When she looked up again, it was to see the three Kessarine adults watching her solemnly. She cradled the baby. “I came to say goodbye. Yana…I am leaving with Yana.”

  “You…” Ferize shook her head. Her partners both reached out until everybody was touching at least one baby, as if in mutual comfort.

  “I’m not leaving the Path,” Marda said quickly. “Just going offworld for a bit. You’ll barely miss me.”

  The three Kessarine studied her sadly.

  Marda smiled, but it was sad, too. “Yana must go. Something…There was an accident on their trip. Kor and the Mikkian boy, Treze? They died.” She paused at their hissed surprise. None of them had known Treze well, but Kor had been kind and strong and always found time to share the Path. Marda nodded, her own thin grief settling in her lungs. “Yana needs to go. I have to take her.”

  “We understand,” Ferize said. “Family.”

  “You’re my family, too,” Marda said firmly.

  Fel Ix set aside his knitting and stood, coming around the edge of the nest to kneel at Marda’s side. “We know.” He put a cool hand on her cheek.

  Marda took such comfort in the touch. She closed her eyes. It was not her place to tell them what Yana had said about the Mother, about using the Children, lying about the Force. It would only upset them and might not relieve her at all. If she could tell Elder Aris Ade, who had suggested Marda find a way to give back to the Force, the Elder might be able to talk it through with Marda. But she couldn’t put that weight on the Kessarine. It was too sharp and sour even to think on for long.

  “You’ll be on the Gaze, won’t you?” she murmured, looking first at Fel Ix, then at Er Dal and Ferize. “The babies will be able to travel by the time it’s ready?”

  “Of course,” Ferize said. “We could go now, if necessary. Our hatchlings are hardy, as are we all.”

  “Especially,” added Er Dal, “when we walk the Path with the Force.”

  In the low cavern lights, Marda felt a little bit better. It was warm there, in the nesting cell, with the Kessarine’s musty clean scent so pervasive.

  As if sensing Marda’s state of mind, Ferize got up and dug into their small trunk for a flask. She poured it into the tin kettle that rested always on the hot plate, then flipped the temperature higher. “Sweet and spirits for us all,” she said.

  Marda pulled reluctantly away from Fel Ix’s touch. “I can stay for one cup. Then I need to find Yana. I don’t like to leave her for long.”

  Putting the baby into her lap, Marda caressed the soft lashes of his cheek furl, making squishy faces at him to see if he would smile. He did, just a little twist of his mouth. Marda laughed, and when the baby saw her teeth, he squirmed in what seemed like joy.

  This was so good. Marda didn’t want to leave them. She bent over and kissed the baby’s nose.

  When Ferize put a cup into her hand, the sweet smell soothed the sharpness of Marda’s uncertainty. She breathed it in and sipped.

  “Will you give this to the Herald?” Marda asked after they’d shared the drink. She pulled a small rolled-up letter from her robe. It was very brief, written carefully on a scrap of cloth because she didn’t have any datapads to write something longer, or better. “I am not certain I’ll see him.”

  Ferize took the letter. “We’ll be sure he gets it.”

  Marda stared at Ferize. Unlike with her cell, she knew she would see Ferize again after this moment. She felt it, and the surety was comforting. It reminded her that she was making the best choice, to go with her cousin. To take herself and the Path to the stars as a—a vanguard before the Gaze Electric. Because she wasn’t losing anything except safety and the everyday rhythms she’d grown to know and love. What mattered, she took with her.

  Just as Marda began to smile brightly, a strange scraping sounded from one of the tunnels.

  She turned toward it just as the Kessarine all tensed. Ferize was on her feet, to the wall, and facing the dark mouth of the tunnel from which the sound had come.

  Both Er Dal and Fel Ix were gathering the babies up in the blankets.

  Marda stood.

  The sound came again. She could not quite pinpoint what was off about it, but she was not surprised the Kessarine had reacted defensively instead of with curiosity.

  The tunnel in question was marked with colors for the way to the Mother’s chamber, several twists and turns and long dark corridors away.

  Marda was breathless as she waited. She had no weapons but her nails and teeth. There shouldn’t be anything too truly dangerous down there.

  Sun opal filled the room with latent pink-orange light, but it shone only a few steps into the dark tunnel.

  Marda stared into the darkness. There should be light, from whatever approached, from the tunnel lights auto-responding to motion.

  Her skin tingled.

  The scraping came again and again, nearer, and then she heard harsh gasping.

  Someone was in pain. Marda darted forward, some instinct pushing her to the tunnel, and she caught Kevmo just as he stumbled into the light and fell forward. He was heavy, but she grasped at his shoulders. Her own knee hit the stone floor hard, jarring her body. She whimpered in pain and distress.

  Kevmo shuddered, all his body weight against her. One of the Kessarine helped her lower Kevmo, but she didn’t want to let go and cradled him against her as she knelt fully. He felt…stiff, like he couldn’t move well.

  The smell of blood and scorched hair filled her nose, and she wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Kevmo,” she whispered. “What happened? Where are you—” She held his head against her shoulder and slid her hand down his front, seeking injury.

  His body was rigid but uninjured, it seemed—except for his clenched jaw, his painfully squeezed-shut eyes, the gleaming sweat at his hairline.

  “Kevmo,” she tried again, leaning in with her arms around him. “What can I do?”

  His blue lips pulled back, but that only bared his blunt teeth in a grimace. He shuddered again, a full-body quake.

  “Kevmo.”

  Crouched beside her, Ferize said, “My partners are taking the babies up and fetching help. Here is water.”

  “He can’t…open his mouth,” she said, trying not to sound as frantic as she felt. She pressed her hand to his cheek, thumb skimming his golden tattoos, and his eyes opened. His pupils were blasted wide, his sclera pink.

  “I’m here,” Marda said, holding his feverish gaze. “It’s Marda. We’ll help you.”

  Suddenly, his back bowed and he made a horrible sound through his teeth. Marda clung to him through the—whatever was happening. She pushed her forehead to his temple, holding him. “Kevmo,” she whispered again and again. “Kevmo.”

  She smelled something on him she’d never smelled before: something chalky, astringent. “Kevmo,” she said in his ear. “Can you show me what hurts? What I can do?”

  His hand came to her face, too hard to be a kind touch but not purposefully pushing her away. It was clumsy! His hand barely cupped her jaw, and it felt wrong. Marda grasped his hand. His skin had no give; he gripped her too hard. But Marda leaned in.

  “Force…” he managed to say. “The…Force.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. The Force…You…Kev, I don’t understand.”

  Panic brought tears to her eyes.

  Then his back bowed again and she saw, at his neck, something pale crawling up his skin like a growth of gray lichen up a tree. But she could see it spreading. Marda gasped and pulled back her hand, which had nearly touched it. “What is that?”

  “M…” Kevmo shook all over, and she looked back at his urgent, pained eyes. Then she looked at his mouth. His lips pressed. “Mmm…” he said.

  “I’m Marda. I’m here, Kevmo.” She kissed his cheek, kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Mmm,” he said again, and then, “Mother.”

  Marda reeled back, but he was in her lap, leaning into her. She shook her head. “The Mother did this? That’s impossible! I don’t even know what this is. She doesn’t have the power to…whatever…this…”

  Kevmo closed his eyes, grimaced awfully.

  Marda grasped his face again. “No, stay. Kevmo, stay here. Help is coming.”

  He didn’t move.

  The chalk smell worsened. He seemed to weigh more and more against her leg and chest. For such a long moment, Marda stared at the gray spreading up his neck. She tugged at his collar, pulling back the edge of his robe. The gray flaked off under her nail, but there was only more gray beneath—as if his body had transformed to stone! It was cold, heavy, awful.

  Kevmo was supposed to be only warm, laughing; he was—

  With a shocked gasp Marda realized he wasn’t breathing.

  “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  Marda squeezed her eyes closed and hugged him tight. This couldn’t be happening.

  She didn’t know how to help. Leaning over, she put her mouth to his and pushed air against his teeth. She tried to pry them open, but his jaw was locked. She slapped his cheek. A hot tear fell. “Kevmo, breathe. Please. Ferize! Where are they? Where is help?”

  No answer came but for a dry scaled hand on the back of her neck that felt too hot. But it was Marda who was too cold.

  Kevmo didn’t breathe again. She pressed herself against him, cheek to cheek, and dug her fingers under his jaw for a pulse, but his neck was stone.

  The only sound was Marda’s harsh panting. Then a distant voice, echoing from behind and above.

  But it was too late.

  Marda laid Kevmo down, struggling out from under him. She knelt at his shoulder. Staring. Shivering. He was dead.

  Cold stone. There was no vibrant grin. No teasing. Not even residual warmth.

  The gray growth crept onward, though, under her dull, horrified stare. It did not give up with his death but continued eating, or changing, or—or taking him away. The tips of his fingers were crumbling.

  Marda wanted to dig her nails in and destroy it, tear this thing that had been her friend into rocky chunks.

  But she did not.

  She leaned back. As she shifted, she heard a click. There, under a fold of his cloak, was the lightsaber.

  Marda took it. It glinted gold and rosy in the sun opal light. Bright, sunny against the gray of her palm.

  Slowly, Marda pushed to her feet. She ignored Ferize. Ignored everyone coming into the nesting chamber. She walked to the tunnel from which Kevmo had arrived.

  Inside her, something burned icy cold.

  Marda held the lightsaber in both hands, and when she stepped into the darkness, she touched the button Kevmo had touched to ignite it.

  A hum tingled up her wrists, and the lightsaber burst to life. Brilliant yellow, like a ray of sunlight. Like him.

  Marda trembled, and in her hands the lightsaber did, too.

  But it lit her way as she walked into the dark tunnel.

  The Herald gaped as Yana spoke. She talked quickly, not sure if the Mother would suddenly appear and try to redirect the conversation, but the woman seemed to have retired for the moment. Sunshine had scampered after her.

  “How do you know the Mother orchestrated the ambush on Thelj?” the Herald said. He hadn’t reacted at all the way Yana had thought he would when she told him his only child was dead, had bled out on a far-off frozen ocean. Instead, he’d demanded every single detail of the failed theft, his expression inscrutable.

  “Sunshine all but verified it when I returned to the ship. He said he does what the Mother tells him. He called her Elecia.”

  “Elecia,” the Herald sneered, standing a bit taller. Kor had once told Yana that his life before coming to Dalna and joining the Path had been one of violence, but the only evidence Yana had ever seen was the ugly scars of his ruined head tresses. The man had always seemed like the Mother’s simpering bootlicker. She was starting to think perhaps that had merely been a facade to hide the true Herald.

  “We have to kill her now, before that creature gets any stronger,” Yana said. “Before more Jedi arrive.”

  “Jedi? They are hardly an obstacle at this point.”

  “Are you serious?” Yana exclaimed. “Marda’s Padawan just ran off back to Ferdan. We’re going to have the Order crawling over Dalna before sunset.”

  “And if they do, we will show them the fury of the Force.” The Mother stood in the doorway to the listening room, her creature crouched at her feet. It had grown again since Yana had last seen it. It was nearly of a size with a charhound, and its rapid growth caused a frisson of fear to sing down Yana’s spine. There was something deeply unnatural about this creature.

  “I don’t think one of your creatures can take on the entire Order. And the Jedi are the least of your worries. You killed Kor,” Yana said, advancing.

  The Mother held her gaze level and gave a short nod. “I see your mission did not go well. It was a risky endeavor, and I do believe I pointed that out.”

  “You lying, deceitful…” Yana strode toward the Mother with purposeful steps, but her forward progress was halted by the Herald, who blocked her passage.

  “Move,” Yana snarled.

  “This is not the time for personal vendettas,” the Herald said. “Yana is right. As incredible as this creature is that the Force has seen fit to bestow upon the Path, we cannot defend ourselves here on Dalna. It is time that we took to the Gaze Electric.”

  Yana stumbled backward. “What?” Her head felt too light, and she wasn’t sure the Herald had actually just spoken. “Did you say that we should go to the Gaze Electric?”

  “Yes. The ship is missing many of its planned flourishes, but it is spaceworthy. Taking to the stars will buy us some time. As you should know as an Evereni.”

  Yana frowned, her rage giving way to confusion and fear. This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. They were supposed to be united in their anger at the Mother and make her pay for Kor’s death. But the Herald seemed to have already forgiven the Mother for his daughter’s death, and Yana began to panic as the situation once more got away from her, just like back on Thelj.

  The Herald, for his part, did not seem to notice.

  “What is the meaning of all the yelling?” demanded Aris Ade as she and a few of the other Elders entered. “Mother, you know it is almost time for the evening meditation.” The group froze when they saw the calcified Jedi, her visage frozen in pain and agony.

  “Elders,” the Herald said with an open-handed bow. “Apologies for the distraction, but the Force has granted us a miracle today.”

  “Yes, a miracle,” the Mother said with a tremulous smile. She still seemed unsteady, but she was definitely getting better by the moment, the more people entered the room. Was it a true recovery or just another part of her endless performance?

  “This creature is called the Leveler,” the Mother said. “I saw it in a vision from the Force, but I did not know if it was a true vision or just my heart’s wish.” She stroked the flowing blue quadruped crouched next to her. The tendrils around its snout reached toward her, as though they were scenting the air. It was eerie.

  The Elders murmured, but not one of them strode forward to stroke the creature or otherwise investigate it. Perhaps they, like Yana, felt a keen sense of unease in the company of the creature. Suddenly, she remembered how badly Kor had disliked that egg from the very beginning.

  “One small creature cannot stop the many Force users in the galaxy,” said Aris Ade. “How will your Leveler stop them?”

  “There are more,” came another voice. Sunshine cleared his throat, his hat in his hands. “Deep in Wild Space, on a planet unlike any other. These, uh, jewels, their—their eggs litter the landscape, and it would be no hardship to raise an army of Levelers to spread the love of the Path.”

  Yana didn’t think anyone would actually listen to Sunshine, but when everyone around the room began to nod, she clenched her hands so hard she nearly cracked the Rod of Seasons. These fools couldn’t even see when they were being played.

  The Herald cleared his throat. “We have other exciting news, friends. It is time for us to set out amongst the stars. We will begin our transition to the Gaze Electric immediately.”

  “So soon?” said a wizened old human Yana didn’t recognize. She thought it was Old Waiden, but she had trouble telling many of the Elders apart. “Last we spoke, the ship had only traveled through hyperspace a handful of times. And what of the droids commissioned for the ship? Have they been delivered already?”

  “Yes. The Gaze Electric is for the most part complete, although it is not nearly so grand as our original designs. But the Force works in mysterious ways, and it may have been that the Mother was only partially correct in intuiting its will.”

  The Herald did not give the Mother time to interject; he continued on smoothly: “The Leveler must have time to grow into its full strength, away from enemies who would rather continue to use the Force for their own personal gain. This creature is just a hatchling. We will give it time to mature, and when it is an adult, it will be a match for all the Jedi. Whether that takes a year or a hundred years is no matter to the Path. We will carry on.”

  “The Force will be free,” the Mother said quickly, like she wanted to make sure she had the final word. “The Force will be free!”

  Her voice echoed throughout the cavern, and the cry was repeated over and over again until Yana had to turn on her heel and leave.

  She couldn’t take it.

  The Herald and the Mother were obviously locked in some kind of power struggle, one Yana had no interest in being a part of. She’d thought the Herald would be her ally, would share her rage and grief over Kor. But if he did, he had opted to follow his own ambitions instead, seeing the death of the Jedi and the discovery of the Leveler as an opportunity to grow his power, to finally eclipse the Mother in influence within the Path.

  The two of them were welcome to each other. She just wanted as far away from the Path and the Leveler as she could get. Something about the creature made her anxious, like it was just waiting for a moment to take a bite out of her.