The Wrong Side of Right 4

Sitting on the floor of the training room in Lord Vader’s home watching him practice was something I usually enjoyed but this evening I was tired. He had worked me hard and I ached all over. I leaned with my back against the wall and closed my eyes. In my mind I could see the lightsaber’s motion to match its sound and the slight sizzle as it sliced through the metal of the droids. I knew how he moved, I had watched him practice more times than I could count, and even with my eyes closed I knew his grace and dance.

He had forgotten I was there. I knew that because it happened almost all of the time, some part of his mind shut off as he worked himself against the droids he had design and everything else around him melted away. I let my thoughts drift back to the night I had bumped into the Emperor at the Jedi Temple. I wondered, as I sat in the dimly lit training room, what it was the Emperor truly wanted from the galaxy he ruled.

The Emperor had bade me follow him and I had done so, walking as was protocol, slightly behind him. He was alone but somewhere in the shadows had skulked at least two members of his Royal Guard, I had not see them but I had sensed their presence. He had walked slowly, the gnarled walking stick which he had leaned on had made rhythmic tap tap sounds as it struck the marble floor. His way back to the Palace was over ground via his personal transportation, not skulking through hidden tunnels. I had not opened my mouth to say a word nor had he. He had sat across from me with his eyes closed. I had stared out at the passing city, my emotions in a turmoil I could not quell, my head full of questions I could not ask out loud. When we stopped he had gestured for me to exit first. I took the hand of the young guard that offered to help me out without thinking and stood waiting as the Emperor had unfolded himself from the vehicle to continue walking.

“Come along child.” He had said.

I had followed him without question. It was a part of the palace I had never been in before and I marvelled at its beauty. I knew the style to be much older than even the part I was used to being in. He had modernised much of the palace but this place he had left alone. It was breath taking.

“Not many are permitted here.” He had said as we walked through the silent hallways. “This place has been left as it was at the very beginning of the Old Republic. I have always loved the architecture but it is impractical for our times, still a small part of history should remain, do you not agree, young Merlyn?”

“Yes, your Highness.” I had replied. It would have been a shame to lose all of the history left behind but, I wondered, what good is keeping it when only one person ever got to see it?

He had smiled and continued to walk until he came to a set of doors, ornate and hand carved from a beautiful dark wood. When he had opened the door and stepped back I had gasped.

“Yes,” he had crooned softly. “You may enter.” And so I had.

I had gazed about me like a small child at a pallie stand. This was one of the Emperor’s private collection rooms. I had heard he possessed such places, filled with treasures from across the Galaxy but I had never dreamed to even see one. I had looked about then, taking each piece that was being displayed, each a treasure, some I had known of some I had not but in the end it had been the piece displayed on a pedestal in the center of the large room that had held my gaze.

“Yes, I told you it had not been destroyed.” He had startled me with his words making me jump. I turned to look at him standing so close I could almost feel the heat from his stare.

I had only nodded dumbly then turned my gaze back to the little statue. The Waiting Dancer.

“Well, child would you squander your only chance? Move closer, look at it.”

I had done as he had said and stepped, hesitantly to the center of the room. The piece was quite small, but exquisite in its detail. The Maquette was no more than a hand or so tall. The little girl was seated on the floor, her hands clasped over her bent knee, upon which her chin rested, her other leg tucked underneath. She looked small and vulnerable, curled into herself until one looked at the face. It was the face of a young pupil staring up at a master she adored, waiting for instruction, waiting to be shown a move, waiting to be shown how to fly. Everything lay in Tarka-Null’s ability to sculpt expression. I leaned in to look at her face and saw my mother as she had been as a child. I had studied this piece from books and holograms all of my childhood life. I had dreamed of being a dancer, whisked away to fame by the Alderaan Dance Academy. A little girl’s dream, nothing more, but for many years my mother had lived it. A valued pupil of that once famous school prized and pampered until a fall had ended her career long before my father had stolen her heart.

She had told me the story of sitting for Tarka-Null many, many times because I had begged her to. Divulging her secret and urging me to keep it. I had begged her for every tiny detail she could remember, in some way living through her words this small moment of time. I knew why her hair had been styled the way it had, and what colour her dance tunic had been. I knew that the constricting shoes she wore which helped her stand upon the very tips of her toes had been new and had pinched even though she had never danced in them.

I had gazed upon the small replica of the woman who had raised me and the world around me vanished. I was not even aware that I was crying. I longed to touch it but dared not. Only when the Emperor spoke, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper that I might do as I so longed did I remembered where I was, and who I was with. For a moment I had paused, mid motion wondering what his price would be for this gift he was giving, then decided it did not matter.

If he had known, he had not said. I had reached and stroked the cool metal the statue had been cast from and welcomed the shock of images it had brought. Only when the statue finished telling me her side of the story did I break contact and step away. No wonder my mothered had always smiled when ever she had told this story. I had smiled then as well.

I had turned and looked into the eyes of the Emperor and meaning every word I had uttered, I thanked him.

“You are a creature of astonishing passions.” He said softly, “In a different age you would have made a great dark side adept.”

I swallowed and glanced away from his piercing gaze, looking back at the small work of art that had made my heart ache.

There had been a moment’s silence and then he had asked. “You knew who the model was?”

I nodded dumbly.

“Who was she to you?”

This puzzled me as I was sure he had known, but I had found no lie hidden in his words only idle curiosity. So I had answered him.

“She was my mother, the woman who raised me and taught me everything good and beautiful.”

“I always wondered who had modeled, it is not written anywhere and Tarka himself never spoke of her name.” He had said. “He would only smile when asked and comment about not revealing his muse.”

“I didn’t know.” And that was the truth. While my mother had said not many people knew about the truth of it, I had never fully taken her at face value. My mother had been full of such mischiefs and we had had plenty of secrets between us.

“Did you learn what you wanted to?” The Emperor’s voice had broken into my thoughts. Underneath his words I tasted longing. He really wanted to know.

So I had unfolded her story to him then, including some of the stories the statue had passed on to me, but not all of them. He listened with a slight smile.

“He had chosen her in secret.” I said. “He wanted the statue to be about the pose not the girl. She had modeled for him in a place of his choosing, his country estate. No one had known and she had lied to her parents about it. She took great delight in having this secret. Tarka-Null had given her a gift for her troubles and time, he had fashioned a tiny necklace for her, a small flower, which she wore until the day she was killed. Who the model had been had been the school’s greatest mystery, but I had not known it was also the galaxy’s.”

“I see you have been learning to better control your gift.” He said.

“Practice makes perfect.” I nodded reciting master Kjestyll’s words without thinking.

The Emperor had chuckled. “You are indeed every bit as fascinating as my favourite tactician finds you to be. No wonder he bridles whenever I mention your name. Such a distraction, I think, even he could not resist. It is an interesting weakness for such a strong willed man.”

Now, I had thought, we come to the truth of the matter. Thrawn. I had waited for more but surprisingly enough there was none. The Emperor regarded me for a few moments and I burned under the heat of his scrutiny, then in the blink of an eye he had seemed to grow weary.

“It is late, child, I am fatigued and I see sleep lurking behind your eyes. I will request that Lord Vader see to your training and when I return from my visit to the over see the new space station perhaps you and I will speak some more of art.”

“As you wish, your Highness.” I had said and because I hadn’t known what else to do I curtsied which made him chuckle.

“Yes, the woman who raised you taught you well. You may leave now and return home, he is waiting for you.” He had said. Somehow he had signalled for his guard who had entered the room crimson and silent. “Escort Miss Gabriel to the South entrance and see she is taken home safely.” And with those words he had dismissed me, turning his back to me to let his fingertips graze the small statue fondly. I had given him a gift; I had given him the answer to a long unanswered question. The Emperor did not like mysteries and he never left anything undone. When I had returned home, I found the Emperor had once again been right, and Thrawn had returned early. Still awake, he had waited up for me to come home. That reunion had been sweet.

Now, half asleep on the floor of Lord Vader’s training room I pondered this small piece of knowledge. Thrawn was just such a mystery and it occurred to me then that perhaps the Emperor was hoping I would be the key to unravel it but I knew he was wrong. Thrawn was too many things, I knew only a small part of them, only a small part of him and even then I would not betray him, I would rather die. If I was Thrawn’s weakness then he was my strength. It was at that moment, in the quiet of Lord Vader’s training room I understood how deep my feelings for Thrawn went. The realization was daunting.

I yawned and stirred. The sound of lightsaber and droids had st0pped. Lord Vader towered above me and nudged me with his boot.

“Get up, girl and go home. You are no good to me tired and I won’t have you littering up my floors like common street trash.” He said. “We will have plenty of work to do tomorrow, and I have no time to waste pandering to your fatigue.”

I got to my feet stiffly and did as he had ordered. I went home.