Part 4

  Carlo woke face down on a rough, woven mat that felt similar to the ones he’d seen used for the temporary flooring of the Narakan tents. He blinked his eyes and tried to clear the foggy head. Slowly the realization that he was bound, blindfolded and gagged dawned in him. His arms wouldn’t move. They were behind him, his hands at the small of his back but struggling as he could, he could not get them to come free. Likewise his ankles appeared to be stuck together and he couldn’t get them separated either. He found that he couldn’t see. Something covering his eyes blocked his vision.

  What had happened? He couldn’t remember. Or could he? He’d been at the amphitheater. He’d decided to attempt to get proof of what he was sure was subterfuge on the part of Vishla. Then as he had been just standing there: pain. It had reverberated throughout his whole body before the whole world had become dark.

  Carlo’s heart was racing now as was his breathing. Although he was breathing fast and deep, Carlo still felt like he was suffocating. It was panic.

  His struggles were useless against the thick, tough cords. His voice couldn’t penetrate the rags stuffed in his mouth.

  Suddenly pain erupted through his left chest and a gruff voice sounded, “Be still.”

  Someone was there with him. He wondered with disdain what was to happen next.

  Carlo didn’t have long to wait. He heard the tent flap open and the rustling of someone’s entry. The blindfold was whipped from his face and he found himself staring at Vishla, flanked by two sentinels, armed with electro-spears. She leaned down over him gripping his chin in a silk-gloved hand. She turned his face first one way and then the other as if trying to see which side she liked best. Finally she sighed and spoke, “Who do we have here?”

  Obviously Carlo couldn’t answer with the rag stuffed in his mouth so he fixed her with a glare.

  “You’re not of the People.” She commented dryly before removing the rag and letting spit soaked cloth fall to the floor. “Who are you?”

  Carlo coughed dryly. “I’m no one. Just looking for some water and a place to sleep for the night.”

  Vishla chuckled softly. She pulled the lightsaber into the light from the inside of her left sleeve. “You’re no one? This says otherwise.”

  Carlo managed to keep his emotions under control. “I don’t know what you mean. I found that in the desert.”

  “Really,” said Vishla, her tone dripped with incredulity.

  Carlo pressed on. “Is it valuable? It’s for sale.”

  Vishla smirked. “For sale,” she repeated. “You’re not very convincing.”

  Carlo shrugged as best he could with his arms tied behind his back. “Well okay. Let me go and you keep that thing, whatever it is. Fair trade.”

  Vishla returned the saber to the inside of her sleeve. As she turned to leave she said, “Oh, I’ll be keeping this. And we’ll decide what to do with you later.”

  Carlo had a sudden idea pop into his head. “Ok. It’s brought me nothing but trouble.”

  That stopped Vishla in mid-stride. She turned slowly regarding Carlo with an icy glare. “You’re quite impudent.”

  “Or do I just tell the plain truth?” Carlo smiled.

  One of the sentinels raised his spear and brought it down swiftly across the side of his head. He grimaced in pain but didn’t cry out. He didn’t want to give them any satisfaction.

  Vishla turned back and squatting down on her haunches, lowered herself closer to Carlo’s level as he lay on the floor. “You were seen at the amphitheater earlier while I was speaking. You were with the sentinel of one of my rivals. What is your purpose here?”

  Carlo stayed silent figuring that would probably irritate Vishla more than another denial. He was right. Vishla waved her hand signaling to the sentinel who smacked Carlo’s head again with the butt of his spear.

  Carlo winced again but still managed to stay silent. He felt a trickle of blood rundown the side of his head and down his neck.

  Vishla shook her head. “Somehow you’ve fooled them into believing you’re something you’re not.” She bent closer. “You're no Jedi.”

  With that, Vishla stood back up and paraded out of the tent followed by the sentinels. Before the tent flap closed, Carlo saw his tormentor stop, taking a position just outside.

  He heard Vishla’s voice say, “Give him some time to think about his situation. He’ll decide to cooperate.”

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  “And if he doesn’t,” he heard a sentinel ask.

  There was a short pause before Vishla responded, “Then he dies.”

  Carlo heard the footsteps of his captor heading away, then silence. He was fairly certain at least one of the sentinels had stayed behind.

  Carlo felt intuitively that he was on his own and had to make his escape quickly.

  He had to trust the Force. It would be the only way out. He took a breath and concentrated, reaching out mentally for the connection he had always found waiting. His breathing slowed and his heart rate calmed. He closed his eyes and he could almost see the knots holding his wrists. A sharp knife or the lightsaber would be needed to get through them.

  Wait.

  A tendril of his thoughts seemed to follow the rope along its twisting course as it wound around itself. Carlo almost smiled at the simplicity of the form. He very nearly laughed when he realized that a tug here and a pull there would be enough to untangle the cords.

  The ropes fell away from Carlo’s wrists.

  His arms free, he turned his attention to the ropes at his ankles. It took what seemed like an inordinate amount of time using his hands to work those knots free, not at all like his wrists.

  Finally standing, Carlo took stock of his surroundings while rubbing the circulation back into his hands and wrists.

  He looked around his prison. Carlo didn’t recognize the patterns of the weavings. Even the colors were all different from those of the other caravan.

  It was small, no more than two or three paces in width, supported in the center by a single stout pole that provided enough height for Carlo to easily stand at his full height as long as he stayed close to the middle. It was dimly lit by a pale yellow chemical light, not all that useful for escape.

  All at once he heard rustling at the tent door. Carlo cast about in desperation. Nothing obvious to use as a weapon so he scooped up one of the ropes and stood ready, facing the tent flap.

  The tent door flipped up and a familiar face rushed in, closing the flap quickly behind her.

  Carlo gasped in surprise, “Eren!”

  She seemed equally surprised. “Carlo! You’re free!”

  “What’s going on?”

  She held a finger to her lips and hissed in a whisper, “Quiet! We’re in Vishla’s camp.”

  Carlo smiled wryly, “I figured that part out.”

  Eren ignored the remark. “We have to get out of here.”

  She reached into her belt and removed a hunting knife. She handed it to him, “You may need this.”

  He accepted the blade and followed her out of the tent door. The night was still dark and quiet. There were two sentinels standing by a fire a ways off. The single sentinel who had been standing guard outside of Carlo’s prison was unconscious on the ground. They took a few moments to quietly shove him back inside the tent.

  Carlo followed Eren as she crept stealthily away from the tent in the opposite direction from the sentinels at the fire. After a short distance he realized they were heading toward an open air stable, not unlike the one Carlo had seen made by Alice’s caravan. The makeshift corral was made of a pair of heavy ropes encircling tall metal stakes that had been hammered into the ground at regular intervals.

  Once on the far side of the corral, Carlo realized Eren was leading him to escape the encampment altogether. He stopped her with a tap on the shoulder. He whispered, “We can’t leave. Vishla is using mechanical tricks to fake her powers. We need to get proof and it’s here.”

  “Mechanical? She's using technology?” Eren asked with no small degree of incredulity.

  “Yeah. I think the controls for it are in her gloves.” Carlo said.

  She frowned. “Any proof of that would have to be in Vishla’s tent. We’d never get in there,” Eren opined with a bowed head.

  Just then two sentinels ran by their hiding place toward the tent where Carlo had been held. “We just need a distraction and it looks like we have one.”

  A smile slowly spread across Eren’s face as she covered it with her sentinel’s gaiter. “Vishla’s tent is the big one over there,” she pointed out an immense fabric structure about half way across the encampment. It rose to a height about twice that of the other tents. “You go get the proof. I’ll keep the distraction going.”

  Carlo nodded assent. “We’ll meet back at your caravan.”

  First checking to see that no sentinels were nearby, Eren stood and ran to the rope enclosure. Her long knife flashed in the dim light and the ropes fell. Carlo watched as she produced something from a pocket that she tossed to the edge of the herd. A moment later there was a loud bang accompanied by a blinding flash. The herd reacted instantly, stampeding away from the camp.

  Eren screamed at the top of her lungs, “The animals! They’re escaping!” A few other members of the camp took up the cry and gave chase.

  Carlo saw that between the sentinels looking for him and the rest now actively trying to corral the animals, he had a clear path to Vishla’s tent.

  He flipped his borrowed hunting knife blade down and headed toward the big tent, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He’d lost track of Eren and could only trust that she’d escape.

  By the time Carlo approached the big tent the distraction had become a cacophonous roar. There seemed to be no one by the tent at all as he slipped in through the main door.

  It was dimly lit by a few yellow chemical lights. The first chamber he entered seemed to be for audiences with the leadership. There was a low fire lit in the center with an opening overhead to allow the smoke to escape. Seat cushions encircled the embers. No one was there.

  Carlo made his way to the next room. It was smaller and there were sleeping mats on the floor. No lights were burning, the only illumination came through the doorway he’d entered by and from a second open door on the other side of the chamber. Again, no one was here.

  Nervous about not encountering any one, Carlo gripped the knife harder and started across the room. When about half way across, he noticed a wooden chest decorated with colorful painted motifs that seemed to depict hand to hand combat. Weapons storage, he thought.

  Carlo changed course and went to the chest. It was closed and locked tight.

  Carlo laid a hand on the top calling on the Force. As he did the mechanism of the lock blossomed into his mind's eye. His mind seems to follow along the internal mechanism of the lock just as it had followed the ropes that had bound his wrists earlier.

  Then: click! Carlo was able to raise the heavy, wooden lid.

  Inside he found exactly what he’d expected, a treasure trove of weapons both blades and blasters. And one thing that, although unexpected, was most welcome: the lightsaber.

  Carlo tucked the borrowed hunting knife into his belt and picked up the cool metal cylinder. He pressed it almost lovingly to his forehead. He’d almost given it up for lost. Looking down again, he saw they had placed his Jedi cloak in the chest as well. He swept it up and put it on. As he did, he felt a sense of calm fill him. It was warm and welcome. He exhaled with relief.

  Suddenly he felt cool steel pressed against the side of his neck. He froze and a voice whispered, “Stay still, stranger, and back away from that chest. Slowly.”