OOM: Zonama Sekot and after
It took two days of hiking through the dense forrest before Tahiri came to her old village, her first village. Harrar's village. His damutek was just like she remembered it, and when she entered the expression on his face was not quite as surprised as she had expected.
"Sekot told me you would be coming," he greeted her in Basic.
I beg your pardon, priest, she answered in Yuuzhan Vong, falling to her knees on the clean-swept floor. I have forgotten my domain.
Harrar knelt down beside her, smiling gently through lips long since cut to ribbons. We have not forgotten you, child of the Jeedai.
I have dishonored my crechemates and my superiors, she answered, clinging to the custom and not daring to meet his eyes.
You have no superiors here, Tahar'ai, he responded, dismissing her formality and the ritual of confession with a wave of his hand. And you of all people should know that we do not follow the old ways. What is bothering you? Why have you come back?
She looked up at him then, into an alien face that was still more familiar than her own. I missed you, she said simply. I missed the creches and the gardens and the trees and I even missed sorting out fights between Bava and Sal Ghator. The Yuuzhan Vong gave me purpose, Harrar. The Jedi distrust me.
The tentacles of his headdress unknotted themselves invitingly and he shifted into a more comfortable position beside her. Tell me.
And kneeling there in the home of Yun-Harla's most favored priest, she did. She told him about Chiss genocide and Raynar Thul and Jacen Solo and the plan to kill a close friend without giving him any kind of warning at all. She told him about having to put the Order ahead of everything else, about turning into a band of common soldiers. She told him about finding a new place to stay where the Jedi had no authority even though she still found herself employed as a keeper of the peace. She told him about Jaina Solo and how the other woman is always the first and best and about having to arrest her friendsister (warning her first but hurting her in the end) and how she felt guilty not because she caused Jaina pain but because she enjoyed it so much. She told him about the death of her robeskin and about Zekk, and her voice broke because Zekk was Jaina's first and he wasn't Anakin no matter how much she wanted him to be, and she loves him anyway and it feels like betrayal.
All of this Tahiri told him and by the time she was finished the lump in the back of her throat was making her eyes water and she was swaying slightly because her head seemed to have come unanchored from her spine. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and there was a hand on her shoulder and it seemed to ground her again, and then the hand was an arm and Harrar pulled her into an embrace, whispering quiet comforts she had not heard since she was a crecheling. She returned the hug gratefully and only then did she begin to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and splashing down to be absorbed on the shoulder of his robeskin.
The morning dawned bright and warm. Less than three hours after sunrise it was already too hot to work in the fields. Yuuzhan Vong clustered around smooth-polished containers of water, drawing drinks and pouring cupfuls over their sloped heads to run down work-toned and sunburnt bodies. Tahiri wiped the sweat from her face and decided to go check on Harrar.
She found him in his damutek, head bowed in front of a window and fanning himself with a large frond. "We must ask Sekot about this weather," the old priest said as she entered.
"It's not the heat," Tahiri replied. "it's the humidity. What we need is a good hard rain."
Harrar nodded his agreement and moved to join the girl on a couch that looked like it had been upholstered with moss. She tugged at the frond and he lt it hang in the air, fanning them both. After several long moments, Tahiri spoke. "So what now?"
Harrar shifted slightly on the couch but didn't answer, and she wondered if he'd understood. "About all this," she clarified. "With the Jedi. What do I do? Come on Harrar. What do you think?"
Finally, he sighed. "You are upset at the Jedi. You feel that your temporary exile on Dagobah was wrong."
"Right. They don't trust me, and--"
The old priest cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. "You asked my advice, Tahar'ai. Please allow me to give it."
"Sorry."
"For all that you feel wronged by the Jedi, do you love them any less?"
The fan continued to wave lazily as she pondered the question. "It should. I deserve better than that."
"Then I must ask-- why are you still with them? Why don't you leave?"
"Because. They're the only family I Have left-- well, besides you and the other Yuuzhan Vong. Everything I have in the galaxy I have because of the Jedi. Zekk is a Jedi, the entire Solo-Skywalker clan... If I leave the Jedi, I leave all of them too."
"So you remain with them out of fear."
"What?!? I'm not scared of them, it's--"
Harrar reaches for the dropped fan, cutting her off once again. "Allow me to explain. It seems as if you stay not because you fear the Jedi, but you fear what your life would be like without them. This fear keeps you bound to them and so you feel trapped and resentful. That is not a healthy relationship. So why don't you leave?"
Tahiri leaned back on the couch once more, crossing her arms over her chest. Her robeskin twitched in protest. "But I did leave. I came here."
"Yes, but it is clear that you do not plan to stay. Or else we would not be having this conversation."
"Could I stay here?"
"There is a place for you on Zonama Sekot, if you wish. We could use your talents and your companionship. But you also have a place and a responsibility among the Jedi. Whichever side you choose, you must devote yourself to it with all of your heart-- you cannot let your allegiance to either side split you as this is doing."
"Right." She was silent for a few moments then stood quickly, as if she'd forgotten something. "If you need me, I'll be out in the fields."
Wrist deep in the warm soil, Tahiri went over everything again.
The Jedi need me. They don't always trust me, but they need me. I can't turn them down if they ask for help because they have never turned me away when I needed them. Harrar was right-- I don't love them any less, can't love them less. I have to go back... Zekk will be worried and so much of my life is tied up in the Jedi. I am nothing without them.
Harrar was right. I have to choose and act-- I can't let Master Skywalker or Zekk or anyone choose it for me or I won't be happy.
She pulled the weeds from around a young plant's roots, ground them up in the soil before patting things back down into place.
If that's how it has to be, then I choose the Jedi. I choose a life of service to the entire galaxy. I choose no single planet but where the Order asks me to go. I choose following Skywalker and the other Masters' orders because they are stronger in the Force than I am, and when those orders contradict my personal feelings I will voice my opinions loudly and unceasingly and try to change their minds but in the end I will do as I am told until I am a Master and can give the orders.
I choose the galaxy. I choose the Jedi.
Once back in her room in the damutek Tahiri took the sheet of flimsy from her bag, ran her fingertips over the design she'd labored over during her flight from Ossus. It was large-- a circle the size of her spread hand. She was not very talented, and it showed. The jumble of symbols looked thrown together without much planning, a riot of lines and shapes that even she was having trouble deciphering.
She pulled out a clean sheet of flimsy and moved over to the shell smooth table. With one eye on the old design, Tahiri started drawing again.
In the end it was dark blue, the color of a new bruise and just small enough that it could be covered with one hand. Symbols in the skin drawn with infinite care, surprisingly detailed. Around the edges, Tusken sand sigls; in the center, the unmistakable outline of a lightsaber. Flowing between the outer edges and the central design were wrapped prayers in Yuuzhan Vong, prayers invoking the name of the goddess Yun-Ne'Shel. The modeler, the shaper, she who gives knowledge and new life.
It was not just a tattoo. It was a permanent reminder of who and what Tahiri chose to be.
"Sal Ghator, I don't care what anyone else says. You truly are an artist."
Weeks later, once Tahiri had finally found her way back to Ossus, she went to see the man in charge of the Order.
"Master Skywalker?"
"Tahiri. Is everything okay? We were worried with the way you took off. Zekk said you had some things to think about."
"Yes, and I'm sorry I blasted out of here like that. I was not in a very good frame of mind."
"And now?"
"Much better. It won't happen again. And I'd like to ask a favor-- may I take the oath again?"
"Again?"
"I know I took it once with the group but I've been reflecting, and I think I understand better what it means and I'd like to be able to take it again. If I may. Please."
"Of course."
And so in the presence of one Jedi Master Tahiri took the oath again, and by the time it was over her eyes were shining but she was smiling as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you, Master Skywalker."
"Is there anything else?"
"No."
"Then you are dismissed. And please, go and find Zekk. I suspect he's missed you."
"Yes, Master Skywalker," she says with a grin. "I've missed him too."
"Sekot told me you would be coming," he greeted her in Basic.
I beg your pardon, priest, she answered in Yuuzhan Vong, falling to her knees on the clean-swept floor. I have forgotten my domain.
Harrar knelt down beside her, smiling gently through lips long since cut to ribbons. We have not forgotten you, child of the Jeedai.
I have dishonored my crechemates and my superiors, she answered, clinging to the custom and not daring to meet his eyes.
You have no superiors here, Tahar'ai, he responded, dismissing her formality and the ritual of confession with a wave of his hand. And you of all people should know that we do not follow the old ways. What is bothering you? Why have you come back?
She looked up at him then, into an alien face that was still more familiar than her own. I missed you, she said simply. I missed the creches and the gardens and the trees and I even missed sorting out fights between Bava and Sal Ghator. The Yuuzhan Vong gave me purpose, Harrar. The Jedi distrust me.
The tentacles of his headdress unknotted themselves invitingly and he shifted into a more comfortable position beside her. Tell me.
And kneeling there in the home of Yun-Harla's most favored priest, she did. She told him about Chiss genocide and Raynar Thul and Jacen Solo and the plan to kill a close friend without giving him any kind of warning at all. She told him about having to put the Order ahead of everything else, about turning into a band of common soldiers. She told him about finding a new place to stay where the Jedi had no authority even though she still found herself employed as a keeper of the peace. She told him about Jaina Solo and how the other woman is always the first and best and about having to arrest her friendsister (warning her first but hurting her in the end) and how she felt guilty not because she caused Jaina pain but because she enjoyed it so much. She told him about the death of her robeskin and about Zekk, and her voice broke because Zekk was Jaina's first and he wasn't Anakin no matter how much she wanted him to be, and she loves him anyway and it feels like betrayal.
All of this Tahiri told him and by the time she was finished the lump in the back of her throat was making her eyes water and she was swaying slightly because her head seemed to have come unanchored from her spine. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and there was a hand on her shoulder and it seemed to ground her again, and then the hand was an arm and Harrar pulled her into an embrace, whispering quiet comforts she had not heard since she was a crecheling. She returned the hug gratefully and only then did she begin to cry, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and splashing down to be absorbed on the shoulder of his robeskin.
The morning dawned bright and warm. Less than three hours after sunrise it was already too hot to work in the fields. Yuuzhan Vong clustered around smooth-polished containers of water, drawing drinks and pouring cupfuls over their sloped heads to run down work-toned and sunburnt bodies. Tahiri wiped the sweat from her face and decided to go check on Harrar.
She found him in his damutek, head bowed in front of a window and fanning himself with a large frond. "We must ask Sekot about this weather," the old priest said as she entered.
"It's not the heat," Tahiri replied. "it's the humidity. What we need is a good hard rain."
Harrar nodded his agreement and moved to join the girl on a couch that looked like it had been upholstered with moss. She tugged at the frond and he lt it hang in the air, fanning them both. After several long moments, Tahiri spoke. "So what now?"
Harrar shifted slightly on the couch but didn't answer, and she wondered if he'd understood. "About all this," she clarified. "With the Jedi. What do I do? Come on Harrar. What do you think?"
Finally, he sighed. "You are upset at the Jedi. You feel that your temporary exile on Dagobah was wrong."
"Right. They don't trust me, and--"
The old priest cut her off with an impatient wave of his hand. "You asked my advice, Tahar'ai. Please allow me to give it."
"Sorry."
"For all that you feel wronged by the Jedi, do you love them any less?"
The fan continued to wave lazily as she pondered the question. "It should. I deserve better than that."
"Then I must ask-- why are you still with them? Why don't you leave?"
"Because. They're the only family I Have left-- well, besides you and the other Yuuzhan Vong. Everything I have in the galaxy I have because of the Jedi. Zekk is a Jedi, the entire Solo-Skywalker clan... If I leave the Jedi, I leave all of them too."
"So you remain with them out of fear."
"What?!? I'm not scared of them, it's--"
Harrar reaches for the dropped fan, cutting her off once again. "Allow me to explain. It seems as if you stay not because you fear the Jedi, but you fear what your life would be like without them. This fear keeps you bound to them and so you feel trapped and resentful. That is not a healthy relationship. So why don't you leave?"
Tahiri leaned back on the couch once more, crossing her arms over her chest. Her robeskin twitched in protest. "But I did leave. I came here."
"Yes, but it is clear that you do not plan to stay. Or else we would not be having this conversation."
"Could I stay here?"
"There is a place for you on Zonama Sekot, if you wish. We could use your talents and your companionship. But you also have a place and a responsibility among the Jedi. Whichever side you choose, you must devote yourself to it with all of your heart-- you cannot let your allegiance to either side split you as this is doing."
"Right." She was silent for a few moments then stood quickly, as if she'd forgotten something. "If you need me, I'll be out in the fields."
Wrist deep in the warm soil, Tahiri went over everything again.
The Jedi need me. They don't always trust me, but they need me. I can't turn them down if they ask for help because they have never turned me away when I needed them. Harrar was right-- I don't love them any less, can't love them less. I have to go back... Zekk will be worried and so much of my life is tied up in the Jedi. I am nothing without them.
Harrar was right. I have to choose and act-- I can't let Master Skywalker or Zekk or anyone choose it for me or I won't be happy.
She pulled the weeds from around a young plant's roots, ground them up in the soil before patting things back down into place.
If that's how it has to be, then I choose the Jedi. I choose a life of service to the entire galaxy. I choose no single planet but where the Order asks me to go. I choose following Skywalker and the other Masters' orders because they are stronger in the Force than I am, and when those orders contradict my personal feelings I will voice my opinions loudly and unceasingly and try to change their minds but in the end I will do as I am told until I am a Master and can give the orders.
I choose the galaxy. I choose the Jedi.
Once back in her room in the damutek Tahiri took the sheet of flimsy from her bag, ran her fingertips over the design she'd labored over during her flight from Ossus. It was large-- a circle the size of her spread hand. She was not very talented, and it showed. The jumble of symbols looked thrown together without much planning, a riot of lines and shapes that even she was having trouble deciphering.
She pulled out a clean sheet of flimsy and moved over to the shell smooth table. With one eye on the old design, Tahiri started drawing again.
In the end it was dark blue, the color of a new bruise and just small enough that it could be covered with one hand. Symbols in the skin drawn with infinite care, surprisingly detailed. Around the edges, Tusken sand sigls; in the center, the unmistakable outline of a lightsaber. Flowing between the outer edges and the central design were wrapped prayers in Yuuzhan Vong, prayers invoking the name of the goddess Yun-Ne'Shel. The modeler, the shaper, she who gives knowledge and new life.
It was not just a tattoo. It was a permanent reminder of who and what Tahiri chose to be.
"Sal Ghator, I don't care what anyone else says. You truly are an artist."
Weeks later, once Tahiri had finally found her way back to Ossus, she went to see the man in charge of the Order.
"Master Skywalker?"
"Tahiri. Is everything okay? We were worried with the way you took off. Zekk said you had some things to think about."
"Yes, and I'm sorry I blasted out of here like that. I was not in a very good frame of mind."
"And now?"
"Much better. It won't happen again. And I'd like to ask a favor-- may I take the oath again?"
"Again?"
"I know I took it once with the group but I've been reflecting, and I think I understand better what it means and I'd like to be able to take it again. If I may. Please."
"Of course."
And so in the presence of one Jedi Master Tahiri took the oath again, and by the time it was over her eyes were shining but she was smiling as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you, Master Skywalker."
"Is there anything else?"
"No."
"Then you are dismissed. And please, go and find Zekk. I suspect he's missed you."
"Yes, Master Skywalker," she says with a grin. "I've missed him too."