Star Wars - Kenobi

Airshaper asked Hairy Face now, frightened and puzzled.
    “Ben,” A’Yark said, looking again at the silvery weapon, barely visible within his cloak. “You are Ben.”
    Annileen had thought she was past the point of shock. But hearing Basic words in the braying voice of a Sand Person was yet another stunner.
    Ben simply nodded. “You would know the words, wouldn’t you?” he said, carefully. His voice was soothing, as smooth as when he’d spoken earlier to A’Yark’s companions. Somehow, they’d understood—and complied.
    Annileen gawked. Who is this guy?
    “Perhaps you can understand this,” Ben said, pointing to the body behind A’Yark. “This woman— Annileen —did not shoot your son. You know the burns. That mark was from a long-range rifle.”
    A’Yark did not turn to look. “One settler killed. All settlers killed.”
    “You are mistaken.”
    This wasn’t something to debate, Annileen thought. She’d certainly shot at plenty of Tuskens earlier, at the Claim. Ben seemed to want to defuse the immediate tension, at least with his words. His body remained poised, ready to act—although Annileen didn’t know what an unarmed man could do against the Tusken woman and her band.
    The Tusken woman. Annileen looked at A’Yark, seen before through a mist of fire retardant and by others only amid panic. As far as Annileen had ever heard, Tuskens had distinct gender roles. Males fought; women tended the banthas. The few images she’d seen showed Tusken females dressed in even bulkier outfits, their hoods pulled down over large faceplates. But the one-eyed Tusken before them was outfitted as all the others, save for the lack of bandolier.
    Ben pointed to the suns, creeping closer to the heights of the western Jundland. He spoke in simple terms, matching the Tusken’s. “You struck. The settlers struck. The day ends. We will depart.” He nodded to the east, where hooting and hollering had commenced beyond the hillside. “We depart, and you depart,” he added ominously, “while you can.”
    A’Yark looked down at the gaderffii stick in her hands. It had belonged to her father, and it had not saved him. Nor had it saved her son. It was right to plunge its point into humans, to crush them with its bulk, to grind their bones with its flanges. Hairy Face—Ben—might have the power to kill her. She would die, but the others would live, and they would exact a price.
    But then A’Yark thought again of the magic weapon the man carried, and the last time she had seen one. She wanted to know more, but knowledge could not come from a dead wizard. And if the human cheers over the ridge meant the rest of the band was gone, then A’Yark and the survivors could not linger.
    A’Yark turned back to A’Deen. Handing her gaderffii to another, she heaved the corpse from the ground.
    “We depart, and you depart,” A’Yark said. “While you can.”
    “Forty-eight,” Mullen said.
    “Forty-eight!” Orrin looked down at the canyon floor as he descended the rocky stair. “That the head count?”
    Mullen gave a laugh, a rare guttural thing that had always made his father cringe. “I can’t make any guarantees about body parts,” Mullen said. “Some of the Tuskies that fell hit pretty hard.”
    Orrin surveyed the scene. It was truly a mess. The trail of Tusken corpses wound around the corner of the gorge and out of sight. He whistled. “I didn’t think this many hit us at the oasis!”
    “There were some in camps east of the Claim that Jayla Jee saw,” Mullen said, referring to their friend in the skyhopper. “I think they were in reserve to take captives. But when the Tuskens at the Claim fled, they all went.”
    Most of the vigilantes had already made their way down here, making sure none of the injured Sand People would come back to haunt them. Orrin’s daughter was here, too, trying her best to make her way through the organic obstacle course at the foot of the eastern rock face.
    “Disgusting,” Veeka said, holding her nose. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Before Orrin could respond, a shrill beep resounded from his pocket. “Just a second,” he said, pulling out the comlink. “How’s our recon, Sky One?”
    “All clear, Master Gault,” crackled the voice of the skyhopper pilot. Orrin had directed her to complete a wide circle. “And it looks like you were right,” Jayla said. “Annie Calwell and that drifter were here—but they’ve ridden off to the west.”
    The west? Orrin’s