The short two days that Jundal had been walking felt like weeks. The heat shimmered up from the desert, the only things breaking up the blank line of the horizon were the skeletons of dead trees, small rocks and the black and green skinks basking in the sun. His canteen half empty, if he didn't find what he was looking for in the next few hours, he would have to turn back and try again another time. Two days of walking, and he hadn't reached his destination. Rounding a dune, he saw him.
Watcher-of-waves was standing leaning on a spear, his left foot propped up against his right thigh. At barely five foot tall, the little aboriginal man wasn't very big in comparison to Jundals six foot one, but his gently grinning features made it obvious that he didn't mind. He was a thin man, his ribs showing, but his loincloth rested jus below the beginnings of a small pot belly. As Jundal walked closer, he grinned more broadly, his fat sausage lips creasing at the edges, his eyes doing the same. He shook his head, his dreadlocks waving slightly in the warm desert wind.
"You took your time."
"You picked a stupid spot to meet, you skinny fool. If I'd flown here, I could have been here two days ago, rather than hiking across a dumb desert, on a dumb planet, whilst boiling my nuts off, just to see you." With every complaint, watchers grin grew wider. When Jundal had finished, he laughed uproariously.
"I see you still haven't lost your edge for moaning about things! Come, the tents just over the next ridge. I have some fresh bread and cactus flesh for you. Unless you have something more interesting to do?"
Jundal followed grumbling profanities under his breath, as Watcher padded across the dunes, his flat feet slapping against the sand. They entered what seemed like a small low tent a few minutes later, only to descend a few steps into a small hole in the ground that opened into a spacious living quarters. Jundal was impressed.
"When did this get so big? What did you do, get a team of skinks to dig it for you?"
Watcher laughed.
"No I did it the only way you can do things in the desert, my friend. Slowly. You have to remember, I've been here for nearly six years. I completed the living quarters a while ago." He pointed to a portal going off the main living area. "Through there is my forge, where i made this little beauty." Watcher pointed to his spear. Jundal had noticed several minutes ago that it seemed to radiate peace and calm.
"What's it made of?" Jundal asked, curiously peering at it.
"Some sith alchemical metal I've been researching for the last few years. The recipe for the metal was interesting, if you remove the various sacrifices to consecrate it to the dark side. If you remove all of those, it produces a metal dense enough to stop a lightsaber blade, but light enough to wield. It also acts as a conduit for the force, should i want it to. Yes, it will break if put through enough punishment, but to my calculations, it should take around three hundred years for it to do so. Three hundred years of constant fighting, that is. It's strong enough for one of the long lived peoples of the cup to use without a worry all of their lives. " The cup was what Watchers people called the galaxy. The cup of stars.
"I thought you didn't like fighting though?"
Watcher of waves sighed.
"I don't but I'm forced to concede that your view is the correct one. With some advice from my master before he died, I've come to the conclusion that violence has to be used on occasion. So it looks like you were right."
It was an old argument, with watcher usually taking the stance that peace work eventually emerged the victor in any conflict, and that diplomacy was the better course than action. For this reason, he had never constructed a lightsaber during his training with his master, yet despite this, he had still been granted his knighthood based on his knowledge of the force and his skill at negotiation. It was for Jundal both a hollow victory and a sad one, to see his friend come to the conclusion that violence was necessary over a life time of living almost like a Buddhist monk. Jundal shook his head.
"Why did you call me, Watcher? Surely not to show off your new toy and admit defeat?"
"No. There's trouble at The Ranch."
Jundal felt a cold shiver go through him. The Ranch was the training facility for the Torenthi sector. Walker had visited there periodically with his master, and was mostly familiar with most of the teachers there.
"What seems to be the problem? Don't tell me the drains are blocked, and I'm the man for the job?" Both men grinned, as last time he had been there, Jundal and several of the tutors had been on a night out, and managed to block the toilets the next day with the remains of their evening meal.
"No, it appears there is a sith there."
"And? They haven't been any trouble for decades. Were being all tolerant and loving, remember? 'They may have different beliefs and credo, but just because it is different to ours, doesn't mean its any worse.'" Jundal parroted the announcement from the grand high council's edict following the last skirmishes out on the rim. "Besides, they hardly ever come this way, do they? It's not as if the Sith council, or whatever they call themselves these days is about to investigate some secret gem here on this planet, and come through here all guns blazing for it are they?" Watcher shuffled a little, and coughed.
"Perhaps not, but the only precious gem to a sith is the heart of Torenth, and that's being guarded at the minute. Well, it's in a drawer somewhere as far as I know, but that's not the point. It IS in The Ranch for now, but then so is this person I think is a sith."
"Perhaps he's just misguided, and he needs a loving hand to guide him to the Jedi way?"
"Jun..."
"I know, I know. Sarcasm aside, they tend to be more emotional, and a little... Tetchy; sometimes. Warrior honour, insulted principles and the suchlike. But hey, some of my best friends are Sith." Jundal sniggered. It was watchers turn to grimace.
"That isn't funny, Jun. The one currently stationed at The Ranch isn't one of the more outspoken ones, but he has got a slight history. Kami'l of Rasaan. Deputy to several of the really bad ones, but managed to be ignored in the major skirmishes on the border of the last few years, served for three years under Halensil the grey, oversaw but not actually committed any atrocities in nearly every engagement on the eastern front in the last decade. He seems to be a good second in command, so I'm not actually sure whether he's acting on his own, or simply a lackey for someone else."
"Back up a second. You're telling me that this guy, Kami'l, is a known semi-professional despot, and the Torenthi council employed him?!?" Jundal was leaning forward now, growing more interested as Watcher told him about the situation.
"You know what the council demands, Jun. Unstinting devotion to the force, presenting the truth as they see it, and a good work ethic. All of the things he seemed to have when they saw him. He presents a good echo in the force, he's humble, seemingly serious yet with a slight twist on his sense of humour, and he's almost like Yoda."
Jundal grinned.
"I hate him already. What's he done that makes you think he hasn't changed then? There must be something, Watch. 'There's no one that's walked in the dark so long that he cannot return to the light.'"
"In theory, yes. But I get an echo when I read him, and I read everyone I come into contact with. It's unique."
"I think we should go and see this Kami'l of Rasaan. Or at least admire him from afar."
Watcher grimaced.
"I think we might have to."
