The following weeks went by reasonably well. Eeth was hard-working as ever and only took time off if Fenya ordered him to, which she mostly did by sending him to the padawans' lounge under strict instructions to talk to other padawans. This he did, with varying degrees of success. Among his achievements was an invitation to become part of a study group for astrophysics. It was composed of a number of academically ambitious padawans who regularly met to work on special projects. All the other members of the group were at least one or two years older than Eeth, but due to his sharp mind, his broad knowledge and diligence, he quickly gained their respect. He had also taken to working out regularly with a fellow Iktotchi padawan, Saesee Tiin. Fenya and Saesee's master arranged for supervised sparring sessions between the two of them occasionally.

Eeth's overambitious working habits and his upfront manner did not sit well with all padawans, however. Two or three times, other padawans tried to play pranks on him, but he ignored them in such a supremely dignified manner that it just did not seem like fun; there were no repeat occurrences. On a few occasions, he ended up unwittingly offending other padawans. The only reason for which he did not get involved in an actual fight was his adamant refusal to let himself be provoked into it. Fighting was forbidden, so he would not do it, period. Fenya assumed that there was more to it, though: aggression was what ruled the streets on Nar Shaddaa, and Eeth held a deep loathing for everything to do with that environment.

After each evening Eeth spent in the padawans' lounge, Fenya asked him specific questions about how things had gone. In those cases in which it had not gone too well, she had him recount his conversations and explained to him where he had gone wrong. He seemed to memorise conversation rules like other people were memorising foreign vocabulary. As long as he was making an effort to improve, that was fine with Fenya. She was under no illusion that he would ever become a charming, humorous, sympathetic, all-out popular person, but that had never been her goal to start with.

To her surprise, Eeth was doing quite well in his diplomacy class. Of course, the practical exercises in class were all based on understanding other peoples' interests and respecting their cultural sensitivities. This could be learned theoretically. The really interesting question was how Eeth would fare in a real-life situation where things like body language, facial expressions and actual feelings were concerned. As for small talk, Fenya could just hope that, when his duty required it, Eeth would prove himself capable of more than monosyllabic answers. At least she would be able to count on him not to lose his composure in the face of provocation; that was an asset in itself.

"You've got your oral Twi'leki exam today, don't you?" she said one Monday morning towards the end of the cycle during breakfast.

"Hmm," mumbled Eeth, who had been even less talkative than usual during the weekend and had withdrawn to his room to study whenever possible. His preoccupation with his exam even seemed to have affected his sparring skills during the last day or two, which was highly uncharacteristic for him. But then, this exam was his first after having become a padawan. A little bit of nervousness was understandable, even if it manifested itself in strange ways.

"Is everything all right, padawan?" Fenya asked, noticing that Eeth had hardly eaten.

"Yes, master," Eeth said immediately, even attempting a smile. He sometimes, very rarely, did that these days. She must be doing something right. In any case, she had no doubt that Eeth would get home with a stellar grade. He had only started on studying Twi'leki this cycle, but he had a gift for languages and had studied and practised a lot.

Fenya was more than a little surprised when, right after her senior padawans' Advanced Iktotchi class had concluded, a comm call from a rather displeased Twi'leki teacher reached her, asking her to pick up her padawan. She made arrangements for a substitute teacher to take over her subsequent class and went to the room – next door, in fact – where her padawan had his Twi'leki classes. There sat Eeth, stony-faced, while a rather annoyed-looking Knight Amrak was waiting for her at the door. A fairly big paddle was lying on the desk, she noticed immediately as she entered.

"Master Jaa," said Knight Amrak, bowing to her. "I'm glad you could come. I'm afraid your apprentice saw fit to insult me repeatedly during the oral exam and was unwilling to apologise or even explain his behaviour. I punished him with six strokes of the paddle. Unfortunately, that did not induce him to give up his defiance. I did not want to mete out any more punishment without your consent, so I saw no other option than to call you."

Fenya frowned.

"He insulted you in what way?" she inquired, quite puzzled. Insulting teachers was simply not something Eeth did.

"Well, to start with, I asked him to translate expressions into Twi'leki," replied Knight Amrak. "He is usually a very good student, but most of his answers were wrong, some even nonsensical. I reprimanded him for being so poorly prepared. Instead of apologising, he remained mute. I then turned to the next section of the exam where I engage students in simple dialogues. However, your padawan replied my question about the weather with an outright, and quite outrageous, Twi'leki insult. He has certainly not learned it in my lessons, so I assume he must have picked it up somewhere else or, even worse, gone looking for something to insult me with. I asked him if he knew what it meant. He said yes and translated it into Basic right into my face. He has since refused to apologise or give an explanation for his insolence."

Fenya looked at Eeth again. He was sitting very upright, very still and was staring straight ahead, his lips pursed. Then she noticed something curious: Her padawan was sweating. He usually needed a really vigourous workout to break a sweat, so why was he sweating now?

On an impulse, she put a gentle hand onto Eeth's forehead. He shrank back from the touch, and so did she, out of consternation at the heat she felt.

"You are burning up, padawan!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to take you to the healers. This matter can wait."

"I do not need to see any healers," Eeth said mutinously, although in a slightly raspy voice, and folded his arms across his chest. "I'm fine."

"No, you are not," snapped Fenya. "You can either follow me or I'll have you carried there on a stretcher. Your choice."

A quarter of an hour later, Eeth was lying in his underwear on an examination table in the healers' ward while a Nautolan healer was running a scanner over him. Knight Amrak, quite dismayed at this turn of events as well as his failure to recognise a seriously ill padawan had told Fenya to just call him later at any time of her convenience and tell him how her padawan was doing; they could then talk about how to proceed about the oral exam.

After what seemed like ages to Fenya, but was probably only a minute or so, the healer lowered the scanner and looked up. She opened her mouth to speak to Fenya, but was cut short by Eeth who had apparently decided that enough was enough.

"Thank you, I'm fine now," he said, starting to push himself up. The healer pushed him back down.

"You are not," she said firmly. "You've caught an infection with the numvoris virus, one of the rare diseases that only affect Zabrak. If your master had brought you in at the first show of symptoms, a couple of hyposprays would have done the trick. Now that the virus has had ample time to spread, it's not so easy. We will have to keep you in for a couple of days."

"Nonsense, I do not need that," said Eeth, trying again to push himself up. The healer pushed him down, put the scanner onto a table, rolled him to his side and administered a ringing swat to his underwear-clad backside.

"When I say you have to stay here, that is what's going to happen," she said firmly, letting go of him. "And don't interrupt me again when I'm trying to talk to your master."

Eeth looked as if he was going to stick out his bottom lip in a pout. Fenya had never seen him do anything as childish as that before. She supposed he must be feeling really rotten to let himself go like that.

"One word of advice, Eeth," she said quite kindly. "The healers outrank you where your health is concerned. So you do what they say. Always. They will not be amused if you don't, and neither will I. Now."

She turned back towards the healer.

"Are you suggesting he must have had symptoms for a while now?" she asked. "Because the first time I noticed he was sick was less than half an hour ago. I'm pretty sure he was not running a fever this morning."

"The fever is the last stage, when the disease has fully broken out," the healer replied. "Before that, there are a few unspecific symptoms: headaches, a dull pain in the horns, fatigue, a diminished appetite and aching limbs. The only specific symptom, and usually the first to occur besides general exhaustion, are itching palms and soles."

Fenya turned towards Eeth.

"How long have you had any of these symptoms?" she demanded to know.

"I did not know they were symptoms!" Eeth tried to defend himself weakly. She gave him such a glare that he added sullenly: "Since Friday night, I think. I had a hard time sleeping because of the itching soles. But I was hardly going to run to you and say 'Master, my soles are itching.'"

The healer rested a hand on Fenya's shoulder.

"Feel free to have a discussion about this with your padawan when he's made a recovery," she said. "For now, he urgently needs rest and medication. Will you be able to stay with him?"

"I'll make arrangements," Fenya said.

Eeth was transported to a room in the healers' ward on a hoverstretcher, much to his obvious resentment, and hooked up to an IV line. Several sensors were attached to his head and chest. The healer on duty explained that the sensors would come off Eeth's his condition turned out to be stable after six hours. The disease occasionally took a severe course, and this event had to be excluded.

"If he does not feel like eating or drinking, he does not have to," the healer told Fenya. "He is receiving an adequate amount of nutrients and fluids through the IV line. He is allowed to use the restroom, but he needs someone with him. Numvoris patients are known to collapse unexpectedly."

Finally, Eeth and Fenya were left alone under strict instructions for Eeth to rest.

"Resting is stupid," Eeth grumbled. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Resting is not stupid," Fenya said sharply, "you are being stupid. You can hardly keep your eyes open and yet you keep arguing. REST."

"I could study some," Eeth proposed, trying to prop himself up on his elbows. "That is restful."

"And confuse Twi'leki expressions with curses?" Fenya asked sarcastically. "What a great idea. You heard the healer's orders, and you heard mine. Rest. Since when have you taken to disobeying your orders?"

Eeth scowled, but Fenya knew she had scored a point. Still, it pained her to see her padawan so miserable and so unable to take care of himself. If she wanted him to really understand why he needed rest, bullying him was not going to do the trick. She would have to appeal to his pride and to his desire to perform his duties.

She slid closer to his bed on her stool and took his hand.

"Eeth," she said gently. "A Jedi's body is his second-most important asset, after his mind. We need to take good care of it so it stays in working order. If we don't, we will not be able to carry out our duties. You eat healthy food and work out a lot, but a body also needs rest - especially when it is ill. You also need to heed your body's warning signs, or it will end up failing you. Had you told me about your symptoms Friday night, or Saturday morning, at the latest, you might have been able to avoid staying in the healers' ward. You might also have avoided causing yourself and your Twi'leki teacher embarrassment in your oral exam. There is no shame in being ill. It happens. There is considerable shame, however, in ignoring your body's needs and trying to do things that your body is currently incapable of. You have done enough of that. It stops here. You are going to be sensible and do everything the healers ask of you, including closing your eyes and resting. It will help you recover as quickly as possible; and you want that, don't you?"

Eeth was silent for more than a minute. Then he finally whispered: "Yes, I do. You are right, master. I thought it would go away if I ignored it. I have not been ill in years and I have always thought that only weak people fall ill. Apparently, I was wrong, and I did behave stupidly. I apologise."

"Apology accepted," said Fenya softly. "I'm glad you're seeing sense. We will talk more when you feel better. Now try to sleep."

Eeth nodded weakly. His eyelids drooped and he fell asleep in less than a minute. He was very obviously exhausted and had been fighting it off with all his strength.

"Silly padawan," Fenya murmured affectionately, stroking her sleeping apprentice's hand. He would hardly have allowed it, had he been awake!

Eeth slept a little fretfully for several hours. He then awoke briefly, reluctantly allowed his master to help him to the restroom, drank a cup of tea and fell asleep again. This time, it was a more peaceful sleep; when he awoke in the next morning, he was feeling a little better than last night, although he was still exhausted and had a raging headache. Fenya realised with relief that her lecture had fulfilled its purpose: Eeth now made an effort to follow the healers' instructions, even though he plainly did not like them. He stayed in bed and made no attempt to study or do Force work. This was rather boring to him; therefore, he ended up spending more time talking to his master than he had in all the past weeks of his apprenticeship taken together. In fact, it was Fenya who did most of the talking, telling Eeth all about her past missions and previous padawans; but Eeth actively asked questions and listened intently which showed her that he had a keen interest in what she had to tell him. In between those talks, he took naps, but they were getting shorter every time. By lunchtime, he felt ready to order some soup. He ate the first half of his bowl with ease, but had difficulties getting down the second half.

"Leave it," said Fenya indulgently.

"And have it thrown away?" Eeth asked incredulously.

"Well, you are sick," she pointed out. "If your stomach can't take this, you shouldn't force it. I don't want you to start vomiting."

"I can eat it," said Eeth stubbornly. "I do not want to waste food."

"Give it to me, then," Fenya said with an air of resignation. "I'll finish it for you." The healers had said Eeth was not contagious any more, and besides, Iktotchi could not catch numvoris anyway.

"All right," said Eeth a little reluctantly, but it was with an unmistakable air of relief that he was handing her the bowl and leaning back onto his pillows.

By dinnertime, his fever was down and he could eat a whole bowl of soup, two slices of bread and a piece of fruit. The healers had taken him off the intravenous nutrients supply during the afternoon and he was feeling hungry.

"If you continue like this, we will send you home tomorrow," said Healer Wqunmun, who was in charge of him. "But there will be no physical activity for a week, and other activities will have to be limited to allow for frequent periods of rest."

"Don't worry, I will take care of that," said Fenya with an air of determination that had Eeth know there would be no escaping these restrictions, horrifying though he might find them. But he had understood that his master was right: The healers were looking out for his health, and he would not be doing his body any favours if he continued to defy them. Therefore, he did not protest.

In the next morning, he indeed received permission to return home; and he was even allowed to go back to classes on Thursday. He had also been notified that he was going to be able to take his Twi'leki exam again the week after next, after his master had informed Knight Amrak that her padawan had been running a fever and had not really known what he was saying (which was true). She had also explained to the knight that Eeth had not studied Twi'leki swearwords with malicious intent; he had simply, while studying for his exam, retrieved a heap of additional vocabulary training unit from the archives, focussing on colloquial expressions, and swearing had been part of these. (As a matter of fact, she had added, understanding, if not using, swearwords could be very helpful during missions.)

After all this, it was with great relief that Eeth made his way to his quarters on his own feet at his master's side. His relief was short-lived, however. As soon as they had closed the door behind themselves, pulled off their boots and hung up their cloaks, she turned on him.

"We need to talk," she said grimly. "Specifically, we need to talk about the inadvisability of withholding information from your master."

She pointed him to the common room table.

Eeth's face fell, but he obediently went to the table, pulled out a chair and took a seat. His master took a seat opposite him.

"Now," she said sternly, "I think we both agree that you acted in an extremely stupid fashion. I would have expected you to have more sense. But fortunately for you, I consider you sufficiently punished for your stupidity by your run-in with your teacher and your stay in the healers' ward, plus the restrictions you will have to heed during the coming days. However, if you ever risk your health in such a negligent manner again, I will not nearly be as lenient. Are we clear on that?"

Eeth's face practically burned with shame, which was a first. He clearly found the experience of being rightly scolded for ignorant and careless behaviour quite mortifying.

"Yes, master," he said quietly, his head lowered.

Fenya was not quite done with him, however.

"What is much worse," she said in that same stern, implacable tone of voice (which was purposefully much sterner than she really felt like), "is that you decided to keep all this from me. You were feeling bad, and it impaired your training, your studies, your capacity to function. And yet you deemed it unimportant to inform me of this. It is my duty as your master to take care of you, including your health, and you made it impossible for me to do so. We will never be able to leave on missions if I cannot trust you to confide in me; if you think you know better or neglect to give me information because you fear it might result in restrictions that you are not ready to live with. That is not how our relationship works. It is based on mutual trust, but it is also based on a clear hierarchy. You violated both. That is entirely unacceptable."

Eeth stared at her with wide eyes. Clearly her words had hit home.

"I- I'm sorry, master," he stammered. "I- I had not seen it this way. I did not want to bother-"

Fenya cut him short.

"Nevertheless, you did end up bothering me," she said sharply. "But that is beside the point. I am your master. When you are ill, I expect you to bother me with it. It is not up to you to decide whether you will save me the trouble. No, padawan, I will hear no excuses about this. You made a grave error in judgement, and I don't want a repeat occurrence, ever. And just so you remember this talk whenever you feel tempted to keep information from me again, you will be punished now."

She pushed back her chair and patted her lap.

"Bare your bottom and bend over," she ordered. She knew, by now, that a handspanking was hardly the way to go if she wanted to leave an impression on Eeth's bottom. However, putting him across her knee was childish and embarrassing, and that was why she was hoping it would leave an impression nonetheless, even without causing excruciating pain. She would later resort to other means to reach the latter effect.

The expression on Eeth's face made it clear that he was beyond mortified by now. Nevertheless, he complied with her orders with hardly a sign of hesitation. When he had positioned himself across her lap, Fenya purposefully tilted him forward so much that his bottom was sticking up even more and he nearly lost his balance. Hopefully, that would drive home the fact that he was not in control right here and now - something that he consistently had a very hard time coming to terms with.

Fenya started spanking her padawan's upturned bottom hard and thoroughly. She noted that Eeth took the punishment a lot more contritely than the last time she had tried this. Obviously, it made a big difference whether he did or did not understand why he deserved it. He neither talked, cried or flung his hands back, but he winced, flinched, hissed, groaned and shifted around on her lap, which was probably the maximum reaction to a handspanking she could expect. It seemed to Fenya as if he felt the pain more acutely when he could not cling to stubborn denial of his misbehaviour, as he had the last time. Well, good, she thought. She continued the spanking until the dark skin of Eeth's bottom had visibly darkened some more and her arm was feeling the strain. Finally she stopped, but she was not done yet.

"Get up and bend over the table," she instructed without losing a moment's time. Eeth stiffly and awkwardly clambered from her lap, took a second to regain his composure and then complied. Fenya, in the meanwhile, went to her room to retrieve an implement she had procured the day before yesterday already when she had left the sleeping Eeth in the healers' ward for a couple of hours to take care of some affairs - including this one. She had borrowed the cane from a friend. Long and flexible, it was an implement that would not have been unsuitable for a much older padawan; but then, Eeth was nothing like her previous padawans, and she was confident he could take this. As she returned to the common room, cane in hand, Eeth could not see her coming and consequently had no idea what was in store for him. That suited Fenya fine; it might do him some good to be kept in suspense. After all, he needed to learn that he was not always in control.

Fenya took up a position behind her padawan, raised the cane and brought it down across his bottom smartly. There was a second's silence; then Eeth let out a hiss that turned into a kind of keening wail, and he briefly stomped his feet. Obviously, this was a type of punishment that not even Eeth could bear stoically, which was exactly what she had been aiming for. She'd rather cane him now than have him seriously risk his health later because he thought he could get away with such behaviour. The cane was definitely going to be her implement of choice if she wanted to leave an impression from now on, Fenya mused. While she pursued these thoughts, she slowly continued the caning, giving Eeth about ten seconds to register the impact of each stroke before she administered the next one. By the sixth, he was crying softly and rolling his hips from side to side in a futile effort to alleviate the pain. By the tenth, which landed on the top of his thighs, he was whimpering loudly and his arms were shaking from the effort of keeping them in front of him, clinging to the other side of the table. Nearly done here, thought Fenya, and meted out the last two strokes in quick succession, laying them down diagonally so that they formed an X that criss-crossed the ten parallel welts on Eeth's bottom. He let out a brief, high-pitched wail, then got his voice under control; but he was really sobbing now. Fenya put the cane aside, helped him up and handed him a handkerchief that he buried his face in.

She gave him a moment to get his sobs under control, which happened faster than she had anticipated. As soon as the flow of tears had subsided a little, Eeth knelt down in a formal gesture of respect and bowed his head.

"I apologise, master," he said quietly. "I will not withhold things from you again."

Fenya knelt down, too, having no desire to tower over him, and took a gentle hold of his shoulders with both hands.

"Apology accepted," she said gently. "I consider the matter closed. And, Eeth?"

"Yes, master?" he said, raising his head slightly so he could look at her.

"You make mistakes from time to time, just like everyone," Fenya said. "What is important is to admit them and learn from them. And that you do, admirably. For that, I'm very proud of you."

In response to that statement, Eeth's face lit up in a rare smile.

This type of exchange, after punishment had been meted out and a misstep been forgiven, was to become a kind of ritual between master and padawan in years to come.