La'azum.

Miles upon miles of dull, rolling hills, brown with years of drought, marked only with occasional scraggly trees. The city of Valshir was visible from a great distance, a mirage of red stone.

"Not real pretty is it?" Han Solo asked, steering the speeder into the traffic lane that led to the city's heart. "I mean, the city's okay, but this planet makes Tatooine look interesting. No offense."

"None taken. It takes a particular sort of vision to appreciate Tatooine. I imagine there is some vision which appreciates La'azum, but I have not experienced it."

Solo shook his head and laughed. "That would be some vision, all right." He veered the speeder slightly. "So we're headed to see Laryhi?"

"The Tr'astari'shal. Yes. The Astaya believes that part of the drought is caused by a blockage near the spring that is the source of the Ihivizi River. He wants me to find out and clear it."

"He needs a Jedi to do that?"

"He asked. He believes that there may still be some of the radical Ka'alya in the hills. Also, it is quite likely an outgrowth of the Imperial action here." Anakin cringed at the cold sound of his voice. Imperial action... that was one way to put it. The siege of a thousand Ka'alya, the destruction of their food source, and the ultimate atrocity... they had fallen silent one morning, and Anakin and Kyrys Tashin had gone up to the caves and found them all dead by their own hands (or their loved ones')--men, women, and children-- rather than submitting to Imperial rule.

Solo said nothing.

They had to slow as they entered Valshir, and Anakin looked at the old, weathered faces of the Ka'alya as they passed them on the streets. They looked tired and sad, so different from the dead-talkers who had come to Naboo during his trial. Some looked like old Maisha, who had testified, but most looked like citizens of any other hand-to-mouth Outer Rim world. The similarity to Tatooine struck him again, painfully, and he had to work to stop himself for looking for signs of slave quarters and criminal lairs that he knew intellectually were not present here.

The city passed, and the plains opened out. A large building loomed ahead, red stone like the others, but marked and carved with symbols. There was also a strange sense from it, a presence of palpable evil, surrounded and contained by palpable good. He'd never felt anything quite like it.

How could the Sith have missed the sense of containment here? The good of the Astayas?

Simple arrogance, he decided. They thought of the Laryhi family as descendents of Zemai Laryhi, Darth Olashya M'Traet, and never entertained the possibility that she had a long-term plan for the destruction of the Order she'd belonged to.

Solo stopped the speeder in front of the large, carved doorways, and they both got out. The door opened, and the Astaya, Jelon Laryhi, came out slowly, his face impassive, dressed in the formal robes of his office.

Anakin bowed, and Solo shifted his feet uncomfortably.

Laryhi returned the bow, then gestured for them to follow him inside. He closed the door behind them. "I'm pleased you could come," he said. "I apologize for not having anyone meet you at your designated landing site."

"That's okay," Solo said. "The speeder was fine. And it's hard to miss Valshir."

Laryhi smiled slightly. "Yes, it is, isn't it? I take it you were unexpectedly delayed?"

"Some fallout from the energy storms on Coruscant last month. Several launch sites were damaged, and everything is slowed. We had not anticipated it."

"I see. Alas, I don't consider it safe to leave people on the plains alone for an undetermined amount of time."

"You've had troubles?"

"There have been some raids on outlying farms. I have reason to believe that certain members of the traet-ami'rit--the Dead-Talkers--are still active out there. They've lost their center, but they still cause trouble."

"So you're sending him in alone?" Solo asked, jerking a thumb at Anakin. "Look, my wife and brother-in-law are--"

Anakin suppressed a laugh, and put a hand on Solo's shoulder to quiet him. "It's all right, Han. I can take care of myself. It's only a two hour drive out there."

Laryhi shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, yes... " He turned to the door. "You see, I... "

"Spit it out," Solo said threateningly.

"Since I announced that you would be going to Ihivizi... I should not have done so, but I did... I'm afraid... "

"What my father is trying to say," a young girl said from the hall just beyond the door, "is that you won't merely be taking care of yourself." She came into the room. She was perhaps seventeen years old, and she spoke in soft and cultured tones. A small girl trailed behind her, looking around her curiously. Anakin waved to the little one, who smiled back at him with heartbreaking shyness. She had wavy sandy brown hair and hazel eyes, and looked to be around seven.

"I am Rashara Laryhi, and this is my cousin, Zemai," the older girl said, then smiled brightly.

"Zemai Laryhi?" Anakin asked. "That's... an unusual name."

"We've had a few," Jelon said softly. "My late brother admired Mother Zemai very much."

Late brother. Anakin gave the small girl a more compassionate look.

Rashara turned her attention back to the issue at hand. "You have had enough experience with the Ka'alya to understand that they are not entirely predictable."

"Yes... "

"When my father announced that you would be going to Ihivizi, a group of perhaps thirty Ka'alya arrived here, geared for the hike. They have wanted to go for some time, but they worry about the traet-ami'rit. They believe you are invincible, and want to accompany you."

"You've gotta be kidding," Solo said. "Tell 'em no. That's nuts."

"They will go," the Astaya said firmly. "I had not intended to include it in my request, for I don't consider the split among the Ka'alya to be your responsibility. Nevertheless, I ask you to guard them. I ask your help, not as a world requesting you to serve part of your sentence, but as Astaya, asking you as yourself, to give us aid."

Asking me, Anakin thought, as a Laryhi asking a former Sith.

Well, it was fair, wasn't it?

He nodded. "All right. I'll do it. Han, you are free to go... "

"I'll get at least as far as the Falcon with you, help you get that crate out and ready to move at least," he said, then shook his head at Laryhi. "The bunch of you are crazy, you know."

Jelon smiled. "Yes. On that matter, we are quite aware of our deficiency."

Solo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine. Look, I'm going to give Leia a call and let her know this will take longer than anticipated, okay?"

"Of course," Laryhi said. "Feel free to use my private office. Rashara?" He exchanged a meaningful glance with his daughter, then she led Solo off.

Anakin groaned inwardly. There was only one matter that could lead up to.

He was right. As soon as they were out of sight, Laryhi looked at him in a cool and level way and said, "What is your decision about the Sith archives in our basement room? We have waited and left them untouched."

"I have reached no decision. I have no love for the Sith, but I can't bear to destroy any knowledge, even knowledge that I deem dangerous." He sighed. "It is a difficult choice that your ancestress left us."

"Mother Zemai delighted in difficult choices," Jelon said, a note of sympathy in his voice. "We will speak of this when you return."

Anakin agreed, but hoped against hope that Laryhi would find something else to occupy his time by then.

The Ka'alya, apparently, did not believe in wasting time. By the time Han had finished his call (he had actually spoken to Dritali, since Leia was at a medical examination of some kind) and Anakin had washed up and neatened his clothes after his journey, the group of pilgrims bound for Ihivizi was already assembled in the entrance hall of the Tr'astari'shal. They were all fairly young--Anakin guessed most of them were around the twins' age--and dressed in what appeared to be a ritual outfit, an off-white tunic with a sash embroidered in red with Ka'alya symbols.

A young man came forward. "We thank you for agreeing to accompany us," he said. "I am Holni Kompa. The others will introduce themselves as it becomes necessary."

Anakin would have preferred to learn everyone's name beforehand, but these missions were not his; they belonged to the people he was serving. "Very well. What is the composition of your group?"

"Thirteen women, twenty men. All over the age of eighteen standard years."

Anakin nodded. "All right. This is my son-in-law, General Solo. He will accompany us for a time."

With no further preliminaries, he went out the door. The pilgrims followed without hesitation.

They walked together for two hours, toward the dusty line that marked the edge of the Ihivizi River, little more than a muddy trickle after twenty years of drought. Anakin took the front of the group. Solo faded to the rearguard. The ground was hard