“My servant?” the Emperor asked, his eyes flicking to Parck.
“I do not refer to Captain Parck,” Thrawn said. “I speak of another. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that he was your servant. Yet he always spoke highly of Chancellor Palpatine.”
The Emperor leaned forward a little, his yellowish eyes glittering. “And his name?”
“Skywalker,” Thrawn said. “Anakin Skywalker.”
War is primarily a game of skill. It is a contest of mind matched against mind, tactics matched against tactics.
But there is also an element of chance that is more suited to games of cards or dice. A wise tactician studies those games, as well, and learns from them.
The first lesson of card games is that the cards cannot be played in random order. Only when laid down properly can victory be achieved.
In this case, there were but three cards.
The first was played at the encampment. The result was entrance to the Strikefast. The second was played aboard ship. The result was the promise of passage to Coruscant, and the assignment of Cadet Vanto as my translator.
The third was a name: Anakin Skywalker.
—
“Interesting,” the Emperor said. His eyes are steady and do not blink. The skin of his face is unmoving. “And your name?”
“You already know it.”
“I wish you to speak it.”
“Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
“So it was you,” the Emperor said. He leans back in his throne. The corners of his lips curve upward. His eyes remain unchanged in size. “When Captain Parck’s message arrived, I’d hoped it was.”
“Jedi Skywalker survived the war, then?”
“Sadly, he did not,” the Emperor said.
“I mourn his passing,” Thrawn said. “He was a most cunning and…may I consult my translator?”
“You may,” the Emperor said. His eyes narrow slightly. The yellow tinge now appears stronger.
“Eqhuwa.”
“Courageous,” Vanto translated. His face radiates extra heat. The muscles beneath his tunic show stiffness. His lips compress tightly before and after he speaks the word.
“He was a most cunning and courageous warrior,” Thrawn continued. “I had hoped to meet him again.”
“Most courageous indeed,” the Emperor said. His head turns slightly to his left. His eyes rest briefly on Vanto, then return. His fingers press gently against the arms of his throne. “But before his end he detailed for me the circumstances of your meeting, and spoke highly of your abilities. So you wish to become my adviser on matters of the Unknown Regions?”
“I have said that already.”
“And if I offered more?” the Emperor asked.
“What larger offer would you make?”
“You can see the power that I have created,” the Emperor said. His eyes are strongly focused, his lips showing a small curve. “Or you can be part of it.”
“My home is lost to me,” Thrawn said. “Jedi Skywalker’s services are lost to you. If you wish my direct service as a replacement to his, I am honored to offer it.”
“Interesting,” the Emperor said. His eyes linger a moment, then shift their direction and focus on Captain Parck. “You were correct to bring your prisoner to me, Captain. You and your men will return to your ship and your duties. The High Command will provide a suitable reward for your service and initiative.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Parck said, bowing again. “Thank you.”
“A favor, Your Majesty?” Thrawn said.
“Speak, Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” the Emperor said. His eyes narrow.
“I am still inexpert at your language. I would request that my translator be transferred to duty at my side.”
The Emperor sits motionlessly without speaking. He then presses his hands onto the throne’s armrests and rises to his feet. “Walk with me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo.”
The two guards at the foot of the throne stepped a meter to either side. The Emperor descended to the floor and turned to his left, toward a garden area at the side of the chamber.
The garden is small, but contains a variety of plants. Most are set in large pots or in long floor trenches lining the curved flagstone walkways. A few brightly colored flowers grow directly from the decorative stone. Small trees with shimmering bark stand at the periphery like sentinels of privacy. The distance from garden to throne ensures privacy from those still waiting there.
There is an artistic foundation to the garden’s arrangement. There is a pattern in the interaction of curve and line, in the melding and contrast of shape and color, in the subtle play of light and shadow. It bespeaks power and subtlety and great depth of thought.
“An interesting space,” Thrawn said. “Did you create it?”
“I designed it,” the Emperor said. He stopped within the first curve of bushes. “Tell me, what do you think?”
Subtlety, and depth of thought. “You did not bring me here to speak of translators,” Thrawn told him. “But you wish Captain Parck and the others to so believe.”
“Good,” the Emperor said. His tone is deeper. The corners of his lips lift. His mouth opens slightly, revealing his teeth. “Good. Anakin spoke of your insight. I’m pleased to learn he was correct. The Unknown Regions intrigue me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. There is great potential there.”
“There is also great danger.”
“There is great danger here as well,” the Emperor countered. The corners of his lips turn downward, and his eyes narrow.
“Certainly there is power here,” Thrawn said. “But there is only danger to your enemies.”
“You do not consider your people to be among those enemies?”
“You spoke of an interest in the Unknown Regions. How may I assist in satisfying your curiosity?”
“You seek to avoid my question,” the Emperor said. His lips compress together. “Tell me: Do your people regard the Empire as their enemy?”
“I am not accountable for the future actions or goals of my people,” Thrawn said. “I can speak only for myself. And I have said already I will serve you.”
“Until you find it convenient to escape from my reach?”
“I am a warrior, Your Majesty,” Thrawn said. “A warrior may retreat. He does not flee. He may lie in ambush. He does not hide. He may experience victory or defeat. He does not cease to serve.”
“I will hold you to that,” the Emperor said. “Why do you wish to have your translator?”
“He knows something of my people,” Thrawn said. “I wish to explore the depth of that knowledge.”
“If he has knowledge of the Unknown Regions, then perhaps I should instead keep him here with me.”
“His knowledge is little more than stories and tales,” Thrawn said. “He will not know worlds or peoples. Nor will he know hyperspace lanes and potential safe havens.”
“That knowledge lies solely with you?” the Emperor asked. His tone lowers in pitch.
“For the moment,” Thrawn said. “Later, it will lie also with you.”
“Once again, your eloquence belies your need for a translator,” the Emperor said. His lips again turn upward. “But I will give him to you. Come, let us rejoin the others.”
The group was still waiting between the lines of guards. “This is he?” the Emperor asked, pointing at Vanto.
“It is, Your Majesty,” Thrawn said. “Cadet Eli Vanto.”
“Captain Parck, how much longer does Cadet Vanto have before graduation?”
“Three standard months, Your Majesty,” Parck said. “We were scheduled to return him and his fellow cadets to Myomar when we were sidetracked by the smuggler pursuit that ultimately brought us to Thrawn’s place of exile.”
“You will return the other cadets as planned,” the Emperor said. “Cadet Vanto will remain on Coruscant and finish his training at the Royal Imperial Academy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Parck said, looking briefly at Vanto, then at Thrawn. “I’ll inform Admiral Foss of this change.”
Vanto’s face radiates more strongly than before, and the muscles in his throat have stiffened. He begins to open his mouth, as if to speak, but closes it with no words spoken.
He does not understand. Nor will he. Not for a long while.