Chapter Forty-Five

Rukal, Chief Priest of the religious caste of the planet of Jalat, watched as the latest addition to his inner circle of acolytes knelt before him. They were in his audience chamber at his citadel in Jholan Province. The initiate was quite young, the youngest yet. She gazed up at him with fervent eyes. She wasn't especially strong with the Syad, but she had other talents Rukal had found useful. She had also proven a willing, if unimaginative, bed partner.

Rukal reached over and dipped his thumb into the ebony bowl of blood which his aide, Tydre, held. He turned back to the young woman and placed his thumb on her forehead.

"I mark you as one of the Chosen. Now rise."

The young woman rose and, at Rukal's signal, turned and faced the twelve other members of his inner circle. Rukal raised his hands. The acolytes rose as one.

"There is no peace; there is anger," Rukal began and the acolytes chanted the words back at him, their voices rolling through the chamber.

"There is no fear; there is power. There is no death; there is immortality. There is no light; there is only the dark."

Rukal gazed at his inner circle. It was small, but growing. Lord Sidious had instructed Rukal to be very careful about whom he let share in the knowledge Sidious was giving him about the dark side of the Syad. And what knowledge! Power Rukal had only dreamt of when he had been a mere acolyte in the religious caste.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Rukal slowly levitated the mammoth stone altar which sat before him. He opened his eyes as it rose, then floated over the heads of his acolytes. They looked up, gasping, at this revelation of their master's power. Focusing his will on it, Rukal guided the huge stone block through the air.

Rukal smiled. A month ago he'd had to punish one of his followers for insubordination. He had performed the levitation as he did at every ceremony but, when the altar hovered over the unsuspecting head of the acolyte, Rukal had released his will from it. He could still see the dried blood stains in the creases at the bottom of the stone.

Satisfied that he had sufficiently cowered his acolytes, Rukal slowly returned the altar to its resting place. He looked with great pleasure upon his followers as they gazed up at him with fear and wonder in their eyes. Rukal then nodded to Tydre who struck a gong, signaling the audience was over.

The acolytes filed out of the chamber. The young female initiate lagged behind, her dark orange eyes gazing deeply into Rukal's. He knew she was hoping he would ask her to remain. His recent coupling with her had given her power over the others. Or so she imagined. Rukal was tempted, but he was already bored with her.

He gave her a slight smile, than quickly turned away, gesturing for Tydre to follow him. It was time to put into action his plan regarding the abduction of Cian Nyal. Both she and the Jedi were scheduled to return to the capital that day.

He and Tydre entered his private chamber.

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As Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber onto his belt, he glanced at himself in the mirror. I am getting old. He leaned forward and noted the deeper lines alongside his eyes and the gray in his hair and beard. Yes, most definitely older. He wondered if Cian had noticed.

And, as he thought of her, he recalled what had happened yesterday in the saunahouse and the way she had emerged from the water like some newly-born goddess; droplets glistening on her full breasts, slender waist, and softly rounded hips and, as he continued to think of her, his body warmed in response, for he had wanted her, had wanted her so much he had almost.... He quickly shook his head and cleared his mind.

Yes, he was getting older but, apparently, not any wiser. Qui-Gon had devoted his life to the Jedi Order and had dedicated himself, body and soul, to the will of the Force. His commitment had been total and unwavering. Yet, even during those long years of service, he'd had some lovers; not many, for always, the Force had continued to speak to him, guiding him, goading him, leading him to whatever final destiny awaited him.

And because of that commitment to his life's purpose, he had kept his distance from Cian and had, over the years, lessened any contact with her. He knew that she loved him, had known it for a long time, but he had hoped she would find someone to whom she could give her love and have what he knew she desired and, most certainly, deserved: children, a family, someone to spend the rest of her life with.

He sighed and quickly drew on his robe. What had almost happened with her was something he would to have ensure never happened again. Not so much for his sake, but for hers.

He grabbed his travel case from the bed and left the chamber. His and Cian's travel cases had been brought in from the capital when Shiro had invited them to remain one more night at the villa.

As Qui-Gon walked into the outer sitting room, one of the omnipresent servants bowed, then quickly took the case from his hand. Qui-Gon was about to protest, but knew it would do no good explaining the Jedi preferred not to be catered to in such a manner.

The servant, as usual, waited for Qui-Gon to precede him out the door. Once in the hallway, Qui-Gon made his way down the stairs to the outside.

Shiro, Vati and Cian stood just beyond the villa's entrance. Qui-Gon bowed to Shiro and Vati. He glanced over at Cian. She met his eyes, then looked quickly away. During dinner last night, she had been quiet and subdued. After they had both retired to their separate rooms in the villa, he had been tempted to visit her, but had decided against it. He had sensed she was not yet ready to talk about what had almost happened in the saunahouse.

Vati walked slowly over to Qui-Gon.

"Master Qui-Gon."

"Sala Vati."

"I have so much enjoyed your visit with us. I hope, once relations have been established between Jalat and the Republic, you will come and visit us again."

"The honor would be mine, Sala Vati. I will never forget the hospitality you have so graciously shown us."

She nodded. Then she gestured for Qui-Gon to bend down. He did so and she leaned close to his ear.

"Take some advice from a dying woman, Master Qui-Gon," she said softly. "Open your heart to other voices."

Then she pulled back and squeezed his hand, her eyes gazing deeply into his. Her words had startled and puzzled him, but he nodded.

Shiro walked over and put his arm about his wife. He then looked up at Qui-Gon.

"Thank you again, my friend, for agreeing to stay one more night with us. We have much enjoyed your company."

"As have we," Qui-Gon said as he looked over at Cian. She gazed back at him, her dark gray eyes solemn; then she walked over and took his arm. He was surprised at how pleased he was when she did so.

She looked over at Shiro and Vati.

"Yes, thank you so much for your hospitality."

"You are most welcome, Mistress Nyal," Shiro said. "I will see you both again at the end of the week."

Qui-Gon nodded. He looked over to where their shuttle had landed. The servants scurried over to it, his and Cian's travel cases in their hands.

They exchanged final goodbyes with Shiro and Vati. Then they walked over and boarded the shuttle. As it rose from the landing pad, Qui-Gon looked back at the villa through the transparent walls of the shuttle.

Shiro and Vati stood at the entrance, their hands raised in farewell. Qui-Gon lifted his in return. Cian saw the movement and looked back at the couple. She raised her hand, gazing back until the villa had vanished from sight.

Sighing, she turned around and looked over at Qui-Gon.

"I shall miss Vati very much," she said. "I hope I will have the opportunity to see her again before we leave."

"As do I." Qui-Gon took a deep breath. Although he had promised himself he would wait until she was ready to talk about what had happened in the saunahouse, he wanted her to know he hoped it would not affect their friendship. He was about to speak of it when she suddenly said something about Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry, Cian. What did you say?" he asked.

"I'm worried about Obi-Wan."

"Really? Why?"

She shrugged slightly. "Well, it is his first mission without you, and he has Aalea to look after, and they're both so young, and..." Her voice trailed off.

"And what?"

Cian pursed her lips and looked out the window at the passing scenery for a moment. She turned back to Qui-Gon.

"He's in love with her. You do know that?"

"Who is in love with whom, Cian?"

"Obi-Wan. He's in love with Aalea."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "Aalea and Obi-Can can barely stand each other. They're like oil and water."

Cian smiled sadly at him. "But that's just it, Qui-Gon. He doesn't know he's in love with her. At least not yet. He's feels it, but either can't or won't admit it. Even to himself. That's why he's so cold and stiff with her."

Qui-Gon mulled over that.

"What do your instincts tell you about Aalea? How does she feel about him?"

"She still believes it's you that she loves, and she does, but not in the way she thinks. If he wanted to, Obi-Wan could easily win her heart."

Qui-Gon sighed deeply.

"I hope this will not affect their mission. If I had known, I would have spoken against their being assigned together."

"Why?"

"Such feelings can be a distraction."

Cian shook her head. "You're not giving them much credit, Qui-Gon. They are Jedi. And they've both been well-trained."

"But as you just noted, they are young. And Sylvonna is---"

"The love capital of the galaxy." She squeezed his arm. "They'll be all right. Don't worry. I'm sorry I brought it up."

Qui-Gon remained silent for a moment, staring out the window of the shuttle.

"I hope," he finally said, "if you are correct, and Obi-Wan does have such feelings for Aalea, he will keep them to himself."

Cian looked sharply at him. "Why?"

"We are Jedi, Cian. At any time the Force may call us to walk in dark and desolate places. Places where we must often go alone."

Qui-Gon could feel Cian's body tensing alongside his. He glanced at her and noted the skin around her eyes had tightened.

"Then tell me this, Qui-Gon. What if, by some chance, Obi-Wan and Aalea should discover they love each other. Are you saying they must hide it, not only from the one they love but from themselves? What kind of a life is that? What chance for fulfillment or happiness does it offer?"

"Cian, a Jedi's life is one of service and there is much fulfillment in that. But the path the Force guides us on is not an easy one. To ask another to bear that burden..." He shook his head. "It is a hard life. Love only makes it harder; for the one who loves and the one who is loved. You know that."

"Yes, I do know that," Cian said softly. She drew her arm away from his. He reached over and took her hand.

"Don't pull away," he said gently.

"Isn't that what you want me to do?" she cried out suddenly. "Isn't that what you're trying to tell me with all your talk about dark places and how love only makes a Jedi's life harder?"

Qui-Gon glanced at their shuttle pilot, but he appeared oblivious to them.

"Cian. I---"

"You don't have to say any more, Qui-Gon," she said, her eyes dark with pain. She turned away from him.

For a long moment she stared out the window. Qui-Gon waited. Then with a deep breath she turned and faced him.

"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon," she said. "Please forgive me."

He took her hand.

"Cian, you don't have to apologize."

She pulled her hand away from his.

"Yes, I do. I must apologize, I will apologize," she went on in a choked voice, "not only for my outburst, but for my behavior yesterday in the saunahouse. I don't know what came over me. I can assure you it won't happen again."

"Cian..." Qui-Gon said, but she turned away from him again. If they had been bonded, Qui-Gon imagined she would have started shielding against him. Instead, she arranged her body in such a way as to let him know she no longer wished to talk.

Qui-Gon sighed. He was beginning to feel, for both their sakes, the sooner their mission was over, the better.

To be continued...