XX.

Can I burn the mazes I grow?
Can I?
I don't think so.

(G. & S. Bettens)


Sabé's day began with a pounding headache. The weak sunlight which streamed through the high windows hurt her eyes. She wished nothing more than to be allowed to sink back to the refreshing sleep from which the loud knock on the door had awoken her. But it was repeated, patiently but determinedly, once, and a second time.

Sabé groaned inwardly. What was the benefit in carrying the queen's title for a short period of time if she wasn't even allowed to sleep as long as she wished?

She made a face when the knocking started up again.

With a tired gesture she pushed the sheets aside, let her legs slide out of the bed and struggled into an upright position. The headache hammered behind her forehead. Yesterday's tenseness hadn't eased overnight, but rather had grown worse and sprang back to life with full force. She would have loved to just sink back.

"Mistress?" Eirtae's voice penetrated the door, slightly dampened. It was no use, and Sabé knew it. Sighing, she slipped into the shimmersilk robe, endeavouring to take the upright, royal stance as soon as the wings of the doors would open.

"Come in."

She moved her hand in the direction of the door and it swung open.

Handmaiden's rushed quietly into the queen's bedchamber. They started to push back the covers and spread out garments for the day. From the adjacent room the invigorating smell of freshly brewed tea and the just recently brought breakfast wafted in.

Still with her back to the handmaidens, Sabé pulled back the heavy curtains and opened the floor-length side of the window. Cool, moist air welcomed her and eased the pounding behind her forehead. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh air.

The handmaidens behind her retreated quietly and left her to the morning ritual.

The queen's morning greeting was traditionally given while she was on her own. No one disturbed the ruler in this, nor did they disturb her locum tenens.

Sabé stepped out between the curtains billowing in the light draft and onto the terrace. Raindrops created little bubbles when they hit the narrow puddles of water on the bright marble. Within minutes she was soaked, the silken robe clinging to her contours. She didn't care. Sabé turned her face towards the barely visible morning sun and clearly intoned the words, dating back to ancient times.

When she had ended, her voice died down to a whisper and she added: "Give me strength."

She returned to the bedchamber where Rabé fussed over her, giving her fresh robes.

She breakfasted and donned the royal garments. Still the pain didn't lessen, but the leaden fatigue had disappeared and she regarded the day with new optimism.

What had she told the young novice the day before?

"Strength."

It was about time to listen to her own advice.


She rose in the early morning hours as quietly as she could, lest she wake Obi-Wan, and left the sleeping chamber. Once outside, she took a deep breath and stretched. Abused muscles screamed in protest. Her spinal column popped audibly in even, short intervals. Vertebra by vertebra. Padmé groaned.

The sun didn't have the strength to send much light through the heavy clouds and the temple buildings remained an uncomfortable grey.

She scurried towards the Atrium with quick steps and disrobed to take a bath. The water of the azure-coloured basin was always warm here, and smelled balmy.

It had become her habit to spend the early hours here, just before she bid the morning greeting and had a light breakfast. This time she stayed longer than usual.

First, heavy raindrops started to fall through the Atrium's open air well and they sparkled in all rainbow colours in the soft lights. The basin was sheltered from the elements and offered protection from the metallic tasting coolness which came along with the rain. The bluish water released its warmth in the sluggishly rising clouds of steam.

Padmé closed her eyes and push away the thoughts that had led her ere so early. She hadn't only left the sleeping chamber because she had wanted to take an early bath. She had woken and had found Obi-Wan's nearness oddly pleasing.

Pleasing in a way she wasn't entirely sure she was comfortable with.

What had happened the night before still moved her. Even though she had spent the night giving him the peace he had believed lost, during the same time her own peace of mind had danced just out of her reach. She had barely slept - blamed it on the uncomfortable posture as much as on her racing thoughts.

What had really happened? She had looked inside him, had seen anger and pain and darkness. Had felt her own self merging with a force that was so old and inconceivable that the thought alone was frightening, even though she had found nothing but protective, soothing energy there.

But it wasn't the ceremonial-like rescue she had managed that unsettled her. It was the thought of what this rescue brought in its tow. Obi-Wan suddenly didn't seem as controlled and cold. He radiated something, a human side, controlled by impulses and feeling, just like her. She had known that it had to have been be there. But now that it was out in the open, it made her uneasy.

She had wanted this. Like a tightrope dancer she had taken step upon step in the slim wire, had danced, had tried to get him to open up in a constant back and forth of stubbornness and understanding. But during all this time, she had felt safe in the assumption that his training could never be pushed back entirely. That her training would protect her from delving too deep into something she couldn't control in the end.

What happened yesterday had removed the protective net from under her feet. The darkness in him made it very clear that even a Jedi like Obi-Wan couldn't control everything going on inside of him. She, too, had lost control when the old force had taken hold of her. What had been necessary and wanted at first scared her now.

Both of them had been shown very clearly that they weren't anyway near as in control as they believed.

She had woken in the middle of the night. Had felt his body close to hers and noticed her subconscious reaction to him. Had noticed how much she wanted this nearness, how much she wanted closer, more palpable, more.

She had become a tightrope-dancer without a safety-net. Now she was standing in the middle of the wire and knew that she could move neither back nor forth without the danger of falling.

But a queen was a queen was a queen. She couldn't allow herself losing control.

She rose with a quick movement and watched the water cascading off her skin like scented pearls, leaving it shining in a silvery blue. The sound of the water echoed loudly from the Atrium's walls and disappeared through the open air well.

Sighing, she wrapped herself in a big towel, rubbed herself dry and slid into a fresh tunic.

With quick steps, she stepped out between the Atrium's columns while she brushed her hair with determined strokes. When the brush caught at a knot in her hair and pulled it painfully, she sent one glance toward the door of the sleeping chamber. She toyed with the idea of waking him, but dismissed the thought quickly.

This closeness between them appeared inappropriate now. She didn't want it. There was no explanation for the sudden change of heart, nothing but the numb, unpleasant feeling that she didn't want to be confronted with him. Because meeting him would mean that they had to talk and as much as she had wanted nothing but that during the past days, she abhorred the thought now. For a few hours, maybe even more, she needed the time to think about what happened. Had to think about the implications.

Right now, there were nothing but diffuse feelings she couldn't explain. What she knew for sure, though, was that she couldn't face him now.

Padmé finished brushing her hair and curled it into a tight knot.

It was no running away when she didn't want to deal with him today. She had spent all the past days caring for him. It was her right to think of herself. And when she didn't want to talk, didn't want closeness, didn't want scrutinising glances and careful touches, then it wasn't running away.

The rain pelted on the ground in front of the covered patio. Steady, lashing, unstoppable. It had been raining for more than an hour now, and a careful glance towards the sky showed her that there was no improvement in sight anytime soon.

That meant no escape from the inevitable next meeting with Obi-Wan. Exactly what she didn't want.

She scurried under the canopy into the adjacent building and pushed open the heavy door.

The scent of age greeted her. The room behind the door started to glow in a soft light when she entered. The light continued to glow when she closed the heavy door quietly behind her.

Not running away. Evasive tactics.


The usual morning sounds hung over the refectory. Clattering cups, plate being pushed back and forth, clinking cutlery, the soft ping of spoons in cups, subdued murmuring.

The high priestess Aethra glanced over the long tables of the novices, acolytes and priestesses. It was amazing how little the daily routines changed although the past day's horrors still cast long shadows.

The murmuring was different now, that much she realised. Normally the musical laughter of children could be heard wafting over from the novices' tables. At the acolytes' tables, dreams were often discussed so avidly that it held a high entertainment value for the tables surrounding them and more often than not caused muted giggles. Those were soothing sounds, even for the strict head priestess of the temple.

But this morning was different. A lot of the girls and women given into her charge held their heads lowered, and talked to each other more softly than usual. In many faces she saw exhaustion, dark rings under red-rimmed eyes.

During her nightly rounds through the temple's long halls, Aethra had stood in front of many doors.. Normally there was always at least one novice trying to sneak out of her room just to be caught by her.

Not this night. Behind many doors she could hear quiet sobs. Some of the older girls had been allowed to help the priestesses and comfort the younger ones. Those girls were pale as ghosts in the morning, they looked emaciated, their faces beyond tired.

Aethra shivered. She couldn't be soft towards her charges. Mustn't pamper them and take them off their duties. But by Naboo's two moon's, her heart almost broke over the unabashed hopelessness which hung over the refectory like a dark cloud.

She hadn't slept last night. Which wasn't unusual per se, as the tall woman never slept much. But she only rarely did because she didn't know what to do.

She had spent much of the night putting together new timetables for the healers. They had to work in shifts, or the women would collapse from exhaustion soon.

She had had the morbid thought that it had been good that only such a small part of the city had been affected. Looking at the number of healers and novices now, they could not have handled a bigger catastrophe.

Calculations had to be done, and she had to ask the palace to contact the Republic. Their bacta supplies had already been running dangerously low, and yesterday's accident had exhausted them almost completely.

Aethra could have trusted in her own healing abilities, but in emergencies like this, she preferred the bacta. The native Naboo healing needed time, and, here and now, time was the one thing that was slipping rapidly through their fingers.

Mechanically she raised the cup to her mouth and forced herself to drink. She had to be a role model for the novices. For the acolytes. And no less for the priestesses.

With an uneasy feeling she noticed that Reaja was watching her. The smaller priestess with her sharp, kind eyes saw exactly what was going on inside Aethra. The high priestess hid a crease in her normally always perfect gown with a casual gesture. Reaja saw the movement and smiled, but went back to her breakfast without even another glance.

Inwardly, Aethra valued the fact that she couldn't feel the least amount of satisfaction from the smaller priestess.

Unwillingly, she swallowed a few bites of the bread, knowing that her body needed the energy.

In front of the high windows the rain fell and dipped the day into a murky twilight.

That wouldn't help the priestesses' work at the scene of the accident at all.

Luckily she had been informed by the leader of the rescue team late last night that only a few persons were still missing. Only a few healers would be needed out there.

Nevertheless the temple's capacity was at its limits and it would be difficult enough to give medical attention to every injured person. But that would change as soon as the Republic's transport ships reached Theed. Yet until then she had to somehow ration what they still had.

With one last, unwilling sip from her cup, Aethra rose majestically to her full height. Abruptly there was a deathly silence in the refectory.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes - brown, black, green, blue - fastened upon her, curious as to what she had to say. Aethra knew her responsibility well. Her next words could mean success or defeat for the temple this day.


TBC