Chapter Eight
Walking at a relaxed pace, Obi-Wan moved along the other side of the fast marketplace, idly observing the collection of objects gathered from all about the galaxy.
As time went on, the ginger haired Jedi found the air inside to be just as crisp and biting as it was outside minus the pelting moisture and wind. The thin, thermal gloves that matched his reddish-brown cloak were little defense against the cold.
He had once imagined there was nothing worse than Tatooine with its indomitable heat and sandstorms but he would gladly accept that over a prolonged stay on ice world of Selvax.
Seeking what warmth he could, he buried his hands in the billowing sleeves of his cloak. The image it presented as well as a light shielding helped to cut down on the unwanted attention leaving him in peace to conduct his search.
Pale blue eyes glided over the eclectic assembly of items. Droid parts, service equipment and a never-ending sea of useless trinkets and baubles lined table after table. The hunt for the missing lightsaber was quickly growing tedious.
Stopping in the midst of a gravel packed walkway, Obi-Wan just stood there. After a moment, he allowed a soft sigh. This was an important mission, at least so in the eyes of the High Council. His attention should be focused on it and not that it was exceptionally unexciting. Boring, as Anakin would have put it.
His thoughts drifted to his apprentice, wondering just what the teenager was up too. He had little doubt that Master Yoda was being reminded of why he no longer took on padawan learners. Not for his age, but rather for the headache just the thought of the student inspired.
At the edge of his vision, something familiar caught his attention and upon it until his gaze fell upon the tarnished bronze casing of an old lightsaber training remote. It appeared to be of a design far older than any he had seen in use at the Temple. Studying the device as he approached the table it was nestled on, he noted that it appeared to only have three low charge emitters and a dented case that gave it almost an oblong shape. To his surprise, the sphere was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.
Taking the small device up with thermal-sheathed fingers, the young master decided it would be something Anakin could appreciate. If nothing else, it would entertain him long enough to repair it and use it for practice during long missions away from the Temple.
Rolling the small device about in his palm, he knew that if anyone could repair it, that it would be Anakin.
Curiosity was stirred up in him as he searched the rest of the objects littering the crescent shaped table, wondering what other "Jedi" items he could find.
The collection of things had once been bright, shiny and new. Once having served a purpose to someone, somewhere but now the myriad of objects had fallen into disrepair or worse, driven into obsolescence.
A horrified scream echoed throughout the valley marketplace causing the Jedi to turn sharply seeking the source. His quick eyes caught a brief glimpse of a Toydarian flying just ahead of a large pack of beings fleeing from the market. With a small smile, he recognized Siri's handiwork and realized that she too was not having much luck.
Aware of the shopkeeper's wary gaze focused on him, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the ragged looking Hrapa's booth. The red-skinned female followed his every movement with tiny black eyes while she took deep drags from a long pipe the curved down ending in a shallow bowl filled with a green fiber soaking in some sort of liquid. The rest of the table was littered with a mixture of trinkets and old weapons. Most of what he saw were old blaster parts that did not look capable of ever working again not matter what kind of work was put into them.
Exhaling slowly, he reached for the Force guiding it over the damaged remains of once usable weapons hoping to see what his eyes could not. The energies of the ancient power washed over him, traveling along the various shapes that covered the table but there was nothing that could have passed for a lightsaber, not even a part of one. The Force could not identify the weapon of a great Jedi if it were not there.
Somehow though, the feeling buried deep in his chest–the one that told him what he wanted would not be–warned him that the Prak'sha would not be found in the market. Yet it was that same feeling that told him that it did exist. It was a strange sense that did not ease his spirit, reminding him of the days following Qui-Gon's death at the hand of that Sith beast. It had taken him time to truly accept that his master would not walk through the door at any moment. Even when logic told him it would never be, his heart reached out expecting to greet the older Jedi.
In time that feeling drifted and died with the strain of new duties placed upon him. His watch over Anakin's training gave little for dreams.
"What can I do you for, traveler?" the Hrapa hissed in her broken Basic and shattered Obi-Wan's thoughts.
Keeping to a casual pose with his hand held out, clearly displaying the practice probe so the alien would not worry about him stealing it, he took another sweeping look at her wares. Finally, turning his attention to the weathered face of the Hrapa, he asked, "You would not, perchance have heard about a lightsaber recently passing through the market?"
The Hrapa's scaled brow rose slightly, revealing tiny black eyes as she studied her would be customer. "Jedi weapons?" She sucked in on the pipe's mouthpiece before pausing and tapping the silver bowl to the dirty table in front of her. "Wouldn't know one if I saw one."
Sensing the falsehood, Obi-Wan nodded and placed the training remote back on the table. "Thank you for your time." He turned and began to walk away.
After only a few steps, the Hrapa called out, "They are worth a lot in these parts. If you have one for sale, you could make plenty of credits."
Obi-Wan turned to face her once more allowing no emotion to cross his handsome face as the Hrapa offered a sharp-toothed grin.
"I know sellers," she teased, waving her long fingers toward him, beckoning him to return to her wares. "I can broker you a good deal."
"The sale or barter of lightsabers is illegal."
She hissed mockingly between drags on the pipe. "You are too pale to be Y'Begaar. You do not scare me, human creature."
"I was not trying to frighten you, I was merely stating a fact," Obi-Wan replied, returning to the edge of the booth. When he approached the table once more, he allowed his arms to fall to his sides and his cloak to shift open enough to reveal the silver cylinder of his own lightsaber clipped to his utility belt.
The Hrapa's brow furrowed causing great creases to become visible as she recoiled with a snarl.
"I am looking for a lightsaber. It is very old and may not be in the best of condition," he said evenly as he folded his arms across his chest. "Have you seen such a weapon?" he calmly asked never allowing his gaze to falter.
The being shrunk down in her seat, her head low as if faced with a blinding light, refusing to meet the Jedi's serene gaze. After a few uncomfortable moments, when it was apparent that he would not leave without an answer, she said, "Possibly."