Force Presence

ME-8D9 led them past the cantina and down an alley, through a door and down some stairs. “You are welcome here, as is everyone,” she informed them. “For exactly so long as you can refrain from violence. All fighting is prohibited. All fighters will be evicted.”

“Sounds fair,” Karr muttered, following along behind her.

Soon they reached a level just below the cantina band, or that was how it sounded through the floor. The music rose and swelled and tinkled and thrummed, and if Karr had been feeling better, he might’ve tapped his feet.

But suddenly, he felt the weight of the place above him and the weight of the place below him, too. He was sandwiched between two heavy spots, and he struggled to stand upright.

ME-8D9 noticed, and she stopped. “If you’ll tell me what’s wrong with you, perhaps I could assist.”

“It’s not like that. It’s just…it’s very…”

He was still hunting for a word when a small person appeared at the end of the corridor where they stood. “Heavy,” she said.

The woman was tiny, perhaps half Karr’s height. Her skin was brownish and very tight on her skeleton; she wore big round goggles that distorted her eyes and made them look bulbous. She could’ve been a hundred years old or a thousand years old. ME-8D9 could’ve told Karr either one, and he would’ve believed her.

ME-8D9 nodded respectfully at the wee figure. “Maz Kanata, these two have been asking for you—all over the castle. I do not think they mean any harm, and they claim to have a package for you. From Batuu.”

“Batuu?” She approached Karr and popped up her goggles so they sat atop her head. Her eyes were much smaller that way, and they stared so intently that he was half afraid she could hear him thinking.

Could she hear him thinking?

She laughed. “No, you silly boy. I can’t hear your thoughts, but I am very old, and I have spent a very long time watching people. I know a lost child when I see one. And I know a fellow who can sense the Force, when I see him struggling in a place such as this. But I’m glad to see you,” she concluded. “It’s about time you got here.”

[...]

Karr was confused. His head felt like it was stuffed full of wadded-up fabric. “I don’t understand. Were you expecting us?”

“I always expect everything!” she said cheerfully, peering up at him with those bright little eyes. “But yes, in particular—I was expecting you.”

Karr took her in for a moment. “Because of the Force?” he asked.

“No. Because Dok sent a message.”

Karr gave her a look as if he’d just been had, but she continued. “About a droid and a boy with a passion for Jedi artifacts that practically knocks him off his feet!”

“He told you all that?”

“In not so many words, yes. You are welcome, as I’m sure Emmie told you—but I can see that you are not comfortable here.” She walked away from them then, gesturing that they should follow. “Come with me and I’ll tell you why. I might be able to help.”

“Help with…what?” asked RZ-7. “Our only task is to give you a package.”

“Ah, but your quest is quite different from your task, isn’t it?” Over her shoulder, she gave Karr a wink. “You feel a connection to the Jedi, to the Force. It’s very strong, I should think.”

Vaguely but honestly, Karr said, “I don’t understand what’s happening….”

She cackled. “Quite the understatement, young man.” She led him into what looked like an office. There was a desk with no chair behind it and two chairs in front of it. She did not go behind the desk but sat on top of it and crossed her legs. “Thank you, Emmie. I’ll take it from here.”

Emmie bobbed her head and made a discreet exit.

Karr and RZ-7 took the seats. Even with Maz positioned on the desk, they were all nearly at eye level. The boy reached into his satchel and pulled out the package Dok had given him, then held it out to her.

Without even looking at it, she took it and set it down beside her knee. “I like your gloves,” she told him.

“Thanks? My grandmother made them for me.”

“A family that makes things, yes. A good family to come from. But you don’t wear them for the cold, or for the protection from callouses, do you?” Before he could respond, she answered her own question. “No, you do not! You wear them so you can be choosy about the things you touch. That’s more like it, yes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered. His vision wanted to double up again, but he fought it. He focused on his breathing—one, two, in, out—until he didn’t want to close his eyes anymore.

“Young man, do you know where we are?”

“In…in your castle. In your…library?” The room was about the size of a bedroom, lined with shelves that were overloaded yet somehow tidy. On one wall hung framed paintings, light sconces, and some plaques in languages Karr couldn’t read.

“Close enough, yet insufficient. This castle, as they call it—it’s been here for a millennium. Before that, it was broadly thought to have been a Jedi compound, with catacombs beneath. This was only a rumor, you understand. But that may be why you feel it….” She peered at him. “Both coming and going. The weight of the Jedi presses down on you, and it rises up against you.”

“Catacombs?” he squeaked.

“The Jedi dead must go somewhere. Why not here?”

He couldn’t think of a good reason, and the idea that he was sitting in a room above a Jedi graveyard thrilled him so much that for a few seconds he completely forgot about his headache. “They’re buried? In a crypt, right below us?”

She corrected him. “They’re interred, my boy. Not buried. If they are here. All Jedi are cremated, if possible—so if you want to get fussy about it, you should call it a columbarium. So you maybe are feeling their presence above and below, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Do you…do you feel it, too? Because if you do, I have to know—how do you stand it? I can hardly breathe down here.”

She shook her head. “Oh, I feel something, but it doesn’t hurt me. Whether that’s due to my age or my own abilities, I suppose we’ll never know—the Force works in different ways with different people, understand?”

“Maz, are you a Jedi?”

Her rusty little laugh came back again. “Me, a Jedi? No way. But I’ve known more than a few, and I have…my own sensitivity. It’s not an easy thing to explain, but you know this. You tried to lie, rather than explain. I’m not upset. I understand the impulse. Sometimes a lie is easier for everyone, and when it hurts no one—who can mind it?”


- Force Collector, Chapters 15 and 16