Yana and Kor had never openly talked about Kor’s ability to sense things. Like her innate acrobatic ability, it was just a thing Yana had accepted as true. Kor was always the one who could sense where an artifact might be hiding, like with the Rod of Seasons from Hynestia. There had been a whole treasury full of artifacts, but it had been Kor who knew the one they wanted, the one connected to the Force the most strongly.

  Yana had never considered that perhaps her girlfriend was more closely connected to the Force than she let on, but now, with worry writ large on her broad face, Yana knew it had to be true. “Is it different from the dagger box? You didn’t like that, either.”

  “Yes. It’s—I can’t explain it.…” Kor’s voice trailed off, and she grabbed Yana’s arm, pulling her toward the exit. She said nothing, but her frequent glances over her shoulder made it clear that whatever she was going to say, she didn’t want the Mother or the Herald to hear.

  It was only once they had exited the cavern and left behind the Herald’s retainers that she finally spoke. “There is something about that jewel that is…hungry. Yana, I don’t like it. It doesn’t belong here. I don’t want Mom near it.”

  Yana said nothing, but she nodded to Kor before reaching out to stroke the sensitive spot on the back of the Nautolan’s neck where her head tresses met her head. “I’m sure it will be fine.” Kor leaned into the touch with a low sound of relief. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight, just until you settle?”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Yana said nothing as they made their way back to her sleeping quarters. She didn’t like the jewel, either.

  But the Mother—their Force prophet—was clearly enamored with it. Yana wondered just how bad things were about to get.

  Sunshine sipped fermented grain water and pretended to be drunk. It wasn’t a difficult act. He was one of two humans in the tavern, so there was only one person to see through the lie. Still, when Sunshine played a role, he gave himself to it utterly, so he moved slowly as he sloppily tossed a pair of ten-sided dice onto the rykestra gaming mat before him.

  “Blassssst,” Sunshine said as the credits on the betting map were swept up by the croupier along with the dice.

  “Bad luck,” a squat Talpini said, his overly large mouth downturned despite the glee in his voice. He stood on an empty crate to see the gaming area and had to wave to have someone pass the dice to him, his arms too short to reach across the table. He scratched at the white beard on his leathery face before clutching the dice and letting them roll around in his hand. “It’s nearly impossible to roll sunrise in the brother’s house.”

  “S’not that bad,” Sunshine said, pretending to slur his words. “Could have been moonrise. Where’s that server bot?”

  “I think you have had enough, my friend,” said the only other human in the room, a man wearing the uniform of a Republic administrator, with a unique patch on his shoulder, a hexagon bisected by a zigzagging line. Pathfinder, Sunshine thought, studying the patch. He’d been waiting for the man, a low-level government official known as Alonso San Tekka. There were stories that the San Tekkas were the best Pathfinders the Republic had, but that wasn’t why Sunshine had been waiting. The man was also part of a team that was rumored to have just plotted a very lucrative route to a planet on the edge of Wild Space, a place that the whispernet on Hon-Tallos was saying was an absolute paradise.

  There were people who would pay well for a map to paradise. Sunshine knew most of them. And owed the rest of them money. But more than that, he wanted to make sure the route was not to his paradise, the one he’d plotted out himself.

  “I’m good,” Sunshine said, closing one eye to look at the man, still playing at being inebriated. “Obrect, is that you?”

  “How about I buy you a fizzy pop and tuck you into bed, old timer,” the San Tekka said. Sunshine didn’t have many dealings with the San Tekkas, but the man definitely had the family look about him: tan skin, dark hair, and a scowl that said he didn’t like making time for inconveniences. San Tekkas were a hardscrabble lot, just as likely to be government officials as independent contractors, but Sunshine still far preferred them to their rivals, the Grafs. Those flim-flamsters were just as likely to slide a blade between your ribs as sell you a navigable route.

  “I like fizzy pop,” Sunshine said, leaning heavily on Alonso, forcing the smaller man to steady himself.

  “Good. Let’s get you out of here,” Alonso said, escorting Sunshine out of the tavern. They walked up a carved staircase into the cool night air. The capital of Hon-Tallos was little more than dockside shops and taverns, but a tent city had sprouted up on the outskirts of the town. Refugees from Eiram and E’ronoh and the war between the two planets had been flooding into all the worlds that side of the Outer Rim, Hon-Tallos more than any other. Every single open space had been taken up by their makeshift dwellings, and aid workers from the Republic handed out ration packs to passersby. No one noticed as the Republic official and his inebriated charge left the smoky entrance to the tavern.

  Once they were a short way away, Alonso pressed a datacard into Sunshine’s palm. “Clever.”

  “Plausible deniability,” Sunshine said. “You’re worried about people tracing the leak back to you, but no one would ever suspect a drunkard of being an information broker.”

  A group of rough-looking folks approached them, begging in a mix of languages. Alonso deftly steered them away from the group, down a side alley and back toward the docks. Beggars had become a common sight, and from the expression on Alonso’s face, he had no intention of parting with a single credit, much less entertaining their tales of woe.

  “I thought you were a prospector,” Alonso said after the alley had spit them out onto the docks right next to an aging pleasure yacht, the very one Sunshine had flown to Hon-Tallos. The Scupper had a humble name and, like Sunshine, was easily underestimated. No one expected a pale, rotund, scruffy human male wearing a cheap pair of coveralls to be anything more than a lowly mechanic. And no one expected the ancient ship to be as well appointed as it was.

  “I wear a number of hats,” Sunshine said, stumbling as he climbed aboard the ship. “What of the rest of the find?”

  “The jewels?” Alonso released Sunshine and crossed his arms. “They were all lost in transit.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” Sunshine sighed, pulling the blaster from where it was tucked at the small of his back. Alonso raised his hands in surrender at the sight of the weapon.

  “Wait, we can discuss this,” he began, but it was too late. Sunshine pulled the trigger, shooting Alonso right in the middle of his chest. The blaster left a deep scorch mark in the material of the San Tekka’s shirt as he fell to the ground.

  “Deezee, I need a cleanup.”

  The droid trundled out from the galley as Sunshine opened up the data terminal tucked into one wall, hidden behind tasteless artwork of a half-naked Twi’lek woman draped across a speeder bike. Sunshine checked the datacard, heart pounding as he surveyed the route he’d memorized. The way through the Veil was tricky, and these coordinates were not it. This was a straightforward route to an Outer Rim world, not the switchbacks and turnarounds Sunshine had expected.

  His path was still the only one. He smiled and stowed the datacard in one of his safes. There were still credits to be made off of such information. Maybe even from the Grafs, curse their treacherous hearts.

  DZ-23 dragged Alonso’s body to the cargo hold. Sunshine would open the loading doors once they were clear of Hon-Tallos airspace, leaving Alonso’s body to the stars. Wasn’t that something the San Tekkas were known for? Their clan loved the stars more than anything, and Sunshine wasn’t a monster. He’d even gone along with Alonso’s need for secrecy, pretending to be drunk and losing credits at the rykestra table so the man wouldn’t fall under suspicion of selling undocumented hyperspace routes. If anything, Sunshine was positively philanthropic. He’d given the man an easy death without any suspicions or fears. There were far worse ways to go.

  Once DZ-23 had cleared the body, Sunshine went to the cockpit and fired up the engines before sending a quick message to the Mother. “Took care of my business. Going to catch up with an old friend about your lost cousin on Jedha. See you soon.”

  Sunshine closed the channel and took a deep breath. Elecia would be so excited when he figured out just where on Jedha the Rod of Daybreak was being kept. Sunshine took a moment to imagine handing her the rod, the way her face would light up when he told her how he had secured the artifact. Maybe then she would see how important he could be to her.

  She just had to give him a chance.

  Kevmo popped awake much too early for anything but meditation. So he sat up in the darkness of his room, legs crossed and thin pillow hugged to his stomach, and let go of the barriers holding back his awareness of the Force. It was unusual, he knew: most Jedi reached for the Force, but Kevmo had to do the opposite and close off from it when he didn’t need its immediacy.

  The Force drifted through him, bright and powerful, and Kevmo focused on regulating the flow. His connection to the Force was strong but uneven, prone to bursts and fits if he wasn’t careful. Breathing slowly and deeply, he practiced noting his feelings and stretching them out into thinner streams to blend with the Force. The spiky thrills that had woken him, he drew out into anticipation, which gradually flattened into readiness. The warmth of the Force moved with his pulse, and he used breathing to slow both until his entire body felt alight and a little tingly. Kevmo sank deeper, his own awareness of self stretching after his emotions until he barely remembered his name, only holding on to enough consciousness to react when the door to his room slid open with a whisper.

  He opened his eyes slowly, not sensing danger.

  Master Zallah stood there in only one layer of robes, lightsaber loose in hand. She did not need to say anything, and Kevmo grinned, leaping to his feet. She raised one of her eyebrows, and he took a breath to hold on to the balance he’d achieved. His smile softened, and he went to grab his tunic and boots and lightsaber.

  Still tingling warmly with the Force, he followed his master out into the back garden of Lady Jara’s guest house. Early morning sky illuminated rows of vegetables growing in low boxes, and pots of spilling flowers placed haphazardly in the shade. A small droid with six spindly legs wandered along the rows, sprinkling water onto the leaves. There was a small lawn, just enough space to spar if they were careful. Kevmo stretched alongside Zallah, allowing his awareness to spread to the teal grass and brightening sky. It would be a beautiful day, and they were going to visit the Path of the Open Hand, and he would see Marda again, maybe not frighten her, and perhaps even coax a smile onto those pretty lips.

  The hiss of Master Zallah’s lightsaber was Kevmo’s only warning: he jerked to the side, rolled, and came to his feet with his own lightsaber up. It cast a bright yellow line across his vision, a ray of sunlight. His pulse raced, but he laughed as he blocked Zallah’s strike. Her blue lightsaber sparked against his, and she leveled him with a cool look. She’d just been waiting for him to distract himself to attack. Kevmo shrugged ruefully and pulled himself back together just in time for Zallah’s next move.

  They battled in tight motions across the tiny yard, and Kevmo couldn’t focus on anything else. Zallah was so fast and controlled, he could barely keep up, much better at power moves himself, relying on enthusiasm and awareness of space. Sparring was one of the only things that cut Kevmo down until he was less a sun and more a single pure flame. If his body didn’t need things like rest and fuel, maybe he could have battled like this forever.

  Zallah drove him hard, used the Force to set him off balance, trip him, little tricks that seemed beneath her but he’d learned she considered to be just as important a tool as the saber itself.

  Finally, she called a halt. The suns peeked up over the garden wall, and she thumbed off her lightsaber. Kevmo immediately followed suit and bowed to her. He panted, sweaty and loose.

  “Go wash—if you do it slow enough, maybe we can leave after,” she said, expression cold but voice just soft enough to be wry.

  Kevmo dashed off to get ready.

  He did not do it slowly enough, and even after eating a hearty breakfast of local pink-yolked eggs over a dark grain porridge while gently hitting a flirtation wall with Lady Jara, Kevmo still had to cool his heels leaning against the front door until the morning was late enough to be appropriate for answering their invitation. Master Zallah tightened the skin around her icy lavender eyes in another eye roll when she found him playing with a mail droid. It had trundled past with a delivery for Lady Jara, and Kevmo cajoled it into a game of keepsake, which he loved playing with droids because almost none of them had any sense of humor.

  At Master Zallah’s expression, Kevmo released the droid with thanks and said, “It’s good training,” before slipping inside to deliver the datapack the mail droid had brought Lady Jara.

  Then they were off, heading through town toward the land that belonged to the Path of the Open Hand.

  “Tell me why you’re excited,” Master Zallah said after several minutes of companionable quiet.

  “I have a good feeling,” he said immediately.

  “Not about the Path of the Open Hand.”

  Kevmo grimaced, but only because he knew he was too easy to catch out. “About Marda.”

  Zallah hummed skeptically.

  Ferdan was busy again that day, but the Jedi passed through the market without pause and came out of town to the south. The paved road turned to dirt as they followed it around toward the river valley. The sun blazed off the purple-tinged trees, and there was a funny buzz that Kevmo guessed was some sort of grass cricket. He wondered if he’d be on Dalna long enough to learn the names of the wildlife.

  “Kev.”

  He glanced at Master Zallah, who walked gracefully, hands folded behind her back. “Master?”

  “Why are we here?”

  “The Hynestian Rod of Seasons.”

  “And why are we here?”

  Her emphasis helped Kevmo realize she meant the Jedi in general, what they were doing in the Outer Rim.

  “Exploring and making connections. Introducing ourselves to people so they know what we are, what we stand for, and that they can call on us for aid.”

  Zallah hummed again, this time in mild approval.

  He kept talking. “It’s good to get to know another group of Force—well, not Force users, but people who respect the Force, who organize around it. Whether they’re thieves or not.”

  “That sounds like a reason to consider the entire community. To try and comprehend their purpose and unity. Find out how they work as a whole,” Zallah mused.

  “Not focus on an individual,” Kevmo said, understanding what she wanted him to understand.

  Master Zallah briefly touched his shoulder. He didn’t lean into it like he wished to.

  “Your emotions are strong, as is your connection to the Force,” Zallah said. “It is good to use your feelings, to allow them to guide you through and alongside the Force. But you must not allow your feelings to use you.”

  “I know,” he said. He did. He thought he was getting better.

  “Today, Kev, keep your senses open. Use your feelings and your gifts, however you see fit, but let us not actively use the Force unless we must. They may have people sensitive to it,” she said. “Lady Jara seems to think they do. However, it is not only possible but likely that someone in the Path of the Open Hand knows where the Rod of Seasons is. I would like to know not only where it is, but why it is here, if so.”

  “Right. If they stole it, why did they? And are they the ones behind the rumors about a buyer of Force-related artifacts here?”

  “Have they taken anything else? What are they planning?” Zallah added.

  Kevmo nodded. It was good he’d meditated that morning and was already feeling balanced with himself and the Force. That would make it easier to be unobtrusive. Unless anything disrupted him.

  Of course, the moment he saw Marda waiting for them outside the boundary of the Path compound, Kevmo realized it was going to be more difficult than usual to remain balanced. She stood still, a slender column of gray and blue against the vibrant pink, purple, green of the Dalnan meadows that rolled away from the gate of the compound. Though half her black hair was pulled away from her serene face, the ends drifted in the breeze, tipped in the same blue that waved in three lines across her forehead. Kevmo thought she was beautiful and wanted to slide his fingers along the sleek strands of her hair, or hold her hand.

  He was in trouble.

  Swallowing the burst of emotion, he breathed carefully through his nose, reminding himself he was a Jedi, he was there to get to know everyone on the Path and retrieve a stolen Force artifact. He could care without growing attached. It should be simple.

  “Marda,” he said, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. He stopped when Master Zallah stopped, and they bowed together.

  Marda returned the gesture, her hands turned palms up. “The Force will be free,” she murmured. Then with her starry black eyes on Zallah, she said, “Welcome to the Path of the Open Hand.”

  “Thank you, Marda Ro,” Master Zallah said. “We are glad and honored to be welcomed by fellow children of the Force.”

  Marda seemed to relax slightly at Zallah’s words and finally looked to Kevmo. She didn’t smile, but Kevmo did. He said, “This is Jedi Knight Zallah Macri, my master.”

  “Your…oh, you’re an apprentice still?” Marda blinked.

  Kevmo huffed a little, and even though Zallah did not so much as twitch, he knew she was amused. “I am,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind if I always got to work with Master Zallah,” he added boldly.

  For a moment, Marda’s lips parted, but she didn’t say anything until turning abruptly to gesture at the open gate. “Please, this way. I’ll show you the compound and introduce you to a few of our Elders.”