I am indebted to MaulMaus, my beta-reader, for her time, trouble, interest, and encouragement.

Caladon

"We go to Caladon tomorrow" said Sidious thoughtfully. "We need the armoured battle beast from the Northern forest. Its' armour is strangely formed and most resilient to blaster fire, a valuable attribute for our new weapon."

On Coruscant, Sidious was discussing the attributes of this beast, which was for Maul to catch and butcher for the cloning pot, but after capture, such was it's power that this one was to be exterminated, as if it had never existed on the planet it knew as home.

Maul piloted the Infiltrator, while his master studied ancient temple scrolls from Korriban, and archaic texts, noting comments on his datapad. The piloting was not an arduous affair, and time was taken to train, to spar with Sidious - who was a formidable opponent - and to plan for the meeting in the seat of government on Caladon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Chosen

"Greetings Master." Said Hanshara, prostrating herself and making obeisance.

"Greetings daughter," said supreme being, a glorious whirl of iridescent blue shot with gold, spinning amidst lazily glowing nebulae and slowly whirling galaxies.

A feather light touch brushed her cheek in the Zabrak manner of greeting.

"You are well?"

"Yes Master."

"And your mate?"

"He is also well, Master."

A short chuckle, an affectionate laugh. "After your healing of his wounds daughter, one would hope he was well indeed!"

Hanshara smiled. 

"Be seated, please. How would you wish to game today?" asked the Toydarian, now appearing before her with his gaming table, expansively gesturing to the hologram projector.

The hologram showed Khameir looking at a golden skinned priestess on an unknown planet.

Khameir looked speculative. He exuded power, confidence and control. His smile was enigmatic. 

She loved this smile. She hoped the priestess was not attracted….

"Beautiful isn't he? Zabrak are attractive to many species. It's the feline walk, the grace…."

She thought the blue shift the priestess wore was a trifle tight, neither did the colour of it suit her well! Her mind suggested that this thought was not a charitable one. She resisted the thought, then reconsidered. Why was she suddenly distrustful? The shift was rather attractive, she told herself sternly, the iridescence of it quite lovely. Perhaps she should wear such clothing occasionally.

Khameir sat by the priestess and leaning over, delicately removed her veil.

"So," said supreme being. "Will he fall from your grace do you think?"

He stopped the hologram. His smile was knowing, lascivious.

The hologram started again.

He reached his arm behind her and put his mouth next to the ear of the woman...

Hanshara's heart stopped. She felt bewilderment.

And he traced his finger down the opening of the gown, and reached for the hair…

Now she felt grief, despair, and such jealousy. Tears sprang to her eyes. And there was fear; fear of abandonment; fear of being alone; fear of an eternity without her beloved. His name echoed in her mind, her heart ached to touch and hold him.

"No more," said the Toydarian, freezing the display. "I want to bet! How will you bet on your lover now! Look at him. He is young, virile, he just loves hair…"

The Toydarian circled her in his chair, like a small demon, clacking the cubes in her face, snickering…

"Why should he be content with you now? He has had all of you, you have nothing different to give, nothing more with which to charm him."

"He will not take her!" she shouted amidst her tears, starting up out of her chair "I am more than enough for him! How dare you play with us this way." She stood with her back to supreme being, trying to calm herself, struggling to dispel the doubt, the fear…

She turned round, eyes on fire, drew herself to her full height and radiated dignity, self-control.

"No. He will not take her, and if he does, what of it? He never promised fidelity, nor did I ask it of him."

Supreme being glared at her, and threw the cubes on to the table in a temper. He waved an angry dismissive hand at the hologram.

Hanshara stopped, considered her words. Considered moreover the power of the angry being before her. She knelt, then prostrated herself in penance…

"And I regret my impertinence Master." She said in a low voice, ashamed of her outburst, lowering her gaze further yet.

~~~~~~~~~~

Temporal Power

Palpatine walked purposefully into the Government House from where the Upper Senate of this small out-of-the-way planet of Caladon exercised their authority. Soon, they would have control of this government, then they would rape the forests and steal the beast, leaving none behind. Too far from Coruscant to be of any interest, no Jedi would disrupt their purpose here.

For this formal occasion, Maul was dressed in formal attire. The court was sophisticated, urbane, no cheap and tawdry collection of country half-wits. Dress uniform was an intimidating affair, of fine black cloth closely cut, of tailored and loose, not baggy, breeches, tucked into plain leather boots burnished to a soft sheen. And of an elegant tunic which crossed at the throat, and closed with tiny dull black buttons, was long, decorated only with the wide black leather belt and soft leather gloves.

His lightsabre he clipped to his belt with a most beautiful scintillium clip, a gift from Palpatine upon his graduation day. This was a thing he wore but little, being commonly attired in battle dress.

Lord Maul the diplomat much preferred battle dress. It was more comfortable, allowed more easily the quick and fluid movement of the expert swordsman. But, as he flung the pleated cloak about his shoulders, he knew that the sombre and severe attire would state his purpose for him, a dealer in death, a vendor of pain and annihilation.

Palpatine approved, noted the wearing of the clip, was flattered and pleased.

As his Aide and bodyguard once more, Maul walked behind Sidious' left shoulder, carrying a datapad and the few materials they required for their work here today. It was some considerable time since Maul had worked in such circles, and he anticipated rejoining the political arena with much pleasure. He opened his mouth slightly to get the scent of the air - he could almost taste the temporal power here, it could almost be touched.

The two men had their own aura of power, such that lesser men gave way to them, smoothing their path, and becoming guarded in their talk. The females among the audience were silenced, and when they looked at Maul, many became speculative and excited, much approving of his stance and demeanour. They gave him sideways looks and veiled glances, wondering about the way he moved, the fine lithe power, the grace of him. What would he be like under his cloak, his robe, in their bed? And when he held the gaze of such a one with a cool and arrogant stare, she dropped her eyes and realised a great fear of him instead.

"If they knew…" thought the object of their attentions. "My Lady is as far above this rabble as a star above a dunghill!"

He cast his eye over the assembled company. Who would be worth a mind-read, who was of account, and where did the power really lie? He had experience enough to know that power could lie in the most unlikely places; the trick was finding those places. Physical danger advertised itself, a threat to his master's life or person would be easily detected, as had been done before, but true power was more subtle.

The soft spoken and regal male standing with two gaudy uniforms - that one was to be noted, as was the small tawny individual behind him, also scanning the throng he saw. A formidable pair these two.

The pleasure givers and pleasure seekers of the court were mostly of no account, except for one golden coloured female dressed in a shimmering blue shift, seated away from the crowds. Feeling his gaze, she turned and looked, taking the measure of him. Her pupils widened with interest, she tried a delicate mind probe. Maul closed his mind.

Her eyes narrowed and she returned her attention to the mild narcotic she was pretending to smoke, looking elsewhere, in reality trying to scan his mind to find his intention towards this planet and its people.

A priestess then, humanoid, a diviner with very real force power. Someone who had the ear of the ruler, access to the web of power. Someone he would need to be careful of. He used the Force to disturb the dark skeins of the future, found she was a threat to his purpose here. Perhaps she must be killed, he might do that.

~~~~~~~~

Mak'iyru, the priestess, could not take her mind off Maul, who was pretending to have lost interest in her. She was fascinated, thrilled by the dark eddies she had detected in his mind, the dark power she saw and felt there. Such a strong power that she had never found in any other being, despite her knowledge and use of the Force as an adept. Sensing Maul, she did not feel the presence of his Master, or find any subtle hint of a darker threat. Mak'iyru had heard of Sith, a little whisper here, a mention in a book of magick there, rumours of their legendary appetites and singular tastes, and she fancied that Maul was such a being.

So, having her own singular appetites and tastes, and wishing to know more, she instructed her maid to bring a command to Maul, that he should attend her, and where he should do this, and when.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The priestess opened the door to her suite herself, having sent her handmaids to their beds. She wore a light robe over her shift, and a translucent veil covered the lower half of her face. The room was softly lit, perfumed. Flowers lay on the low tables, artfully arranged, and some soft stringed instrument played in the background. The noise of it grated his ears.

"Why, greetings my Lord Maul, and how may I serve you?" she breathed huskily, leaving the door, turning her back, going into the next room.

"You sent for me Madame!" replied Maul, irritated, one hand on his lightsabre.

"Then come in,." she said, turning, and smiling.

As Maul closed the door, she turned again and elegantly shrugged off the robe, letting it drop casually onto the floor. Her shift was diaphanous, a golden tissue of clinging light swirling around her limbs, first revealing, now concealing. Her pretty form was there to see in abundance if one looked closely, carefully.

Maul looked at her face, pointedly ignoring the display, knowing full well her purpose with him.

"Please, my Lord, sit." She commanded, waving him to a sofa, sitting in the far corner of it, silently inviting him to sit against her.

"I will stand." he declared.

"So be it," she sighed, straightening her long legs. The shift, artfully cut, fell from a shoulder and open to her waist.

Maul looked and narrowed his eyes. Yes, it was a pretty sight. He was but male after all.

The priestess smiled and re-arranged her legs, the shift shimmered, moved, and opened from her waist, now revealing her thighs, her hair.

Ah. Hair. Maul stared at the wisp of hair, thinking how he loved it, was fascinated by it, how he found it most arousing. He flashed an evil smile and moved softly, catlike, toward her. Smiling, she turned to him and reached her hand towards him as he sat and put his arm around her shoulder. He found she had a vague perfume, her own subtle scent like some flower which insinuated itself into his mind. His nostrils flared, he breathed a little deeper…

He delicately removed her veil, and studied her face, stroked her cheek with one finger, then looked back at the hair. 

He was mesmerised by the scent and the hair, moved his hand slowly towards it, to touch, stroke, to tease the pretty woman-flesh he knew would lie beneath. To feel her, caress her, make her ready for him. Perhaps…

Her breathing became a little laboured as she leaned slowly towards him. She divined his desire and sudden need, shifted her legs a little, parted them a little, tempted him more with what he could see. She parted her lips, made her mouth ready for his, her tongue quickly flickering over her upper lip.

Her eyes were triumphant - Sith or no, he is so easily caught, this one. He is no different from all the others.

As she shifted her almost naked body closer, reached a hand to touch his horns, he heard her thoughts, snarled quietly, hissed his displeasure at her judgment of him, remembers Hanshara who judges him not. And while he had not promised fidelity, neither had she asked it of him, but she...

She trusted him. As he trusted her.

Khameir put his mouth to the ear of Mak'iyru.

"I am not a primitive, to be so easily brought to your bed madam. You are indeed beautiful, but if your acquaintances are so easily seduced, what taint does your flesh have for me? If you wish to discuss business, then let us so discuss, but if you wish sport, then call your tame drones!"

Saying this, he contemptuously drew his fingers down her body, caressing the golden skin, touching the tip of a pointed breast, (and she shivered), down her chest and stomach, and finally down to her hair. (She gave a quick intake of breath.)

After casually flicking the hair once with his gloved fingers, dismissing its attraction as being of no worth to him, he leaned over her and took her chin in one hand. He held it tight, hurting her.

"So, which is it to be?" he hissed.

Mak'iyru stared, angry and stunned at this dismissal of her. She was insulted, and slapped his face hard for this rejection, puzzled at his resistance to her undeniable beauty.

"I said - no sport with me Madame!" spat Maul, hauling her up by her wrists, slapping her heavily across the face in return. He let her go and she fell, then stumbled to her feet in shock, hand to her red but unbruised face.

"Since when have Sith been chaste then?" she said in a voice dripping with disdain and poison.

Maul shook his head as he turned to go. "You know nothing of Sith Madame! Or seduction either." 

The door slammed. Mak'iyru was left alone, rejected and angry. She vowed to oppose him, to try and destroy him if she could. Until then, she went to the altar of her goddess and called down many curses on him. And told her twin, the Oracle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~