Chapter Thirty-Seven

As Obi-Wan waited for clearance to land his ship at the Tarkasian starport, his thoughts drifted back to Aalea. When she had suddenly fallen to the floor beside him in the audience hall, his heart had almost leapt out of his chest and he had been horribly reminded of that day ten years ago when he found her comatose in his quarters.

He had knelt next to her, fearful that, for all he knew, she was having a relapse of her previous experience ten years ago. However, before he could make certain she was all right, Nadira's servants had gathered Aalea up and spirited her away to the princess' chambers where he'd had to face down that horror of a handmatron before he could even see her.

Then, when Aalea had walked out of Nadira's bower, her hair about her shoulders and dressed in that immodest lilac robe, he saw that what he had feared had come to pass. She had allowed herself to be swept up in the Sylvonnan culture; a breach in the maintenance of propriety which he was so certain he'd made clear to her.

He sighed. What was he going to do with her? She was exasperating. Then he frowned, for he also found himself thinking of that robe she'd been wearing.

It had clung provocatively to every curve of her body, revealing how high and firm her breasts were. Then it had slipped along her slender waist and hugged her gently rounded hips.

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily. And it had been translucent enough that nothing much had been left to his imagination regarding her lovely body. He quickly shook his head as a flood of warmth surged through him.

No, he thought sternly. He would not think of her in that way. He took a deep breath, focused his mind, then cooled the heat rising within him. And he had been doing so well, he thought. It was that world. Sylvonna. With its perfume-rich air, half-clad inhabitants, and sensual decadence; it had weakened him and he had forgot himself.

He thought of Qui-Gon. His master had devoted his entire life to the will of the Force, forgoing both wife and family. Obi-Wan was determined to do the same. He would not forget himself again. He just hoped Aalea would remember who she was while he was gone.

As he looked out the cockpit window at the Tarkasian capital, he was pleased to see that what he had heard of its society appeared true. Regimented and highly militaristic, the Tarkasians prized discipline and order. Obi-Wan saw this reflected not only in the architecture but in the straight and deliberate lines of the streets.

The comm on his instrument panel beeped, alerting him that landing coordinates were being fed to his ship from port control. He piloted the skipship towards the area which had been set aside for him.

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As Obi-Wan waited patiently outside the tall bronze doors which led to the throne room, he noted with satisfaction the efficient way the servants moved through the corridor. The two guards who stood outside the throne room wore the crisp black uniforms of the Tarkasian military. Gold epaulets gleamed on their shoulders, their ebony boots shone, and their posture was ram-rod straight.

Yes, Obi-Wan thought. This was much better. No perfumed eunuchs, or half-dressed handmaidens, or green-eyed princesses with high, annoying laughs.

He took a deep breath and took pleasure in the fact the air was free of perfume and incense. Too bad the wedding was not going to take place here but, since he would be residing in the complex set aside for the Tarkasians, he would be sheltered somewhat from the Sylvonnan's fondness for debauchery.

The doors swung open and the guards stepped aside. Straightening his shoulders, Obi-Wan strode into the throne room.

Though not as grand or as ornate as the one on Sylvonna, Obi-Was was still struck by the sense of power suggested in the high arches. His boots hammered on the marble floor as he marched to the dais upon which sat the King and Queen of Tarkasia.

When he reached the dais, he bowed deeply. To his right, a bald man with sharp black eyes and a long drooping mustache cried out in a ringing voice.

"Majesties, I present to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order."

Obi-Wan looked up at the thrones. "I bring greetings to the Royal Majesties of Tarkasia from the Senate of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Council."

"We welcome you, Obi-Wan Kenobi," King Lucan said. Lucan was, like all Tarkasian males over forty, completely bald. He had piercing hazel eyes, a sharp-planed face and a wide thin mouth. He was dressed, as the guards had been, in the black uniform of the Tarkasian military.

Next to him sat his wife, Queen Cassia. She was a stately woman with dark brown skin, black hair and light golden eyes. She wore a forest-green, high-necked gown. She gazed coolly at Obi-Wan.

"We trust your journey here was uneventful," Lucan said to Obi-Wan.

"It was, your majesty."

"Good." Lucan gestured towards a young man who stood slightly to his left. "I present to you my youngest son, Prince Ishan, for whom you are to be Honorary Bodyguard."

Ishan stepped forward. He was dressed in a military uniform similar to his father's. He was slender and tall, much taller than Obi-Wan, but appeared to be only 18. He had his mother's large golden eyes and thick black hair, but his skin was not as dark as hers. Obi-Wan could see Lucan's features in the boy's sharp cheekbones and wide mouth. The prince nodded awkwardly to Obi-Wan, a shy smile on his face.

"Prince Ishan," Obi-Wan said as he bowed.

"Now that you are here, Master Kenobi," King Lucan said in his well-modulated voice, "we will prepare for our departure. We shall be leaving the day after tomorrow for Sylvonna. Seleth will show you to your quarters." He pointed to the man with the drooping mustache who had announced Obi-Wan.

"Thank you, your majesty," Obi-Wan said as he bowed.

As Obi-Wan turned to follow Seleth, he heard a voice call out.

"Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan looked behind him. Lucan and Cassia had left their thrones and gone through a set of doors behind them, but Ishan was running towards him. Obi-Wan stopped to let the young prince catch up.

"Master Kenobi," Ishan said, an anxious look on his face, "when you're settled in your quarters, would you mind if I stopped by later? To talk with you? I'm very interested in learning all about the Jedi. You're the first Jedi I've ever met and I have so many questions. If it wouldn't be an imposition, of course."

"I would be honored by your presence, your highness."

A wide smile broke across Ishan's face and made him look even younger.

"You would? Oh, that's wonderful. Yes, I shall stop by. Thank you. Thank you very much."

Ishan grinned at Obi-Wan for a moment then, bobbing his head, turned and ran towards the door his parents had gone through. Just as he opened it, he slipped, but awkwardly caught the edge of the door and kept himself from sprawling across the floor. He turned and grinned sheepishly back at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. Ishan was all arms and legs and reminded Obi-Wan of a fellow initiate at the Temple named Tukak. Tukak had been tall like Ishan, awkward and ungainly, but Obi-Wan couldn't recall anyone with a kinder heart. He wondered if Ishan was the same.

Seleth cleared his throat and Obi-Wan turned and followed him to his quarters.

To be continued....