The next day, I beat Zefel for third time in a practice duel

I beat Zefel for third time in a practice duel. I feel bad, but she would be upset if I eased up on her.

We clean up and walk in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. I wait for her to talk. She doesn't.

Suddenly, I see Fang walking by a young Rodian.

"Jiimo!" Zefel and I shout.

In the past two years, we have seen Jiimo about five times. His master, Khiro Arrez, is no the sort of Jedi who likes to be sitting around in the Temple.

"Jiimo, how are you, and how long will you be here?" I ask quickly.

"I'm fine. Khiro isn't. He almost lost his arm to some crazy animal. Don't ask me how." He shuddered. "He should be fine, but the healers are very careful, so it might be four or five days before they let him go."

"Really?" I'm delighted. I'm also impressed that Jiimo's master managed to get so badly hurt that he might be here for five days.

"Tell me what's been going on here. All I know is that Dorn is dead, Akite is alive, and Zefel was dead for three weeks before becoming alive."

It sounds like he is getting his information from an interesting source – probably the archives. I note that his voice does not shake when he mentions Dorn, though he was Dorn's best friend.

I also notice that Zefel's expression is less than happy.

We tell him everything. It is good, for me at least, to tell the story to a new person. He is unusually sympathetic. He agrees that Zefel needs a lightsaber and a master.

We outnumber her with quite good odds.

Jiimo comes to classes the next day. There are now five padawans in the class with us and an apprenticed healer. I have noticed that initiates have begun to disappear – to masters, I guess. Jiimo is shown to be at the academic level of the twelve-year-old initiates. Since he is fourteen and has been a padawan since he was twelve, this is not good. One teacher mentions that he should stay at the Temple longer to catch up. I hope he does.

However, at lightsaber practice, he is shown to have improved immensely. I finally have a worthy opponent. I can't wait to fight him.

At lunch, Jiimo tells us a fantastic tale of how Khiro almost lost his arm. Master Sual keeps shaking his head with a little smile on his face. I think Jiimo is stretching the truth. He likes to do that, but having him is almost as good as having Dorn around. Maybe better, because he doesn't get us into trouble.

It is the third morning since Jiimo came. Zefel doesn't come to breakfast. I offer to get her, but Master Sual stops me.

"She left earlier to make a new lightsaber.

My joy is boundless.

Zefel is waiting in my room. "I thought you should see it first." She hands me a black hilt.

I examine it carefully. It is pretty, as lightsaber hilts go. It seems to have patterns carved in it. Most of the mechanics, including the on/off switch, are inside, so there is room for this. I look closely at them.

Some are meaningless swirls.

Others look like teardrops.

"Zefel," I whisper. "Why tears? I thought things were getting better."

"They might be blood. I'm not sure. The Force told me to put them there."

That's a good excuse, I want to snap. But I know it's true. "Why, though? You must have some idea."

"When I look into the future, the Force shows me grief and pain."

I shake my head. This is war. I flick the internal switch with the Force. The blade is blue, like her old one, like most padawans'. I hand it back to her. "I hope there is more to the future than that."

She looks at me with agony in her eyes.

Someone knocks on my door. "Akite!" It's Jiimo.

"Yeah, come in! Zefel's back."

"Really?" The door slides open. "Can I see?"

Fang comes in after him, tall, regal, and golden. He seems happy about something.

Zefel gives the lightsaber hilt to Jiimo. "What is it, Fang?" I ask excitedly.

"We have received five former prisoners," Fang says quietly.

"Tell us," I request.

Between Jiimo and Fang, we learn the story. The Republic took many prisoners in a recent battle, including several minor Separatist leaders. The Separatists offered two Jedi in return for some of these. Master Windu is apparently a good bargainer, because he backed them into corners until they admitted that they could give three, four, and finally five Jedi. The Council spoke to these Jedi, the deals were finalized, and the Jedi are on their way home.

I ask who they are. Fang says that he doesn't know them. Jiimo says that one is fifteen years old and another is eighteen. The other three are adults.

Zefel is smiling.

Tonight, after my friends leave, I spend a little time meditating. I ask the Force what is in the future. It answers:

Hope.

We're halfway through! How am I doing?