Nila impulsively took a step toward her partner but was stopped by the movement of the Family closing around him, bestowing lavish praise on him in the traditional raucous way. She remained at a distance with the women, impatiently waiting for her turn.

The delay gave her the opportunity to notice with some alarm that he looked oddly absent and had hands constantly clasped behind his back.

After a moment, the guests started to move toward a wide double staircase leading to the reception chambers and he was left alone. Nila rushed at his side and ushered him discreetly in a corner. Noticing the furtive glances she shot at his hands, he shook his head.

"It's not mine."

She grabbed a napkin on a nearby table and handed it to him. "What happened?" she murmured worriedly. "What did they do to you?"

The Master kept his eyes fastened to the now sullied fabric. "A test…"

"Oh," Nila said slowly. "The knife fight, wasn't it?"

"I held back. But they… I eventually had to kill him."

His face was composed, but she knew. A light sabre delivered a quick, clean death. There was no blood, no contact and no direct emotional implication. But with a knife…

She could guess what was going on in his mind -- she could almost see it in the slight lack of focus of his gaze.

"Who was it?" she asked gently.

"He was a Gotal. I don't even know his name," he replied bitterly as he pushed his sleeve up to examine a slash shaped like a crescent moon on his right arm.

That explained why he had shielded his mind, she thought. The Gotals were humanoids with extraordinary enhanced senses. Kenobi's victory must have impressed the Family.

"It was Cir'b," she realized then. She blinked once or twice and mechanically took the napkin from him to press it against the wound. "He was teaching the Children to fight. He was a good guy."

He watched her avoiding eye contact as she fumbled with the cloth, uselessly dabbing his wound that had already stopped bleeding.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She shrugged off his words with annoyance. "You passed the test, that's all that matters."

He set his clear, grave eyes on her. "I was afraid you would say something like this."

Nila wordlessly handed him back the cloth and immediately re-established the distance between them.

"This is strange," she remarked, watching him as he pulled his sleeve back into place. "Even after a fight like this there's not the slightest trace of perspiration on you. You have some control over your body."

"I was rather chilled in fact," he answered evasively.

Nila straightened up. "Were you?"

"How was your evening with the ladies?" His tone was light again as he changed the subject of their conversation and Nila gratefully followed suit.

"Exceedingly forgettable. The Corellian ale was warm but the key figures of the City's Big Three are all around us."

The Jedi offered her his arm. "I'm all ears."

As they headed for the stairs, she indicated a broad shouldered young man standing near them.

"That one is Svenn Ezol. He is part of the new hot-headed generation of Mob leaders and replaced old Nasrin'Lya who was killed by the RAID two years ago. He's a brute but he has good advisors. His clan is smaller and more secretive than the Santillian organization. They are mostly involved in common vice. I don't think he knows anything about what brought us here."

She cast a circular glance and went on.

"The one behind us at the bar is Abenok Santillian, Eru's older cousin. He's ruling an important part of the Family's 'legal' business. Very clever, fine business man… womanizer…" Abenok had just leaned in to talk unnecessarily close to the young lady at his side.

"Not to be trusted of course. The Santillian Family have always believed in the old Mob traditions as long as it does not interfere with practicality. Most of the customs have gone in favour of a more corporate, streamlined organization under the lead of Eru. But Abenok's er… 'policy' remains very fair with the little guys working in the streets which makes their chieftains very popular."

"Would that play against us?"

Nila shrugged. "There will be no dissention to exploit if the negotiation fails. Not at this level of the hierarchy. But the Ardas… There's always been too many of them in Santillian's clan."

"What about the last member of the Big Three union?"

"Taev's association is into high tech' crime. It smuggles and distributes illegal weapons and cybernetics which makes their clan more closely linked to corporation."

"His personality?"

"Well," she sighed. "Taev is the perfect image of the patrician leader -- he could be mistaken for a high level corporate. He keeps to his business and hardly ever mingles with the other Families especially with the RAID growing so nosy and the new Anti Crime legislations."

They were half way up the stairs when Nila's speech faltered. She had just felt a flicker in the Force. An unfamiliar yet powerful signature alerted all her senses.

She turned toward her partner.

"I felt it too," he whispered, answering her silent question. "It came from there."

He eyed a passage in the wall, half concealed by large bunches of flowers. "Maybe you should go have a look while I meet the clan upstairs. I'll join you when I'm done."

She was about to agree when she spotted Eru walking down the steps briskly to meet them.

"Master Obi-Wan! My father is here," he announced emphatically with a broad smile for the benefit of everybody around. "He wishes to see you."

Nila felt a cold sweat run down her back. That totally thwarted their plan and put her in an extremely delicate situation. She had to leave as quickly as possible and let go of her partner's right arm just as Eru seized his left one with apparent familiarity. The Master looked at her meaningfully and let Eru usher him toward the party.

The presence they had felt earlier seemed to have vanished. She forced her way through the crowd toward the hidden passage but a strong hand closed around her wrist.

Abenok Santillian bent his tall frame and smiled to her. "Methinks you are going the wrong way, my dear."

He turned away from her to whisper something to one of the passing waiters and caught her elbow in a smooth but firm gesture to guide her back toward the festivities.

"I was on my way out, Arda," she resisted. "Your uncle doesn't wish to see me in his house."

The mobster shrugged fatalistically. "If I remember well, you tried to shoot him down four years ago despite all he had done for you."

Nila's eyes immediately hardened. "You set us up. That mission had nothing to do with the Clan but your men slaughtered the Unit."

"My uncle loathed the situation had to come to such extremes, particularly when it concerned such a great man as your master. Despite our sometimes conflicting interests, we had a great respect for him," he said. "And we all mourned him."

Nila felt her stomach lurch in disgust. The worst was that he was probably sincere…

"You are the poison of this city!" she hissed.

"Come now my lady, you seem a little on edge," he said, glancing meaningfully at the people around them. "Have you never been in a formal reception before?"

"Not quite as a guest, Arda," she answered with a fake smile. "If you remember, I've been busy being a social outcast for tracking the Mob circles during the past few decades."

The slick man raised his eyebrows and laughed.

"I wonder, young Asalwa… why do you take the risk of coming back to your Family after all those years? What does the Jedi have to do with the Scroll legend?"

"You'd better keep to your business, Arda, and I'll keep to mine," was her firm piece of advice.

"My dear," he retorted with an easy smile. "You are in no position to threaten."

Nila did not miss the underlying statement that he, on the other hand, was.

"Here we are," he said as they reached the top of the stairs. He showed her discreetly an entrance beside the party chamber. "Through that door are the service stairs. It will lead you directly to the backstreet. I'll have Master Kenobi join you there afterwards."

"How do I know that some people are not waiting for me downstairs?"

He chuckled humourlessly. "Somebody is waiting for you. How could I leave a young woman alone in such a poorly lit neighbourhood at this hour? That would cause my cousin great displeasure and I would never be the one to create a rift in the Family."

"Diplomat?" she asked tartly.

"Prudent."

Abenok took the shawl he had manifestly requested from a waiter. He unfolded the precious woollen fabric and draped it around Nila's shoulders.

"Thank you, Arda," she said, almost indifferent.

"Arda?" Santillian shook his head. "You pretend to be familiar with our world. Have you no remorse for what you've done to your Clan? Are Jedi actually capable of emotions?"

"I'm here for business. Nothing else," she answered flatly.

With that, Nila gathered her skirt and took her leave. When she was out of sight, the confident mask fell and a hot blush set her cheeks ablaze. This night had all but turned into a complete disaster. First Kenobi's awful experience confronting the Families' Advisors and now Abenok's barely veiled warnings… And still nothing about the Scroll.

She slowed down when she reached the first landing.

They had called her Asalwa too. No one had called her that way in years... Why did she agree to go through this all over again?

Leaning heavily on the banister, Nila looked around her. In front of her was the way down to the exit but behind, the stairs went three floors up. The Jedi momentarily forgot her doubts to consider her options. A part of the Family's offices was certainly situated above the reception room. A lot of documents and data had to be kept in there… She had very limited confidence in the information the Santillians would choose to reveal to them. The security was concentrated in the reception room and outside the building -- it might give her a chance to break in.

The Jedi hurriedly retraced her steps, careful not to come across any waiters, slipped past the floor where the party was thrown. Blending in the darkness of the stairway, she climbed up until she detected presences.

Third floor, two guards.

Nila took a breath as she reached the landing. The men immediately shook their heads and walked toward her to make her go back down but they froze as she made a slight motion with her hand, their eyes strangely void and dull. Nila turned to the security system of the entrance and whistled softly.

No wonder the Clan had only let two guards here, the intricate combinations of numbers and letters activating the gate was enough to discourage many. She indulged in the pleasure of a new challenge. After years at the Temple, she still had not managed to get rid of that particular quirk -- she just loved picking locks. There was only one go with that type of system and she could not keep the guards in their trance for long. A sudden smile flickered on her face, half sly half sad and she typed a series of numbers. The entrance beeped feebly and slid open. She shook her head, Eru would never change…

Once inside, the young woman oriented herself quickly and headed toward the main processor without taking the risk of switching on the lights. Ironically enough, all she had learned as one of the Children allowed her to hack their own system with minimum difficulty.

She scanned through their files, watched the succession of figures, names and various transactions on the screen pausing for none. You'd think they had expected her and erased everything before.

Although it was unlikely the Mob had the Scroll, Nila could not believe they had no part with it. Morally speaking, Thranton was just as bad as the gangsters he tracked down but the RAID was extremely efficient. If they had localized the Holocron in one of the Families' sector, there had to be a trace somewhere…

A name on the last file having little to do with her mission made her do a double take.

Farah Panasana.

Nila stared at the screen, petrified. That name had nothing to do with the Clan, yet… Her hand fished blindly in the folds of her outfit and she extracted a disk. She vaguely recognized the holo she had taken from Kenobi, slipped it in the processor and downloaded the data. Her head suddenly whipped toward the door. Somebody was drawing near. She watched the screen nervously, checking the progress of the recording.

"Hurry, hurry,' she whispered.

The person was now activating the door's lock.

"Come on!" she urged between clenched teeth.

As the entrance started to slide open, Nila hit a key and plunged in the recess behind the desk just as the light went on in the room.

That was close… two persons entered the office, talking animatedly.

"You don't seem to understand. My employer needs guaranties, Your Excellence," protested a feminine voice.

Nila recognised the strong aura she had sensed earlier invaded the room as he – for it was a man – stepped inside.

"I gave him my word that he would have what he wants once I obtain complete satisfaction."

The man's voice was very low and his cultured inflexions were studied. He was certainly a public figure like a politician…Force knew how many of them were linked to the Underworld. She also piqued up a faint jar in the quality of his voice indicating an older man probably well over sixty.

"You also said that you would give us a proof. My boss will do anything you ask to get that scroll, provided you actually have it."

Nila had a bitter smile. She should have known that Eru might try to double-cross them. Tendrils of the Force suddenly brushed her mind inquisitively. Startled, she instinctively slammed her mental shield up. This man was not only Force sensitive, she thought bewildered, he knew how to manipulate it! As her mind shielded, the almost familiar chill closed around her, numbing her sensations.

"Where will it be kept?" he asked, carrying the conversation as if nothing had happened, but she was fairly sure he knew she was there.

"In this very room," she said. "Let me show you."

Nila was now feeling as though she was walking in a dream, oddly detached yet intent on what was happening. A sudden tension coursed through her and urged her to risk a step forward to have a better view. She could now see the back of the woman who seemed to be about her age. Her body language conveyed a sense of boldness, aware of its seduction and sure of its power. The man also had his back turned to her, his sleek white-haired head towered over the young woman.

The Jedi frowned then -- there was something standing by the stranger. It looked like a dull silver blue shape, but it was hardly visible having had no real substance. Nila briefly had the absurd notion it was trying to point something out to her but she could not get the message straight.

Shaking her head, Nila's eyes returned to the woman who was activating a mechanism, which revealed a keyboard inserted in the wall at the far end of the office. She typed something.

Nila took another step forward, without really thinking. The woman turned her head and their eyes met.

Beryl.

Her squad mate and friend all those years ago… She was alive and she was still working for them.

Panic seized Nila as she saw the young woman turn around slowly to face her, while the white haired stranger at her side remained abnormally still. Beryl's face was half hidden by a shadow but the lower part of her face was distorted by a horrible scowl. Frozen on the spot, Nila reflexively shut her eyes tightly, cutting herself from the grotesque vision.

When she opened them again, she found she was still hidden in the recess, well out of view. A prudent look out showed her that the man and the woman were still talking. Had anything she had just seen really happened?

She rubbed her temples nervously, not knowing what to think.

The woman stepped toward the wall as Nila had seen her do earlier and activated a mechanism. It looked as if the earlier scene was happening again. But this time and to the young woman's immense relief, the woman did not look over her shoulder.

"State your name," said an electronic voice.

"Beryl Tachcklan."

Nila expected this answer yet she could not prevent a cold sweat from trickling down her back: what she had witnessed had nothing to do with a usual manifestation of the Force.

A part of the wall opened with a hiss, revealing a secret chamber. The Jedi waited until they stepped inside to rush toward the computer to snatch her disk and stumble out of the office, numbing the guards' minds again to cover her escape.

She hurtled down the stairs as fast as her trembling legs allowed her and stopped at the street level. Two men waited outside as Abenok had said, one of them was pacing in front of the entrance while the other stood nearby. She backed up behind the door and waited for them to come a little closer. Nila mentally counted to three, shot her arm out, grabbed one henchman by the lapel of his outfit and pulled him violently against the heavy door.

The second fellow dashed toward Nila, who reached out a hand in his direction and shoved him against a wall with the Force. He tumbled out of view in a heap of junk. The Jedi ran to drag away the unconscious men and tied them as she could with cables from the junk pile.

Then she squatted down in the shadow of the street, pulling her legs tightly against her chest as the wind grew colder and watched the door, waiting for her partner.

Ten minutes passed. The street was deserted.

Finally, the backdoor opened. Nila started to get up but a feminine figure appeared instead of Kenobi. It was Beryl and she was alone.

Nila watched her make her way toward the turbo lifts leading toward the landing pads. It was too easy. Her escape and now Beryl getting out unaccompanied… Was she expected? And Kenobi? Should she wait for him?

She looked back and forth between the retreating shape and the door which remained closed. Taking her decision, she noiselessly rose from her hiding place and headed toward the lifts.

Beryl Tachklan liked the continual agitation of the City. It had always reassured her. It made her feel connected to the inner heartbeat of Coruscant even in the dead hours of the night, which would always find her awake, sometimes alone, sometimes not. She closed her eyes; she had lost the count… her eyelids tightened as if to banish the thought. Oh, to sleep…

But there were too many things to think about, too many shadows to mistrust, too many faces to forget.

Tonight would be no exception.

Beryl sat up straight on the back seat of an air taxi, watching distractedly copper light pooling the Lower City like an immense fire raging deep down. She tried to focus on the advertisements but the neon and multicoloured holograms were giving her a headache.

The negotiations had been tough tonight. Beryl had discerned a superior mind in this stranger. A former Jedi she had heard… yes, a sense of danger emanated from him and she could not figure out why her Arda insisted on doing business with him.

She tilted her head backward and let wind play in her hair without worrying about the tangles for once.

Too many things to think about, too many …

A few minutes later, Beryl was keying in the opening code of her flat and reached for the lights.

All the sudden, she was pushed inside. She stumbled forward and before she could gasp or turn around the door was already closed and locked. She could not see a thing but felt a movement in her direction. Beryl drew a large intake of air to scream but a hand clamped over her mouth. A pitiful gurgle escaped her throat as she tried to thrash against the restraining grip.

"Stop it!" growled a voice behind her. "I only want to speak with you."

Too surprised to resist, Beryl stilled and nodded -- despite its low and slightly husky timbre, the voice was definitely feminine. And faintly familiar.

The light flickered on and Beryl turned to face a woman in a black gown.

"Hello, Beryl," she said simply.

"Took you quite a while to find you way back here," Beryl said after a moment. "Asalwa."