Master Zallah gestured for Kevmo to precede her through the gate—which put him level with Marda. He skipped ahead to walk at her side. Marda glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a little longer than he expected, and Kevmo smiled.

  “We’ve been here—the Path has been here—for over a hundred years,” she said to them both. “We began with a single person, grew into a family, and eventually a community. We’re self-sustaining, though sometimes trade with Ferdan, and accept gifts.”

  “Gifts freely given,” Kevmo said.

  “That’s right.” Marda walked them along the perimeter. The compound’s boundary was marked by occasional metal beacons set into small pinkish boulders. Nothing to keep anybody out, just delineating their territory. Kevmo found it hard to believe they meant any harm or were responsible for stealing valuable items like the Rod of Seasons from powerful people, only to not have any security. But maybe that was what they wanted strangers to think.

  As Marda led them past fields of ruffled greens and what looked like hybrid binkberries, she explained that they farmed little, only what they couldn’t gather, and relied on their own hands and the will of the Force. It was true: while several people in gray robes tended the rows of vegetation, there wasn’t an irrigation droid in sight, or any technology more sophisticated than a hoe.

  “Why not use better tools, like droids or maybe fertilizer?” Kevmo asked.

  Marda smiled a little. “We do have some fertilizer—natural and gathered from our moss ghoats. But droids and such technology interfere with our harmony with the Force.”

  “How so?”

  “Any technology disconnected from life is disconnected from the Force. When necessary, of course, we don’t reject it—ships for transportation, purifiers, machines that can do things we cannot—but when it isn’t necessary, when farming for example, there is no reason to use it.”

  “Even if it makes your life better?”

  “Better, or easier?” Marda challenged.

  Kevmo blinked. “Easier, I suppose,” he said, and glanced back at Master Zallah, who nodded to indicate she did not mind his concession.

  Marda’s smile grew. She continued on, taking them around toward the river and the honeycomb of cells that housed members of the Path. They were small, but that didn’t surprise Kevmo. She explained how they’d been built, how they were shared, as well as the various levels of membership people enjoyed in the community, from the Littles to the Elder Council and its leader, the Herald. She explained that there were more chambers underground but didn’t invite them to see the subterranean levels. Those were for Path members, especially the newborn and eldest, who could benefit from the temperature regulation. When Marda mentioned that the Mother spoke of the caverns beneath the ground as gifts from the Force and Dalna to the Path, Master Zallah spoke for the first time.

  “The Mother?” Zallah inquired coolly.

  Marda’s expression shifted into something slightly reverent. “The Mother came to us a handful of years ago, a simple refugee, until it was revealed that her relationship to the Force is so harmonious, so clear, she sees visions of its will, and her garden…” Marda paused to take a breath as if she could hardly believe it. “Her garden bloomed overnight, filled with fruit and flowers enough to feed everyone in the Path a meal.”

  “A prophet,” Zallah said.

  “Yes. Her vision has revitalized the Path in recent years, and the direction…” Marda paused again, this time seeming to catch herself as if she wasn’t certain she should continue.

  Kevmo and Master Zallah waited, and Kev reached out to gently touch his knuckles to the back of her hand. Just to encourage her. Marda looked at his hand, then up at him. “We are more active than we used to be, with the Mother’s guidance.”

  “How so?”

  “Outreach.” Marda continued walking. “The Mother sends her Children to different worlds, across the Rim, to share the Path of the Open Hand and invite people to join us. They have had success in bringing us benefactors. I’ll show you.”

  Marda led them away from the cluster of buildings to the outskirts of the compound. As they walked, Kevmo carefully opened his senses. He’d been attuned to the Force during the entire tour but tamped down when closer to others, like the farmers and a few Path members they’d passed near the living cells. He kept in mind Zallah’s caution that the Path might have Force-sensitive members. Which it sounded like this Mother had to be. Kevmo didn’t feel anything strange—this was just a large farm, and Marda was absolutely sincere as far as Kevmo could tell. Sincere, and passionate about her home. It made Kevmo even more eager to keep talking with her, and he longed to share his own passion about the Force, even though he knew she vehemently disagreed with his methods. He wanted to know why. Exactly what made her—the Path—believe manipulating the Force caused harm?

  They arrived at what seemed to be a small quarry, with tubs of plastoid powder and the molds for something large, like a temple. Marda turned to face them with a proud smile. “This will be part of the Gaze Electric, the Mother’s great ship that will be the home of the Path among the stars when it’s complete. Which should be soon.”

  None of this looked much like parts of a ship to Kevmo, but he smiled. “It looks like it will be unique.”

  “A sanctuary for the Force, moving through space,” Marda said.

  “A sanctuary,” Zallah said, moving toward one of the arched pillars. “For the Force. Do you mean for Force users? Artifacts?”

  Kevmo darted a look at his master. She was studying Marda, who said, “For the Path. We have some artifacts, I suppose they can be called. In the subterranean levels, where they can do no harm. And there will be a vault on the ship. Items with a strong connection to the Force are tempting for people to use, and disrupt the harmony and clarity of the Force—not to mention the freedom. And the Force must be free.”

  “This ship was the Mother’s idea?” Master Zallah asked.

  “It is the will of the Force. But the Mother explained it to us, and all the Elders think it’s wonderful. And the benefactors have been generous. The Children will be able to expand their outreach so far.”

  “Are you going to join them?” Kevmo asked, hoping to distract Marda from Zallah’s pointed questions.

  Her lips parted, and he could just see the sharp tips of her teeth. She glanced down and rather shyly said, “I’d like to, but I’m not sure. My work is on Dalna, with the Littles.”

  Kevmo studied her, unable to look away. “They seemed to adore you, yesterday.” It was a risk, reminding her about the day before and their very abrupt parting. But he kept his voice gentle, feeling rather warm about the whole thing, and stood close.

  But Master Zallah said, “I would very much like to meet your Mother.”

  Marda stepped away from Kevmo. “The Mother is communing with the Force in her private cavern today. But waiting for us in the communal garden with povo punch are the Herald and several of our Elders you’re welcome to speak with.”

  “Very well,” Zallah said. “Please lead the way.”

  Marda avoided looking too often at Kevmo Zink as she showed him and his master around the Path. His attention remained intent on her, and she felt both excited and awkward about it.

  After bringing them to the communal garden, where the Herald waited with Old Waiden and Aris Ade, a straight-backed but ancient human woman with tan skin and snow-white hair, the Jedi Knight bowed to the blue-faced Elders and suggested perhaps the youths might continue their walk and allow the adults their seats in the shade.

  Marda didn’t think Jedi Zallah Macri needed a seat in the shade—she couldn’t be much older than the Mother and was a warrior—but Kevmo had grinned enthusiastically, and Elder Aris ushered them away.

  “What else would you like to see?” she asked.

  Kevmo hummed thoughtfully, then slid her a smile. “What’s your favorite place?”

  Immediately she thought of the nesting cell. He would like the baby Kessarine, but she couldn’t take him there. Her second favorite place, though—there she could take him. “This way,” she said, and led him toward the river.

  The sun warmed her as they walked, and once or twice the back of her hand brushed his. The first time a lompop flower snapped as they passed, Kevmo startled, then laughed and leaned over to inspect the little pink petals. She watched his obvious curiosity and explained that the noise had to do with gathering moisture from the air. He smiled up at her, yellow eyes bright. Marda wanted to touch the tattoos on his cheek. “Come,” she said, not quite short about it, and continued along the narrow path. She mustn’t allow herself to relax around someone so prone to abusing the Force.

  Kevmo scrambled after her. She tried not to feel bad. After a moment, he said, “How long have you been here?”

  She considered putting him off by answering about the Path itself and Sachar Rold, but she’d told him that already, and besides, there was no reason other than her nerves to be mean. “Since I was very little. I don’t remember anything before Dalna and the Path. My cousin Yana does, some, and she says something awful happened to our family. But we weren’t abandoned here. It was the will of the Force.”

  “I’m sorry it was awful, though,” Kevmo said. “Even if you don’t remember.”

  “It’s typical for Evereni,” she said, just to get that out of the way, too.

  “Evereni.” He said it slowly. Without any sort of inflection. “Is that your people?”

  Marda nodded, eyes lifted beyond the purple-red willows at the riverside, toward the trio of volcanoes in the distance.

  “There are so many people out here on the Outer Rim,” Kevmo said. “I don’t know anything about a lot of them. But I want to.”

  “You haven’t heard of Evereni?”

  He shrugged. Several black braids slid around his shoulder to fall down his back. “I wish I had, if you’re all so pretty.”

  Marda gasped at the blatant flirtation, and Kevmo winced a little, laughing at himself. “Sorry,” he said.

  Tentatively, Marda smiled back. But not widely enough to display her teeth. She needed to remember he was dangerous, no matter how he flirted and how much she liked him, or how easy he was to be around. He was Jedi, and he hurt the Force. Marda felt her smile fall away.

  Kevmo’s did, too, and he said, “I lost my birth family before I could form strong memories of them, too. It was an accident of some kind, and I was alone for a little while; I only remember it being cold, and the light was wavering like through water. But then the will of the Force brought me to the Jedi.”

  Marda knew what he was doing. Making their story the same—he was saved by the Jedi, she by the Path. Even though she could see through it, she didn’t mind. It was comforting. After a moment of silence in which they watched each other and Marda wondered if they were thinking the exact same thing, she turned away.

  Near the river, she stepped off the path into knee-high blue wheat, its bearded seeds whispering against her robes. Kevmo barged after her, and some of the seeds clung to the brown-and-gold hem of his robes. She led him around an outcropping of granite boulders to the sunrise tree. Its slender white trunk arced up, and its branches wept in a circle, long and luxurious with tiny crimson flowers. The ground surrounding it was blanketed in red petals, blown into swirling patterns by the breeze.

  “Wow,” Kevmo said. “So many flowers.”

  “They all fall by midday and rebud into the evening. By dawn, an entire new set of flowers will bloom on the limbs. Every day, throughout the spring and summer.” Marda stepped into the swath of red. She bent and picked up a few flowers, some whole, others only single petals. They fluttered out of her hands, falling between her fingers. “The tree gives of itself so much, every day. So much of its energy is spent on nothing else. If the flowers aren’t collected or eaten, they rot quickly. That’s the sweet smell. The flowers are meant to be taken, used, eaten…enjoyed.”

  “This is your favorite place,” Kevmo murmured, crouching beside her. “I get it. You’re just as generous, you know.”

  Marda laughed softly. “I am not.”

  “You give and give—I’ve seen it. Gifts freely given.”

  “It’s the Path.”

  “I think it’s you,” he answered. The crimson branches swayed around him, and the dappled sunlight cast bright red light between them.

  Marda couldn’t help it: she reached out and put two fingers against the lines of gold tattooed on his right cheek. His skin was warm.

  Kevmo stilled. His bright eyes bored into her, and Marda felt so much on display. She’d given herself away when she touched him.

  Carefully, she pulled her hand back. Kevmo reached for it, though, took it. “I can feel the Force here,” he said. “It’s strong. This planet is strong with it. Maybe because of the Path, maybe it’s natural. I…I wonder if you think the Force gives itself to me, and maybe wants me to use it.”

  Marda did not pull her hand from his, but she lowered her gaze to the fallen petals. “I—I can’t imagine it. Even if you use it for the best reasons, it’s still got to have consequences. Save someone here, and who knows what harm occurs elsewhere.”

  His fingers tightened on hers. “The Force isn’t a zero-sum game. It’s so much more than that.”

  “Yes, it is,” Marda whispered.

  “I’m glad we can agree on something,” Kevmo said, the teasing returned to his voice.

  But Marda felt sad and frustrated. “If you could step away from your need to manipulate the Force, if you could remove yourself from the selfish idea that it wants to be used, then you might truly be able to understand how much more the Force can be.”

  Kevmo let go of her and stood, as if he needed to move in order to talk. “The Force isn’t merely something that exists, though. It isn’t meant to be ignored. The sun is warm, right, the sunlight? It feels like it’s everywhere, in the very air, and it gives life—here on Dalna, the planet needs its suns. All life does. Not just to bask in the warmth, but to use it, to transform energy and make it life. The plants use the sunlight, but the sunlight isn’t harmed.”

  “Flowers don’t reach out and take energy from the sunlight and therefore deprive other flowers of that sun,” Marda said, knowing the metaphor was getting out of hand, but it hadn’t been a good one in the first place. She rose to her feet and faced him.

  Kevmo grimaced and tugged on the small braid just under his ear. “You can’t deprive someone of the Force, not like that. Me pulling on it doesn’t remove it elsewhere. The only way to be cut off from the Force is to do it to yourself.”

  “There are certainly Force voids. If there are places like Dalna that are vivid with the Force, there must be places without it. If the Force can be imbued into something, the opposite must be true.”

  Though he wanted to disagree, very clearly, Marda saw that he couldn’t. She was glad he wouldn’t lie to her even if that might help his argument. She reached out again, smoothing her expression.

  Kevmo let her take his hand back. He said, “I think the Force is active though. It’s not a state of being, but it affects us and all life in the universe, whether we’re sensitive or not. It gives, it does, in myriad ways.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the Path stresses living in harmony with the Force.” His thumb slipped against her knuckles, and Marda fought back a shiver. They stood so close.

  “Yes.”

  “How do you live in harmony with something, if you aren’t in a relationship with it? Isn’t harmony a balance? Give and take?”

  “No taking. Only giving,” she said immediately. “Give and give: you give me a smile, I return it. We haven’t taken anything from one another, but we’re in harmony.”

  “You’d do well arguing in the Jedi Temple,” he said grumpily. It was cute.

  Marda demurred. “I don’t think so. I don’t enjoy arguing.”

  “You’re awfully good at it for not liking it.”

  “Maybe I don’t mind…when it’s you,” she finished breathlessly, impressed at her boldness.

  Kevmo’s fingers tightened around hers. This time when he smiled it was slow and gentle. Marda felt no hesitation in returning it. She was getting through to him; she knew it.

  “I should take you back,” she said quietly, though she did not wish to break the bright red bubble they’d created under the sunrise tree. “You must be ready for lunch.”

  “I could eat,” he agreed, merriment flooding back into his expression.

  Together they wandered back toward the road to the compound. As they approached the first buildings, Kevmo said, “You mentioned before that you—that the Path—has Force artifacts. Do you know if the Children seek them out, on their trips offworld?”

  Marda frowned to try to cover her surprise at the direct question. She did not wish to lie; that was its own kind of taking. Carefully, she said, “Why would they? We could only accept an artifact that was freely given—and if such a thing was meant to be with us, if the Force willed it, then it would find its way here.” Marda knew the Children were taking the artifacts, and she had never been comfortable with the idea, but it was the will of the Force. The Mother had seen it. They weren’t taking from the Force itself, after all. Only from people who would use it.

  “Find its way…” Kevmo made a face Marda couldn’t read. “And if you did acquire one, you’d never give it to anyone else.”

  “Not if it was part of the Force. We would want to keep it safe, stop it from being used—and causing harm.” Marda stopped. Time to go on the offensive. She pulled her hand free of his. “Is that the real reason you’re here? You think we have something, and you want it.”

  Kevmo grimaced. “It’s part of the reason—not the only real reason, Marda.” He said her name a little desperately. She wanted to bare her teeth at him, unsheathe her sharp nails. “We’re looking for something that was stolen from—”

  “Stolen!” Marda cried. She backed away. “We did not steal anything. We do not take, Kevmo.” She turned away, sick to her stomach.