When he reached out with the Force, he could sense nothing but the shield he, Orla, and Reath had conjured. It held strong and steady as an energy field, so distinct Cohmac imagined he could visualize the bubble around the idols, even put his finger on the exact place where the barrier ended. This was an illusion—the way a living being’s mind tried to make sense of the formless, unknowable boundaries of the Force. But it was an illusion that served a purpose. It made the barrier more real in their minds, which in turn made them better able to confront the powers imprisoned within.

Orla stood by his side, as did a few experts in Jedi arcana. The Council had chosen a handful of other Jedi to join them for the group meditation, each one a Master, each one possessing unique knowledge and abilities that could help. Poreht La, a Lasat, was an expert on ancient techniques. The human archivist Tia Mirabel had learned more about Force-imbued objects than anyone else in the Order. And Lurmen Giktoo Nelmo’s power spoke for itself.

Had Master Yoda been present, undoubtedly he would have led the team. But they would have to manage as best they could without him.

“Are we ready?” Master Giktoo said, smoothing her fur. The other Jedi drew closer, forming a ring around the idols. Cohmac forced himself to have no future, no past—no questions, no anger, no doubts—to exist in nothing but the present as Giktoo continued, “Let us begin.”

Affie made her first attempt while they were eating at one of the stranger local establishments, a place with checkered floors, shiny red seats, and waiter droids that rolled around on impractical wheels. “Did you read our report? About the Amaxine station?”

“I have not had time to review all materials about your journey yet,” said Scover, which was not the same thing as no. “How is your arm? Captain Gyasi should not have forced you to be the one taking on a hazardous mission.”

“I volunteered to go down in the tunnels. Leox couldn’t have stopped me. Anyway, my arm is fine. See?” Affie flashed her all-but-healed wrist.

“Now, try some of this,” Scover insisted, holding out a small dish of something called barafuraha—though Affie had heard most people ordering it as just baha. It was apparently a great favorite on Coruscant, but…

“It’s made of ice,” Affie said. “Who wants to eat ice?”

“We made it once in a while, in my family. We came from the Core originally, you know. And baha is pleasing to most sentients’ palates.”

Scover had used the casual name for something, which Scover never did, so she actually must like the stuff a lot. Affie cautiously took a spoonful, winced as the shock of cold hit her mouth, then opened her eyes. “Oh, this is amazing.”

“The cold is actually part of the enjoyment, as I trust you now recognize.”