Chapter 34 (Patreon)

Once we returned to Jabiim, it was time to get back to business. It started with the pleasant part—seeing friends, acquaintances, wards, and students again. Then came handing out the gifts we’d picked up everywhere from Tatooine to Mon Cala. The Jabiimites also got some of the gifts the Togruta on Shili had given us.

Alto, for example, took quite a liking to the spear one of the Togruta hunters had given me. The Commander-in-Chief even posed with it for a holo as a keepsake.

Cordelia, on the other hand, examined the traditional Togruta women’s clothing with some surprise, though she accepted it all the same. I could understand her reaction—the designs weren’t exactly suited to Jabiim’s climate, but as souvenirs they were quite nice. For some reason, the head of Internal Security was angry with me, speaking through clenched teeth, but after a couple of days she thawed out on her own and resumed our occasional caf get-togethers in my library.

Karray had barely left my side since the moment I returned, right up until I shared the data I’d gathered on the sentients I’d examined during the trip. After that, the girl practically skipped off to the laboratories to start digging into the new information. Truly, I’d been lucky enough to stumble across a diamond that, with the right cutting, might one day reveal a brilliant chimerologist to the world.

Karina gave me a concise briefing on how the training was progressing and earned herself a whole heap of praise. Once I finish getting back up to speed after the vacation, we’ll all continue working with the students together.

I made a quick trip to our “metal-casting” plant—still a small operation for now, but you have to start somewhere. I carried out a thorough inspection of the artifact complex and took the data from its monitoring modules for analysis. I’d need to go through the “logs” from the entire period of operation, make adjustments if necessary, and then start expanding production. The customer had been pleased with the metal ingots, so from now on we’d be moving much larger shipments.

My mercenaries settled down on Jabiim. Their request that I put in a good word for them with the powers that be didn’t come as any surprise—they’d never exactly hidden the fact that they wanted to keep working with us. And, frankly, I liked the lot of them.

Arvik was now officially an instructor at the military academy where the Nimbus forces trained. After talking with him, Alto became enthusiastic about the idea of adding units equipped with jetpacks as well. And in general, while the Nimbus was extremely effective in our climate and across the open terrain of the planet, there was still plenty of room for improvement when it came to storming buildings, boarding ships, or simply operating outside its usual environment. That was what the Mandalorian would be working on, and he also promised to get in touch with some Mando acquaintances who might be willing to take instructor positions.

Koit, just as he’d planned, bought a plot of land on the coast, about twenty minutes’ flight from my estate. The enterprising Gungan already had plans for “my dream house, though,” and construction was supposed to begin within days. While the place was being built, he intended to fly to Naboo and campaign among his friends and acquaintances in favor of resettling here. He and the Stratuses reached an agreement pretty quickly. Alto gave Koit documents containing his personal guarantees, along with a list of the rights and responsibilities of Jabiim’s citizens. I didn’t look too closely at the details, but according to the Gungan, there was no difference at all between what applied to him and what applied to Jabiim’s human citizens.

Our little aurodium Togruta was now officially the Rung’s chief pilot, while also studying remotely at the Muun Higher School of Finance. She was still taking preparatory courses—her prior education had turned out to be... less than stellar—but a passion for money like hers needed to be steered in the right direction. She could become the Guild’s treasurer someday. Romri, by the way, was also planning to enroll in our Academy and train as an artifact-maker. I could only shake my head. I had no idea where the girl was going to find the time for all of it. Worst case, I’d meet her halfway and stretch out the program so our lekku-and-montral wonder didn’t work herself into the ground.

Suti became my secretary, with Emthree assigned to assist her. The little Twi’lek, by the way, looked very much like a genuine “sorcerer’s victim” to the Stratuses. That particular misunderstanding gave me a good laugh. Slavery was viewed very harshly on Jabiim, so once word of the green girl’s status reached the ruling circle, I was very politely called on the carpet. Cordelia was clearly furious, even if she was keeping herself under control, and Alto wasn’t exactly radiating warmth either. The conversation itself, however, turned out to be fairly brief and forced Cordelia to swallow most of the scolding she had clearly prepared in advance.

“Siith, that Twi’lek who came back with you. Your slave...” the Commander-in-Chief began, and I cut him off at once.

“Ah, yes, Alto. You’ll be able to help her get citizenship quickly, won’t you? And in her case, I’d like to handle all the bureaucratic matters personally.”

“Mmm?” Stratus asked with tremendous profundity, to the accompaniment of his cousin’s raised eyebrows.

“She’s panicking,” I explained, putting on my most patient and understanding expression. “She’s afraid she’ll be thrown out onto the street. She’s a good girl—quick learner, gives an excellent massage, and when she dances...” I actually rolled my eyes, remembering the way Suti moved. “There are no words, my friends. You have to see it. I just want all the paperwork ready in advance so the girl doesn’t get scared. You know—call her in, tell her first that she’s officially my secretary now, and only then drop the fact that she’s been freed from slavery on her.”

“And why not just free her?” Cordelia asked with a frown.

“Ah...” I sighed. “Cordelia, how about we go on vacation together next year? To a Jabiimite, slavery is a horrifying fate. Suti, though, was born into a society where slavery isn’t just normal—it can even be something others envy. She was raised as a slave. People genuinely envied her, because not every free Twi’lek eats as well as a slave does. Not every free Twi’lek gets the same kind of education. To that girl, freedom is terrifying. It’s something she’ll have to face. Alone. She’s educated enough to understand just how hard it is to make enough money on your own to guarantee even a basic living. She’s scared because she knows that apart from reading, writing, arithmetic, and pleasing a master, she doesn’t really know how to do anything.”

I scratched at my beard, looking into Alto’s cousin’s eyes, and was relieved to find thoughtfulness there instead of hostility.

“I need sentients who help rather than create problems, Cordelia. You and Alto want there to be not even a hint of slavery on Jabiim... well, aside from the pirates we’ve captured,” I allowed myself a faint smile, which the Commander-in-Chief mirrored. Double standards in their purest form. “I know that, and I respect it. I don’t care whether Suti works for me as a slave or as a free citizen. That’s why I’m asking you—let’s make this as painless for the girl as possible.”

And that, more or less, was how the only “war” over Twi’lek freedom on Jabiim came to an end. I did have to draw up a contract afterward and carefully break the news of her new status to the newly freed woman. Contrary to my concerns, she didn’t panic and took it quite calmly. I think she’d simply gotten to know me better by then, so there was no reason left for her to be nervous.

Shmi Skywalker made it through every bureaucratic hurdle with durasteel composure, though I had softened the process for her as much as possible, and took charge of the Guild’s first and only orphanage. Skywalker threw herself—there really was no better way to put it—into the children’s problems and needs, pouring into them all the maternal care she’d never had the chance to give. And no one could have been better suited to the role. Literally the very next day, a list of requests and recommendations for improving the children’s living conditions landed on my desk, complete with explanations and justifications for every item.

Ras was perfectly fine with taking the position of the Rung’s second pilot and decided to pick up navigation as an additional specialty. His girlfriend, whom he’d gotten together with at the Rendili shipyards, remained our cruiser’s engineer and mechanic, but I signed a separate contract with her as well—extremely strict when it came to confidentiality, and extremely lucrative. Risha Trant would be helping me with Project “Void Hide,” handling the mechanical side of things and the ship’s internal systems.

I had conceived a mad fusion right on the border between golemcraft, chimerology, necromancy, and local technology. For now it existed only as rough drafts, but if it actually worked... When the girl looked over my sketches, she seemed extremely enthusiastic, and afterward we added a clause to the contract stating that her name would appear on the work as a co-author. I respect a hunger for recognition—I’m exactly the same way. So if the project succeeds, our future control interface will be called the “Dziha-Trant Control Module.” And as for the surname “Dziha” being in the name...

A day after we returned, I received an unexpected visitor.

I’d settled into an armchair in the library, set my enormous mug on the side table, picked up a datapad, and opened the schematics for the portal project, intending to relax while making a couple of adjustments. I reached for the mug—and it wasn’t there. I felt around the table, found the warm spot where it had been, and looked around in surprise.

Hecate was sitting in the armchair beside mine. With my mug in one delicate hand. The goddess was looking at me reproachfully, lightly tapping a finger against the inscription: “DO NOT MENTION THE PANTALOONS.”

“Well, I’m... I’m trying to break the habit!” I blurted out before I could stop myself, while thinking, Siith, you mountain goat, how the hell did you forget about that inscription when you stare at it every damn day?!

“This should make it easier to remember,” said the girl—still little more than a child—with a mischievous smile, sliding an identical mug toward me. Just like last time, she had duplicated it from the original, almost as if she’d simply pulled the second one out of the first.

Only this one had my ugly mug in profile at the exact moment a very thick book came flying into the back of my head. It was almost physically painful to look at, and to complete the masterpiece, there was a caption across the top: “Ouch! That hurts!” Yeah... all right. That was, in fact, very clear and highly motivating.

“Sit, Siith’khara’Dziha,” the enchanting woman who looked to be just past thirty said with a sigh, giving a little wave of her hand. Well... I sat. More than that, I pretty much dropped straight back into the armchair I’d been about to rise from so I could kneel before the Goddess.

“So, if I understand correctly, the Dziha bloodline came to an end on the shell of the Great Turtle?” I asked after a few seconds of thought and a sip of caf.

Now looking like a young woman, she briefly closed her beautiful silver eyes in assent, a faint smile touching her lips—satisfied, yet sympathetic at the same time.

“Your former uncle somehow managed to incur the wrath of the Merciful Ones. The result was the death of every member of the family. But...” Her smile widened, and I was treated to a conspiratorial divine wink. “But the Merciful Mother asked me to tell you that she has no quarrel with the new Dziha line. More than that, my friend has added your family name to the list of those who will be shown no mercy.”

“And naturally, in gratitude, I should—”

“You don’t owe anything,” the First Mentor cut me off with a quiet chuckle. “The situation back home is such that the entire Pantheon is looking for excuses to do you favors without making it look like outright sucking up.”

“And the slaughter of the Dziha...”

“A fortunate coincidence. The head of the old Dziha family really did have the misfortune of drawing the displeasure of Those Who Grant the Final Mercy. The scale of their wrath is, admittedly, rather puzzling, but I think you’ve already figured it out.”

“I have,” I said with a nod.

What was there not to understand? When I first arrived here, the possibilities had been staggering, but I hadn’t fully grasped them. Over time, though... To put it briefly, the Gods were hungry for access to a new feeding trough. The problem was, I had no intention of letting them in. Without Hecate’s blessing, spellcasters would have a hard time resisting madness, but this universe would definitely be better off without the Merciful Ones. I was grateful to the Lady of the Last Breath, sure, but nobody had asked her, had they? No. So she could damn well do without.

And being “untouchable”... With the Merciful Ones, I wouldn’t put it past them to arrange a “last breath” for everyone around me if the mood struck them. Servants aren’t family. Friends aren’t family. And there you’d be, living on and watching everyone you grew even slightly close to die. The family line would end too, because no prospective wife or husband would live long enough to make it to the wedding. No, no, no. To Dozdrogodul with that.

I already had more than enough to deal with in this galaxy. The Jedi, who I was sure would be keeping an eye on me. The Sith, lurking somewhere out there and bound to take an interest in new wielders of the Great Force. Politics, which I’d already gotten tangled up in despite having absolutely no desire to touch that shit in the first place. And I was more than certain this universe had no shortage of all sorts of people who would find spellcasters very interesting.

“A sound decision,” the goddess said with a nod, watching my face. “For now, at least.”

Hecate smiled brightly, once again looking like a young girl, and stretched with obvious pleasure. The sight was so mesmerizing that every thought vanished from my head, leaving behind nothing but a ringing emptiness. The goddess glanced at me and gave an amused snort.

“By the way, Siith’khara’Dziha, I want to thank you. That idea of yours with the students has been an incredible success. A little clarity of thought during an exam, a boost to memory, a touch more eloquence... and the happy young men and women thank Hecate generously, sharing their faith with me. They’ve even started raising toasts in my honor!”

The enchanting elderly lady giggled coyly, covering her mouth with one hand.

“They’re only tiny streams, but there are already thousands upon thousands of them. Thanks to your efforts, I can now remain freely in my Libraries in this world. I’m even coming out ahead. And back home, I’ve grown considerably stronger as well. I never chased power, child, but... this kind of might is simply astonishing!”

Her slender fingers clamped down hard on the armrests, making them creak pitifully. In the span of a heartbeat, that beautiful face lost all its serenity and took on something predatory and dangerous. The charming smile twisted into a sinister grin. Her silver eyes flashed, the irises turning molten gold, and I... think I finally understood what people meant by “shitting bricks.”

My hair stood on end in sheer terror as a kaleidoscope of thoughts flashed through my mind, all of them neatly summed up by one very expressive word: fuck. A goddess—the most accomplished of all sorcerers—under the madness of magic? That was the end. I had absolutely nothing that could stand against her. Even setting divine power aside, millennia of mastering Hecate’s Art would leave me no chance whatsoever in a magical duel, but I wasn’t going to give up... Wait.

A scandalously cheerful giggle reached my ears. I looked back at the Mistress of Magic... and once again lost every coherent thought, this time from sheer surprise. The goddess noticed my stare, stopped trying to hold it in, covered her mouth with one hand, and burst out laughing.

Um... was that a divine snort just now?

“Ah-ha-ha-ha! Siiiiith! You should have seen your face! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Oh, I can’t—! Aaaah-ha-ha-ha-ha!” the young woman howled from the armchair, slapping her left hand against her knee. I think something in me broke...

“G-goddess?” Demons. Now I was actually stammering.

“Ahhh... oh, whew... hee-hee-hee... ah...” Hecate wiped a tear away with her pinky, flicked it somewhere onto the floor, and looked at me seriously. “That’s for the pantaloons, sorcerer. And besides—female solidarity.”

Then she giggled again, gave me a wink, and vanished.

“Um... mmm... right... ahem... Can’t even put this into words without blaspheming, can I...” I scratched my beard with hands that were still trembling slightly. “I should ask for a calming herbal brew instead of caf. Yeah. Excellent idea, Siith. I could use the walk too.”

I was already on my way out of the library when I froze, then shot back like a meteor toward the spot where the Lady of the Moon had deigned to flick away her tear.

“Well...” I held the small crystal up to the light and peered through it. A god’s tear. Dozdrogodul take... someone. A treasure. Now that was Hecate for you: prank me and reward me in the same breath. I didn’t believe for a second that she had simply forgotten the tear. Gods did not treat things like this lightly.

I only remembered that I’d meant to ask for a calming brew once I was back in my quarters, carefully tucking the priceless treasure into an enchanted casket. On the way to the kitchen, though, all I could think about was how to make Hecate laugh like that again. Never mind that my heart had nearly launched itself out through my anal sphincter—I’m a chimerologist. I’d survive somehow. Crystals of Divine Tears, on the other hand, were exactly the sort of thing worth keeping around. The Quartermaster, currently stuffing himself with treats at Maria’s, would back me up on that.