A/N:

Katieelessar: Thanks. I like setting out the landscape, so to speak. It makes visualization easier. :) Yep, T'shar is messing up with Obi's head…the poor boy. I wonder how much more he'll have to go through!
Killer Goldfish: Can't find much to improve eh? That's a good sign. :)
Shandrial: What indeed? We'll find out soon. :)
Desero: Wow, thank you. I'm updating as I write…so you've got your wish. :)
YoshimiWolfspaw: Distracted because of a certain addition from a Tatooine…but deep down, it's is padawan that he respects. :)
Lady Ivy Castillo: Yay for Obi-angst indeed. :)
Seven: I'm glad it makes good reading the second time too – and you do well not to tell. That's my paddy. :)
A. NuEvil: (Gasp!) a Club, a club! To throttle T'shar, no less! Fallen to the Sithly side, have you:) Updated…now.
Estel Baggins: Thank you. :)Yes, Life always has a habit of interrupting what needs to be done – but perhaps there's some good in that? And I'm glad you can "see" the characters. :)
Stranded Stargazer: Hold…hold…
ForsakenOn: I'm rather curious to see how Qui might handle this. :)
Senshia: I hope so too.
Awreel: Well, aside from the JA series written by Jude Watson, I don't know any others – And I haven't even read those fully (winks at Padawan). I read fan-fiction, mostly. :)

VIII

Obi-Wan was surprised, when he and Qui-Gon had walked out of the chambers assigned to them, to find that the half-light that had pervaded the skies of Scalti almost an hour ago, still persisted. Surely twilight vanished early, as it did on Coruscant? But then, Coruscant's skies were hardly to be taken as a precise indicator of the time - Coruscant mornings often gave the impression of a city fairly reeling through hours of labour, and the nights looked like...a buzzing, never-at-a-stop day. Rather unsettling to new arrivals to the city-planet, but hardly worth a notice by its residents.

Obi-Wan himself had felt little appreciation for the planet's day and night cycle initially, but years of missions to many planets far more varied in their climatic conditions had swiftly ridden him of indifference in that respect. For one thing, too many planets had customs, traditions and rituals in connection with the time of the day - for another, he had a master who was often finely in tune with nature; such changes had to be taken note of, rather than summarily dismissed. Qui-Gon appreciated such things far more than other masters did. It had puzzled Obi-Wan in the beginning; in later years he had learnt to respect it, and had begun to enjoy the finer aspects of such appreciation.

They were escorted by the ever watchful Shabba and his still tongue-tied colleague, and followed the Scaltians through winding hallways of the Royal Palace. Obi-Wan noticed that Qui-Gon, usually observant of his surroundings, and who took the time to enjoy the really beautiful works-of-art that were displayed at appropriate landings and corners, rarely did so. Instead, the master merely looked straight ahead, eyes seemingly in focus - but Obi-Wan, sending a slight tendril of the Force in his direction, sensed Qui-Gon deep in thought. Added to which, their bond was closed to him.

The padawan was aware that the silence was temporary - it had to be - yet, it had not occurred in such a long time that he felt strangely bereft. Worry gnawed at him - worry that Qui-Gon was displeased, and that the master had expected much more from an apprentice in his twenty-third year...at times, it even threatened to overwhelm his earlier confusion about T'shar and her theories. He had told no less than the truth, there - he truly was confused. It appeared to him that the Archivist had succeeded in breaking through years of foundation laid carefully by masters far older to her both in age and experience.

A small thread of guilt reached towards him...again. Archivist T'shar had indeed found it easy to force her opinions into my mind...

Abruptly, he noticed that Qui-Gon had stopped, and was gazing at him - Obi-Wan looked into the blue eyes, and found a mixture of...what? He couldn't quite define the odd feeling that crept through him as he held the master's glance. Within a moment, however, it had passed.

"Master?" he asked. "What is it?"

Qui-Gon drew his eyes from Obi-Wan, and looked to his right. He raised a hand. "There."

Obi-Wan looked - and drew in a breath.

They were standing at a balcony - a huge one, its marbeil archways curving over their heads gracefully. It occurred to Obi-Wan that the Scaltians manifested their excellent taste in many ways, far better than certain so-called 'developed' people he had encountered. It was as Qui-Gon had said - they were a unique people, and worthy of knowing. Besides, beauty lay only in the eyes of the beholder.

In front of their eyes, a huge space appeared...and arena of sorts, Obi-Wan realized, with seats in stone allotted at regular intervals. Even at this distance, it looked huge, which meant that it's true proportions must be magnificent. Gaily coloured buntings and banners flew atop poles - some had words written on them.

"They're celebrating the Feast Day, on account of the Season of Joy." Qui-Gon paused, looking up at the sky. Pearly white light bathed the plains, and clouds streaked pink and yellow crept across the horizon. The air was still oppressively hot, but it seemed to have deterred none of the Scaltian citizens teeming all over the arena. A medley of sounds reached Obi-Wan - tinkling sounds that indicated bells, and other, varied shrieks and yells that could mean anything...the padawan rather suspected that they were indications of Scaltian music - not that he could distinguish any kind of rhythm or meaning in it.

"Feast Day?" he asked absently.

"It varies - the King announces one day as Feast Day in the 24 standard days that precede the Month of the Sun." Qui-Gon spoke. "This year, he picked it so it coincided with the day of our arrival." He took in Obi-Wan's enquiring gaze. "I spent some part of the afternoon...gathering information."

The words were spoken lightly, and obviously meant to be taken as such- but Obi-Wan felt a pang of remorse. I should have been with Qui-Gon.

He answered resolutely, however, forcing himself to consider the varied scene before him. "It is...kind of His Majesty."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Very. It was probably his intention to...ah...show us off, so to speak."

"Show us off?"

"It appears so. I've some news for you - we will be meeting others besides the Scaltian Royal family...I learnt that the Premier of Seula'ania and his aides have been invited as guests of honour as well."

"Seula'ania?" Obi-Wan wrinkled his brow, searching his memory. The name seemed familiar..."The planet that's just outside the Scaltian system?"

"Yes. It's not, however, a member of the Republic."

Obi-Wan raised his eye-brow. "It isn't...? No of course not. I remember now...they were negotiating with the Senate regarding representation..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Something to do with halting illegal ammunitions trade..." He paused. "That planet has the richest deposits of Petritium that's been recorded."

"Your memory serves you well. Yes, their mineral resources have been the bone of contention for centuries...and friction has escalated, over the last few decades. Partly why the Senate tried to close negotiations quickly - but Seula'anians have an aversion, apparently, towards being told what to do, and what not to, and the Senate's assurances of protection had little effect." He sighed. "A resolution was never reached - the Senate believes that there are simply too many cultural differences to be ironed out."

"Which of our own were involved?"

"Master Entain, and Master D'joun."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips. The two mentioned were, if not the best diplomats in the Order, certainly remarkably meticulous in their methods, and had built a reputation for achieving peace with no recourse to violence of any kind. Methodical, systematic...yet compassionate. Well-suited to the mission, in fact. "They couldn't achieve a compromise...?"

"Not until this moment...though there are still hopes. Entain has reported a favourable turn of events..."

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, the negotiator in him weighing the facts. There were ways, and there were ways to achieve compromises, and negotiate terms. It was easy enough, in some cases, to predict which were the missions that would yield a quick result - some missions were meant to be, while some were...to be postponed. The Jedi never really accepted that a mission was a lost cause.

There is nothing that can be achieved through needless emotion and passion, that can be achieved by method and protocol...

He frowned as T'shar's words reached him across the distances of space...and memory. A queer weakness settled into his knees, and he applied himself in forcibly shaking it off. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Shabba make a gesture, indicating that they were to follow.

Abruptly, Qui-Gon turned away, and Obi-Wan, found, much to his surprise, that they had spent barely a few minutes at the balcony. Strange. It felt like hours, to him.

They followed the guards around a one larger, winding corridor, the richness in tapestry ebbing and flowing around them. A richly carved entrance to their right led down an impressive flight of stairs, obviously leading to the ground level - down which they stepped...

...and found themselves under what seemed to be a huge, orange awning, stretching for the better part of the arena that Obi-Wan seen from the balcony, above.

The heat hit them in waves, and Obi-Wan found himself scowling instinctively, before he remembered where he was and smoothened his expression. Already his braid seemed to stick to his head, and though he was much more at ease with heat than cold, it was still uncomfortable.

Beside him, Qui-Gon appeared as calm and serene as ever. They found themselves approaching the Royal party, and Shabba quickly led them to King Zor - who did not seem to have lost an iota of his beaming good humour, since the mid-day meal.

Obi-Wan found himself surrounded by smiling members of the Scaltian Royal family - members of which he now met for the first time since their arrival in Scalti...with the exception of King Zor, of course. He found himself bowing to more and more round, pink royalty - the Queen, Her Majesty Zor-ethul-bia-ph-ma-wera, Otherwise Called Queen Bia, Princesses Ama, De'e, and Roe, the Crown Prince Ze'e (who, being slightly thinner than the rest of his family, seemed to be fated to put up with plenty of good-natured teasing) the First minister, his aide, and a host of others who appeared to have nothing to do with royalty whatsoever, but were all introduced with great pomp, nevertheless.

To his left, Obi-wan felt his master's good humour on the rise. He and Qui-Gon had dressed well that evening, as befitting the attendance of a state occasion - they were ambassadors of the Republic, after all, and were always required to maintain a certain appearance, dusty missions and vacations notwithstanding. Their Jedi tunics were crisp and neat, and Obi-Wan knew himself to be attired as befitting a Jedi...and yet, he had an impression that it would be Qui-Gon who would walk away with the honours, were it to come to that.

A rueful smile appeared on his lips. His master never really paid great attention to his looks, as it were, other than wishing to present a neat and tidy appearance - in truth, it was his aura of power and self-assurance that more than outshone anything or anyone beside him, he knew. It was exactly what many Jedi wished to achieve, and did achieve, to some degree. Only to some degree.

The effect that Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master extraordinaire, had on those who met, however, was something akin to meeting a wall of sheer Force power - alluring, competent, gentle...yet, for all the compassion it projected - held a slight hint of paristeel confines that could not be breached. Enhanced as all these were by his physical attributes, Obi-Wan was not really surprised by the looks of awe, admiration and respect that followed the Jedi master as they made their way towards others - the guests of the Scaltian Royal family. Added to this was the fact that the master had been the means of saving King Zor from the attempts on his life...

Had he cast his senses about, Obi-Wan would have been considerable surprised to have noted that quite a few of the Royal family were equally impressed by his own carriage and bearing.

He did not choose to, however...and soon, they found themselves before three tall, almost skinny humanoids, their heads adorned with rich purple cloth, and of a height that seemed even to rival Qui-Gon Jinn's. The master's head reached their own, however, and Obi-Wan heaved a mental sigh of relief.

So these were the Seula'anians.

Premier Akat'ai looked at them through sour yellow eyes, and Obi-Wan felt himself being subjected to an extremely critical appraisal down a beaky nose. Unconsciously he straightened himself further, feeling Qui-Gon too, do so. The premier's aides appeared unconcerned. A moment later, Akat'ai unbent enough to render a crisp greeting, and almost at once, whisked himself away to the seat of honour beside King Zor. It did not really require Obi-Wan too much effort to understand the association of ideas that must have been flitting through the Premier's mind - they were, after all, representatives of the Jedi order - and as such, must have brought memories of the Senate, and all connected events. The Force wafted towards him the displeasure that clearly surrounded the visitors, and he sighed. There was little he or Qui-Gon could do, here. They were, technically, off-duty...and the negotiations were not part of their mission perspectives.

The Scaltian monarch more than made up for Akat'ai's frosty greeting, by showering them with compliments, and leading them to their seats, which were to the King's right. Master and Apprentice settled themselves beside their host, and prepared to enjoy - or, as in Obi-Wan's case, project an impression of enjoyment.

Resigned to his mental state Obi-Wan might be - for all that, however, the padawan found the subsequent displays of dance and drama enjoyable. With the aid of a translator (employed, thoughtfully, by King Zor), he was given an insight into much of Scaltian culture that he otherwise would not have had the benefit of. Scaltians made up for the dryness of their landscape with plenty of colour in both attire and arts - their performances were quaint, and surprisingly full of humour.

"We 'ave a zaying, in Zgalti," murmured the cheery translator, who went by the name of Cra. " 'He hoo kannot laugh at 'imself, kannot laugh at the world.' Eeh, Master Jedi?" He looked towards Qui-Gon hopefully, who smiled in genuine appreciation.

A roar rose from the audience, acclaiming a particularly graceful dancer.

"Your wisdom does you great credit - indeed, Scaltia is a land of many treasures; your spontaneity and wit are to be much valued," murmured the master, and Cra translated the remarks at once to a curious King Zor. The monarch sat back, pleased.

To Obi-Wan, the remark signified the end of what appeared to have been a reasonably enjoyable evening. The word 'spontaneity' had brought back, in full force, what he had been trying to forget thus far, and he squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable. Quelling an urge to press a hand to his forehead, he stared at the arena, trying to concentrate on the performance below - which seemed to involve two troops of colourful dancers, one fire-eater, and three large nerfs. Beside him, Cra had launched into an involved narrative of the backdrop to the performance, and Qui-Gon appeared to be listening with great interest.

The sky stayed a pearly white, much to Obi-Wan's surprise, although a greyer hue had approached it. Dust swirled from the stomping of dancers in the arena, sometimes completely shrouding them from their view. The audience roared, clapped, and sang its way through many items, and King Zor watched his people enjoy themselves, pleased. The Scaltians were a hard-working lot, and made the most of their few days of enjoyment.

It seemed to Obi-Wan that the colours belonged to another world - a world that he would never inhabit, again. Dejection extended its clutches towards him, and he felt a wave of exhaustion, accentuated by the seemingly unending enthusiasm of the people around him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache. You are a Jedi, he told himself severely. Drive this lethargy. Now.

Below him, he saw a crowd of enthusiastic Scaltians throw scraps of cloth and leaves at the performers, who seemed to have come to the end of their act. The drums thundered loudly - once, twice, thrice - and the arena plunged into compete and total silence.

A deafening applause arose, in which he found himself joining in it. King Zor and his family voiced their vociferous approval.

And then, the monarch stepped away from them, moved towards the podium, as though to address his people. He felt Cra edge towards Qui-Gon, and saw the latter lean closer, so as not to miss what was going to be said. Curiosity touched him. What now?

He knew almost at once. King Zor, in appreciation of the successful efforts of the Jedi in having saved his life, was now going to present him and Qui-Gon with...what was it? Oh yes. Medals of appreciation.

Obi-Wan sat still, unsure of whether to express happiness about this announcement, or assume a posture of great serenity and ease - he would have had no doubt, in other circumstances, but his senses had wandered so far off in the past hour that he found it slightly difficult to collect himself. He looked towards Qui-Gon, who projected all the impassiveness a master was supposed to project - his Force sense told him that the master had been expecting something of this kind.

In a detached manner, he watched Qui-Gon move, as though he wasn't somehow a part of what was going on. The master was nearing King Zor, and the apprentice suddenly became aware of the fact that he too, would have to do so.

He stood up, feeling the gaze of the Royal Family on him, and stepped forward. The king was standing beyond the awning, at the edge of a protuberance into the arena - an extension of the stage-like construction that looked onto the central space. Once there, wide steps extended downwards into the enclosure itself.

Obi-Wan found himself walking behind Qui-Gon, and felt the wind suddenly flap at him, as though relishing the opportunity to attack him at long last. After what seemed like hours under the stifling awning, however, the padawan welcomed it with relief. He drew a deep breath, suddenly feeling as though he had reached the edge of a tunnel, looking out into the daylight after hours of darkness.

Below him, the Scaltian audience clustered together, eager and avid for the chance of gazing at the Jedi who had saved their King. Obi-Wan dimly heard the murmur of a huge expanse of people talking all at once...and wondered what kind of an appearance they presented to such a mass of people. It felt strange - though their missions often led them to peoples and cultures unknown, anonymity also played a large role on such missions. Jedi knew more about effacing themselves, rather than such open display. It would go against the grain of many of his peers, Obi-Wan reflected. But then, Qui-Gon was fundamentally a different Jedi. As one who saw himself eager to keep in touch with the multitude, Qui-Gon would rather welcome it.

He sank more into his thoughts, keeping his sense half on the silent mass below, half on the King and his mentor, as they stood in front of him. Beside the round monarch, Obi-Wan reflected, Qui-Gon's impressive height, and his carriage must impress anyone. Indeed, he looked every inch the warrior he was - long strands of chestnut sweeping his shoulders, head thrown back, as though surveying his own people, instead of another's, arms clasped lightly within sleeves...

King Zor was proclaiming something in a loud voice - and Obi-Wan had occasion to marvel at the sheer volume he could produce. He was holding in his hand, what appeared to be a solid golden plate - it threw a golden sheen against the setting sun. In it, placed gently, were two identical strands of metal links...of gold. One chain held a brilliant blue stone, while the other, held a dazzling green.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened at this piece of extravaganza - King Zor was undeniable very generous. On the other hand, didn't he know that Jedi didn't see finery...ah well. To acquire finery was one thing - to be bestowed it as a gift was something else altogether. King Zor was merely exhibiting his gratitude for their services...

...possession is another folly, not allowed by the Code.

Obi-Wan abruptly drew a deep breath, feeling a spike of irritation, unease and discomfort course through him. Force help me...

He sensed Qui-Gon stiffen beside him, and noticed that the King had come to the end of his speech.

King Zor took the golden neck-lets in his hand, held them to the sun, where they glinted and gleamed in a myriad of colours. The audience threw out a shout of approval, obviously entranced.

Obi-Wan watched, heart warming in spite of himself, as the monarch drew the chain with the green stone around Qui-Gon's neck. The master had to bend to accept it, but he did so in a graceful manner, earning a fervent applause. Having accepted the neck-let, Qui-Gon smiled out at the audience, accepting their gesture. This, of course, served to drive the crowd into a wilder, more enthusiastic frenzy.

King Zor smiled, pleased more than ever by his people's infectious pleasure. He picked up the second neck-let - the one with a blue stone - and approached Obi-Wan. The padawan straightened himself, feeling an unbidden pleasure at such felicitation.

The neck-let approached him - Obi-Wan was aware of the large, dazzling blue stone that seemed to reflect a million shades of blue, as it neared his neck.

Three paces ahead...two paces...one pace...the neck-let was almost upon him...

"A moment, your Majesty."

Obi-Wan reared up his head, immeasurably surprised at Qui-Gon's voice. King Zor looked at the master, equally perplexed. His eyes enquired why the master had interrupted felicitation of his padawan.

Qui-Gon bowed, appearing apologetic. He then called Cra to him with a wave of his hand, and when the translator approached, spoke a few words into his ear. The translator turned to the monarch and spoke a rush of Scaltian, as Obi-Wan watched, astonished. What was going on...?

He turned to king Zor, only to see the ruler's expression turn from bewilderment, to approval. He turned to Obi-Wan, cast a glittering smile, and handed the neck-let to...

...Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan watched, in undisguised perplexity, as Qui-Gon calmly took the blue neck-let. Almost too numbed to send a mental nudge through the Force, he forced himself to touch their bond tentatively.

/Master?/ Blessed Force, the shields were down, at last.

/Padawan?/

/What is this...?/

/A contest, padawan mine. The Scaltians think it's an ancient Jedi custom, between Master and Padawan...or so I've told them./

Obi-Wan blinked against the setting sun, confusion claiming him completely. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then focussed on Qui-Gon, who had stepped a few paces away, and had shrugged himself out of his cloak in one elegant movement.

/Contest? What contest? What is all this about?/

Qui-Gon's hands travelled almost lovingly to his light-sabre, clipped to the left side of his belt. In one fluid motion, the weapon was in the master's hands.

/Quite a simple one, padawan mine. A contest of skills, if you will. I have your neck-let...your gift from the Scaltian Monarch. If you wish to prove yourself worthy of it, you must best your opponent to get it./

/Best my opponent? Best who?/

/Me./

Obi-Wan raised incredulous eyes at this, forgetting his surroundings for the moment. /Master, with all respect, this is ridiculous. What are you doing? I never knew...I didn't know.../ he stopped, feeling at a loss, and somehow, defenceless.

Qui-Gon appeared unperturbed - and it occurred to Obi-Wan that he had anticipated all of the padawan's reactions. /Surprise is the essence of attack, young one. A lesson I've taught you, before./

Qui-Gon threw a glance at his stunned apprentice as he transferred his attention to the blue neck-let. He held it against the sun, angling it so the colours flashed around as much as ever. The crowd hushed itself in revered silence. He looked at obi-Wan again, a mischievous smile edging his mouth.

/I dare you, padawan mine. Win it - if you can./

Tbc… (Heh.)