaped, keeping Anakin off guard. Now he was driving the battle. Anakin did not know how Ferus had regained the upper hand, but he wasn’t happy about it. He was reacting to Ferus’s moves instead of the other way around. What was Soara thinking?

  Anakin feinted to his left and then leaped straight ahead. To his dismay, Ferus dropped to the floor and rolled underneath Anakin, then sprang up in one smooth movement. He was behind him now. Anakin had only a split second before he felt the touch of the lightsaber on his shoulder. It only just missed his neck. When he twisted away, he saw the gleam of triumph in Ferus’s eyes.

  Fury roared through him. Ferus wanted to humiliate him in front of Soara!

  He did something Ferus would never expect him to do. He copied Ferus’s move, dropping to his knees and rolling underneath him as he made his next leap. He flipped up onto his feet and then charged at the rock wall.

  The Force entered him. He felt it. He saw the rock wall as a shifting shape, ready to receive him. He sprang off the wall and straight over Ferus’s head. It seemed the easiest thing in the galaxy to simply lean down and touch the side of Ferus’s neck with his lightsaber.

  He landed and looked up. Soara had seen everything. He had never fought so well.

  She called down from the cliff, “Thank you, Ferus. Stay there, Anakin.”

  “Good fight,” Ferus said, sticking the training lightsaber in his belt. “Except for one thing.”

  “What one thing?” Anakin asked, irritated. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve.

  Ferus only smiled. Then he walked off.

  Anakin jammed the lightsaber hilt into his belt. No one could get to him like Ferus could.

  Soara walked toward him. “That was your last lesson,” she said.

  Anakin was surprised and pleased. She must have seen how seamlessly he had connected with the Force.

  “Before this, I had been impressed with your gifts,” Soara said. “I had thought you had the potential to be one of the great Jedi fighters of all time. I thought I could teach you. Now I have grave doubts about you, Anakin.”

  Anakin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What did I do wrong?”

  “That question is the problem,” Soara said, shaking her head. “That is what is wrong. You don’t know what you did. Didn’t you feel your anger, Anakin? Didn’t you realize it was fueling the battle?”

  “Obi-Wan told you that Ferus and I do not get along,” Anakin said sullenly.

  “Obi-Wan didn’t need to tell me,” Soara snapped. “I saw it. Not from Ferus. From you.”

  “He wanted to win,” Anakin said. “I saw triumph in his eyes when he surprised me.”

  “And it made you angry.” Soara sighed. “Ferus did not fight from his emotion, Anakin. If you saw triumph in his eyes, he absorbed it and went on. That is the lesson you must learn. You will feel the emotion. You must let it go.”

  To his surprise, she suddenly strode forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You must do this, Anakin. You must learn this lesson. It is the most important one of all.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He could promise her that he would learn it, but his promise would mean nothing. He knew that as a Jedi only his actions would convince her.

  “Thank you for the time you devoted to teaching me,” he said.

  She dropped her hands. Now sadness was in her eyes. That was the worst thing of all. “Go get something to eat.”

  Soara left, heading for the turbolift. Anakin walked over to the lake. He knelt by the deep pool created by the waterfall. He ducked his head into the cold water and came up spraying droplets that shined like bright gems in the light created by the illumination banks overhead.

  He would not let this bother him, he told himself fiercely. He had made a mistake. Soara should have understood that. He was a Padawan, not a Jedi. Of course he would make mistakes. It wasn’t fair.

  She said she had her doubts that he would make a great Jedi. Yet she had seen the potential for it. He would surprise her. He would surprise them all.

  He rose and headed away from the lake. He would start by surprising Obi-Wan. Thanks to Tic Verdun, he would locate Granta Omega.

  Chapter Twelve

  Upon his return to Coruscant, Obi-Wan didn’t stop at the Temple, but went right to the Senate. He paused inside the massive grand hall and accessed the directional system. He entered Sano Sauro’s name and a map instantly appeared, highlighting the quickest route to his office. He would have to snake through several wings of the Senate complex. The system would print out a map on a durasheet, but Obi-Wan didn’t need it. He memorized the route and took off.

  Ever since he’d come here as a Jedi student, he had seen a Senate bustling with beings from all over the galaxy, but lately the halls had seemed even more crowded. The Senators’ staffs were bloated with consorts, advisors, clerks, secretaries, assistants, and droids. Committees and subcommittees were tied up in hearings that stretched on for months, and sometimes years. Obi-Wan had always found Senators to admire for their dedication, but it was getting harder. The Senate continued to legislate, but it took more and more effort and time to get the smallest things done. Coalitions were formed, favors traded, credits amassed. Betrayals caused grudges that resulted in deep rifts that lasted for years. It was a different place than he had known.

  Yet he continued to serve it. He did not think it was possible to have peace in the galaxy without it.

  What kind of Senator was Sano Sauro? He did not want to make judgments before meeting him again. He had not seen him in ten years. Beings changed with time. He had known an ambitious lawyer who had attacked the Jedi and mocked the Force. Perhaps Sauro had found peace in a life of service. Obi-Wan would not expect trouble. He would hope for the best.

  Still, he was uncomfortably aware of how deeply Sano Sauro had unnerved him as a young Padawan. The man’s reserve had been icy. He did not seem to be able to speak without a sneer. Obi-Wan had felt that whatever he said to the prosecutor was wrong or foolish. He was a Jedi Knight now, and not easily intimidated. It would be interesting to see what the encounter would be like if Sano Sauro had not changed.

  Obi-Wan reached the offices of Sano Sauro and strode inside. A team of assistants worked busily at their desks. An ornate carved door led to an inner office. Obi-Wan told the receptionist his name and requested a few minutes of the Senator’s time. He wondered if Sano Sauro would remember him.

  He did not have to wonder long. The door hissed open and Sauro stood in the doorway. He looked oddly the same. He still had the same unlined face, the skin smooth and stretched tightly over the bones. His hair was still jet black. He could even have been dressed in the same clothes, a long black tunic and trousers. Obi-Wan could see small evidence of vanity in his brightly shined expensive boots.

  “Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he said through tight lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve killed another Padawan.”

  He had not changed at all.

  Obi-Wan was glad to note that Sano Sauro’s words had not made even the slightest impression on him. He did not feel stung. He did not care what such a man thought of him. The opinion of a cruel man was worth less than nothing.

  “I come on a
nother matter and would welcome your help,” Obi-Wan said.

  Sano Sauro stepped aside. Obi-Wan took this as an invitation to enter the office. The door hissed shut behind him.

  Sano Sauro sat behind a long, low desk built of stone. Two massive red thorns marked the corners. Obi-Wan recognized them from the claing bush.

  Sauro said nothing but waited for him to begin. Obi-Wan remembered that, too. The prosecutor had never wasted time on pleasantries.

  “I am trying to locate a protégé of yours called Granta Omega,” Obi-Wan said. He waited to see if Sano Sauro would react to the name, but he did not. “Do you still know him?”

  “He is a personal friend,” Sano Sauro said.

  “Can you tell me how I could contact him?”

  “Why?”

  “In connection with a Jedi matter,” Obi-Wan said.

  “Why would I give you any information?” Sano Sauro asked.

  Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to say nothing. The rudeness was not unexpected.

  “Because you ask?” Sauro said, folding his hands in front of him. “Because you are a Jedi?”

  “Because there is no reason not to,” Obi-Wan said. “And if there is, I would be interested in uncovering it. I would expect that an investigation into the reason would not please you.”

  “How interesting it must be to be a Jedi,” Sano Sauro said. “You can bully and threaten and yet hide behind your robes and your talk of justice and the Force. Very convenient.”

  “I am not threatening you,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “I asked you a legitimate question, which you refused to answer. I am interested in why.”

  “In that case, let me save you time. I am refusing to answer because I do not help the Jedi. It is as simple as that. The Senate in its collective delusion thinks we need you. I do not.”

  The door hissed open behind Obi-Wan. Sauro rose.

  “I think I have come to the end of my patience,” he said. “Good-bye.”

  The hatred in his gaze was no longer surprising to Obi-Wan. Sano Sauro had hated the Jedi ten years before and still hated them.

  He could go over Sano Sauro’s head. He could get the Jedi Council involved. They could go to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. It was something to consider. If Granta Omega was planning to corner the market on bacta, the Chancellor would want to know.

  Obi-Wan walked out of the inner office. The door hissed shut behind him. The assistants did not even glance at him. They sat hunched over their datascreens or talking on comlinks.

  The assistant closest to Sauro’s inner office was distractedly speaking on a comlink while entering data into a datapad. “No, we’re not releasing copies,” he said. “The expedition was cut short and the report was inconclusive. Senator Sauro has been thoroughly briefed. No, I won’t put you through. Check with the Senate archivist, the Senator doesn’t have time.” The assistant cut the connection. “Journalists,” he muttered.

  “Was Senator Sauro on the committee that oversaw the mapping expedition that ended on Haariden?” Obi-Wan asked.

  “Senator Sauro headed the committee,” the assistant said haughtily.

  Obi-Wan hurried from the room. He headed straight to the Senate archives, where committee records were kept. He filled out a request and waited impatiently until the information flashed onto his screen.

  Obi-Wan’s least favorite thing to do was wade through the minutes of Senatorial committee meetings. But he leaned forward, quickly scanning the report with interest. The decision to fund the mapping expedition took endless debate. Then names of scientists were submitted and debated. At last the team was decided on. Obi-Wan read the names and qualifications. Dr. Fort Turan. Joveh D’a Alin. Reug Yucon. Talie Heathe. And finally, Tic Verdun. He had been added at the last minute on the suggestion of the committee head, Senator Sauro…

  Obi-Wan remembered something Talie Heathe had said on Haariden. Tic had been the scout. That meant he had been able to get away from the group for hours at a time.

  Obi-Wan scanned Verdun’s qualifications. He had graduated from the same scientific institute in the same year as Granta Omega.

  He activated his comlink and contacted Jocasta Nu at the Temple.

  “Please run a text doc identification search on Tic Verdun,” he said.

  He switched off the screen and hurried out of the archive room. He knew Jocasta Nu would not take long to answer him. He started back toward the Temple. By the time he reached the front doors, Jocasta Nu had signaled him.

  “Interesting,” Jocasta Nu said. “I just did a preliminary search, you understand. But the only information I can find is that he recently served on a Senatorial expedition to Haariden—”

  “I know that. I met him there, remember?”

  “And his credentials don’t check out at all. If I had to guess, I’d say this was an alias. Strange that the Senate committee didn’t pick it up.”

  “Not if the head of the Senate committee was his sponsor.”

  “Ah. Yes. There’s a strange coincidence, though. He is listed as having a degree from the same school that—”

  “—Granta Omega attended,” Obi-Wan interrupted. Jocasta had told him every­thing he needed to know, which was nothing.

  And now he knew that Tic Verdun was Granta Omega. He had met Omega on Ragoon-6. He had met a man whose face was disfigured with synth-flesh. His eyes had been gray. Obi-Wan could not connect that memory with Tic Verdun, with his shock of dark hair and his youthful face. Yet he was positive the two men were the same.

  He stepped onto the lift tube and went straight to Anakin’s quarters, but Anakin wasn’t there. Obi-Wan tracked down Soara Antana, who was visiting Darra in the med center.

  “Do you know where Anakin is?” he asked her.

  “We had our practice session this morning,” she said. “Then he headed off for an appointment. Do you remember Tic Verdun? Anakin went to meet him.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anakin was starting to feel better. He had tried to tell himself that Soara had not been fair to him, but in truth, her words had shaken him. He had looked into her eyes and seen great disappointment there. He could tell himself that he would prove her wrong, but the loss of her respect was a blow. And what would she tell his Master?

  He had worried about these things all the way to the meeting with Tic Verdun, but now they had shrunk to vague feelings at the back of his mind. He was too caught up in meeting Tic’s friends and hearing what they had to say about Granta Omega. Already he had collected a number of facts about the elusive businessman. If he could manage to put the pieces together, he and Obi-Wan would have a place to start.

  Tic’s friends were all funny and smart. They had welcomed Anakin and seemed impressed at meeting “our first Jedi!” They poured him tea and sat around trying to prod their memories for facts about Granta Omega. They interrupted one another and corrected one another. But nobody interrupted Tic, Anakin noted. They all deferred to him, but in a way that Anakin could see was out of great respect.

  Anakin was especially impressed with a young scientist named Mellora Falon. She had just graduated from an elite scientific institution even though she was only a few years older than Anakin. She had met Granta Omega on an expedition to the planet Uriek, and gave the most detailed account of him.

  “He had a weakness for pastry,” she said, smiling. “The really sweet, sticky kind. He ate an entire plate of sweesonberry rolls.”

  Tic Verdun shook his head. “Glad to see you noted the important things.”

  But every­thing was important. Anakin knew that. He could take that information back to Jocasta Nu and in about thirty seconds she could tell him every planet where the sweesonberries grew, and could give him a list of the best pastry makers in the Core Worlds.

  “I just remembered something,” Mellora said. “That morning, he said his favorite house was surrounded by sweesonberry bushes. He goes there for vacations. It’s near the sea, too.”

  More information for Jocasta Nu. Anakin took ano
ther sip of the excellent tea Mellora had brewed. He felt warm and comfortable. Night had fallen, and the stars twinkled like hard points outside in the cold night. He thought about reaching for another piece of fruit, but he felt too lazy.

  Just at the very moment he settled into his contentment, he felt a warning. There was a disturbance in the Force here. He realized that it had been there for some time. Anakin felt slow surprise trickle through him.

  Here? But he was among friends. Perhaps he was confused. Perhaps he was wrong. Soara had showed him that his connection to the Force was not as clear as he’d once supposed.

  He tried to focus on his feelings, but they seemed to run off his body like water. He blinked several times and realized he was sleepy. He had to struggle to stay awake. Mellora was speaking again, and he had to focus in order to hear her. Had his fight with Ferus tired him out so?

  “…more tea? No, I don’t think you should.” She laughed, her red lips parting. Her dark hair was as sleek as the pelt of a water animal.

  “Anakin?” Tic’s face seemed to loom in front of him. He patted Anakin’s arm gently. “Are you all right? I have to tell you something. Are you listening?”

  Anakin focused on Tic. “Yes?”

  “Everything we told you about Granta Omega is a lie,” Tic said, still smiling.

  Anakin struggled to understand his meaning. “I…don’t…understand.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You will.”

  “But we do have something to show you,” Mellora said. “Something he owns.” From beneath the folds of her white tunic she brought out a small pyramid. “Omega gave me this.”

  It was a Sith artifact. Now Anakin knew the origin of the disturbance he had detected. It grew stronger, and he felt nausea rise in his throat. He tried to sit up, but the chair now seemed to hold him down.

  Mellora turned the cube in her hands. “At first I found the images disturbing. But Granta talked to me about them. Power can be disturbing. That’s where its beauty lies. Do you understand?”

  Anakin’s tongue felt thick. “No.” He had been so foolish. So incredibly foolish and naïve. He saw the mug on the table in front of him. He had drained every drop. He wasn’t tired. He was drugged.