Undimmed by the pounding rain, shafts of bright artificial light illuminated opposite sides of the corral. They wove graceful, elegant arcs of luminous lethality that were clearly visible through the darkness and damp. Slipping through the fence, Obi-Wan gestured silently toward the farther of the two guards standing watch on their side of the perimeter. Both Qulun were hardened from years of fighting off marauding predators and raiding clans. Their senses were sharp, their fighting skills acute.
The one who turned first overcame his surprise at the sight of the two oncoming humans in time to raise his rifle and fire a single burst. Deflected by the unnaturally swift parry of Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the bolt went flaring off into the night. Before the sentry could get off a second shot, the Jedi had taken him down.
At first, Obi-Wan thought his Padawan might be having some trouble with the other guard. When he saw that Anakin was only toying with him, the Jedi frowned and started toward the battling pair. As soon as he saw his Master approaching, Anakin finished off his opponent with a quick cut to the neck. The Qulun collapsed into the muddy, short grass.
Deactivating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan looked down at the dead Ansionian, then up at his Padawan. Though a burst of lightning threw their faces and bodies into sharp relief, it could not illuminate the tension between them.
"What was that about, Padawan?" The Jedi's voice was per fectly uninflected.
"Nothing, Master." His face a mask of innocence, Anakin belted his lightsaber. "He was faster than I thought."
Kenobi considered his pupil in silence. Then he nodded, once. "Have a care, Anakin, lest next time your opponent is even faster than that." Stepping past the Padawan, he gestured curtly. "Come on. We've lost too much time here already."
A sharp whistle drew Luminara and Barriss to them. "Any trouble?" As he spoke, Obi-Wan glanced not at Luminara but in the direction of her Padawan.
The other Jedi shook her head. Water spilled down her face, droplets clinging to her tattooed lower lip.
"Good fighters, these. More seasoned than those who jumped us in Cuipernam." She nodded to Barriss. Holding up her left hand, the Padawan showed a small cut. Blood seeped from the wound, but the rain would cleanse it, and it would quickly heal.
Taking a step forward, Anakin eyed it appraisingly. "Have to learn to keep your distance. Especially when you don't know how your opponent is armed."
"I don't have your reach," she snapped brusquely. "I suppose you'd be happy to show me some tips?"
He surprised her. "No. I tried that once before, already. In more water than this. Remember?" So saying, he started toward his nervously pawing suubatar. Confused, she watched him for a moment before heading for her own mount. Now, she decided, was not the time to try to analyze Anakin Skywalker or his singular personality. She wondered if any time would ever be the right time.
Silently, the group mounted their restless suubatars. As they did so, both Kyakhta and Bulgan took note of the lifeless bodies of the four Qulun sentinels.
Luminara's animal reared nervously on its hind and middle legs and she fought to control it while staying in the saddle. A few weeks ago, she would surely have been thrown. But with time had come experience, and with experience, confidence.
Getting the towering beast back under control, she followed the guides as they urged their mounts northward. Firm hands and proper guidance restored to them, the bounding suubatars cleared the electrified barrier of the portable corral easily. Then they were out in the rain, racing northward across the prairie. Somewhere ahead lay the elusive overclan, and the closing stages of their mission.
Soergg had succeeded in seriously delaying them and throwing them off their timetable. Hopefully, the Hutt had not de layed them too much. As she let her suubatar carry her off into the night, Luminara prayed that the Unity representatives would keep to their promise to wait until the Jedi returned before holding the vote on whether or not to take Ansion out of the Republic. From experience and studies she knew that such a vote, once concluded, would be almost impossible to reverse.
Behind them, a furious Baiuntu saw what was happening and attempted to rally a few of his clanfolk. His hopes of mounting a pursuit were dashed by the sight of numerous panicky Qulun still running wildly through their lorqual- devastated encampment.
"You idiots! Gather yourselves. Collect your wits!" His sadain bounding and rearing beneath him, he fought to control it while assembling a chase party around him. Preoccupied with the escaping prisoners and the loss of the fee they represented, he did not see what was bearing down on him. But his sadain did, and bucked him off so that it could escape.
"You miserable, worthless!. ." Sitting on the ground in the grass and mud, the Qulun chieftain was beside himself. What a night! And it had begun so promisingly. Heaving himself to his feet, he slapped irately at his mud-spattered clothing. A glance revealed that he was alone. The offworlders had gone, though by what means they had escaped he could not imagine. Had he held them long enough to collect the payment promised by the Hutt? It remained a possibility. The effort of holding the Jedi might still prove worth the effort. As for the thrice-cursed herd of lorqual, it had finally departed, no doubt to reassemble placidly somewhere just south of the camp it had just reduced to chaos. And he was here, out in the grass, facing a short but muddy walk back to his bed.
Well, he had led his clan through worse. Not for nothing had he acquired a reputation as a perspicacious leader as well as a shrewd trader. There would be other days, other opportunities for profit. A wise merchant knows how to resign himself to loss as well as how to anticipate profit. Everything depended on whether they had delayed the offworlders long enough to satisfy the city merchant. He started back toward the light of the camp's remaining intact glowpoles.
Something coughed softly behind him.
He took another step, and it coughed again. Turning sharply, fingers shaking, he fumbled frantically for his blaster, the fine one he had acquired at the annual trade fair in distant Piyanzi. His fingers came up empty.
The weapon must have spilled from its holster when he had been thrown by the accursed sadain.
Dropping to his knees, he ignored the mud and the rain as he commenced a furious search for his blaster. Ou, there it was, lying in the grass not far from where he had been standing. All would be well now, if not as well as it had been when the sun had set. Relieved, he reached for the gun. As he did so, a trio of closely set eyes materialized just above it. Flashing red murder, they were flanked by another trinity of eyes, and another, and still another. Gritting his teeth, he made a lunge for the blaster. For such a big individual, Baiuntu was quick, very quick.
But not nearly so quick as a shanh.
Chapter 14
Morning brought with it a change in the weather as well as in everyone's outlook. Cleansed by the previous night's tem pest, the plains wore rain-swept freshness like a coat of new lacquer. The sun shone down soothingly, small winged seed-crackers chittered vividly as they flitted from grass to copse, and even the usually imperturbable suubatars ran with a youthful spring in their sextuple step. No doubt the riders would have enjoyed the morning even more had they not been exhausted from riding all night.