“Think, my young Jedi,” Tamith Kai chided. “You cannot expect to lift the heaviest object with your weakest muscles.”
Lights flashed again, and a dagger of sound pierced his ears. But only for a moment.
“Do not keep your anger pent up,” Tamith Kai’s voice continued as if there had been no interruption. “You must use it … release it. Only then can you set yourself free.”
Lowie recognized what she was doing, and the knowledge gave him strength. He closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, and concentrated, prepared to resist the lights and sound.
But he was not prepared for what followed.
From all sides, jets of icy water exploded from the walls, buffeting him with bruising force. He was drenched and shivering, but still the high-pressure streams pummeled him, invaded him. The prying liquid forced itself up under his eyelids, inside his ears and mouth, and streamed down his body, chilling him to the bone.
As unexpectedly as it had begun, the watery attack ended. Shuddering convulsively from the cold, Lowie looked down to find himself ankle-deep in water that was barely warmer than glacial runoff. Anger welled up within him, but he suppressed it, let it flow out of him as the water had streamed down his body. He tried instead to shift the sonic generator again, but to no avail.
As if Lowie’s effort had triggered it, the sonic generator began a fresh assault on his senses, strobing the glowpanels and flooding the room with high-pitched wailing until Lowie feared he would drown in it.
Instead, he concentrated on thoughts of his friends Jacen and Jaina. He would be strong.
When the generator paused, more fists of freezing water pounded him again from all sides.
How long these tortures alternated, Lowie could not say. After a time, it seemed his life had always been a litany of lights, sound, water, lights, sound, water …
And still he did not give in to his anger.
By the time Tamith Kai spoke to him again, he was curled into a tight, freezing ball of soggy misery, perched directly on the sonic generator in an effort to bring feeling back to his numb legs and feet.
“You have the power within you to end your ordeal,” her voice said with mock pity. “Alas, young Jedi, fortitude is only admirable when it gains you something.”
Lowie did not raise his head or acknowledge her words.
“You cannot help yourself in this way. You cannot help your friends. Your friends have already learned the truth of my words,” she went on.
Lowie’s head snapped up, and he voiced a growl of disbelief.
“Ah, but it is true,” she said, a note of encouragement in her voice. “Would you like to see them?”
Before he could utter a bark of agreement, a pair of holographic images spun in the air before his eyes. One showed Jacen wielding a lightsaber, a look of fierce enjoyment lighting his young features. In the other Jaina used the Force to toss aside heavy objects, her head thrown back with a challenging grin.
Lowie reached toward the luminescent images with a yelp of stunned disbelief—and fell face-first into the icy water that covered the floor. He hauled himself back to his feet, and the sonic generator resumed its torturous whine.
From deep within him, horror mixed with rage and a sense of betrayal, fanning the embers that had smoldered for so long. Flames of anger sprang up inside him, warming him with their undeniable heat, rising higher and higher until they burst from his throat in a howl of fury.
And he knew no more.
Lowie woke to restful darkness back in his own cell. The room was warm, and he lay on his sleeping platform covered with a soft blanket. His muscles ached, but he felt well rested. He moved a hand to his waist and found that he was once again wearing his webbed belt.
The voice of Tamith Kai spoke next to him. Lowie was not surprised to find the tall, dark-haired Nightsister standing beside him. In the dim light of the cell’s glowpanels he saw that she held an irregularly shaped metal object.
“You have done well, young Wookiee,” she said.
Lowie gave a sad moan as the memory of what he had done flooded back to him.
“With your anger you succeeded beyond my highest expectations,” Tamith Kai said, looking at him with obvious pride. “As a reward, I’ve brought you back your droid.”
Lowie’s mind faltered with confusion. Should he feel proud of what he had done? Should he be ashamed? He received Em Teedee from Tamith Kai’s hands with relief and clipped the little droid to its accustomed place at his belt.
“You will make a fine Jedi,” Tamith Kai said. She smiled conspiratorially. “After you unleashed your anger, we were unable even to repair the sonic generator, as we have every time before.” And then she swept out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts.
Lowie stood and groaned as his muscles refused to cooperate, and he slumped back onto the sleeping platform.
“Well, if you ask my opinion,” Em Teedee’s thin voice piped up, “you caused a great deal of your own pain through your needless resistance.”
Lowbacca growled a surprised reply.
“Who asked me?” Em Teedee said. “Well, I really don’t know why you should be so upset. After all, you’re here at the Shadow Academy to learn. Why, you’re very fortunate that they’ve taken such an interest in you.
“The Imperials are very perceptive, you know. So perceptive, in fact, that they saw my own potential and have included me in their plans. I am most honored.”
With an uncomfortable suspicion, Lowie barked a question.
“Wrong with me?” Em Teedee asked. “Why, nothing. Quite the contrary. As an expression of their complete confidence in me, Brakiss and Tamith Kai have had my programming enhanced. I feel much better now than I ever have. I am to be an integral part of your instruction here. You must realize that they have only your best interests at heart. The Empire is your friend.”
Lowie made a thoughtful sound as if accepting Em Teedee’s words—and reached down to switch the little droid off.
His head had suddenly become clear. Em Teedee’s words had crystallized something in his mind. He might have given in, but he had not given up. And if he knew anything about Jacen and Jaina, the same was true for them—at least that’s what he would have to hope.
15
It was midafternoon by the time Tenel Ka returned. She found Master Skywalker quietly contemplating in the small slaves quarters Augwynne Djo had offered him to keep him away from curious eyes during the meeting.
“I’ve spoken with the Council of Sisters,” she said. Waves of afternoon heat rippled up the cliffside to the fortress of the Singing Mountain Clan, giving the air a flat, burnt smell. “They expect visitors to come at dusk. At that time all of our questions will be answered.”
“Then we wait,” Master Skywalker said, looking at her with his intense blue eyes. “It is one of the most difficult things to do—especially at such an urgent time, when we don’t know what’s happened to Jacen or Jaina or Lowbacca. But if waiting gets us answers where action would not … then waiting”—he smiled—“is the action we must choose.”
Like a good guest, Tenel Ka busied herself with minor duties to help the Singing Mountain Clan as the hours crawled slowly by.
The sun swung toward the horizon and dusk. Low clouds in the otherwise clear air burned pink and orange, scattering leftover rays into the heated atmosphere. Clicking insects and scuttling lizards began to move about as their world cooled with evening, adding faint rustling noises to the day’s silence.
On the lower tier of cliff dwellings, looking down upon the baked rocky plain, Tenel Ka and Master Skywalker watched the lengthening shadows cast by sunset across the desert. Compared with the bright reptilian hides Tenel Ka wore, Master Skywalker’s brown robes seemed drab and nondescript—but she knew the strength and skill he harbored within himself.