'I wasn't referring only to Artoo.' Leia held up a hand to forestall further discussion. 'But I understand your concerns. I tell you what: you keep an eye on this droid for me. All right?'
'Of course, Your Highness,' Threepio said. He gave a little bow and shuffled his way back out into the gathering dusk.
Leia sighed and looked around her. Her restless wandering around the dukha had brought her to the genealogy wall chart, and for a long minute she gazed at it. There was a deep sense of history present in the carved wood; a sense of history, and a quiet but deep family pride. She let her eyes trace the connections between the names, wondering what the Noghri themselves thought and felt as they studied it. Did they see their triumphs and failures both, or merely their triumphs? Both, she decided. The Noghri struck her as a people who didn't deliberately blind themselves to reality.
'Do you see in the wood the end of our family, Lady Vader?' Leia jumped. 'I sometimes wish you people weren't so good at that,' she growled as she regained her balance.
'Forgive me,' the maitrakh said, perhaps a bit dryly. 'I did not mean to startle you.' She gestured at the chart. 'Do you see our end there, Lady Vader?'
Leia shook her head. 'I have no vision of any future, maitrakh. Not yours; not even mine. I was just thinking about children. Trying to imagine what it's like to try to raise them. Wondering how much of their character a family can mold, and how much is innate in the children them selves.' She hesitated. 'Wondering if the evil in a family's history can be erased, or whether it always passes itself on to each new generation.' The maitrakh tilted her head slightly, the huge eyes studying Leia's face. 'You speak as one newly facing the challenge of child-service.
'Yes,' Leia admitted, her hand caressing her belly. 'I don't know if Khabarakh told you, but I'm carrying my first two children.'
'And you fear for them.'
Leia felt a muscle in her cheek twitch. 'With good reason. The Empire wants to take them from me.'
The maitrakh hissed softly. 'Why?'
'I'm not sure. But the purpose can only be an evil one.' The maitrakh dropped her gaze. 'I'm sorry, Lady Vader. I would help you if I could.'
Leia reached over to touch the Noghri's shoulder. 'I know.' The maitrakh looked up at the genealogy chart. 'I sent all four of my sons into danger, Lady Vader. To the Emperor's battles. It never becomes easier to watch them go forth to war and death.'
Leia thought of all her allies and companions who had died in the long war. 'I've sent friends to their deaths,' she said quietly. 'That was hard enough. I can't imagine sending my children.'
'Three of them died,' the maitrakh continued, almost as if talking to herself. 'Far from home, with none but their companions to mourn them. The fourth became a cripple, and returned home to live his shortened life in the silent despair of dishonor before death released him.' Leia grimaced. And now, as the cost for helping her, Khabarakh was facing both dishonor and death The line of thought paused. 'Wait a minute. You said all four of your sons went to war? And that all four have since died?' The maitrakh nodded. 'That is correct.'
'But then what about Khabarakh? Isn't he also your son?'
'He is my thirdson,' the maitrakh said, a strange expression on her face. 'A son of the son of my firstson.'
Lela looked at her, a sudden horrible realization flashing through her. If Khabarakh was not her son but instead her great-grandson; and if the maitrakh had personally witnessed the space battle that had brought destruction on Honoghr ... 'Maitrakh, how long has your world been like this?' she breathed. 'How many years?'
The Noghri stared at her, clearly sensing the sudden change in mood.
'Lady Vader, what have I said-?'
'How many years?'
The maitrakh twitched away from her. 'Forty-eight Noghri years,' she said. 'In years of the Emperor, forty- four.'
Leia put her hand against the smooth wood of the genealogy chart, her knees suddenly feeling weak with shock. Forty-four years. Not the five or eight or even ten that she'd assumed. Forty-four. 'It didn't happen during the Rebellion,' she heard herself say. 'It happened during the Clone Wars.' And suddenly the shock gave way to a wall of blazing white anger.
'Forty-four years, she snarled. 'They've held you like this for forty-four years?'
