The sound of the heavy double-doors releasing dragged him from his reverie and he turned to see the red-haired woman enter, hard eyes glaring at him.
"The Emperor commands your presence." She lifted an arm, indicating the door.
Swallowing once against his dry throat and gathering what weary wits he had about him, Luke rose and walked forward between the towering, silent Royal Guards who fell in to flank him one step back as he crossed the threshold.
He walked into a second cavernous room, cold and unwelcoming despite lavish furnishings, and a second set of tall doors grated open to its far side, too heavy to be the carved wooden panels they appeared. Into a third room with his silent, imposing escort to his sides. This one was very much inhabited, its occupant blaring out through the Force, a locus of power so great that Luke flinched involuntarily.
Darkness, thick and roiling, almost a physical thing this close to its wielder, obscuring everything. The expansive room in no way diminished the Sith's crooked frame as he stood close to the huge fireplace, at ease in the shadows; kindred spirits.
A fire was lit in the hearth; bone-white wood which cracked and popped, made brittle by the flame. Heat roared as it buffeted and baked the air in the grand hearth, easily high enough that Luke could have stepped beneath the lintel without bending, its amber flicker overriding the low lights of the huge room to make the shadows dance in darkness.
Strangely, the long table to the centre of the chamber was set for dinner, two chairs placed at opposite ends, footmen waiting nervously.
The Emperor--the Sith--turned as Luke entered...to smile benignly, though the shadows of the fire played cruel tricks on his ravaged features, giving the expression a dangerous edge. Still, he bowed his head just slightly...and Luke, at a complete loss for words and uncertain what else to do, did the same.
"Jedi," the Sith acknowledged, his voice thin and reedy; rasping.
He wore long, richly decorated robes in darkest crewel-worked ruby, and a heavy mantle of raven black. A high collar pushed at the pale, waxen flesh of his neck and his bone-white hand gripped a polished, twisted cane which clicked on the stone floor as he used it for support...though like Master Yoda, Luke suspected it was more for effect than necessity.
A flurry of heavy cloth whispering against the polished marble floor as the Sith took a halting step forward then paused, staring intently at his captive.
Ashen and frail, aware that the exertion of the short walk had reduced him to trembling uncontrollably, heart pounding so loud he could hear it catch in his breaths, Luke wondered at the insignificant image he projected.
"You should sit," the Emperor said obligingly, bringing Luke's gaze up in surprise.
Palpatine walked to settle into the far chair, nodding at the red haired woman who bowed and left, affording Luke a brief glimpse of the brightly-lit corridor beyond, his mind sharpening a little, dragging itself awake at the opportunity. Six. Six guards against the far wall of the corridor, weapons held ready at the open door...but he was sure he sensed far more than that. They must be on either side of the door as well.
"Did you hear me?" It was not quite a challenge, but it brought Luke's eyes back to the Emperor.
"I heard you."
Had he said that, so casually? His first words, given boldness by the fact that his mind was elsewhere. Still he didn't move.
Palpatine tilted his head, unimpressed; amused even. "Then stand. We'll see which one of us falls first."
Luke remained still for several seconds, his head swimming. How had he managed to get into a war of wills already? Don't do it; don't get into a fight you can't win over nothing.
.
.
Palpatine noted how the boy tried to disguise the extent of his own fragility as he walked shakily to the chair, left hand extended to steady himself before he reached it. His Jedi sat, collapsing back in exhaustion to look out from heavily-hooded eyes, dwarfed by the towering guards who stepped to either side.
The Emperor smiled, content. "There are twelve."
At the momentary frown which brushed the boy's wary features, he clarified. "Twelve guards; a full complement. There is also a garrison in the room at the end of the hallway; a further twenty-four guards. They hold to nine-hour shifts in the corridors outside. They know what you are and what you're capable of. None will hesitate."
He continued, quite happy to volunteer this information as reward in acknowledgment of the fact that the boy had done as he'd been commanded. It was of little use other than to spell out how unlikely his escape was and anyway, the contest was between himself and his Jedi; lesser beings were of little importance. They served only to clarify Palpatine's resolve. "There are a further eighteen battalions assigned to this HabitationTower, the same to each of the others. These rooms have been designed specifically for you--a prison to hold a Jedi. My Jedi. Specifically where I want him."
.
.
Ignoring the obvious taunt, Luke leaned back, resting his aching right hand on the carved arm of the chair and feeling deathly tired. For long seconds neither spoke, Palpatine simply watching him. The still silence stretched and Luke blinked slowly, feeling no need to break it.
Time trickled in silent anticipation...
He lifted a heavy, trembling right hand to his temple, to...
A shock of pain ran the length of his arm and lit fireworks in his mind, the memory pulling his eyes to his hand.
He'd woken to the shooting pain of fresh surgery, a clinical white dressing about his forearm, the same slight, olive-skinned medic from the Star Destroyer telling him to take care as he'd struggled to hold it out before him, clumsy and trembling, turning his arm about to study the perfect replica. In seconds, he'd had to drop the arm, cradling it in his left hand against the incredible dull heaviness. It had felt warm in his real hand, though he had no sensation from it beside needle-fine stabs of pain where he touched it.
He tried again now to move his fingers; they tingled like pins and needles, every nerve white hot yet strangely numb, as if he were wearing a thick, heavy glove which dulled senses and restricted movement. Awkward, jerky movement flexed the fingers which were completely familiar yet disturbingly alien.
Palpatine's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Feeling will return over the next few weeks, as nerves heal and your mind learns how to control it. I'm sure you're a quick study." There was the amusement of double meaning in his voice at this last comment.
Luke glanced up, unsure how to react.
Palpatine smiled benignly. "Lord Vader is...effective, but hardly subtle. Akin to using a blunt instrument. I gave him only the command to bring you here."
Did he expect gratitude? Luke bristled at this, the scowl pulling fine lines about his eyes.
His mind was clearing now, that first rush of blind panic subsiding, drowned by his anger at Palpatine's remark, his own stubborn refusal to be intimidated affording him a burst of adrenaline. Still, a little of Yoda's teaching had rubbed off; where previously Luke would have immediately gone on the offensive, now, he had the good grace to find his center, relax tense muscles and wait this out.
.
.
Palpatine noted the boy's momentary reaction, quickly quashed; more than he would have expected. More so because of...what? He narrowed his eyes in contemplation and the boy did likewise, aware that he was being studied. Watching him, Palpatine sensed that stubborn will coming into play, like his father.
"Eat," Palpatine prompted at last, one hand casually extended, palm up.
"I'm not hungry," the boy said simply, without even looking to the table.
Which amused Palpatine immensely; he grinned with undisguised amusement as the game began. "Of course you are. I thought you served as a soldier in your petty little Rebellion. Did they teach you nothing? A soldier always eats whenever he's given the opportunity; he never knows when the next meal will come."