Chapter 6
Valia sat in the most unobtrusive place she could find in the viewing gallery. Off to one side, where she wouldn't be easily noticed. She shifted on the cool stone bench, trying to get comfortable. This place was no monument to physical comfort, that was for sure. From the moment she'd entered the Jedi Temple, she'd been awed by the sheer age of the place. Even these benches looked ancient. Long echoing corridors, high ceilings, somber statuary. All in polished stone. Robed figures moved everywhere, pages, young students, knights, and a variety of workers. No one seemed to give her any undue attention, yet she still felt conspicuous and out of place. She'd worn a long hooded cloak over her clothing out of an urge to be respectful, but to also provide some measure of anonymity. She wanted to see him, but the idea of running into him here made her nervous. Her requests for directions were met with polite answers, and now here she was in the public viewing area overlooking a large practice hall.
Several weeks before, Qui-Gon had off-handedly suggested she could visit any time she was free. She hadn't known there were places here open to the public. She'd politely declined, but soon curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she'd left the store for the afternoon. She'd wondered for years what went on in this place anyway. Her "boys" would be more thrilled to know about this than she had been. She'd have to bring them sometime.
Would Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan be here today? She scanned the floor. The sounds of various students and masters echoed around the room. Some were practicing hand-to-hand combat on mats. Others were using long, wooden staffs. Younger boys were doing gymnastic moves under the instruction of a small greenish humanoid. Then she saw him. The hair and height were unmistakable. Great flaming gobs of comet crust, he had no shirt on! What were they doing to him? Someone was tying a cord around his waist, apparently securing one of his arms to his side. Valia suddenly forgot how cold the bench was and moved forward to the edge of her seat. Obi-Wan was there, too. The two of them moved to a wide open space on the floor and faced each other. Both were wearing dark trousers and boots. Nothing else. Valia wanted to slap herself. The sight of all that bare male skin was making her giddy. She must look like a staring fool, but what she was looking at was all too easy on the eyes. Youthful Obi-Wan had heavier muscles and a patch of reddish-brown hair on his chest. Really nice, but she concentrated her attention on Qui-Gon. Large-boned and tapered in all the right places. Powerful-looking arms with just the right amount of brawn. Hard, hairless chest and flat stomach. Valia found herself memorizing details, her lustful curiosity about what had been beneath that tunic and robe being slaked.
What if they saw her up here? Now, of course, would be the perfect time for one of them to glance up here and catch her drooling. She shrunk back on the bench slightly. It was perfectly acceptable for her to be here, she reminded herself. There were even a few other observers scattered among the seats. Her eyes scanned over them, flicking past a lone figure cloaked in black all the way up in a far corner.
At that moment there was little chance of them noticing her, or much of anything else for that matter, as they had picked up lightsabers and ignited them. Valia had never seen one in use before, but she'd heard enough about them. They dueled almost lazily, Qui-Gon holding his own very well. Literally with one arm tied behind his back. No matter how Obi-Wan tried to get at him on the side he was vulnerable, Qui-Gon was able to deflect every blow, and even cause Obi-Wan to have a care for his own defense. Valia realized she was holding her breath, and she released it with a long gust. So this was what all the lore and legend was about. Her childhood, as well as that of so many other living beings for millennia, had been colored with tales of Jedi Knights with swords of bright fire. Here they were, storybook heroes in real life. How was it that this gallery wasn't packed? They moved like dancers. For just a minute Valia shared the desire of her young friends to be able to pick up a lightsaber and use it like that.
At some invisible signal, they stopped and lowered their weapons. Qui-Gon must have been explaining something to Obi-Wan about how to make a certain move. She couldn't hear what they were saying from up here. Qui-Gon was demonstrating something with his foot, and Obi-Wan was nodding. Their heads were bent close together. She had gotten the sense that Qui-Gon would be a good and patient teacher. They faced off again and joined in mock battle. This time the sparks flew further, the blows were harder, and the looks on their faces were more intense. A line of eight or nine-year-old boys and girls filed in behind a Master and stood watching the duel with calm fascination. This is what they dreamed of being one day; all their training directed toward when they would be masters of those lightning bolts. Valia was forgetting to breathe again. To her untrained eyes it looked as though either one of them could be cut down any instant.
Again at some signal they stopped. Obi-Wan untied Qui-Gon's arm. Something he said while doing it must have struck his master as funny, because he threw his long-maned head back with a short shout of laughter. Now an assistant came forward and began to bind Obi-Wan's arm in a similar fashion. Qui-Gon casually walked in circles, swinging his now free arm to loosen it. The light from the high opaque windows played across the flexing muscles in his broad shoulders and upper arms. Valia was not so far away that she would miss the pale tracery of scars across his back and sides. His hair was starting to stick to his sweating neck and upper back. She could not take her eyes from him. She was even more entranced by him than she'd been before. Coming here was going to result in even more days of hormonal delirium, she thought with dismay. She wondered if anyone else had sat up here and warmed this bench the way she was doing. She wondered if anyone else had warmed it because of him. She brushed away the thought.
By this time teacher and student had reversed roles, and once again they faced each other, weapons ignited. This time when they fenced, Valia could see that Obi-Wan did not quite possess the grace and fluidity of his master when given the same limitations. She wondered what they would face in their lives that made it vital that they be able to fight on with one arm disabled, or even missing. Obi-Wan missed his footing and nearly stumbled. Qui-Gon lifted his blade out of the way while he regained his balance. He patiently gave some instructions to his pupil and demonstrated a pivoting, crouching motion to him. Obi-Wan duplicated the move. They clashed sabers again, Qui-Gon shouting occasional encouragement or pointers. Valia watched until even she could see a difference in Obi-Wan's technique. The afternoon passed. She was startled to realize she'd spent nearly all of it here observing the Jedi practice. She was suddenly aware that her mouth was parched and she badly needed something to drink. But then that's what happened when it was left hanging open for too long.