Upadana
Scene 3
Having secured a period of respite – due to the generous intervention of Master Sifa Ko, an amicable elder who also happened to be a many years' veteran of the crèche – Ali Alaan took the opportunity to take two of his older charges on a small expedition. They walked all the way to the wing where Dragon Clan was housed, hand in hand in hand. Garen and Obi-Wan were quite vivacious, full of high spirits at the prospect of meting the older initiates and the formidable Troon Palo.
Master Ali had to practically hold Garen back by the collar as the youngling tried to cavort down the quiet halls; Obi-Wan, by contract, seemed reluctant to leave the crèche even for the proposed hour.
"Who's taking care of T'k'ta?" he wanted to know.
"Master Sifa will see to him," the tall Jedi assured the boy.
They made it to the next intersection in peace. "Did you tell her about Bruck?"
A full stop, and an admonitory frown. "What about him?"
"How he ripped T'k'ta."
Ali Alaan shook his head. "That is in the past. You must not concern yourself with it, nor with the desire to publish others' faults or failings."
"But – I mean, he could do it again. When she's not looking. 'Cause me and Garen are gone."
"Garen and I."
"No, Garen and me, Master."
The tall man dragged a hand over his face, hiding an amused smile. "T'k'ta is an able defender of his own honor. I want you to meet Master Troon now. I think you will find he has many things in common with your friend T'k'ta."
Which assertion, besides intriguing both boys immensely, also proved to be true. Troon Palo, when he manifested himself upon the threshold to the Dragon Clan's assigned dormitory common room, loomed taller even than Ali Alaan, and broader across the shoulders too – almost as big as a real t'k'ta, which was saying something. Not only this, but he was covered head to foot in luxurious glossy black hair. It wasn't worn and thinning like T'k'ta's but soft and thick, inviting and beautiful. Troon was like a walking t'k'ta himself. He wore only tabards and a sash – and these were delightfully frayed and stained and darkened with the grime of decades, as though he had worn the same badges of honor for his whole life. And better yet, at his hip hung an unmistakable, gleaming 'saber hilt. Obi-Wan's mouth popped open in astonishment and awe.
Master Palo chuckled throatily, and he sounded like a t'k'ta too. "Wondering why I carry that?" he growled.
The boy shook his head. That was obvious. Troon Palo was a full ranking Jedi master, and he carried the sacred emblem with pride. And if anyone ever tried to harm his clan, then it was obvious that the enormous hirsute master would do some Scourging of his own, in a blaze of glorious protective fury.
It was love at first sight.
"Ha!" Troon roared. "Every Clan is named after an animal." He squatted down on his haunches, still dwarfing the two star-struck boys. "Bears are brave, Squalls are swift, Heliosts are smart, Bergruuftas are loyal, Katarns are sneaky. But you know what Dragons are?"
"All of those?" Obi-Wan guessed, eagerly.
Troon snorted. "Right. Plus they're stubborn heads. Nobody and nothing in the galaxy can make a Dragon back away if he doesn't will it. So guess why I'm in charge."
Garen Muln abandoned tact in favor of truth. "You're stubborner than anyone else?"
The Clan Master grinned, revealing purple gums and double rows of razor sharp teeth. His dark eyes twinkled merrily. "Cause I like a good fight, you little reprobate!"
The younglings dodged his first dramatic attempt at snatching them and rolled between his legs into the playroom beyond, where Troon's other wards were enjoying a boisterous morning recess.
"So which one do I get?" the gigantic clan master inquired of Ali Alaan.
The latter person grimaced. "Both; it's a two for one deal. I've done my time – I gladly hand this duty over to your capable hands."
Troon waved him away with another rumbling chuckle. "The more the merrier," he decided, waving his colleague away with one huge and undeniably capable paw.
The one hour visit lengthened into an entire morning and afternoon. When Ali Alaan finally came to retrieve the boys at bedtime, they were all but ready to move into their new quarters at once.
"Soon enough," the tall man informed them. "It appears to be a good fit."
"We're tenacious," Obi-Wan piped up. "That's why."
"Master Troon said Dragons are naughty 'cept when a bigger dragon teaches them," Garen eagerly informed him. "Then they can be good."
"Krayt dragons are always bad," his friend corrected. "That's why there have to be good dragons. To stop the bad ones that nobody else can."
"I like Master Troon," Garen decided. "He is loud."
"T'k'ta would like him too," Obi-Wan concurred. "They have a great deal in common, like you said. Master. You were right!"
They slowed their pace. Ali Alaan broke the news gently. "Ah, but T'k'ta is the Scourge of the Creche… and that is where he must remain."
A terrible dilemma, one which Obi-Wan spent the remainder of the journey home contemplating, while Garen prattled harmlessly away about the day's happenings.
"Can Bruck come with us to Dragon Clan?" the quiet boy inquired when they reached the double doors.
That caught even Ali Alaan off guard. "What did you say?"
"I think Bruck should move to the Clan with us," his small companion repeated, a tiny furrow appearing between his brows. "It would be good for him." And it would keep the foremost threat to T'k'ta's safety firmly under the watchful eye of Troon Palo, who brooked no nonsense and – by his own admission – liked a good fight.
Master Ali's dark eyebrows rose. "Why do I sense ulterior motives in you?"
The boy turned this phrase over on his tongue a few times, silently, musing upon its possible meaning.
"I don't want Bruck to come with us," Garen Muln offered, glancing apologetically sideways. He was favored with a melting scowl.
"What's an ulterial motif?" Obi-Wan wondered aloud. "Is it bad?"
"Never mind," the elder Jedi murmured, waving open the portals. "Go prepare for sleep. Master Sifa will lead you all in meditation. I'll finalize matters – you will be moving in with Master Troon tomorrow evening."
Garen grabbed his friend's hand and propelled the pair of them into the playroom before Ali Alaan could propound any more details or make further inquiry into the matter of Bruck. He raised his shoulders in a small shrug and gladly turned away down the connecting passage, determined to savor the remainder of his furlough.