wander and pray
Lake Country, Naboo
Efret's villa upon Darjeeli Hill
<Find Mal. Trust her.>
Efret could still see Judah's signs in her mind, small and shaky but still understandable. What wasn't clear was just who this Mal was.
Someone Judah cared for at the very least, and a woman too, but neither characteristic meaningfully limited the possibilities.
The reflection of the gently crackling fire slid from Efret's eyes as she turned to look at what was cradled in her hands: her communicator. Heft she didn't remember it having sunk it into one cupped palm as she traced its silhouette and ghosted her fingertips over its buttons.
<Just-do-it, Efret,> she thought in Sign with a sigh.
Before she could finally give in to hesitation, she switched on the unit. The green power indicator light blinked out a rapid sequence for the first time in two months, when she had turned it on relatively briefly and only for the purpose of staying in contact with one
Thelma Goth
. An influx of text and video messages from concerned fellow Jedi had arrived at that point. It broke Efret's heart not to respond to them then, and still now, but she knew it was necessary not to—and to avoid even thinking about them insomuch as she could. Still, she hadn’t been able to help accidentally seeing a few senders' names, but didn't know if Justice was among the full list.He very well could have been. They had worked together on a few projects when Efret had been Chief Curator. It would be only natural if he had reached out. There were two reasons for one to be concerned about her: the mysterious reason she had resigned, and the Galactic Alliance's fate.
She didn't go through her backlog to check. Instead, she just typed and sent him a message titled 'Take care'.
You need not keep this message nor its contents from your wife, but please don't confide in any other. I must speak with you alone. Meet me in the abandoned palace north of Theed tomorrow at noon.
Justice would know that the communication came from Efret, or someone who had her comm, on the basis of the message coming from her old frequency. There didn't seem to be any deception to it, or suggestion that its author was anyone but her, but text was unreliable when attempting to sense such things.
He would just have to go and see, but be prepared for anything, or anyone.
A ransom demand.
An invasion attempt.
A friend with a good deal of explaining to do.
Tomorrow didn't come soon enough but, when it did, the sun slowly unfurled its rays over an unseasonably calm sea. The abandoned castle that Efret—or whoever pretending to be her—had chosen as their meeting place rose up from the golden beach sand, casting a long shadow inland.
As Justice approached the main gate over a short, marble bridge, movement at a shattered window high in one of the towers might catch his attention. A bird of some kind emerged from the shadows inside and soared down in a sideways arc towards one of the decorative battlements. By the time it had landed, and tucked and wrapped its grand wingspan around its lithe body, Justice was close enough to identify it as an owl—a convor at that; Nirrah, if he remembered Efret's near-constant companion.
Her presence in the Force wove a bit differently than it had when he last saw her, but not nearly enough to be unrecognizable.
Regardless, it was now quite certain that Efret was indeed here. Where was the only question.
Nirrah hooted, the hollow, dove-like call carrying down on the gentle sea breeze. When Justice let himself past the closed gate, she swooped down after him, the tips of her talons just missing the grand door as it swung closed behind them both.
His path from there was cut first through the air as she led him to the Jedi master.
Efret stood in an office overlooking the sea from the third floor, but she wasn't watching the waves. She instead studied the paintings hanging on the wearing wall as best as she could without Nirrah’s visual assistance. They were works of the many artists who had made their homes here over the years. None of them had been viewed before by any other beings but the mice that scurried around whenever they were truly alone.
Most of the pictures were worn somehow, either the canvases or their frames or both: degrading fabric, fading colors, chipping gild.
When Justice stepped into the open threshold, Efret turned towards him.
Nirrah flew behind and settled on her right shoulder.
"Hello, Justice,” the elder archeologist greeted. Though her interpretation unit spoke for her as usual, a smile did not grace her face. Her purpose weighed too heavily to allow her even a moment of happiness to see a friend. “It’s been a long time. I'm sure you have many questions for me, but I need to ask something of you instead. Let me explain.”
Her pause was only as wide as a hair, as if the very news couldn't wait to be off her fingers like jolts of static electricity desperate to be experienced by another. "I've seen both a vision and an Echo of your uncle on Woostri. He's alive."
Had Justice felt that much on his own, or was she delivering him hope?
The revelation hung in the air in any case, tension not breaking when her borrowed voice spoke again.
“I first felt his pain in my dreams, then saw him. The Force led me to Woostri, and I saw him there too.”
Justice might have recalled that Master Farr was a gifted psychometric, using the sense often to deepen her understanding of artifacts.
She stepped closer, confident in her movements now that Nirrah had returned to her side. At this distance, he could see what had changed about Nirrah, at least physically. Purple flecks in her big, yellow-green eyes caught the sunlight filtering past the drawn curtains.
"He was taken by the Dread Queen,” Efret continued, “to Jutrand probably. He told me that, and to find a woman named Mal."
Her brow drew together in the way it did when preceding a question. Then that came too.
"Do you know who that is?"
Last edited:
