Locate Robes

The droid was ambling around the little cabin, poking his hands into baskets and bins, drawers and shelves. “But while the rain holds, sir…perhaps we should look for items to add to your collection. It’s grown quite extensive, but you should save something of your great-grandfather’s—for yourself, if no one else. Your father might want something to remember him by, too.”

“He’s got a point, Karr. You’ve collected Jedi artifacts from every corner of the galaxy. It’d be a shame to leave your great-grandfather’s place empty-handed. He’d want you to take something.”

He tried to keep from staring at the body, laid out on the cushions. “You don’t know that,” he said, but he couldn’t really argue. The small house was flooded with the Force, accumulated over a long lifetime—whether or not the old man had renounced his vows. The Force didn’t go away just because you were no longer pledged to it. And it didn’t only touch those who’d made pledges in the first place.

It stayed.

And it touched many people who weren’t committed to the light or the dark. Sometimes, it touched people like Karr.

“Look around,” she pressed. “Hold out your hands, feel the Force, or whatever it is you do. There must be something in here that calls to you. Try it and see.”

He held out his hands and scanned the room thoughtfully, trying to ignore the black hole around his great-grandfather. He felt the Force in all four corners, and in the rafters, and under the floor.

Under the floor.

In the back corner, behind some shelves that held folded rags and a tin of tea that the man had either found or collected and dried himself. Karr pushed aside a canister that looked like it might have held trash or compost and found a hatch cut into the grain of the floor. There wasn’t any lever or handle to open it with, but he pried it loose with a rusted knife blade he’d found in the sink.

Maize joined him. “What have you got there?”

They both stared into the hole while RZ-7 craned his metal neck to get a look for himself. Down under the floorboards, hanging in a net above the water—tucked tight beneath the house so no one would be likely to see it, or find it, or open it—was a box about the size of a suitcase.

Karr hauled it up into the house. It wasn’t heavy, but it was bulky and hard to maneuver; he pushed it into the middle of the floor so he’d have more room to work and tweaked the latch until it popped.

“It’s not locked?” asked Maize.

He lifted the lid. “Nope. Oh…oh, wow.”

“Is that…?”

RZ-7 let out a soft digital whistle.

He reached inside and pulled out a neatly folded bundle, tied with twine. With the same rusty blade he’d used to pop the latch, he sliced the twine and unleashed a pale, wax-colored robe. He held it up by the shoulders and rose to his feet—measuring it against himself and his own shoulders.


- Force Collector, Chapter 26