Chapter Text
“So who is this guy we’re looking for, exactly?”
Osha glances at her companion, uncertain of just how much she should tell him. The Jedi know so little about Qimir—shady apothecary, formerly employed by the Hutts, currently taking up residence beside the temple on Olega. Yord only discovered him when Qimir tried to pickpocket him late one night; in order to avoid criminal charges, Qimir had offered to do the temple a favor.
Said favor: acting as Osha’s guide here on Khofar.
“Master Kelnacca,” Osha replies. “I haven’t seen him in years. No one has. He chose to live out his life here after…a tragic accident.”
Qimir sighs, adjusting the strap of his pack. The path they’re on hugs the edge of a massive cliff, and clumsy Qimir had insisted on walking along the edge, keeping Osha away from the dangerous drop. Osha can’t decide if this makes him chivalrous, or foolish.
“The Jedi seem to have a lot of tragic accidents,” Qimir notes. “Those murders that happened at your temple on Olega—aren’t they calling those tragic accidents, too?”
“They weren’t murders. We don’t have all the facts,” Osha replies, perhaps a little too quickly. She composes herself before continuing, “All we know is that Masters Indara and Torbin had a meeting with Vernestra, but they never showed up. It was unfortunate timing that Sol came across Indara’s body like that. Vernestra looked for Torbin herself soon after. I guess she didn’t trust anyone else after Sol was taken into custody.”
“Vernestra,” Qimir says, drawing out the last vowel of the Jedi’s name. “She sounds…” He makes a horrible face, but does not finish the thought. “Who’s Sol?”
“He was my master.” Osha frowns, cutting herself off before she says more. If Yord were here, he would chastise her for being so forthcoming with Jedi information.
Qimir doesn’t notice her reticence. “Huh. Must be hard, learning there’s another side of him—one you never knew existed.”
Osha bites her lip and stays silent. He has no idea what he is talking about. Sol would never kill Torbin, or Indara. Even though Torbin hadn’t spoken to anyone in years, Sol and Indara were still close friends. After Mae died…
No. She mustn’t think of that. The last thing she needs right now is a distraction. If she wants to clear Sol’s name, she must reach Master Kelnacca and ensure that he is safe. Then, Vernestra will realize that Sol isn’t murdering the Jedi who found Osha on Brendok.
But if it wasn’t him, Osha thinks, who was it?
“Must be really boring. Being a Jedi.”
Osha barely manages to stifle a sigh. “No, it’s not boring. It’s quite interesting, actually.”
“Really? But I thought you just…stayed at their temple all day. Doing, like, clerical work or something.”
Osha comes to an abrupt stop, giving him a sharp look. “Who told you that?”
Qimir’s eyes widen as he, too, freezes. “N-no one! Well, I mean, you did. Not that you told me, but you were telling that, uh…that other girl. The Jedi with the…” He imitates little horns along the top of his head.
“Jecki. Right.” Osha continues walking along the path. She doesn’t remember speaking to Jecki about her duties at the temple in front of Qimir. She doesn’t even remember speaking to Jecki at all in front of Qimir. But these last few days have been…difficult, to say the least. It is entirely possible that she just didn’t notice him.
Qimir hurries to catch up with her, tripping over his own feet in the process. On instinct, Osha reaches out to steady him by grasping his arm. Qimir gives her a sheepish smile from behind loose strands of hair. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
They continue walking. Osha tries to convince herself to breathe easier, forcing her shoulders down and back. She need not be concerned about this mission. Things will go smoothly. Things are going smoothly.
Things would be better, though, if her guide would just stop talking.
“Did you know that Khofar is the native planet of umbramoths?” At her side, Qimir extends both hands in front of him, hooking them together by his thumbs to demonstrate a flying creature. “It’s their hatching season, and if you wake them up…” He winces. “Not fun.”
Osha gives herself a moment before responding, counting to ten in her mind, just as Sol taught her. “You really like to talk, don’t you?”
“And you really don’t, do you?”
Osha sneaks a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He is looking at her intently—too intently. As if he can see every thought in her head. Before she can consider it further, Qimir keeps talking.
“Hey, I get it. If I found out my master was a murderer, I’d be quiet, too.”
“He’s not a murderer!”
Her shout echoes back to them a hundredfold from the surrounding mountains. Osha’s anger feels like fire in her veins, burning her from the inside out. She clenches her fists so hard that her hands begin to tremble.
Finally—finally—Qimir stays silent. He simply holds Osha’s gaze, unwavering.
Just as quickly as it came, Osha’s anger disappears, replaced by regret. Regret, and shame. She hasn’t had an outburst like that in months. She thought that she finally learned to control her negative emotions. Yes, the last few days have been stressful. But what does it say about her, that she allowed the words of a stranger to provoke her to such rage?
She presses a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Qimir’s voice sounds different, deeper, when he replies, “Don’t be sorry. I wanted you to.”
Osha opens her eyes. “You wanted me to?”
Qimir’s brows rise comically high. Just like that, he sounds like himself again. “I mean, I didn’t want you to yell at me. You just seem…” He reaches out and, lightning fast, taps her temple twice. “Like you need an outlet.” He tilts his head. “Don’t Jedi meditate?”
No meditation will change how annoying Qimir is. Aloud, Osha says, “We do.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to work for you.”
Osha can’t help it; her jaw drops. “What is your problem? No, you know what? I don’t care.”
Qimir frowns. “Osha—”
“No.” She points at the path still ahead of them. “Please do what you were hired for. Lead me to Kelnacca.”
He looks like he might argue, but thankfully, he doesn’t. “If that’s what you want.”
They arrive at Kelnacca’s secluded home just as Khofar’s sun begins to set. Osha pauses before the door. “Stay here. I should be back soon.”
Qimir looks around, fidgeting with the long sleeves of his cloak. “You want me to stay out here? If you’re not back before the sun sets—”
“I’ll be back. Just stay here.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll stay here.” He straightens his posture and positions himself beside the door, almost like a guard. Osha gives him one last look before taking a deep breath and knocking.
No answer.
She ignores Qimir’s gaze as she knocks again. Where is Kelnacca? Fear creeps into her heart the longer he does not answer. What if Indara’s killer reached Khofar before they did and murdered Kelnacca, too?
Osha knocks one last time. “Master Kelnacca?”
Again, he does not come to the door, and there is no answer from within. Osha ignites her lightsaber and enters Kelnacca’s home.
Before she notices anything else, her eyes land on the drawings that cover his walls.
Osha gasps. Every available space is filled with white and purple spirals—the symbol of her people. Not the Jedi, but her true people: her family on Brendok. Why would Kelnacca know these symbols? He was at the fortress the fateful day of the fire, but he hadn’t met her mother or Mae. Unless…
Osha’s mother had been capable of great power. She could reach into a Jedi’s mind; Osha saw it firsthand, with Torbin. What if something like that happened to Kelnacca, but from a distance?
What if it changed him so irrevocably that he exiled himself to Khofar, to keep from hurting anyone?
An ear-splitting roar fills the Wookie’s home. Osha whirls to face Master Kelnacca, barely managing to block the swing of his lightsaber with her own. Green and blue plasma collide in a shower of sparks. “Kelnacca, it’s me!” Osha shouts. “It’s Osha!”
Her words do nothing to help. Kelnacca pulls his blade back with a snarl and attacks again, with such strength that Osha must grab her lightsaber’s hilt in both hands. The setting sun shifts outside, lighting Kelnacca’s face in an orange glow as they fight. Osha recoils at what she sees in his eyes: madness, the kind no words will ever heal.
Already hating herself for what she is about to do, Osha spins, catching Kelnacca’s shoulder with her blade. He roars in pain and swipes at her with a large paw, but Osha dodges him, racing to the door. She stumbles outside into the last glow of twilight—only to find her guide missing.
She doesn’t slow down, just shouts, “Qimir!” as she puts as much distance as possible between herself and Kelnacca. Kelnacca must know every inch of this forest. No matter where Osha runs, he will find her. Without Qimir to lead her through the dark, she stands no chance of surviving.
The sun sets, plunging the forest into darkness. Osha holds her blue blade before her, still running, ignoring the sound of Kelnacca crashing through the woods behind her.
Then, she catches sight of something in the distance—a light. Red, glowing bright against the darkness.
She runs straight toward it.