Qui-Gon burst into the common area not twenty minutes after he'd left it. The others were just clearing away the remains of their meal.
"We have to go now."
"What is it, Qui-Gon?" Tahl's sightless eyes widened in alarm.
"Remember my vision?"
"The nexus..."
"It may already be too late," he told them, turning to leave. Tomas stepped into his path, caught him mid-stride.
"What are you talking about?"
A sudden wave of terror, of agony, assailed Qui-Gon. He clasped his head in both hands. "No!"
"What -"
"He's hurting him!"
In moments Tahl was at his side, and then both his friends were pulling Qui-Gon into a seat.
"Tell us," said Tahl firmly, "or we won't be able to help."
With a wrenching of his will Qui-Gon centered, brought his awareness of Obi-Wan under his control, pushed it to the periphery so he could think.
"In my meditation, I was able to reach Obi-Wan. I told him we were coming for him. He was happy at first, but then - regretful. I could feel that there was something he intended to do."
"What do you think that was?"
"I don't know. But I could feel his resolve. He's prepared himself for death."
"And this is his choice, the act you foresaw for him, on which hinges Xanatos' success or failure? Is it past? What was his choice?"
"Tahl -"
"Look."
Knowing they were right, that they needed to know, Qui-Gon squelched his anxiety and turned to the Force. He could not afford, now of all times, to allow his fear to guide him. As he had told Obi-Wan, ages ago it felt now, the very *worst* time, is when it's *most* important to live by the code. He needed to walk the narrow path. He centered, reached out...
"He's caused Xanatos to suffer a major setback. But he's not defeated, and Obi-Wan's trial is not yet finished..." He reached out to his Padawan's presence in the Force, and found his mind churning, his feelings in turmoil. Dark Side energy coursed through the boy. "What is Xanatos doing to him?" he whispered. "He has something... insidious... in mind..."
"That poor dear boy," Tahl murmured.
"How much time do we have?" Tomas asked.
"I don't know." Qui-Gon shook his head. He closed his eyes, then, seeking clarity of his inner sight. "Events are coming to a head, now; like a wave cresting." He opened his eyes to look across at Tomas. "We don't have until tonight: of that much I'm certain."
"Now is the time to make our move," Tahl agreed.
"I can still go in through the arena," said Qui-Gon. "I'll get past the guards at the trainers' entrance; I don't think there's time, now, for any other route."
"But Xanatos is there, now, Qui-Gon. With him between you and the boy..."
"Master, my plan would take care of that."
"Ki-Erin Mundorin!"
The girl spoke in a rush, now, determined to be heard. "Even if we can't get Xanatos to come to us, at least we will have another route to his quarters. With three of us coming in from two directions, we have more chance of success."
Tomas shook his head at his Padawan in frustration. She stared back, her gaze unswerving.
"You don't know what you're asking, Padawan. Slaves are owed no respect on this planet, and we'll have to keep up the charade for at least a while in order to get Xanatos' attention."
"I'm not afraid, Master. You'll be with me."
The Jedi Master sighed, and placed both hands on the girl's slim shoulders. "I don't like it."
"My idea will work, Master, and you know it."
Tahl and Qui-Gon exchanged concerned glances. Neither of them liked the idea. But it was not their decision to make. And the girl was right: it was a good plan.
Tomas nodded sadly. "All right then. Qui-Gon, we'll want to time your arrival so we get Xanatos' attention before you go in."
"I'll take Tahl back to the starship, she can coordinate from there." He looked to Tahl, who nodded. "Then I'll get into position so I can go right in when you're ready."
*****
Half an hour later, Qui-Gon approached the Palace, having left Tahl behind in the relative safety of their borrowed starship. He had hidden himself in a crowd, walking in step with arena-goers on the path to the main doors. He stopped by the side of the path, as if to check his pockets; glanced surreptitiously toward the trainers' door. His act faltered.
Sitaris was coming toward him down the path.
The man looked disturbed, agitated. Qui-Gon turned and stepped in beside him as he passed, matching his pace. It was a mark of the man's distress that it took nearly half a minute for him to notice.
"Who -"
"Please keep walking, to the turn-off there. I need to talk with you."
"I can't -"
"It's urgent. Regarding the boy you've been training."
The man's interest was caught. He closed his lips on his protest, staring at Qui-Gon for a few seconds, then nodded tightly.
The narrow road they were following looped back into the tangle of the old city. A block past the first buildings, Sitaris nodded at a small dingy tavern.
"We can talk privately there, I trust the proprietor."
Qui-Gon considered for a moment. He sensed no deceit, no hidden purpose in the man. He entered.
The small crowd in the entry quickly cleared a path for the two large, grim men. Sitaris nodded to the bartender, silently indicating they would take two drinks. Then he led the way to a quiet corner table and seated himself with his back to the wall. Qui-Gon took the other wall seat.
"Your business?"
"How is he?" Qui-Gon asked urgently.
Sitaris' brow creased in confusion. "How-"
"What is Xanatos doing to him? Is he all right?"
Sitaris' jaw worked, soundlessly. He was obviously trying to put two and two together, and coming up with twenty-five.
The bartender walked over with two mugs, setting them down in the center of the table, and left them as quietly as he had come.
"Why do you care?" Sitaris asked suddenly.
"Do you care anything for that boy?" Qui-Gon countered. He didn't wait for an answer, he could read it in the man's reaction. "Listen to me. Two weeks ago and more Xanatos kidnapped that boy from me. For revenge. He cares nothing for the boy, except as a means to hurt me, as a means to his own twisted ends. He's been treating him cruelly, hurting him for no reason, though I imagine he's tried to hide such acts from you. Am I correct?"
He watched Sitaris's face, already knowing the trainer's answer. He was surprised when the big man's face twisted in anguish.
"The boy told me this. The boy told me and I refused to believe him." He put his elbows on the table, leaning his face into hands. "I punished him for it, for the lie I thought it must be. Punished him in anger, because I felt he had betrayed me."
Qui-Gon was surprised to feel a rush of compassion for the man - knowing what the nature of that punishment probably was... He hardened his heart. If his instincts were true in this -
"So you trusted an offworlder's honor, and you dishonored yourself."
He sensed the stab of shame and dismay; waited for Sitaris to compose himself. Finally the man dropped his hands, looked to Qui-Gon, his gaze sad but steady.
"Do you have proof of your claim to him?"
"Not on this world."
Qui-Gon held the man's eyes and waited. Finally the man sighed, lowered his eyes, his thoughts settled.
"Xanatos ordered me out this morning, threatened me, when I protested his treatment of the bonder. It was the first time I had ever seen him mistreat the boy, though there has been other... evidence... the past few days. I don't know if he's alive or dead, now. I don't know how to find out: the Mozelle have little real power within the confines of the Palace." The trainer paused, then looked up once more. "What do you want me to do?"
"Can you help me to get in to Xanatos' quarters?"
Sitaris leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Maybe. If he hasn't changed the access codes. But you must realize that we won't be able to smuggle the boy out, not while he's wearing the collar. It carries a transmitter that can be identified and activated from anywhere within the Palace grounds, and a good ways beyond."
Qui-Gon blew out a long breath in frustration. "Can you remove it?"
"No, I've never been trusted with that code. I might be able to deactivate it, at least for a time. Xanatos, however, can override any commands I make."
"We'll just have to deal with that when the time comes. Will you bring me there now?" He checked the chrono in his pocket: not much time left, now, before Tomas and Ki-Erin were in place, and it was time to do his part.
"I will."
They stood. Sitaris left payment on the table for their untouched drinks. Then they left.