I studied the Jedi Master in front of me, his pale curved saber held in a classic forward fencing stance. Dooku was a skilled Form II fighter, believed by some to be a perfect practitioner of one of the most ancient styles. With my own developing mastery of Form III, I could likely hold him off for some time, but unless I could goad him into an over-extension, in time he would certainly -

"You're overthinking it!" Dooku bellowed, coming at me with a rapid series of center and lower cuts. "Stop analyzing how to fight, and fight!"

I reflexively moved into a Soresu guard, minimizing my footwork and deflecting his cuts sloppily. This venue was very different than our last session in the Temple training grounds. An open courtyard was an extravagant luxury on Coruscant, but Palpatine had secured for himself one open enough to allow us room to duel. Out of the way in one corner, the Senator quietly chatted with Olana, who listened intently even while her attention flickered to the holocron she now held like a talisman. She -

I deflected the thrust enough to take only a glancing blow to one shoulder, which still managed to sting horribly. "Focus! On! Me!" The words from the Master were unexpectedly Force-filled, a Push reflected in his unceasingly aggressive attacks. "You will never be the swordsman that you must be unless you learn to put yourself in the moment! Enough of this!"

Dooku thumbed the contact of his specially-build practice blade and tossed it aside, drawing his real dueling weapon in one smooth motion.

My eyes widened in surprise. "Master Dooku, are you -"

"I have never liked training with those things. They destroy the immediacy of the duel. And that's exactly what you need a lesson in." He nodded to my own lightsaber; I quickly opened the hilt and reset the focusing crystals to their normal settings.

As my own blade's blue mirrored his own, he took his stance. "Defend yourself," he said simply, and then began.

I had trained with fully-powered blades before, and I knew the unspoken rules. Focus on disarming or tripping up your opponent; telegraph body strikes so they can be fully deflected. The Jedi Master in front of me did none of this. He extended quickly into face and body blows, both side-strikes and thrusts, that could easily be fatal if not properly countered. And as soon as he saw I was adequately deflecting these, he varied his footing, syncopating with fragmentary beats that kept me off-balance and unable to predict his rhythms. Three quick jabs could be followed by a full thrust, with only my own attunement to the Force affording me the split second to avoid a skewer.

He circled me, probing for weak points, striking without pattern. Again, and again, and again, I deflected, managing an occasional weak riposte that was batted aside with ease. I met his blade with my own over and over, the two flashing in an angry hiss as I turned and angled, guarded and swung, maneuvered and pivoted.

It wasn't until he stepped back, nodding to me in respect and lowering his own blade, that I realized we'd drawn the full attention of my student and our host. Olana's concern was etched clearly on her face, her grip on the holocron turning her knuckles white. Palpatine just looked mildly worried.

"Much better," Dooku acknowledged, bending to retrieve his discarded practice blade. "That finally merited your full focus."

I frowned as I realized he was right. I wasn't thinking about something else, or even trying to analyze the pattern of Dooku's style. "I had no choice," came my reply, "you might have killed me."

"As would be true in any real confrontation," the Master pointed out. "If a lethal battle is the only one that you can lend your full attention to, Obi-wan, then that is what our sessions must be."

With a sigh, I nodded. "Hopefully, in time, I can put myself in that same state of mind even for practice," I offered as the two spectators approached us.

"A spectacular display," Palpatine began. "I had forgotten how exhilarating it is to watch two masters of the ancient art. The dance of your blades is like poetry."

"A master and a trainee," I corrected him quickly. "But thank you, Senator."

Dooku shook his head. "He is correct, Obi-wan. I did not hold back, just now. Your counterplay was masterful."

"Everyone knows you're good," Olana agreed. "But your moves were faster than I've seen before. Smoother."

"It didn't feel that way to me," I pointed out. It hadn't felt like anything; I hadn't the mental room to consider it.

"A pity, if it's only possible when your life is on the line," added the Senator, just as a droid servant approached him with a data pad. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. Please excuse me?"

"That's our cue to depart, as well," Dooku explained.

As Palpatine left the courtyard, I turned to my would-be apprentice. "Olana, could you hail a flyer and hold it for us, please? I want to speak to the Master alone for a minute." She left with an obedient nod, and I turned my attention to the older Jedi. "Are you really comfortable with this? Olanna learning from a creation made by our ultimate adversary?"

"Or someone claiming to be he," the Jedi added with a nod. "Something like this would have happened eventually, if not quite this soon. In fact, had today's meeting gone more to my original expectations, Qui-Gon or I would have discussed this with you anyway."

"Holocrons?" I expressed genuine confusion.

"Tests of will," Dooku clarified. "It's officially frowned-upon by the Council, but most Jedi who take an active interest in training Padawans quietly agree. Encountering the Dark Side, whether in the form of abandoned Sith temples or corrupted Force-users, is part of what crafts a Jedi into a Knight."

"So my own encounters under Qui-Gon were not accidental," I mused.

"Nor were they unique. We seek out these opportunities for our pupils, for them to face these parts of themselves and resist corruption." He projected a feeling of admiration, remembering something that gave him pride in a past student.

"And what of those who are corrupted? Whose resistance of the Dark Side isn't strong enough?" I thought of Olana confronting a Sith and shuddered.

"They are not intended to confront it alone," Dooku replied, gently. "As the Apprentice learns, the Master guides and protects. In fact, it is my belief - and some, but not all, share it - that the Padawan should continue until they break, pushed past whatever limits they can, and then brought back."

"Can they always be brought back?" I asked simply, and his silence in response was answer enough. "I'll admit that this talk has made me more worried about Olana rather than less."

"Good." Dooku smiled. "You often have too little regard for your own situation, the consequences of your actions. Perhaps your duty to young Chion will motivate you to take greater care."

Dooku and I set a time to practice tomorrow and separated. As I climbed into the flyer, Olana sat with the holocron open on her palm, reading through scrolling text at impressive speed.

From my current sword-teacher's perspective, it wasn't so much a matter of if the holocron would get to her, as when. And yet it was hard to doubt her when she looked up from her reading and I met the steely resolve with which she increasingly approached the goals set for her.

As we made our way back to the Temple, I mentally rearranged my planned activities for what remained of the day. The Council might be kept in the dark about all this, but not one man in particular.

It was hard to avoid feeling at least a trace of amusement whenever I saw the surprise on Qui-Gon's face at my latest antics. And although this was more Olana's doing than mine, the perverse satisfaction was still there. Perhaps it was a vestige of the adolescence I had arrived too late to remember.

Olana held the pyramid on her outstretched palm, its crimson glow menacing my former Master as he frowned at it. "If you intend to keep this from the Council," he asked, "why did you bring it with you back here? The Jedi Temple is the last place you could hide such a thing."

"He says," Olana began, "that the holocron won't be noticed by someone unless I want them to see it. And the location of the Temple actually makes this easier, for a reason he says I will learn later."

"Probably the ancient site that the Temple is built over," I pointed out.

She nodded. "That was my guess, too."

"A powerful mind-clouding Sith artifact in the hands of a Jedi initiate. That's not better," Qui-Gon stated with an even tone betraying only a note of exasperation.

"So you think we should tell the Council?" I asked.

"I think you should pull out your blaster and vaporize the bloody thing," he explained. "I don't want the Council to deal with it either. It's poison in the hands of any Jedi."

Olana retracted her arm, clutching the holocron tightly. "You believe that a holocron can corrupt an unwary mind?" she asked.

The Master looked her in the eye. "Wary or unwary, the Dark Side is always there, eager to become central in our lives. All it takes is the decision to accept it, to let it in."

Olana stared back. "I would never do that."

"You already have. Listen." He overrode as she tried to protest. "My fear is not of some sort of telepathic influence. It's that, in choosing to heed the Sith at all, in opening yourself to their teachings and methods, you have provided a door for the Dark Side to enter your mind where once there was none. Lock the door, bar it as strongly as you will… the door is still there."

I shook my head. "The door was always there. Just being open to rational discourse - the willingness to accept your ideas may be wrong - already provides a door for any influence. It's a question of your filters."

Qui-Gon raised a hand in acquiescence. "Don't confuse an analogy with objective truth, Obi-wan. We all see the world in certain ways, and this is a shift that harbinges the Dark Side. If this Darth Sidious thought it was a good idea to provide this holocron, then almost certainly it is a bad idea for us to accept it."

"That's the sort of absolute thinking that I thought you'd repudiated," I rejoined. "Only the Sith are supposed to see things as a stark opposition."

"This is a Sith holocron," he pointed to it. "It is they who make this a matter of direct opposition and place us on opposite sides of a Galactic battle."

"He says the opposite," Olana pointed out, "that it's the Jedi who have insisted on the conflict with the Dark Side, while the Sith have tried to reconcile." She looked to us, her teachers, for a reaction to this claim.

Qui-Gon scowled, but nodded. "That matches what we know, from a certain point of view. But reconciliation for them requires that we abandon the core teachings of the Order."

"And that's why you won't even talk to them about it? Why even the mentioning the teachings of the Sith are forbidden?" Olana looked at the holocron again. "He said that the Jedi are the reason the Sith hide themselves. Why they lie. Because when they told the truth they weren't believed, and when they tried to live openly they were hunted down. Is that true?"

Qui-Gon stood silent, and so I answered her. "That is my understanding, yes."

Olana raised her gaze to mine. "He said it would be this way, Obi. That he was tailoring his message, his accounts, to fit your unique knowledge and the way you view the Sith. To gain both of our trust."

"He told you that?" It was surprisingly forthright. Usually when you spun your message in a certain direction, you didn't admit that's what you were doing.

"So Obi-wan may be his actual target," Qui-Gon mused, as much to himself as to us.

"Then why grant me access?" Olana asked. "If it hadn't opened to me, Obi-wan would have tried to open it eventually."

"It's an odd choice," I agreed. "I am certainly more worried now, with you at risk, than if I had taken this on myself."

Olana's expression showed she was pleased at this - which seemed incongruous with her earlier indignity when I expressed a similar concern. "He must think that we will learn or experience something differently with me studying it. Or maybe he just thinks I'll be easier to influence."

"Few Masters," Qui-Gon pointed out, "follow their Apprentices in falling to the Dark Side. The conflict there tends to cause the Master to retreat into orthodoxy, to take fewer risks. It can be painful to watch."

With a thoughtful look at Olana, I asked Qui-Gon, "Do you at least understand our decision to try this, even if you don't agree?"

Hesitantly, my former Master bowed his head. "Yes. And know that I am here to aid you in any way I can. But I do make two requests." At my nod, he continued. "First, on matters of history and the actions of the Order, do not act on Sidious's claims before speaking with me. I may have insight that contradicts his twisted views. Second," he sighed, glancing toward the door, "don't involve Anakin. He doesn't need to know about this, and he certainly doesn't need the influence of a Sith in his life right now."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "One other matter."

"Still no." The bandaged Master made to rise, pulling himself up on his staff even as his missing leg almost overbalanced him. "The healers haven't given up, and neither have I. My arm is already responding and they say say there is no reason I can't eventually regain sight in my eye. Your offer is generous, but prosthetics wouldn't ever truly be a part of me."

"Your leg isn't growing back," I pointed out. "Over time, with the incorporation of kyber crystals as a novel power source, you could attune -"

"No," he said again. "Anakin is fitting me with a conventional cybernetic replacement. The Force will do the rest."

"If you change your mind…"

"I won't," he forced a smile, placing his damaged hand, trembling, on my shoulder as he tried to stand tall. "You're a good friend, Obi-wan." And to Olana, "Keep an eye on him while Anakin and I are away."