Free Star Wars - Kenobi by John Jackson Miller

dewback floated on air.
    The Tuskens were well aware of the powers the settlers had at their disposal. They used lesser magics, their spells all relying upon physical components linked together in a certain way. A landspeeder was a conglomeration of trinkets. If the ordering of the pieces was in any way disturbed, it lost its powers. An unreliable magic, to be sure.
    But there was no metal, no unnatural material, no mechanism present here. Just humans. That was when A’Yark had slipped back behind the dune, to think.
    This was no false dragon call. What did it portend? Things were already bad for the Sand People. If the settlers had now added to their capabilities, then caution was demanded. A’Yark needed to know what the Sand People were facing. What was this power?
    And which one of the humans had it?
    As far as A’Yark was concerned, there was no reason for the human male to put himself at risk for either of the women. What had brought them onto the desert floor was apparent. The women had obviously tried, as so many settlers had, to tame the very spirit of life on Tatooine—in this case, the dewbacks who belonged in the mountains. It was right that they had failed. They should have died, and the hairy-faced male should have let them.
    Living beings helped only themselves—that was the Tusken way. And it suggested that the woman had the sorcery in her, to land so gently, and to brush the dewback aside. The man must have known she was in no danger—that she had the power to save herself. Yes. That made sense.
    While the woman recovered, A’Yark had sat, contemplating the right path. The conclusion was now clear. The settler woman had to be killed—and quickly, before she taught her skill to another. Now, while her dewback carried two—
    A’Yark felt another tremor in the sand. It was gentle, and would have gone unnoticed by another. A’Yark knew it for what it was. The accursed sarlacc had many children in locations unknown to the Tuskens. Most sat inert, starving, never becoming. But the feast of the dewback by one had awakened others. This was no time to find out how many more existed.
    No, the information A’Yark had just learned needed to reach the clan. The humans could be found again without difficulty. Then the Tuskens would all move as one, knowing they were doing a truly important thing. It would be the victory they needed to regain their defiant spirit once and for all.
    A’Yark left the hiding spot and departed for the hills. Not as the cowardly sun—but as the hunter.
    It felt good.
    Meditation
    Let’s try this again.
    I’m afraid I haven’t had any success with this means of communication, Master Qui-Gon. Perhaps you haven’t had anything to say? That’s fine. I’ve tried speaking to you mentally; I’ll try speaking aloud for a while, and see if that makes a difference.
    Since I last tried speaking to you, I’ve made some tactical moves. Owen Lars didn’t want me hanging about near his home anymore. He had a point, believe it or not. Creeping on hillsides every morning and evening might not be the best way to avoid drawing attention to his farm.
    So I’ve found another place. You might be alarmed when you hear how far away it is. It certainly unnerves me. You remember the Xelric Draw, where we landed the ship from Naboo years ago? This is due south of that, up against the northern wall of the highlands—the Jundland Wastes. Only we’re at the far end of the formation from where Owen lives—maybe a hundred kilometers.
    It’s a funny way to keep watch over someone, I know. I can’t get there and back in a day on Rooh—and I’m reluctant to get so much as a speeder bike, for fear of the attention I’d attract. The Tusken natives seem to follow anything shiny they find; I could lead them to the Lars farm if I’m not careful. And anyone watching from satellite might notice a pattern to my travels.
    I’ve also ruled out leaving surveillance equipment. Access to the galactic mainframe