Chapter 4: Trepidation
The next morning, Qui-Gon was not entirely sure whether or not he ought to wake his apprentice. Shadows still lurked under Obi-Wan's eyes, despite a solid ten hours of sleep. Then again, that wasn't particularly shocking, considering what the boy had done.
But after Qui-Gon had been watching for only a moment, the Padawan stirred, as if the weight of his Master's gaze was enough to pierce through the haze of sleep. He opened his eyes and stared blearily at Qui-Gon standing in the doorway.
"Good morning, Padawan," Qui-Gon said.
"Mornings," Obi-Wan said slowly and clearly, taking care to enunciate each syllable, "were created by the Sith specifically to torture Jedi Padawans."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Would you like some breakfast?"
Obi-Wan sat up immediately. "Yes, please."
The Master chuckled and departed to comm the hotel kitchen. The mention of food was always a sure-fire way to get the apprentice going in the morning
But when the simple repast of fruit, pastry, and tea arrived and the two Jedi sat at the small table in their lounge, Obi-Wan didn't eat much. For several long minutes he held a half-eaten poli fruit in his hand, contemplating it with a deep, philosophical stare. Qui-Gon sipped his tea, studying the Padawan just as intently. The boy didn't notice.
"Something bothering you, Obi-Wan?"
Blue-green eyes flicked to the Master's face, then away. "Just . . . just wondering whether Nibbi is having anything half as nice for breakfast."
"Ah." Qui-Gon lowered his eyes, for some reason feeling slightly chagrined.
Obi-Wan took a half-hearted bite of his poli and picked at the pastry on his plate. "Master, are we doing anything important today?"
They had already been over the itinerary for their entire stay, but Qui-Gon decided not to mention the boy's lapse in concentration. He could allow his Padawan an hour to wake up—that was usually how long it took. "This morning we'll be meeting with city officials, and we'll have lunch with the ruler of Sylelius . . ."
Obi-Wan knew he was being prompted, to prove that he'd paid attention and remembered. He blinked, waking up a bit more. "President Rothis Hindegar."
"Right. We'll wear formal robes for those functions. The afternoon is free, and we'll start our observation. I thought we'd find some common clothes and blend in."
"Perhaps we should split up to cover more ground. There will be a lot to see."
"Perhaps we should." Qui-Gon suppressed a frown. For some reason he didn't like that idea. But it wasn't the Force speaking to him. It was . . . something else.
Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, stopping when he touched the left eye, which was still red and puffy. "Master, I . . . I'd really like to . . . I know we're only going to be here for a couple of weeks, but while we're here I want to spend some time . . .it might not seem entirely befitting to a Jedi, but . . ."
Qui-Gon finally took pity on him. "You want to spend time with the little boy you befriended."
Obi-Wan nodded hesitantly. "I want to try to earn his trust, enough so that he'll let me take him somewhere he can be taken care of. All of the foster homes can't be like that one. But I think I'll need to visit him every day, and I didn't know if we would have time."
"Padawan, we will make time. This is important. And it is completely befitting to a Jedi."
"Truly?"
"Very much so, yes! I'm glad you've found such a worthy project to occupy your time here. I'd hate for you to become bored."
"Oh, I'm never bored," Obi-Wan said seriously. He finished the poli fruit in a few bites, then started in on the pastry. Qui-Gon could tell by the glaze in his eyes that he hardly tasted it, busy planning how to reach the hurting child.
The Padawan's eyes flicked again to the Master's face, bright with eagerness, yet sober with responsibility. "I want to visit the charities, the government's systems, and interview those who would take charge of Nibbi. That will be good observation, won't it? You can tell the most about a people's character by seeing how they treat the weakest and neediest among them."
Qui-Gon sat back in his chair a bit, impressed. "That's very wise, Padawan. Just don't neglect the other aspects of the world. Talk to merchants, constables, people on the street."
"Yes, Master." But the blue-green eyes were distant with thought again. Then they fixed on Qui-Gon once more. "Master, I must ask your permission to do something that may not be entirely befitting to a Jedi."
Qui-Gon blinked. Again? "What is it, Padawan?"
"I need to fight the leader of that gang. It must be a fair fight, just hands, just the two of us, and I'll probably have to promise not to use the Force. Once I beat him, they will respect me enough to leave me—and Nibbi—alone. I'll probably have to beat him pretty badly, though. It won't be pleasant."
Again Qui-Gon was impressed by the boy's wisdom. Why had he never noticed this side of Obi-Wan before? "So you are saying that this fight would be in your defense, and the defense of a child who cannot protect himself? Yes, Obi-Wan, that is befitting to a Jedi. Just make sure that you keep that as your motive, not seeking revenge for the way they hurt you."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "What, this?" He gestured at the healing bruise around his eye, failing to notice Qui-Gon's wince. "This is nothing. Bruck did worse than this, and more besides, and I never sought revenge. Though I admit that I defended myself in something approaching anger a time or two." Obi-Wan took heart at Qui-Gon's smile, enough to return it and ask hopefully, "Do I have your permission then?"
Once more a protest rose in Qui-Gon, and he quelled it with a faint sigh, accepting the will of the Force. He nodded reluctantly. "I must admit that I don't care for the idea of you facing a young ruffian twice your size without the Force, but I trust your judgment. If you feel that that is what you must do, then you should follow your instincts. I know that you can handle yourself."
Obi-Wan's grin broadened. "Thank you, Master. I won't let you down.
"I know you won't. The Force is with you."
-
Despite his best intentions, Obi-Wan had a very difficult time focusing on the morning meetings. It was information he'd heard dozens of times before, about how wonderful the Republic was, how the Senate allowed every world to be represented with their fair say, how each planet retained limited autonomy, yet were protected by the best laws and the best security history had ever seen.
"Yes indeed, the Jedi," Ambassador Grenik had interjected. "The guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy!"
Obi-Wan pressed his lips tightly together to keep from smirking, and felt Qui-Gon's disapproving nudge through the bond, almost—but not quite—a mental slap. The Padawan schooled his features to calm, not needing to look at Qui-Gon to know that the returning glance would be a glare. Focus, Kenobi, he scolded himself, hearing his own words in his Master's voice. This isn't some boring class back at the Temple. This is a real live mission, and bad things can happen at a moment's notice. A Jedi must be ready for anything.
But nothing happened. Everything was perfectly peaceful, all of the participants in the meeting were perfectly amicable, and Obi-Wan remained perfectly bored.
The first spark of interest he got from the day came during lunch. All right, meeting President Hindegar, that was pretty neat. Obi-Wan hadn't been sure what to expect from the ruler of Sylelius, but had vaguely envisioned a round, red-faced man with a snobbish manner and gold braid on his uniform. Instead, Hindegar turned out to be a practical, cheerful fellow in his mid-fifties wearing the attire of a middle-class Sylelian, his dark blond hair beginning a dignified edge toward gray.
But what truly captured Obi-Wan's interest was Hindegar's daughter. She was four or five standard years older than the Jedi Padawan, honey-colored hair flowing down her back in gentle waves. Her face was soft and rounded, her full, pink-glossed lips perpetually pursed.
This was not what drew the young Jedi's attention. It was the deep tension in her hunched shoulders, the guarded shields behind her eyes, the sadness that surrounded her Force-signature like a clinging mist. He was astounded that her father seemed totally oblivious. Couldn't he feel it? Couldn't everyone feel it? The girl was in pain!
The president caught his eye and grinned. Obi-Wan realized that he'd been staring and blushed furiously. The young lady regarded him with barely-disguised hostility.
"Padawan Kenobi, this is my daughter, Amora Hindegar," the president said. "Amora, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I believe you'll be seated next to each other for this luncheon."
Obi-Wan nodded, a sinking feeling in his chest. He wanted to apologize to Amora, but felt absolutely ridiculous, and his jaw locked up. Unexpectedly he felt the weight of Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder, and he gave the Master a grateful look.
"Let's sit down, shall we?" President Hindegar swept a hand in invitation.
The group had been standing the doorway of the banquet hall as introductions were made, but now they moved into the well-appointed room and took their seats as directed. Joining the Jedi and the two Hindegars were Ambassador Grenik, the mayor of Reshifc, and half a dozen various aides and coucilors.
Obi-Wan made several valiant attempts to start a conversation with Amora, and was rebuffed by silence as sharp and enduring as an adamantine wall. Her guard was fully up, and she was not about to let a snot-nosed Jedi apprentice with a childish crush inside. Obi-Wan sighed and surrendered, hoping that she had someone to confide in. Her pain itched at the edges of his senses, demanding relief. It was starting to hurt him, too.
"Would you explain the candle ceremony?" Qui-Gon asked as they dug into the salad course, and Obi-Wan brought his attention swiftly back to the moment. "We saw that listed on the schedule for tomorrow evening, but did not understand its significance."
"Ah, the Release of Candles," President Hindegar answered, apparently gratified by the Jedi's interest. "It is a ritual unique to this region of Sylelius. You know that Reshifc is only two kilometers from the sea? Once a year on tomorrow's date, the people gather to remember those who were lost during the past fifteen moon-cycles. A candle is lit for each loved one taken by death, and given to the sea in remembrance. It is a symbol only, for we know that each soul has already been loosed to fly among the stars. But the ceremony can be a balm for the grief of those left behind. And it is a lovely sight, all of those lights floating on the waves."
He reached across the table suddenly to grasp his daughter's hand, smiling sadly, and Amora looked at him with wide dark eyes and returned the clasp with white-knuckled intensity. The president sighed deeply. "We will release a candle for my dear wife, Amora's mother."
"I am truly sorry for your loss," Qui-Gon said gravely.
"It was almost thirteen moon-cycles ago," Hindegar said. He gave Amora's hand a gentle squeeze and released her. "But yes, the grief still bites us sharply at times."
Obi-Wan let his sympathy show in his eyes, hoping that Amora would see it and perhaps think a little better of him. She did not notice.
And why couldn't he shake the feeling that something was wrong? This loss ought to be enough to explain the anguish he felt emanating from the girl. But somehow he knew that there was more to it, and he was deeply unsettled by this instinct.
Author's Note: Thank you, all my readers! I don't have time for more personal replies, but I appreciate each and every one of you! Every review gets read multiple times, I assure you. RL continues to suck for me. I'm not sure when the next chapter will come, but I will endeavor to keep bringing them out about every week or so. Thanks again! You make me happy!