The Mirror within the Mask 10

He topped off the wine glasses and motioned for me to settle back against his body. I watched as he pulled up the sleeve of his robe and there, on the wrist of his left hand was something that made me look up at him, horrified. Now I understood what he had meant by overreact. I had to fight to calm down.

“Is that a brand?” I asked, looking at the raw looking symbol which had been burned into his flesh. I resisted the temptation to trace the serpentine line that bisected the circle.

“Yes. One of the various trials to go through is being branded with the mark of the order.”

“Are you in pain? Did it hurt? Does it hurt now?” I was sitting up now, facing him.

“No, yes and no. The bacta salve does good work; it will heal well soon enough.” He said casually, pulling the sleeve back down over the brand.

“That seems like an awful lot to go through just to be in a silly club.” I scowled.

“It’s more than just the silly socialite club many think it is. The Canted Circle is a very powerful organization and as a member I have access to much more information, more useful connections than before with which to work and I now have a certain status which makes me difficult to ignore.” He explained a little tersely.

“You weren’t exactly a shy-flower in the corner before, you know!” I snorted.

He tilted his head. He didn’t understand my reaction even though he had anticipated it.

I looked into his eyes. “They branded you.” I said flatly. I was angry but I didn’t know why.

“You disapprove?”

“It just seems strange to me that you have to have your membership burned into your skin. That sounds less like an elite club and more like part of an exclusive nerf herd!”

He frowned. “You worry too much about the oddest things.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged, and then said. “I think it’s barbaric.”

He looked at me. “I wouldn’t have thought that something like this would bother you so much.”

“Liar.” I retorted. “If you had thought that you would not have warned me about over reacting.” I snapped. “Why would you even say something like that anyway? Because I worked at Jabba’s, because I work for Vader, you think I am immune to brutality?” I asked, anger creeping into my voice. I had hit the nail on the head though and I saw it in his face and in the fact that he didn’t answer right away.

“Sj’iu tekari, I apologise.” He said after a moment of silence. “It does surprise me that it upsets you as much as it appears to, though. Every member bears this mark. It is a source of great pride for most of the members of the Order. It is just a small thing, a small price to pay.”

“For most members? Are you not proud to be in this club?” I asked, consciously calming down, reminding myself it wasn’t him I was angry at.

He gave me a grim smile. “Pride is a foolish waste of time. This is a means to an end, nothing more and nothing less.”

“What is the end?” I asked with a scowl.

“Order out of chaos.” He said. He didn’t elaborate.

“That’s not much of an answer.” I told him, pulling the sleeve back from his wrist to look once again at the canted circle branded into his flesh.

“It is the only answer. I am doing what is necessary to protect those that depend on me.” He chided. “It is a long road, be patient.” He withdrew his wrist from my hand and stroked my face. “Don’t be petulant, it doesn’t become you.”

Those were fighting words and sometimes I wondered if he wanted to dig at me, just a little, to see how far he could push. But he was right this time. I was being petulant and I had overreacted. It was not the first time I marvelled at how well he knew me and just how easily he was able to sometimes read me. I sighed and settled back against him, taking the wine glass he handed me with a mumbled thanks.

“So do you wish to hear more about my evening or shall I resume my wicked and iniquitous ways with you?” He asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I gave him a look. “And you say I have been reading too many Holloway books?”

He laughed. “It is entirely your own fault that you brought your set over here and conveniently left them where I could find them to read. You are changing the subject and not answering the question.”

“Tell me more about your evening.” I said.

He smiled. “Understand that much of what goes on in the underground chamber is a sworn secret and I will not betray that. This society is filled with many odd traditions and what I would call superstitions but that is to be expected from an organization that has been around for longer than most can recall.” He said and then he proceeded to tell me as much as he was allowed to about his induction into the most elite circle of beings in the Imperial world. It was fascinating to hear but not all of it made sense.

“So the robes you wear at the public ceremony are different from the ones they make you wear at the private one?” I asked interrupting him for the umpteenth time while he described, at my request, what everyone was wearing.

He nodded. “There are symbols embroidered around the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves. They all have meanings and they mirror the symbols that are inlaid onto the floor. While much of the symbolism tells the history of the Canted Circle, some of the symbols are steeped in old beliefs based on a time before the Republic and some have meanings that have been long lost. This is an old organization, some of its ceremony has no meanings but tradition dictates that the old ways continue.”

I nodded. “So, why do the other members hide their faces with hoods? You saw them all at the public ceremony.” I asked.

“There are a set of trials one must go through as inductee, given at the hand of an elder member. Some of these trials are, shall we say unpleasant, meant to test the candidate’s faith, courage and physical endurance. The members prefer not to be seen when they inflict their particular tests. ”

“Faith in what?” I interrupted.

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Faith in the Order itself. The Canted Circle has been around for a very, very long time, much longer than the Emperor and this empire. It has adapted and changed over the centuries to what ever faiths and governing bodies were in power at the time. While the ceremony reflects many of these changes and eras, it is a ritual nothing more. The Canted Circle has survived and that is what its members cling to. Working behind the scenes, this society has more power than most people would ever believe.” He sighed. “All societies have them and the most successful of them learn to adapt.”

“Like the Dantassi?”

He nodded. “Yes, every species, all groups or organizations have their rituals; some are more barbaric than others. Some are eloquently masked behind silk robes and pretty words. Some are physical in nature demanding feats of strength or endurance. The Dantassi rituals are, to my mind, very elegant. Not the brutal hazing that serves little real purpose. They have rites of passage for many other things, the first hunt, coming of age, bonding of mates or adopting new clan members and so on. Just as every single other culture has. But within these societies there are smaller, more elite groups that also have their own rituals, such as the Canted Circle. One inside the other and so on, much like a Mandalorian kyshe doll puzzle.”

“So once you pass these trials, they what, pin you down and burn their mark into you like a prized eopie?”

“It is a little more subtle than your analogy but you are more or less right. Once the trials are done, the candidate is asked three questions, to which the answers are faith, hidden in the dark and above all, loyalty. You may not know the questions, so don’t ask. Once the correct answers are given the High elder of the Circle asks one final question to which there is only one answer and then the initiate holds out his arm and is branded.” He said. “At this point the rest of the circle remove their hoods and welcome the inductee into the brotherhood. After this, there is some manly bonding over fine brandy and conversation then everyone goes home until the next meeting is called. Much of the work the Circle does is not accomplished in it’s meetings but quietly, day to day and very few ever know or see what is being done. ”

“Sounds utterly delightful.” I told him snarkily.

“Why does it bother you so much?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

I drew a deep breath. “They brand you if you work at Jabba’s Palace, if you are a slave.”

“You bear no such mark, at least none that I have seen… have I missed a spot?” He made to lift up my robe but I smacked his hand away.

I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t there long enough for one thing and secondly I am not now, nor was I ever, a slave but I had to watch a few times as a new girl was dragged screaming to be branded. It wasn’t pleasant. Being branded is a sign to everyone that one is not free.”

He sighed, stroking my face with the backs of his fingers. “I am not a slave and I was not dragged against my will. This is not Jabba’s palace and those memories are old, leave them behind you.”

“Easier said than done.” I muttered.

He just nodded. I sipped my wine and the silence between us was weighty until I broke it.

“Is the Emperor a member?”

He arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“You won’t tell me the answer will you?”

“No, and do not ask me this again. It is forbidden to specify who is a member and who is not, but the members are marked, you might want to bear that in mind.” he said. “So, sj’iu tekari, now that I have satisfied your curiosity are you ready to satisfy mine?”

“What do you have to be curious about? I thought you knew the answers to everything!” I asked.

He smiled turned predatory. “Well… I am quite curious as to how what I started earlier will end.” He took my wine glass and set it on the table.

“Oh.” I said and was saved from making any further comments as he pulled me to him, lifting me with a practiced ease to bestride his lap. Any complaint or comment I might have wanted to make was silenced by his mouth on mine and as he kissed me, making up for time lost. His passion and arousal were both evident and infectious. It was easy to give in to his touch as he mapped my body with his fingertips the way he had mapped the uncharted region of space, with delicate care and infinite patience. I reciprocated, learning from his examples, deriving a sense of deep satisfaction as he shuddered and gasped under my touch. This, too, was a sort of ritual and every time he drew me into the circle of his arms, joined his body with mine; I discovered new answers to new questions. This exclusive club of two was riddled with its own secrets and rites. Each time we engaged in this dance I fell a little deeper into a pit I wasn’t certain I could or even wanted to ever climb back out of. My heart and my body had long since surrendered but my mind kept whispering of all the tragic endings this little game of ours could have. I was quite adept at ignoring that little whisper.

What usually began in the living room more often than not ended in the bedroom. Sweet and sensual, he took his time, teaching me the rewards of patience despite my attempts to thwart him. Sometimes when we coupled I wondered, why me? There were so many women to choose from at the palace who were, perhaps, far more suitable than I felt I was but I never asked this question out loud. I did not really want to know the answer. This affair was as dangerous as it was delightful but that didn’t seem to matter to either of us. I wondered, sometimes, why he, who had so much to lose, would risk so much to be with me. It never occurred to me that perhaps I should be asking myself the same question. I, too, had a lot to lose.

Occasionally, drowsy in the aftermath of the fiery tempest we had stirred up in each other, I caught a fleeting sense from him, despite my silent worries and secret fears, that I was more than just a torrid palace affair or planet side fling. Somewhere deep within himself he also needed something from me that he received from no one else. Utter acceptance of not only who he was but also of what he was as well. These tiny glimpses past the mask he wore daily were rare and precious. Thrawn was not a man to bear his soul or share his deepest needs and vulnerabilities easily. More often than not as quickly as I had sensed these thoughts and emotions so they vanished as he closed back up, shutting me and the world around him back out. Perhaps another woman would have complained or brought this up in conversation but not me. I understood his need to protect himself. I did the same thing.

When my thoughts turned to such melancholy topics I would cuddle into his body, seeking warmth and comfort. I would ask him to talk to me, to tell me stories of his home, his youth, and his travels. The sound of his voice was soothing as well as grounding and I tried to burn it into my memory to keep for those times when he would no longer be there to ward off my own demons and inexplicable night terrors. Time was my enemy and I knew it. The deeper I fell into what ever it was we were creating between us the more I sensed a wormy cold wriggle of fear. My thoughts would sometimes turn to something I had once been told.

“Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you.”

Late one night before I had been sent to Tatooine by Lord Vader, the Emperor had found me as he sometimes did, in the library reading about the Great Sith Wars. He had smiled to himself as he had taken the book from my hands. When he had handed it back to me he had spoken these words. I had asked him about them and he had told me a legend about Darth Plagueis the Wise. The story had made me shiver and left me feeling cold and alone. I had spoken with Lord Vader about it the next day and he had nodded.

“I have heard this tale before.” He had said. The bitterness in his voice was a physical thing.

“What does it mean?” I had asked him.

“Trust no one.” He had replied angrily and the conversation had ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Now, as I lay in the dark next to the only man who had seen me stripped bare in every way possible, I wondered about the meaning behind the words of Darth Plagueis. It seemed to me that these words the Emperor had spoken to me, the way a father will sometimes speak to a child to whom he is trying to teach a subtle lesson, were a warning of some sort, a veiled threat hidden behind the mask of avuncular concern. I had remembered then, the terrible sense of sorrow, fear and betrayal I had felt from Lord Vader as I had repeated the Emperor’s tale and I realised why it had hit so close to the bone. His emotions echoed mine. I had stared into Lord Vader’s face only to have the reflection of my own mirrored back to me. Sometimes I wondered if we were really so different. Lord Vader had become a tool for the Emperor, taken in by the soft spoken advice and kindly manner. The Emperor had beguiled him with kindness and trust when the people he had admired the most had let him down, viewed him with suspicion. Lord Vader had not always been this way, he had not always been angry and dark. I had stared at him for a long time. I did not want to end up the same way.

Attachments… the word was beginning to take on new significance and with that came some small measure of understanding why the Jedi had tried to avoid it. But in this place and at this time I was willing to take what comfort I could. I would never be sure on nights such as these if it was just the fact that I was restless, tossing and turning by his side awake or if he just sensed my own inner turmoil but more often than not, Thrawn would entwine himself around me, protective and fierce. He would nuzzle his face in my hair and the warmth of my neck and whisper in my ear.

“Stop thinking so loud, sj’iu tekari and go to sleep. What ever it is you are conjuring up has not happened yet so stop tempting fate.”

Most of the time this worked but every now and then his words failed to lull me to sleep, of course then he had other contingency plans in place for such moments as these and usually they worked just fine.