Da-da-da-daaa!!!! Thank you so much to everyone who has a) inquired after
this story, b) reviewed my new stories, and c) gone back and reviewed my
old stories. To those of you who have inquired after Loyalty, here's the
next installment and hopefully I'll be back to posting at least weekly
soon. Almost to the end of the semester. Gonna … make it …. (gasp) …
(cough)
But, wow. You are all so absolutely fabulous; I'd love to name names, but I know I'd unintentionally leave at least a few people out and I don't want to do that.
Finally, a light bit of housekeeping. With the betas_anonymous having gone defunct, this story is now officially un-betaed. Any rough edges, inconsistencies, and general confusions are entirely my fault.
Secondly, I'm sorry to report that this chapter is actually pretty boring, but Obi-Wan can never manage to stay out of trouble for too long… :-)
To Whom Loyalty is Owed
By: Syntyche
Chapter Five: Hello City
The first thing that struck the newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi as he stepped off the transport was the sultry warmth of the muggy air. As he strode down the landing ramp to meet the welcoming party, he was assaulted by the heavy humidity, as thick and cloying as a sweat-slicked blanket and it seemed to wrap around him in an unassailable grip that left him staggering slightly in the uncomfortable atmosphere.
Ugh, was his first, somewhat un-Jedi-like, thought. I almost wish I were on dry, arid Tatooine with Anakin and Qui-Gon, was his second, but he banished it with a bitter grin that was covered up as soon as it appeared by a somber expression of greeting for his hosts.
"Ambassador. Chessno shaki," welcomed the younger-looking of the two humanoid males.
"Chessno shaka," Obi-Wan replied solemnly, trying to quell the ache in his stomach even as he projected a calm exterior. He spoke the ritual greeting as a sign of respect, but introduced himself in Basic. "Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi." He stopped just short of affixing "Padawan" to the beginning of his name, but recovered and managed to add his new, proper title.
The younger-looking male spoke again. "I'm Crale, royal liaison to the House of Dalaph – " Northern, Obi-Wan's memory automatically supplied, and if he hadn't been able to recall that Dalaph was the name of the ruling family of the Northern portion of the country, Crale's hearty, healthy appearance certainly offset the slim wisp of a woman standing beside him. With a wave of his hand, Crale indicated first the woman, and then the male beside her. "Shali, royal counselor of the House of Shaloaph, and Tropan, head of security for that House."
Obi-Wan nodded to each of them in turn before returning an expectant gaze to Crale, the apparent leader of the party. The young man dipped his head in acquiescence, "If you'll walk with me, please?"
The Xini, Northern and Southern, were much taller than Obi-Wan, but the young Jedi had no trouble keeping up with their long-legged stride. The landing platform stood at the edge of a thick, leafy jungle, and the farther they followed the well-worn path through the vegetation to the city, the denser the air became and the more Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to strip down to his breeches to combat the uncomfortable humidity, though he doubted that Shali would appreciate his lack of decorum much – until he caught her curious, wolfish smirk out of the corner of his eye. Well, maybe she would. Despite the heat, Obi-Wan pulled his thick cloak a little tighter against his body and cast her a wary grin.
~*~*~
Crale flashed Kenobi a narrow glance, surveying the ambassador that the Senate had sent. The Jedi … wasn't quite what he had expected, but then he'd never seen a Jedi before anyway, he'd only heard rumors and tales about their "Force" and their extraordinary abilities. He'd even heard that Jedi were immortal … and Kenobi looked quite young. Maybe he was really older and they were all just simply well preserved … and short.
Kenobi was small but compact, well-muscled, and he moved with a grace that the Xini liaison envied. Kenobi's features were also sharply defined, with interesting nicks here and bumps there that defied the standard, bland appearance of the Xini. Even as the liaison watched with cynical amusement, the counselor to the Southern queen was pointedly eyeing the cleft in the young ambassador's chin, much to the Jedi's obvious discomfort. Crale hid a grin. Despite his dislike of offworlders, there was something in Kenobi that the Xini felt a connection with, and as he resolved to find out a bit more about their new ambassador, he also decided to keep an eye on him – the Jedi would have his work cut out for him on Xin.
Crale cleared his throat. He didn't know much about the Southern women, but if they were anything like their kinsmen to the North, Kenobi was going to be under a lot of scrutiny these next few days. It almost – almost – made him look forward to the official reception for the Jedi this evening, but he was too accustomed to dealing with his queen and knew that the function was no more than a farce that he must endure for the sake of his country. "How much do you know about the situation here?" he asked the Jedi, a little more sharply than he'd intended as he thought about evening ahead of him. The Jedi's eyebrows pulled together in a near-frown.
"Not much; the file was regrettably brief, I'm afraid."
Curse him, Crale mulled caustically, he even speaks well. The liaison shrugged. "As expected. That's why I – we're – here to meet you," he amended with a short glance toward Shali and Tropan, who walked quietly behind he and Kenobi. Crale continued to speak as they made their way into the city, outlining Kenobi's itinerary while the young Jedi listened intently. "We're aware of the short time you've been granted to stay here; the ruling families from both countries are here and as ready to negotiate as they'll ever be – which in our case, is not at all," he added with a sardonic smile, "but I'm sure you'll discover that very shortly, and also, if I'm not mistaken, the reasons why." He was behaving somewhat less than his usual diplomatic self, but if there was one thing the young Xini despised, it was being manipulated into deceiving someone, and, curse it, there was something about Kenobi that he couldn't quite put a finger on.
Frowning, he continued, "There is to be a reception tonight both to officially welcome you and the House of Shaloaph – " he nodded again politely toward the two silent members of their party – "and your opening negotiations are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Our ruling governments each consist of the queen and her consort as well as a number of advisors; the majority of your dealings will be with the advisors who will then inform the queen, who has the final word on the matter."
"So I suggest you do what you can to convince the advisors," Shali murmured, sidling up to walk beside Kenobi. Kenobi's staid expression wobbled worriedly, but the faintly amused leer had already dropped from her voice and she was once again a tired young woman from a starving populace who was looking to the Jedi ambassador for help. "The House of Shaloaph is ready to do what the Dalaph request of us in order to save our people. We have even agreed to meet here in foreign territory if that is what it will take to – "
"Shali!" the security advisor, Tropan, spoke for the first time, and his voice was harsh and cold. Crale almost felt sorry for the woman. Tropan spoke too rapidly for Crale to translate the hybrid language of the Southerners, but the gist of his words was clear – we are too proud to beg. Shali's bright eyes flicked to Kenobi and then down to the ground; Kenobi shifted uncomfortably, his blue-grey eyes dark as he regarded Tropan. Tropan's mouth was tightened in a grim line and he refused to look at the Knight.
The remainder of the short journey was made in silence.
~*~*~
Obi-Wan forced a perfect smile for the Xini who stood at his elbow before half-turning to greet someone else. There were many people in attendance at the reception, all involved in some form of government. He'd been introduced to some of the advisors and councilors from the Northern country, but apart from Shali and the brusque security chief, Tropan, he had yet to meet anyone from the small Southern delegation. From what he could see, though, the two peoples seemed to be mixing quite well actually. He didn't even have a bad feeling about the upcoming meetings.
Qui-Gon would be relieved, he thought wryly and with a pang of sadness. It didn't – it couldn't – matter to him what Qui-Gon thought now. Especially since Qui-Gon thought his worthless former apprentice apparently didn't mind being replaced by a nine-year-old boy…
Following that well-worn path once more made Obi-Wan's heart twist painfully in his chest. He took a sip from the fluted glass in his hand to slow his sudden rush of breath, and the strong, fruity flavor of the drink burst onto his tongue and immediately quelled the tightness in his throat.
The Knight knew that he really ought to let his bitterness go, but the acrimony from his Master's sudden dismissal of him had entwined itself so deeply into the core of his being that he wasn't sure if he could let it go – even if he wanted to. Dully, Obi-Wan realized that even as it was slowly wearing him down, his bitterness was the only thing keeping him going – something tangible that he could wrap around himself like a cloak and stay shielded from the galaxy. He had been too trusting, too caring before.
Too stupid.
When did I become so dependent upon other people? he wondered at himself in amazement. Why does it matter so much to me now what people think of me, if they care about me?
Oh, he answered himself with a sharp, self-mocking grin; I've always been this way.
"Ambassador?"
Grateful to leave his desolate and increasingly dark thoughts behind for the moment, the young Jedi lifted his eyes to see the Northerner who had met him at the landing platform standing before him. "Crale," he greeted politely, eyeing the new arrival. The Xini appeared to be roughly his own age, but towered over the Knight as Qui-Gon would have. Obi-Wan was unconcerned by their difference in height, however – during his long apprenticeship he'd grown accustomed to craning his neck to address someone.
"Sir." The liaison dipped his head slightly, a lock of ebony hair failing forward into his dark eyes as he did so. He brushed it away from his face with an unconcerned flip of his hand, and favored Obi-Wan with his ready grin. "I trust you're comfortable with us and your accommodations are suitable?"
Obi-Wan nodded shortly. "Yes, thank you." His accommodations, while by no means extravagant, were comparable with those inhabited by the wealthier families – a comfortable stone structure set near the meeting hall where the negotiations would take place on the morrow. Qui-Gon would most likely have complained that the small rooms were too much for he and his Padawan to occupy, but Obi-Wan didn't see much sense in quibbling over sleeping space when it was an incredibly gracious act on the part of Northern Xini to allow him to be there at all. Qui-Gon had always handled those situations so much better than his former Padawan.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden pain and re-opened them just as quickly, noting gratefully that Crale's attention had been momentarily diverted as he scanned the large room.
"Ambassador, if you're ready, I'll take you to meet the rulers of the Houses now," Crale offered; without waiting for a verbal reply, he gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him and strode towards the rear of the large room.
Obi-Wan set his drink down neatly and followed the taller man, winding his way easily through the crowd despite the obvious height difference between himself and the native Xini. His earlier anxiety notwithstanding, he had been trained for diplomatic situations such as these, and as he moved gracefully through the crowd, greeting intrigued attendees with a benign smile, his confidence settled and for the first time he felt comfortable in his position. Though he missed his Master's presence, Obi-Wan suddenly found himself prepared to fill a role he'd been primed for. Perhaps the Council had been right in assigning him a solo mission while Anakin was in … in good hands.
Perhaps.
A large table had been set aside for the leaders of both Houses and before he took the seat that had been assigned him, he dropped a brief bow and greeted the queens accordingly. Guienne of Dalaph, the queen of the Northern country, bore the dark hair and broad features of her people. She was tall with a commanding presence, but the jade gown she wore accented both the femininity of her build as well her slender musculature. She acknowledged him with the proper words, but her dark eyes coldly proclaimed him an intruder into her territory.
The Southern queen, Renoia of Shaloaph, had the bronzed skin and hair of one who spent much time beneath the desert sun, and while she was similar to her counterpart in height and appearance of nobility, she also retained the gaunt look he'd seen on the Southerners in the welcoming party. As he straightened and looked upon them both, he realized that, despite the thin unhealthiness of the Shaloaphian queen, she bore a strong resemblance to Guienne, a fact he filed away to research later. Both women had greeted him coolly, but there was a gleam of warmth tinged with a faint bit of hope in the eyes of the Southern queen. Obi-Wan knew she expected him to set things right between the two countries and wondered anew if he were capable of completing the daunting task before him. He bowed to the consorts and was introduced to the various councilors and advisers that were part of both women's retinues. All the while he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, but he was unable to pinpoint the source.
Qui-Gon would have been able to, he thought with a stab of self-deprecating anxiety. It had been so easy to be controlled and focused while Qui-Gon was in charge, but Obi-Wan was finding the task of watching his own back to be more than a little difficult.
I even wish Anakin were here.
Obi-Wan tapped experimentally at the bond he'd half-heartedly tried to form with Anakin and found it to be silent, as it had been since their return to Coruscant after Qui-Gon's near-fatal wounding. There were, in one deeply buried part of his mind, the ragged edges of the padawan bond he'd shared with his former master, but it was in a dark, scored place that Obi-Wan rarely visited anymore and was trying very hard to forget about. It was far better left alone.
Dinner was, for lack of a better word, an odd affair. Obi-Wan wavered between amused confidence and near alarm at the rapidly changing moods around the table. The queens of both Houses continued to shoot frosty glares at each other and words were only exchanged when absolutely necessary, but the several women in the negotiation party seemed content – except for Shali, who shifted uncomfortably under Tropan's hard glare. Crale, the Northern liaison, continued to shoot uneasy glances in the Knight's direction. The queens' consorts simply looked bored. Obi-Wan could recall a few similar instances in which he'd been involved before, but Qui- Gon had nearly always managed to ease tensions and ingratiate himself to his hosts. The Knight eyed the meats and vegetables on his plate cautiously and watched quietly as the Southern delegation devoured the rich foods with barely restrained exuberance.
Was he capable? Would he succeed? Obi-Wan couldn't help but be preoccupied by the thought. It would be rather nice to know whether or not Qui-Gon had wasted his time with his third Padawan's training.
Damn it! Obi-Wan thought viciously. Stop. His thoughts were so very preoccupied tonight. He took a stab at a red fruit that vaguely resembled something he'd eaten before, but the instant he put it into his mouth he realized that it certainly was not at all like the sweet torbaqa he'd equated it with, but instead like the very spicy salsa fruits that Master Windu so enjoyed dousing his meats with. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, brightening as a sheen of moisture swelled in them. One of the women from the Northern House noticed and gave him a tiny smile.
"Be careful of overindulging on the rinka, Ambassador – it is very good, but should be eaten in small doses until you build up an immunity to its toxins. Otherwise you could do yourself serious harm."
Thanks for the cheery advice, Obi-Wan mused cynically. Crale laughed loudly at the woman's words.
"I doubt it. Aren't Jedi immortal?" he asked with a grin, but his humor faded when, beside him, Obi-Wan suddenly blanched and nearly choked on his food. "Ambassador?" he asked cautiously, wondering if it would be an offense to slap the Jedi on the back. Kenobi had gone terribly white.
"I'm all right," Obi-Wan managed, swallowing hard. Crale's remark had hit a little too close to the gaping wound in his heart and brought remembered flashes of reds, blues, and greens to his vision. "I apologize," he managed. "No," the Knight demurred softly after he had regained his breath, "Jedi certainly are not immortal."
"Indeed?"
Guienne's cold voice made Obi-Wan look up, and if her tone hadn't caused his heart to plummet to his boots, her next words certainly did.
"Then I take it that your former Master, Ambassador Kenobi, is quite the exception?"
But, wow. You are all so absolutely fabulous; I'd love to name names, but I know I'd unintentionally leave at least a few people out and I don't want to do that.
Finally, a light bit of housekeeping. With the betas_anonymous having gone defunct, this story is now officially un-betaed. Any rough edges, inconsistencies, and general confusions are entirely my fault.
Secondly, I'm sorry to report that this chapter is actually pretty boring, but Obi-Wan can never manage to stay out of trouble for too long… :-)
To Whom Loyalty is Owed
By: Syntyche
Chapter Five: Hello City
The first thing that struck the newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi as he stepped off the transport was the sultry warmth of the muggy air. As he strode down the landing ramp to meet the welcoming party, he was assaulted by the heavy humidity, as thick and cloying as a sweat-slicked blanket and it seemed to wrap around him in an unassailable grip that left him staggering slightly in the uncomfortable atmosphere.
Ugh, was his first, somewhat un-Jedi-like, thought. I almost wish I were on dry, arid Tatooine with Anakin and Qui-Gon, was his second, but he banished it with a bitter grin that was covered up as soon as it appeared by a somber expression of greeting for his hosts.
"Ambassador. Chessno shaki," welcomed the younger-looking of the two humanoid males.
"Chessno shaka," Obi-Wan replied solemnly, trying to quell the ache in his stomach even as he projected a calm exterior. He spoke the ritual greeting as a sign of respect, but introduced himself in Basic. "Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi." He stopped just short of affixing "Padawan" to the beginning of his name, but recovered and managed to add his new, proper title.
The younger-looking male spoke again. "I'm Crale, royal liaison to the House of Dalaph – " Northern, Obi-Wan's memory automatically supplied, and if he hadn't been able to recall that Dalaph was the name of the ruling family of the Northern portion of the country, Crale's hearty, healthy appearance certainly offset the slim wisp of a woman standing beside him. With a wave of his hand, Crale indicated first the woman, and then the male beside her. "Shali, royal counselor of the House of Shaloaph, and Tropan, head of security for that House."
Obi-Wan nodded to each of them in turn before returning an expectant gaze to Crale, the apparent leader of the party. The young man dipped his head in acquiescence, "If you'll walk with me, please?"
The Xini, Northern and Southern, were much taller than Obi-Wan, but the young Jedi had no trouble keeping up with their long-legged stride. The landing platform stood at the edge of a thick, leafy jungle, and the farther they followed the well-worn path through the vegetation to the city, the denser the air became and the more Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to strip down to his breeches to combat the uncomfortable humidity, though he doubted that Shali would appreciate his lack of decorum much – until he caught her curious, wolfish smirk out of the corner of his eye. Well, maybe she would. Despite the heat, Obi-Wan pulled his thick cloak a little tighter against his body and cast her a wary grin.
~*~*~
Crale flashed Kenobi a narrow glance, surveying the ambassador that the Senate had sent. The Jedi … wasn't quite what he had expected, but then he'd never seen a Jedi before anyway, he'd only heard rumors and tales about their "Force" and their extraordinary abilities. He'd even heard that Jedi were immortal … and Kenobi looked quite young. Maybe he was really older and they were all just simply well preserved … and short.
Kenobi was small but compact, well-muscled, and he moved with a grace that the Xini liaison envied. Kenobi's features were also sharply defined, with interesting nicks here and bumps there that defied the standard, bland appearance of the Xini. Even as the liaison watched with cynical amusement, the counselor to the Southern queen was pointedly eyeing the cleft in the young ambassador's chin, much to the Jedi's obvious discomfort. Crale hid a grin. Despite his dislike of offworlders, there was something in Kenobi that the Xini felt a connection with, and as he resolved to find out a bit more about their new ambassador, he also decided to keep an eye on him – the Jedi would have his work cut out for him on Xin.
Crale cleared his throat. He didn't know much about the Southern women, but if they were anything like their kinsmen to the North, Kenobi was going to be under a lot of scrutiny these next few days. It almost – almost – made him look forward to the official reception for the Jedi this evening, but he was too accustomed to dealing with his queen and knew that the function was no more than a farce that he must endure for the sake of his country. "How much do you know about the situation here?" he asked the Jedi, a little more sharply than he'd intended as he thought about evening ahead of him. The Jedi's eyebrows pulled together in a near-frown.
"Not much; the file was regrettably brief, I'm afraid."
Curse him, Crale mulled caustically, he even speaks well. The liaison shrugged. "As expected. That's why I – we're – here to meet you," he amended with a short glance toward Shali and Tropan, who walked quietly behind he and Kenobi. Crale continued to speak as they made their way into the city, outlining Kenobi's itinerary while the young Jedi listened intently. "We're aware of the short time you've been granted to stay here; the ruling families from both countries are here and as ready to negotiate as they'll ever be – which in our case, is not at all," he added with a sardonic smile, "but I'm sure you'll discover that very shortly, and also, if I'm not mistaken, the reasons why." He was behaving somewhat less than his usual diplomatic self, but if there was one thing the young Xini despised, it was being manipulated into deceiving someone, and, curse it, there was something about Kenobi that he couldn't quite put a finger on.
Frowning, he continued, "There is to be a reception tonight both to officially welcome you and the House of Shaloaph – " he nodded again politely toward the two silent members of their party – "and your opening negotiations are scheduled for tomorrow morning. Our ruling governments each consist of the queen and her consort as well as a number of advisors; the majority of your dealings will be with the advisors who will then inform the queen, who has the final word on the matter."
"So I suggest you do what you can to convince the advisors," Shali murmured, sidling up to walk beside Kenobi. Kenobi's staid expression wobbled worriedly, but the faintly amused leer had already dropped from her voice and she was once again a tired young woman from a starving populace who was looking to the Jedi ambassador for help. "The House of Shaloaph is ready to do what the Dalaph request of us in order to save our people. We have even agreed to meet here in foreign territory if that is what it will take to – "
"Shali!" the security advisor, Tropan, spoke for the first time, and his voice was harsh and cold. Crale almost felt sorry for the woman. Tropan spoke too rapidly for Crale to translate the hybrid language of the Southerners, but the gist of his words was clear – we are too proud to beg. Shali's bright eyes flicked to Kenobi and then down to the ground; Kenobi shifted uncomfortably, his blue-grey eyes dark as he regarded Tropan. Tropan's mouth was tightened in a grim line and he refused to look at the Knight.
The remainder of the short journey was made in silence.
~*~*~
Obi-Wan forced a perfect smile for the Xini who stood at his elbow before half-turning to greet someone else. There were many people in attendance at the reception, all involved in some form of government. He'd been introduced to some of the advisors and councilors from the Northern country, but apart from Shali and the brusque security chief, Tropan, he had yet to meet anyone from the small Southern delegation. From what he could see, though, the two peoples seemed to be mixing quite well actually. He didn't even have a bad feeling about the upcoming meetings.
Qui-Gon would be relieved, he thought wryly and with a pang of sadness. It didn't – it couldn't – matter to him what Qui-Gon thought now. Especially since Qui-Gon thought his worthless former apprentice apparently didn't mind being replaced by a nine-year-old boy…
Following that well-worn path once more made Obi-Wan's heart twist painfully in his chest. He took a sip from the fluted glass in his hand to slow his sudden rush of breath, and the strong, fruity flavor of the drink burst onto his tongue and immediately quelled the tightness in his throat.
The Knight knew that he really ought to let his bitterness go, but the acrimony from his Master's sudden dismissal of him had entwined itself so deeply into the core of his being that he wasn't sure if he could let it go – even if he wanted to. Dully, Obi-Wan realized that even as it was slowly wearing him down, his bitterness was the only thing keeping him going – something tangible that he could wrap around himself like a cloak and stay shielded from the galaxy. He had been too trusting, too caring before.
Too stupid.
When did I become so dependent upon other people? he wondered at himself in amazement. Why does it matter so much to me now what people think of me, if they care about me?
Oh, he answered himself with a sharp, self-mocking grin; I've always been this way.
"Ambassador?"
Grateful to leave his desolate and increasingly dark thoughts behind for the moment, the young Jedi lifted his eyes to see the Northerner who had met him at the landing platform standing before him. "Crale," he greeted politely, eyeing the new arrival. The Xini appeared to be roughly his own age, but towered over the Knight as Qui-Gon would have. Obi-Wan was unconcerned by their difference in height, however – during his long apprenticeship he'd grown accustomed to craning his neck to address someone.
"Sir." The liaison dipped his head slightly, a lock of ebony hair failing forward into his dark eyes as he did so. He brushed it away from his face with an unconcerned flip of his hand, and favored Obi-Wan with his ready grin. "I trust you're comfortable with us and your accommodations are suitable?"
Obi-Wan nodded shortly. "Yes, thank you." His accommodations, while by no means extravagant, were comparable with those inhabited by the wealthier families – a comfortable stone structure set near the meeting hall where the negotiations would take place on the morrow. Qui-Gon would most likely have complained that the small rooms were too much for he and his Padawan to occupy, but Obi-Wan didn't see much sense in quibbling over sleeping space when it was an incredibly gracious act on the part of Northern Xini to allow him to be there at all. Qui-Gon had always handled those situations so much better than his former Padawan.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden pain and re-opened them just as quickly, noting gratefully that Crale's attention had been momentarily diverted as he scanned the large room.
"Ambassador, if you're ready, I'll take you to meet the rulers of the Houses now," Crale offered; without waiting for a verbal reply, he gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him and strode towards the rear of the large room.
Obi-Wan set his drink down neatly and followed the taller man, winding his way easily through the crowd despite the obvious height difference between himself and the native Xini. His earlier anxiety notwithstanding, he had been trained for diplomatic situations such as these, and as he moved gracefully through the crowd, greeting intrigued attendees with a benign smile, his confidence settled and for the first time he felt comfortable in his position. Though he missed his Master's presence, Obi-Wan suddenly found himself prepared to fill a role he'd been primed for. Perhaps the Council had been right in assigning him a solo mission while Anakin was in … in good hands.
Perhaps.
A large table had been set aside for the leaders of both Houses and before he took the seat that had been assigned him, he dropped a brief bow and greeted the queens accordingly. Guienne of Dalaph, the queen of the Northern country, bore the dark hair and broad features of her people. She was tall with a commanding presence, but the jade gown she wore accented both the femininity of her build as well her slender musculature. She acknowledged him with the proper words, but her dark eyes coldly proclaimed him an intruder into her territory.
The Southern queen, Renoia of Shaloaph, had the bronzed skin and hair of one who spent much time beneath the desert sun, and while she was similar to her counterpart in height and appearance of nobility, she also retained the gaunt look he'd seen on the Southerners in the welcoming party. As he straightened and looked upon them both, he realized that, despite the thin unhealthiness of the Shaloaphian queen, she bore a strong resemblance to Guienne, a fact he filed away to research later. Both women had greeted him coolly, but there was a gleam of warmth tinged with a faint bit of hope in the eyes of the Southern queen. Obi-Wan knew she expected him to set things right between the two countries and wondered anew if he were capable of completing the daunting task before him. He bowed to the consorts and was introduced to the various councilors and advisers that were part of both women's retinues. All the while he had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, but he was unable to pinpoint the source.
Qui-Gon would have been able to, he thought with a stab of self-deprecating anxiety. It had been so easy to be controlled and focused while Qui-Gon was in charge, but Obi-Wan was finding the task of watching his own back to be more than a little difficult.
I even wish Anakin were here.
Obi-Wan tapped experimentally at the bond he'd half-heartedly tried to form with Anakin and found it to be silent, as it had been since their return to Coruscant after Qui-Gon's near-fatal wounding. There were, in one deeply buried part of his mind, the ragged edges of the padawan bond he'd shared with his former master, but it was in a dark, scored place that Obi-Wan rarely visited anymore and was trying very hard to forget about. It was far better left alone.
Dinner was, for lack of a better word, an odd affair. Obi-Wan wavered between amused confidence and near alarm at the rapidly changing moods around the table. The queens of both Houses continued to shoot frosty glares at each other and words were only exchanged when absolutely necessary, but the several women in the negotiation party seemed content – except for Shali, who shifted uncomfortably under Tropan's hard glare. Crale, the Northern liaison, continued to shoot uneasy glances in the Knight's direction. The queens' consorts simply looked bored. Obi-Wan could recall a few similar instances in which he'd been involved before, but Qui- Gon had nearly always managed to ease tensions and ingratiate himself to his hosts. The Knight eyed the meats and vegetables on his plate cautiously and watched quietly as the Southern delegation devoured the rich foods with barely restrained exuberance.
Was he capable? Would he succeed? Obi-Wan couldn't help but be preoccupied by the thought. It would be rather nice to know whether or not Qui-Gon had wasted his time with his third Padawan's training.
Damn it! Obi-Wan thought viciously. Stop. His thoughts were so very preoccupied tonight. He took a stab at a red fruit that vaguely resembled something he'd eaten before, but the instant he put it into his mouth he realized that it certainly was not at all like the sweet torbaqa he'd equated it with, but instead like the very spicy salsa fruits that Master Windu so enjoyed dousing his meats with. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, brightening as a sheen of moisture swelled in them. One of the women from the Northern House noticed and gave him a tiny smile.
"Be careful of overindulging on the rinka, Ambassador – it is very good, but should be eaten in small doses until you build up an immunity to its toxins. Otherwise you could do yourself serious harm."
Thanks for the cheery advice, Obi-Wan mused cynically. Crale laughed loudly at the woman's words.
"I doubt it. Aren't Jedi immortal?" he asked with a grin, but his humor faded when, beside him, Obi-Wan suddenly blanched and nearly choked on his food. "Ambassador?" he asked cautiously, wondering if it would be an offense to slap the Jedi on the back. Kenobi had gone terribly white.
"I'm all right," Obi-Wan managed, swallowing hard. Crale's remark had hit a little too close to the gaping wound in his heart and brought remembered flashes of reds, blues, and greens to his vision. "I apologize," he managed. "No," the Knight demurred softly after he had regained his breath, "Jedi certainly are not immortal."
"Indeed?"
Guienne's cold voice made Obi-Wan look up, and if her tone hadn't caused his heart to plummet to his boots, her next words certainly did.
"Then I take it that your former Master, Ambassador Kenobi, is quite the exception?"