In All The World

Summary: The story of how Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi tamed each other, from Naboo to Anakin's early days at the Temple. Slow-building Anakin/Obi-Wan friendship.


Chapter Eleven: Dreams and Desires

The central administrative office itself was a maze. Obi-Wan followed the official down further winding corridors, past cubicles full of staff working at terminals, and up a flight of stairs.

"I don't understand," Anakin said, at last. "Our number wasn't up."

"It wasn't?" Obi-Wan kept his voice bland. "I wonder why."

Anakin peered suspiciously at him. "You did something, didn't you?"

"What makes you think I did?"

"Otherwise, we'd have had to wait and wait," Anakin said. "But then suddenly she came out and told us she'd talk to us now."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan said, non-committally.

"So you must have done something, to make them move faster."

"What makes you think so?" Obi-Wan asked. "Perhaps they were always going to expedite our request; you simply did not think they would do so."

Anakin fell silent in thought.

After three flights of stairs, they emerged onto a landing and from there into another set of cubicles. The official guided them into the one on the left. "I am Kiraé Uhfara," she said, introducing herself.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi," Obi-Wan responded. "And this is my student, Anakin Skywalker." He motioned to Anakin, gently.

"Hi," Anakin said, cheerfully.

"Hi," Kiraé said, although her serious demeanour did not change. She looked at Obi-Wan. "I must inform you that your display gave office security hysterics."

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Please convey my sincere apologies to them."

"I don't get it," Anakin said, aloud.

"Fortunately," Kiraé said, "The reputation of your Order convinced them you were merely making a point, but we nevertheless decided to expedite your request. So, what can I do for you, Jedi Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan said, "Perhaps you could first explain to my student what happened." He hid his amusement as best as he could. "He seems highly confused by the situation."

Kiraé looked at Anakin. "What happened," she informed him, "Is that your teacher was very clever."

Anakin blinked. "All right?" he said, a note of confusion in his voice.

"The waiting room has closed-circuit surveillance cameras installed," Kiraé explained, "As do most government buildings, for purposes of security. Naturally, your teacher attracted a great deal of attention the moment he switched on his lightsaber and began swinging it around. Office security got somewhat upset, but this convinced them to refer your case to a senior official rather than waiting for the queue system to process your request."

"So the threat worked," Anakin said.

"Actually," Obi-Wan cut in, "It didn't."

"But she said they started looking once you switched on your lightsaber."

Kiraé interjected, "I said that he caught their attention by switching on his lightsaber. While they did not believe he would use it on a member of the public or on our reception droid, they were still highly uncomfortable with the idea of a live weapon in the waiting room. But in any case, the moment they were aware that a member of the Jedi Order was present in the waiting room, they referred it to a senior official as they determined it was out of their hands to decide whether to grant priority to a Jedi."

"And that was you?"

Kiraé nodded. "And I agreed. Captain Panaka called ahead from the palace. He mentioned that you were investigating on a matter of state security."

"I shall have to convey him my regards," Obi-Wan murmured. To Anakin, "Do you see now?"

"You knew all along?" Anakin wondered, aloud. "That's why you went about waving your lightsaber?"

Obi-Wan said, "Most government buildings have surveillance cameras. I knew this one was likely to have one. I also knew it was likely our case would be expedited if they recognised we were Jedi, and that droid was unlikely to accept our credentials." He looked pointedly at Anakin. "There are solutions, Anakin, that don't involve violence or the threat of violence. For all the Jedi are known as warriors, we are known for many other things; as diplomats, as peacekeepers, as enforcers. That was the point I was trying to make."

Anakin fidgeted and glanced around. The cubicle was a neat one, he noticed, with lots of folders stacked onto an overhanging shelf. There was a painting on the wall, depicting a sparkling patch of blue that took several long moments for him to identify as a lake. There was lots of green too, and flowers blooming on the shore.

"All right," he muttered, just a touch sullenly. "I get it now."

"You'll learn," Obi-Wan said, firmly. Anakin wasn't sure if it was meant to be reassuring. He leaned over to glance at the painting. "It's beautiful. A Valenti, isn't it?"

Kiraé nodded, smiling. "You know your painters well, Master Jedi."

"Please," Obi-Wan said, the folds of his sleeves slipping over his clasped hands. "It's just Jedi Kenobi."

"Jedi Kenobi, then," Kiraé assented. "Dasca Valenti was a Naboo painter," she explained, "And considered one of the greatest in our history. For this reason, many government offices and private citizens favour his works. This one is of the Lake Country; one of the retreats popular with schoolchildren and citizens alike."

"Wizard," Anakin breathed. He almost reached out to touch it, and then checked himself. Don't touch other people's things without permission, Shmi would have said, no matter how mesmerising the painting was. It was still hard to think of that much water, or that much soft grass and flowers and sunlight. The suns on Tatooine were harsh and burning. He turned to Obi-Wan. "Will we go there?"

"I doubt it," Obi-Wan said. "We won't be terribly long on Naboo, Anakin. And the Lake Country, I understand, is a distance from Theed."

"That it is," Kiraé agreed. "Although it's a pity. The Lake Country is one of Naboo's greatest treasures, and it was far-sighted of King Tariyal to enact legislation declaring the Lake Country a protected site important to our national heritage." She shook her head lightly. "Still, I'm sure you didn't come here for information on the sights of Naboo, much less to learn about our history. What can I do for you, Jedi Kenobi?"

"Captain Panaka did not inform you?"

"Not as such," Kiraé replied. "He only mentioned that you were coming and requested that we give your request priority as it involves a matter of state security."

Obi-Wan weighed how much he ought to say. Judging from how fast word travelled, that there was an assassination attempt in the palace would surely be a matter of public knowledge by now. Even so, he could hear Adi Gallia's voice, admonishing that he never need unsay what had never been said in the first place. It was best to play his cards close to his hand for now. "We would like to call on certain members of the Five," he said, and listed off the names of the representatives who had been present for the audience.

To her credit, Kiraé was mostly successful in concealing her surprise. "You're looking for the addresses of their private residences, then," she said. "But I'll try to look up their offices as well; they might be with one or two of their ventures rather than at home."

Obi-Wan gave a nod of assent. She sat down at the terminal and began running a search of the Office's database with a few quick keystrokes.

Anakin found his gaze drifting once again to the painting of the lake. It was beautiful, he thought. It was the kind of beauty that was so transparent, like glass, that you could look through it and lose yourself. "I wish we could go there," he murmured.

Quietly, Obi-Wan said, "I know."


Obi-Wan studied the printout that Kiraé had handed them and abruptly, he began to chuckle. "What?" Anakin wanted to know. He was back to struggling to keep up as Obi-Wan strode on ahead of him.

Alerted, Obi-Wan once again slowed his pace. "Well," he said, "It's getting late, and we're not likely to be able to meet with more than two members of the Five today. I'm aiming to speak with Theré Helukala and Iben Derriva today, since both of them have residences and office branches within Theed."

"So?" Anakin asked. He wasn't getting it.

"See for yourself, then," Obi-Wan said. He handed Anakin the flimsi printout. Anakin took the crinkling sheet and glanced at it. He was a bit slow at reading some of the words, but even when he'd finished, he still didn't understand.

"I don't get it," he said, aloud. He held out the flimsi. Obi-Wan retrieved it, folded it, and deftly tucked it into one of the many tool-pouches on his utility belt.

"Two of the people we have to meet are Ren Yvar and Sirdaé Ersken. The Yvar family deals primarily in the homefarms and exotic spices and fruit, while the Ersken family obtain their wealth from the vineyards in the highlands. Their places of residence are near the Lake Country."

Anakin blinked. And then it registered.

"Whoopee!" he cheered, hopping about madly in his excitement. "We're going there after all, aren't we? Aren't we?"

Laughing, Obi-Wan held out a hand to forestall him. "Yes, it seems we're going to the Lake Country after all," he said. "You've got your wish. However, the Lake Country is a distance away from Theed and we're going to need to travel by landspeeder or by hover-train. As such, we're not going there until the day after tomorrow."

Anakin groaned. "Why can't we go tomorrow?"

"The victory celebrations," Obi-Wan said simply.

"What celebrations?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I forgot—no one told you," he murmured. "The parade celebrating victory over the Trade Federation and meant to usher in a new era of Naboo-Gungan peace and cooperation. As the heroes of Naboo," he made a face, "We both are, of course, expected to be present."

"Do you think it'll last?" Anakin wanted to know.

Obi-Wan considered the question. "They have a shared history," he said, at last. "Even if it's one of animosity. But Queen Amidala is open-minded, and I think she'll be fair to them. And I think that peace and cooperation between the two peoples would be a good thing for Naboo."

"But you don't know if it'll last," Anakin noted, shrewdly.

"Well," Obi-Wan said, acknowledging Anakin's point with a sigh, "It's always very difficult to say. Certainly, the seeds for a lasting partnership are there. But there are always hotheads willing to stir trouble, and more importantly, there are limits to Queen Amidala's term. Whether the peace will outlast her reign is a question of concern. In short, Anakin, I don't know." He smiled, faintly. "Even Jedi have difficulty seeing the future."

Anakin shook his head. "I've had dreams," he said, stubbornly. "Dreams that the Jedi would come and take me away from Tatooine one day." He shot Obi-Wan a sideways glance; both fierce and raw at the same time. "And that I'd one day come back to Tatooine and free all the slaves." He added, a few moments later, "I've had other dreams. Some of them come true." Like when he'd dreamed of himself, desperate and excited, sitting in what he would later recognise to be the cockpit of his Podracer, racing Sebulba in the final lap of the Boonta Eve Classic.

Had he built the pod because of his dream? Or had he dreamed of something in the future? The thought crept up on him with an instinctive urgency he could not quite understand.

Obi-Wan hesitated, mid-stride. "Perhaps," he said. For some reason, he sounded terribly troubled. "Anakin," he said, at last, after a long silence. "Relying on dreams is a terribly dangerous thing to do."

"Why?" Anakin challenged.

Obi-Wan ran a distracted hand through his short hair. "Dreams pass in time," he said, almost as though he was speaking more to himself than he was to Anakin. "It's easy to become lost in them; to think of them as telling us of what might be rather than what is." He looked at Anakin—actually knelt down, so he was looking directly into Anakin's eyes; his own were frantic, urgent even. Both hands gripped Anakin's shoulders firmly. "Anakin, you must remember this. The danger in dreams doesn't lie in the fact that they're false. If they were lies, it'd be easy to ignore them. Dreams are dangerous because some dreams contain a kernel of truth, lodged in the very heart of them. But most dreams are merely reflections of our deepest hopes and fears and desires."

"It's true," Anakin said, stubbornly. "I know it is." He met Obi-Wan's gaze, unflinching. "I'm here, aren't I? And you're training me to be a Jedi, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "You want to see the slaves freed, don't you?"

Anakin nodded. It was the kind of thing, he thought, that shouldn't have needed saying. And yet, it seemed it did. "No one deserves to be a slave," he said, simply. "Once you've been one…you know it's wrong."

Obi-Wan said, sternly, "'Wrong' is a loaded term, Padawan."

Anakin said, hotly, surprising even himself with the sudden anger that welled up deep in him, "Turahn was ten. I was six. They beat him until the skin came off his back and hung him in the open until he died. Tell me it wasn't wrong for someone to own him, to have the right to do that to him. Go on."

Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes wearily and looked away. "I owe you an apology, Anakin," he said, eventually. "You are quite right—there are many wrongs associated with slavery. My point, however, was just that you rightly desire slavery on Tatooine to end."

"And?" Anakin felt slightly mollified, but he didn't think he was quite ready to let Obi-Wan off, just yet. "What about that?"

"That's what I mean by desires and hopes," Obi-Wan said. "You want it to end. You hope it will end. Is it a dream with some element of truth? Or is it a reflection of what you most dearly want?"

Anakin chewed on his lip. "Does it matter?"

Obi-Wan said, "If you think your dream is a guide to what happens, then it does matter. If the dream is merely a reflection of your desires—or your deepest fears—then allowing yourself to be guided by it is dangerous. It neglects reality."

"I don't understand."

"I'll tell you what Qui-Gon told me," Obi-Wan said. "There is a traditional children's story from the planet of Akrasia, which is in the Telos system. There, they believe that all dreams must pass through either of two gates. The first is a gate of polished horn; the second a gate of wrought ivory."

Anakin frowned, trying to imagine those looming gates.

"Dreams that pass through the gate of ivory are false dreams," Obi-Wan continued. "They can deceive us, being nothing more than mere shadows. But the dreams that pass through the gate of horn—these are the true dreams, the ones that come to pass. But who can say which gate through which a dream passed? A long time ago, when the galaxy was at war, and sibling was slaying sibling, there was a man whose only daughter had gone off to fight in the distant stars."

Anakin frowned. "There were wars?"

"Countless ones," Obi-Wan confirmed. "One night, he had a dream that his daughter had perished in battle. He woke up and said to himself, 'Surely this dream comes from the gate of ivory,' for he was old, and his daughter was the most precious thing to him in all the world, and he did not want to think of her death. He went about his business, and at the same time, kept listening for word of how the war was progressing. A week later, the dream returned. The old man said to himself, 'What has happened once may happen again.' But the dream sat uneasily with him. The third time the dream came, the old man hanged himself. The next day, the war ended, and the deployed troops returned home, among them the man's daughter."

Anakin shuddered. "That's horrible," he murmured, thinking of the nameless daughter returning to an empty house. (And Shmi, would she still be there when he came back for her?)

Obi-Wan nodded. "It is. But that's why dwelling on dreams, Anakin, is like playing with fire. They are better forgotten. Come. We have two people to visit." He straightened up, and relenquished his hold on Anakin.

Anakin nodded obediently. But he could not help the gut-deep conviction that for all Obi-Wan talked about false dreams, that there were true ones too, and that his were one of them.


Among the Five, the Derriva family's power lay in its connections with the judiciary and the legislators. According to the briefing material Obi-Wan had read prior to the audience, 'Derriva & Partners' was the most prominent legal firm on Naboo, with a long history.

Perhaps because of that, the main office of their Theed branch could be found in one of the oldest sectors of the city: among a neat row of stone apartments. An elegant wrought-iron fence surrounded the property; the sign 'DERRIVA & PARTNERS' was chiselled into the pale yellow stone of the arched wooden door.

Motioning to Anakin to keep close, Obi-Wan reached over and worked the gate open. It slid noiselessly on oiled hinges; they proceeded through a small flowering garden, which Anakin goggled at, and then Obi-Wan located the buzzer by the door and pressed it.

A moment later, he pushed open the heavy door and beckoned Anakin in first before closing the door lightly behind them.

The interior of the apartment building had been converted into a spacious reception room; the building itself had looked to be about five storeys high from the outside. Obi-Wan suspected that the entire block itself was owned by the Derriva family. Certainly, while a few clients waited in the reception room, lounging about on plush chairs in the temperature-controlled room, most of the activity was not to be found here.

He approached the reception desk and leaned on the counter. The receptionist was swift to respond; he glanced up at Obi-Wan and was instantly the picture of solicitousness. "Good day, Master Jedi. Welcome to Derriva & Partners. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"Good day," Obi-Wan replied. "I'd like a meeting with Iben Derriva."

The smile on the receptionist's face barely flickered or dimmed. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said. "Iben Derriva is in high demand and his schedule is full of clients—"

"I only ask for a few moments of his time," Obi-Wan said. "If not today, then at the closest possible convenient time—"

"Mr Derriva will not be able to attend to you until at least a month from now," the receptionist said. "I'll put you in his schedule for an appointment on Tuesday in the morning."

Obi-Wan leaned over the counter. "No," he said, firmly. "That will not do."

The receptionist looked at him. "There is no other available time," he repeated.

Obi-Wan pressed his lips in a firm line. "Ask him to make time," he said, unyielding. "I am investigating a matter of state security, and Iben Derriva assured Queen Amidala that he would be willing to render all available assistance in the matter."

The receptionist blanched. "I'll have to talk to him first, Master Jedi," he allowed. He punched in a few numbers on the desk-mounted comlink and had a quick, furtive conversation. It was clear from his sour expression that he didn't like the instructions he had received, and by the time he shut off the comlink, he looked thoroughly disapproving. It was something living beings had in common with droids when set to the same task of sitting at a reception desk, Obi-Wan thought, bemused.

"Mr Derriva says to go on up, Master Jedi," the receptionist said, stiffly. "He occupies the penthouse suite."

Obi-Wan jerked his head in a polite nod of acknowledgement to the receptionist and thanked him. He turned to Anakin. "Come," he said.

"You didn't even need your lightsaber this time," Anakin said. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The receptionist looked even more scandalised, and Obi-Wan hastily chivvied his very young apprentice out of the receiving room and up the stairs.

"That was uncalled for," he said, quietly. "The receptionist had already acceded to our request. In that respect, he is far more flexible than the droid was."

Anakin blinked innocently at him. "It wasn't a threat," he pointed out.

"Then why did you say it?"

Anakin looked at his feet and bit at his cheek. "Well…" he hedged.

Obi-Wan drew up short and folded his arms across his chest. "Go on," he prompted.

"I didn't like the way he was treating you," Anakin blurted out. "Like you were a waste of his time, or like he was doing you the biggest favour in the world by letting you talk to Mister Derriva when you were doing him the favour, really." He scowled down at his shoe like it was offending him, somehow. "It wasn't right. And it wasn't nice."

Obi-Wan sighed. He was beginning to have the sinking feeling that their time as Master and apprentice would be more or less composed of such exchanges. He sank down to the marble flooring of the staircase and drew his knees up to his chest. "Did telling him that make things any better?"

"It made me feel better," Anakin argued.

Obi-Wan just looked at him. He said nothing.

Anakin twitched. "He should've apologised."

"Many beings, Anakin, do not do what they should do," Obi-Wan said, calmly. "Should we stoop to their level?"

Now, it was Anakin's turn to sigh. "I get it," he said, sullenly. "I'm sorry, all right? I should've just kept quiet and let him treat you like…like dirt."

"Does it matter, how someone else treats me?" Obi-Wan countered. "It only reflects the shallowness of his own character, that he does not know any better. You are who you are, Anakin." He tapped Anakin's chest lightly with his hand. "Anakin is here. What people do to you cannot take that away from you. Their opinions and actions should not matter to you."

Anakin shook his head. It mattered, he wanted to say. It mattered because people could do this to you: they could dehumanise you, they could treat you as if you were property, as if you weren't a living being, as if you weren't human. They could take away your voice, flog you, and grind your face further into the dust. Even words mattered. With Watto, it was always, 'Boy'. With Gardulla the Hutt's controllers, it had always only ever been 'Slave', and then a number.

My name is Anakin, he had said. That was important; he understood that instinctively, bone-deep. If the Hutts and the controllers and even Watto wanted to take that away from him, then it was important he hang on to it.

Obi-Wan didn't understand: he lived in this clean world of towering spires, high above the bustle of Coruscant. He lived in a world of water and of grass; of polished glass and clean metal, of non-attachment, whatever that was, and where he always had enough to eat, and where the man he called Master treated him with love.

You didn't carry who you were in your heart, or in the hollow spaces of your chest: you carried it there only because the world let you. Obi-Wan didn't realise that. He didn't know that.

But there was no way to give voice to this complex welter of emotion that rose and threatened to choke him, so instead, Anakin said nothing, just muttered an apology and promised not to do it again.

For a moment, he thought Obi-Wan wasn't convinced—the older Jedi was still looking at him suspiciously, but eventually, Obi-Wan shook his head and stood up. "Very well then," he said, crisply. "Iben Derriva is undoubtedly wondering if his stairway has swallowed us both by now."


In the years he had spent as Qui-Gon's apprentice, Obi-Wan had seen flamboyant displays of unimaginable wealth, and abject poverty. The penthouse suite of 'Derriva & Partners' proved to fall somewhere between the two poles; it was certainly luxurious enough and spacious. His boots made a sharp sound off the patterned marble floor and paintings from various artists hung on the walls, framed with gold-leaf.

"Come in," called a voice. Obi-Wan recognised it as Iben Derriva and followed it, heading past the palatial space and pushing open the red-streaked wooden door and entering a comfortable study.

The marble floor here was covered with woven rugs in tasteful colours, while another painting hung on the wall, depicting what was most likely a landscape of Naboo. Huge bookshelves containing volumes of law and what was likely old-fashioned client-folders lined the walls: the scents of old paper and wood-polish hung in the air.

On the far side of the room, Obi-Wan noticed a traditional fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily over stacked wooden logs. A poker leaned against it the ornamental metal grate, the latter designed with abstract patterns like curling vines. The centre of the room, however, was taken up by a large, cramped desk and a reclining black armchair of what might even have been natural leather, which squeaked as Iben Derriva shifted position to regard them as they entered.

There were two similar seats before the table, and Iben Derriva rose as he greeted them smoothly and invited them to take a seat. Obi-Wan noticed that he was not wearing a cravat today, but then discovered it a moment later, draped almost-carelessly over a table-lamp.

"Jedi Kenobi," Iben Derriva said. "And I presume this is your apprentice?"

Obi-Wan nodded. "Anakin Skywalker, meet Iben Derriva."

"Hi," Anakin said, and then he fell silent.

Iben Derriva nodded firmly. "I'm pleased to meet you, Anakin," he said, before turning to Obi-Wan. "Well, then. May I offer you a drink, Jedi Kenobi? What of your apprentice? I have all sorts of spirits and fruit juice; our office fridge is rather well-stocked. Of course, I also have stimcaf and tea, if you'd prefer that."

"Tea will be fine, thank you," Obi-Wan said, relaxing into his offered seat. He turned to Anakin. "Juice?"

Anakin blinked. "I…guess?" he said, uncertain. With his mum, it'd always been blue milk or water put through their filtration system—no fruit juice, because fruit juice had to be imported at ruinous expense, and was you drank if you were a wealthy slave owner, not a slave.

"Do you have orange juice?" Obi-Wan asked. "I believe my student would appreciate that."

When Iben Derriva smiled, however faintly, the corners of those stern eyes crinkled. "Yes," he said. "Give me a moment." He picked out a drink-bulb of orange juice from the fridge; Obi-Wan quietly showed Anakin how to work it open, as Derriva found two capsules of tea and added hot water from a dispenser.

"Milk or sugar, Jedi Kenobi?"

"Neither will be just fine, thank you," Obi-Wan said. He sipped, just a little, despite the heat of the liquid and was surprised to feel the sting of memory, even now. The tea was undrinkably bitter, just as he had expected. Just as Qui-Gon had always drunk his; had always insisted that Obi-Wan was ruining his tea with a dash of milk and sweetener.

"Wizard," Anakin breathed, as he tried the juice.

"Well, then," Iben Derriva said, seated once more at his desk, his fingers steepled before him. "Now that we're more or less finished with the obligatory pleasantries, I suppose we could continue to fence, Jedi Kenobi, but you must excuse me if I comment that it's been a rather wearying day, and I'd prefer we get straight down to business."

"Of course," Obi-Wan said, politely.

"First, I'm going to presume that since you're investigating a 'matter of state security', that this matter pertains to the recent assassination attempt on our Queen."

Obi-Wan inclined his head, acknowledging the point.

"Second," said Iben Derriva, "Since you have come here, of all places, I shall presume that you are investigating the possibility that the Five are somehow involved in the assassination attempt."

"Are you, then?" Obi-Wan asked, bluntly.

Iben gave a thin smile. "Hardly," he said. "Do you know how long this—" he gestured to the office surrounding them. "—has endured?"

"No."

"Five centuries," Iben said. "It's been five centuries, give or take a couple of decades, since the Derriva family have bound themselves to the legislature and the judiciary. To us, the law is paramount: making it, interpreting it—it is the source of our power. We therefore respect it. Assassinating the Queen might've given us a way to remove a Monarch bent on hamstringing the power of the Five, but only at the cost of breaking what the Derriva stand for. The law."

"So you're telling me you're an idealist."

"Hardly," Iben replied. He sipped from his tea. "If I'm an idealist, Jedi Kenobi, it's a rather hardened sort of idealist. Years of working with the judiciary breeds cynicism like you'd never believe. I simply believe that as bad as things are right now, they'll get far worse if we're allowed to break the law so flagrantly in pursuit of our own goals. There's far more power and rewards to shaping law and interpreting the vagaries of a particular subsection or article than there is to killing a Queen. And the truth?" he shrugged elegantly. "It'll pass in time. She's young and still thinks she can change the world. Give her several more years of uphill struggle and things'll be different. Not to mention that the term limit means that she'll be gone—but the Derriva will remain. And expand."

"I know the feeling," Obi-Wan said, dryly. "Sending the man who killed the King of Lithun to kill the Queen of Naboo hardly counts as a 'flagrant' violation by any definition, however. Such a man would ideally be discreet and deadly, and therefore a covert violation."

Iben's mouth twitched in a grudging smile. "Very well, then," he said. "Covert violations of the law are also bad. Will that suffice?"

"Does that mean you never break the law?" This was Anakin, peering curiously at Iben, drink-bulb in hand.

Iben considered it. Gravely, he said, "We all have our lapses. But the Derriva would not break the law in such a way."

"Would I be correct in saying that you have no love for those who have in fact sent an assassin after the Queen?" Obi-Wan asked. This was crucial, he thought, even though he knew what the answer would be.

Iben nodded. "Of course," he said, crisply.

"Who, then," pressed Obi-Wan, "Do you suspect could be behind such a deed?"

"It's not my place to say," Iben said, curtly. "If I had evidence, I'd have gone straight to palace security with it." He looked at Obi-Wan. "I have nothing but raw suspicion, do you understand?"

"I do," Obi-Wan said. "That's exactly what I'm asking for."

Iben Derriva drew in a deep breath. "The Perdaé," he said, shortly.

"Who are they?"

"Republicans," said Iben Derriva, with the barest hint of distaste, before it was swiftly concealed. "Dissidents. All middle-class, you understand."

Obi-Wan did. He understood very much.

"And you believe the Perdaé would have the funds necessary to hire such an assassin?"

Iben Derriva shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "The Perdaé is the name adopted by that particular faction of the middle class, and it's a growing political entity, though it's yet to gain much traction within the legislature. But why do you think the Trade Federation attacked Naboo? And why do you think it held Naboo?"

"I'd very much like to hear your thoughts on the matter," Obi-Wan said.

"Collaborators," Iben Derriva said, disgustedly. He set his cup back down on the desk. "The Perdaé invited the Trade Federation in. They helped them hold the planet and disarm the citizen militia. A significant number of the Perdaé serve in the militia and most of them stood down and backed up the droid army. We're not all that helpless, Jedi Kenobi. But noen of us expected our own to lie down and allow us to be invaded, much less held by a foreign commercial power."

"And you had nothing to gain from the Trade Federation's occupation?"

Iben shook his head. "What do you think? The judiciary remains constant, but the Trade Federation were bad for business. They weren't running the country; they were simply waiting. What for, I don't know. Perhaps to see what the galaxy would do. In the meanwhile, the Perdaé were seizing property and wrecking businesses and generally thumbing their noses at the laws and proper ways of doing things."

"What you expected to gain and what you gain are two very different things," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"True," Iben acknowledged. "But unlike the other families of the Five, the Derriva profit from a robust legal system. More commerce would have allowed us to expand our dealings with commercial law, but at the end of the day, without looking at consequences or moral objections, it's all the same to us whether Queen Amidala is in power or whether the Trade Federation is in power. We had no reason to invite them in."

Obi-Wan nodded and gestured for Iben Derriva to continue.

"So," Iben said. "I don't think the Perdaé had the funds or the connections. But I think they were proxies. And I think the Trade Federation did."

"Hmm," Obi-Wan said, noncommittally. And then, "I must confess that I'm a little confused about the political situation on Naboo. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me?"

"Naboo, as you know," Iben Derriva explained, "Is a constitutional monarchy." He seemed, Obi-Wan noted, unsurprised, if a little delighted at the thought of having to explain the situation to the Jedi. "While the Five exert a considerable amount of power and influence, the next main player is the Monarch; currently, Queen Amidala. Most of the people of Naboo support the Monarchy. And then, there are the Perdaé and the isolationists."

"Who are the isolationists?"

"They've been derisively referred to as sheep-herders," Iben said, "Because essentially, that's what their position boils down to: minimal central government, with the legislature being forced to go to the population with a referendum for every single decision, and a ceremonial Monarch, though some of them tend to be Republicans in sympathy with the Perdaé. For obvious reasons, the isolationists aren't very well-organised—unlike the Perdaé."

"How strong are the Perdaé?"

Iben hesitated. "They're a minority," he said, at last. "But a vocal one, and with a growing amount of power and influence."

"Do they have a leader?"

"Not as such," Iben answered. He drummed his fingers against the surface of the desk for a moment, thinking. "Pallié Talein," he said, finally. "Or Androl Oden. Androl's the one who makes all the fiery speeches in the legislature about how their time has come and how they're going to change things. Pallié, though; she's the one to worry about."

"Why?" Obi-Wan queried.

Iben gave him a thin smile. "Because," he said, "She writes the manifestos."


"What do you think?" Obi-Wan asked, as they walked out of 'Derriva & Partners.' Anakin was silent for a while, staring at the passers-by as they strode towards their next destination: the university in Theed.

"I dunno," he said, at last. "He played a lot with words, I guess."

"He is a lawyer," Obi-Wan pointed out. "It is his task to be careful with what he says."

"I guess," Anakin muttered. "Still, he seemed…slippery. Slimy, even. Like a Hutt." He found himself thinking of his vague memories of Gardulla the Hutt, who seemed nothing more than an oversized slug. You didn't trust Hutts, the other slaves in the pens had said. They always had plans, always treated you like a piece in a game of stones, and it occurred to him that there was something of that sort to Iben's manner.

"Possibly," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "Remember to keep your impressions flexible, though." His boot slipped on a loose cobblestone and he staggered, but then righted himself in the next moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Obi-Wan said, "That you may be correct. Iben Derriva may be slimy, and he's most likely holding something back. But you might also be wrong. There's nothing wrong with having an impression. But you shouldn't be clinging to it, in the face of new evidence."

"Then why don't we go back and get it out of him!" Anakin demanded, skidding to a stop and turning about to go marching back towards the apartment building. But Obi-Wan had a firm hold on his elbow.

"Anakin," he said, tiredly. "Think. How do you plan to get that information out of him?"

Anakin scowled. "I bet we might find something out if you leaned real hard on him."

"Or we might not find out anything at all," Obi-Wan countered. He let go of Anakin. "And if he's innocent, we may have alienated a valuable ally within the Five. Many beings have secrets, Anakin. I don't doubt that Iben Derriva might not be as innocent as he paints himself to be. But at this point, there seems to be little to gain from continuing to press him. Instead, by talking to the Perdaé, we gain more pieces to the puzzle. We gain a way of evaluating the Five—and Iben—through someone else's eyes."

"And if they tell us Iben is lying?"

"Then," Obi-Wan said dryly, "We pay him another visit. And I lean on him, 'real hard'."

Anakin grinned. "I like the sound of that." He sobered, in the span of a few moments, as a thought occurred to him. "There's something I don't get though."

"What is it?"

"You kept saying the assassin was going after the Queen," Anakin said, and Obi-Wan motioned for him to keep his voice down. Much softer, he continued. "So did Captain Panaka. But earlier, you told me you didn't think the assassin was going after the Queen. So why did you tell him that?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?" he challenged.

Anakin frowned. "I don't know," he muttered, his hands shoved into his tunic pockets. He wondered what it was with the Jedi and those questions. There was Gallia, who seemed to positively enjoy asking him all sorts of stupid questions, and then there was Obi-Wan. He felt just a touch of resentment: wasn't it obvious he had no idea what was going on? Why was Obi-Wan pressing him?

"I didn't ask for what you know," Obi-Wan said, mildly, as if he'd sensed the sullen direction of Anakin's thoughts. "I'm asking you for what you think."

"Why does it matter?" The words were out of Anakin's mouth before he could decide if it was or wasn't wise. He'd felt just a bit left out the whole time Obi-Wan was talking to Iben Derriva, and even now, he felt like…like baggage. Baggage that Obi-Wan was dragging around.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin," he began. "You're going to be a Jedi. My job is to teach you. Not just to use this," he tapped the lightsaber clipped to his belt. "Or this." Anakin felt it then, a swirling, in-rushing, gathering around Obi-Wan, clear like the fountain water, like a deep desert well. "The most important thing I can give you, Anakin, is the ability to use this." He tapped his own temple. "Your mind. To think. And that means I need to encourage you to think for yourself, to voice your own opinions, and to accept challenges."

He thought about it.

The spacers played sabaac a lot, in some of the cantinas in Mos Espa. He'd listened to them a lot, when he had a spare moment. There, he'd heard all sorts of stories from spacers—the one about angels on the moons of Iego, or gigantic dust-worms, nestled in the heart of asteroid fields, or the Lost Ship. But sabaac—sometimes dejarik. Anakin's mind went back to that, drawn by some sort of instinct.

And then he knew.

"You're keeping it up your sleeve, aren't you?" he said, aloud. "You're trying some kind of bluff—you want to see what they have to say, what they'll show if they think the assassin went after the Queen, rather than anyone else."

Obi-Wan nodded; he was smiling, Anakin thought, and for some reason, he felt a slight tickle of warmth, beating beneath his breast-bone. It was hard to put a word to it. "Almost essentially correct," Obi-Wan acknowledged with a nod. "Except for a few details. First, it's always good to see what the Five have to say. I suspect the assassin wasn't after the Queen at all, but Captain Panaka is working from the presumption that an attempt on the Queen is somehow involved, because that is his only way to make sense of why an assassin would attack us in the palace. I cannot quite disagree."

"Why not?" Anakin asked, frowning.

"Because I am the Queen's security," Obi-Wan pointed out, gently. "And Captain Panaka leads the royal guard. With both of us removed from the picture, any assassination attempt on the Queen could proceed."

It didn't make sense, though. Anakin said as much, and Obi-Wan once again offered him that nod. "You're right," Obi-Wan said, with a sigh. "But it offers as good a starting point as any, even if we may hold reservations about how true that might be. Which is why it's good to feel the Five out. And as you said, it's good not to play every single card we have in our hand. That way, we can pay attention to those who seem to know more than they're supposed to."

He continued walking on, and Anakin trudged after him. "And lean on them 'real hard'," Obi-Wan added, dryly, after a few moments' pause.

"Wizard," Anakin said, delighted.


A/N: So, thanks once again to those who have favved or reviewed, or otherwise, read and (hopefully) enjoyed this story! :) I know it's been a while: once again, I have to unfortunately plead RL. I've finally managed to graduate and will now have job market woes. Once again though, I repeat: I'm committed to seeing this story through. It'll just take longer than I expected... (In particular, I had an issue with my hard drive a while back and I lost pretty much everything on it. My back-up hard drives went too, in what must be a spate of absurd luck. I proceeded to buy lottery tickets (no benefit there, alas), and to carefully piece together everything I'd lost.

So the good and the bad news: the good news is that I took really substantive handwritten notes on this story and where I plan for it to go. As such, it's just a matter of rewriting the missing chapters and then moving on. The bad news is that recovering this story is not my first priority, but I've more or less recovered my lost work stuff, and life stuff, and so I can move on to rescuring this fic. More bad news: the crash took down all my buffer, so I'm gonna have to put in some work to recover that chapter buffer before I can see to a more regular posting schedule.

Here's hoping it won't be months again before y'all hear from me. My current commitment is to getting out the next chapter within two weeks.

-Ammaren.