LIVING HISTORY
by ardavenport
= = = Part 9
Sebo had come up by his side. But she did not try to touch him.
He inhaled the air and the Force, deeply. He felt its strength through his connection to everything around him. It magnified his own energies many times. The living garden around him, the tower, the Castle, the people in them, the town beyond. The dizziness abated, but . . . .
. . . . not through his efforts. It was dying on its own. He let his head fall back and breathed until it was gone. He let go of the railing and stood back from it.
"Qui-Gon, are you well?"
He sighted. "Apparently not as well as I would have liked." He looked down at her. "But I am improving."
She nodded uncertainly, offered to show him the apartment's garden and he accepted.
They strolled together among the well maintained plants. Some were purely decorative but most served some function, food or a medicinal purpose. Among the plants, various worms, grubs and insects fed or were fed by the needs of the garden's ecology. Crawling and flying creatures came and went. Sebo did not like the tiny lizards. They were harmless, but they sometimes got into the apartment.
Along with plants there was a full set of surprisingly primitive tools and compost bins. Water came from rain and there were collectors on the roof next to rows of sun-energy collectors as well. The water could also be pumped up from below to a tank above the apartment in case of drought. Qui-Gon complimented her on the results and the balance of her work.
Qui-Gon looked at the brilliant sunset over the lake. The clouds and the snow on the mountains turned a deepening orange. The early evening breeze cooled his skin.
"Master?"
Startled, he whirled around, unhappy that his own apprentice returned without him noticing?
His hand gripped the railing, his arm rigid. The dizziness returned and for a moment he didn't know if he was falling forward or backward. But when his vision cleared he was still upright. Obi-Wan tightly clasped his other arm.
"Master? Are you well?"
He took a long, deep breath before answering. "Apparently not as well as I wished."
"Oh, but you are doing much better."
Qui-Gon found another surprise at his arm, Healer Mwassil. She barely came up to the center of his chest; somehow he had thought that she was taller. Going to his other side, she curved her arm around his, pulling him away from the railing so he had to steady himself on her and Obi-Wan.
"Other than dizziness, are you feeling unwell?"
Qui-Gon frowned down at her beaming face. "No. And the dizziness was momentary."
"Excellent," she replied back up at him. "Now, let's just get you inside." She led and Obi-Wan helped. By the time they sat him down on the sleeping platform he felt like he had regained his balance, but he had to lie down so Mwassil could scan him. She hummed a few tuneless notes as she passed her instrument over him. Obi-Wan peered around her, trying to read the display.
"Oh you are doing wonderfully," Mwassil exclaimed with bubbly enthusiasm. She patted his stomach and he resisted the impulse to seize her wrist and pinch a nerve. "You must be very healthy under normal circumstances."
"Yes." He gave her a glare that made Obi-Wan flinch, but she was quite immune to it.
"Of course you are. Now Obi-Wan here has told me that you ate at midday. Have we had any snackies since then?"
"No."
"Well, we're just going to have to get you something. Something easy and gentle." Healer Mwassil patted him on the stomach and bustled off, taking Obi-Wan with her to the food prep area.
Standing by the window, Sebo remained, watching him. He could see her out of the corner of his eye. He was lying in her bed. The bed she had slept in as the living embodiment of the woman of the tower for how many years?
Sebo started to move off. Qui-Gon turned his head on the pillow toward her.
"How long have you served as the Lady of the Tower?"
She looked surprised that he had spoken.
"Over half my life."
"Indeed," he answered thoughtfully. "It seems a high price to pay for your service to the History of your world."
"No more that yours." She clasped her hands before her, her expression calm.
He sighed. They had each devoted their lives to their own callings.
"Tell, me Sebo . . . . why was the Lady of the Tower imprisoned here?"
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"Here."
Obi-Wan looked up at the mirrored hemisphere over the floor covering the lift.
"Anyone entering can see the whole room. This area is clear of any obstructions. So, the danger from ambush has been minimized. And the eating area," Qui-Gon pointed and led his apprentice over to the alcove of cabinets and counters. "All the provisions are finger foods, vegetables, fruits, grains, nuts. Nothing that requires any sturdy utensils or cutters, nothing that can be easily made into an effective weapon." Qui-Gon pulled out a sliding compartment and Obi-Wan peered down at the scatter of wooden and plastoid rods and shapes. Then he looked over his shoulder back at the portable food preparers and cold storage unit, a stand of shiny utensils next to it.
"What about these?" he asked, looking up at his Master, who shook his head.
"Those were brought in specially for us." Qui-Gon put his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and led him out of the alcove, past the table with the remains of their evening meal still on it. They went out to the garden. Obi-Wan tugged his robe a little closer to him and looked carefully at his Master for any more signs of illness.
Qui-Gon picked up a digging implement from a bin. It was all wood and bone, bound with natural twine, simple and primitive. Much more primitive than the technology of the era that Sebo adhered to. Obi-Wan took out a simple clawed tool for turning soil and examined its smooth, carved prongs, stained with soil. The produce of the garden was sufficient to sustain a single occupant who tended it, minimizing the need for anyone to come or go along with the risk of escape. The tower apartment was not only a prison, it was exile.
The night breeze was brisk and it carried the scent of the trees from the nearby mountain, a tblack shape against a slightly less black sky. The lights of the rest of the Castle glowed below, some pointing upward. Yellow, white and pink town lights sprinkled the slopes below with a few scattered in the foothils. Everywhere else was dark, only faintly illuminated by the bluish white glow of the planet's smaller moons and sparse twinkling stars. The body of the galactic core, obscured by clouds of stellar dust, was not visible in the Outer Rim skies of Maarzim.
"Here." Qui-Gon pointed and Obi-Wan peered over the high railing of the balcony garden, between two potted trees. "The spikes and statuary immediately below would make climbing down difficult and slow, and if anyone fell, fatal. And even if an occupant of this tower were to try, this tower is visible to all parts of the Castle. No one could try to escape without being seen."
"Some of the performers took me on a tour during a break in their training. This tower was visible through all the parts of the Castle that I saw," Obi-Wan said, looking surprised that he had just realized this.
"Indeed." Qui-Gon folded his arms before him through the opposite sleeves of his robe. The night was cooling. He led his apprentice inside again, sliding the manual door closed behind them.
"But why would Sebo react so badly to your question?" Obi-Wan asked, still confused. "Surely it is known who was kept prisoner here and why?"
"Surely it is not, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon answered with a smile. "Sebo is sworn to preserve the Mystery of the person whose life she has assumed. That is part of the purpose of the Living History Lands. The Maarzim believe that they must keep their past alive if they are to have a future. And one way of doing that is preserving the secrets of their past through the acolytes who live it."
His apprentice looked thoughtful. "And revealing their secrets in a Play with song and dance?"
He smiled. "A ritual celebration. But whatever it is, the secrets of the Lady of the Tower and Darth Yarr are unlikely to be of any consequence to us." He lowered his brows. If there was some secret about how Darth Yarr fell, that could be of interest to the Jedi, though he doubted that it would be useful, having happened so long ago. And the Sith had been extinct for nearly a thousand years. Obi-Wan's next questions interrupted his private speculation.
"Master, why would they want to keep secrets about their past?"
He smiled. "Hidden knowledge is always more desirable. And because they enjoy it." Qui-Gon extended a hand to open space in the apartment. They would exercise and meditate before retiring. And perhaps he would be able to think of some way to explain a Mystery to Obi-Wan.
Or perhaps not.
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Obi-Wan had woken at dawn, and found his Master already up and exercising. To his relief, the illness seemed to have completely gone. Healer Mwassil showed up as they finished eating and beamed at their good health as she passed her scanners over them. But when she pulled out one of her swabs, Qui-Gon seized her wrist, making her jump. He politely took the swab, put it up his own nose and then presented it to her.
"Well, I suppose that will do." She popped it into a sample bottle and it disappeared into her case. Smiling, she politely hoped that she would not need to see them again. The forecast epidemic had not emerged with only a few new cases in the other Living History Lands, but the Healers were gathering for a special meeting with the new Chancellor to demand the quarantine they wanted.
"We will get it," she assured them as the lift took her down."
Qui-Gon nodded with a shrug. "I'm sure they will do their best." They got up and cleaned the leavings from their morning and then after getting their robes, left as well. At his Master's invitation, Obi-Wan preceded him down the long spiral stairway of the tower.
Finally at the bottom of the stairs, Obi-Wan touched the door control and glanced over his shoulder. Qui-Gon nodded for him to continue. There was no one in the gray upper hallways, adorned with only a few simple tapestries of geometric shapes in dull colors. They descended the stairway that led to the gallery. At the bottom of it they saw. . . . Darth Yarr.
It was actually a tall male, dressed as Darth Yarr. Apparently one of the performers. He paced back and forth, silently rehearsing motions, lunging steps, outstretched arms and turns. He took one last turn and froze, seeing the two Jedi watching him.
As far as Obi-Wan could tell, the costume was accurate. Sith Lords of that era had dressed as flamboyantly as Republic senators. Yarr wore black clothes with a line of red triangle shapes running down the sides of the pants and sleeves, a red body sash, black belt and tall black boots. The red triangles ran down the edges of the overlapping tunic front. There was black and red shoulder and forearm armor over the sleeves and a mask that covered the whole face, half white, half black, with large triangles of contrasting colors on the cheeks. The red triangle on the black left side pointed down. The black triangle on the white side pointed up.
Yarr had also been female. Except for that detail, this male dancer recreated the Sith Lord very well.
He backed up a pace away from them, hastily bowed and fled down the length of the gallery to the stairs leading below.
Qui-Gon raised his brows. Together, they went to the gallery and looked down into the Castle's main hall. It was full of Darth Yarrs. At the other end of Tamwa Hall, the builders and droids had completed a tilted black stage and busily unloaded equipment from room-sized open crates. They made curiously little sound as they worked, possibly because of the faint and hazy red field wall emanating from a line of tall black posts that separated their end of the hall.
Master and apprentice went to the stairs leading down to the floor of the hall.
There were Darth Yarrs standing, sitting, exercising, chatting in groups, lying down. And more coming in through the doors. But every time they turned around and saw the Jedi they would hastily back away and find some other place to go. Obi-Wan looked for Yana or Jutwa or Timoz, but it was impossible to be sure of who was who with the masks.
Someone called out from the center of the room. It was Pecku, announcing the day of the audition for Darth Yarr.
Qui-Gon led the way through the crowd to a group of Castle Custodians, technicians and Director Tykon. The volatile director, dressed in bright blue leggings and green and white striped sleeveless shirt, turned around and saw him.
"Finally!" He marched up to Qui-Gon, his face less than a hand's length away from the Jedi Master. They were the same height.
Obi-Wan saw his Master lean back away slightly, as if in the stiff breeze of Tykon's scrutiny, his eyes widening. But he quickly recovered and even leaned slightly toward the Director, who did not back away.
"If you were one of my thesps, I would have thrown you out for missing a primary audition, but since the Chancellor wants authentic Jedi Venerates to be part of this, then I hope you can make yourself useful for the remaining ones."
Qui-Gon's expression turned neutral. "We come to serve." He did not give the customary bow that went with that salutation.
Tykon reluctantly broke eye contact first to whirl around to his assistant. "Pekku! Get them lined up!"
Both Jedi watched Pecku and two other Play assistants herd fifty Darth Yarrs into place. A couple came in running from other rooms, hastily adjusting their masks. Finally they had five rows of ten Darth Yarrs each. Tykon paced in front of them.
"This is the audition for the second major part of this History drama. ANY of you who thinks that Darth Yarr is the villain in the story can leave this company right now! Darth Yarr is a leader who commands the loyalty of thousands. She is fast. She is powerful. And she is loved by her subjects and she knows it! If you do not know this to the core or your being I promise you I will see it in your performance!"
A few of the Darth Yarrs visibly shrank back from Tykon's threat, but most of them remained grimly stoic, their shoulders tense and determined, their masks covering up their unease. They were like a troop of soldiers anticipating a skirmish.
"Now, since Venerate Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn has finally presented himself, we can begin. Pekku!"
Pekku came running up with two lightsticks. He handed the red one to Tykon and kept the blue for himself. Tykon smoothly twirled the glowing red stick in exactly the same why Obi-Wan had done the day before, which surprised the young apprentice. He had not seen the drama Director do anything more than demonstrate some of the dance moves.
"We will be auditioning the climactic battle between Yarr and Keth, with you performing the part of Yarr. Like this!"
Immediately Director and assistant assumed fighting positions.
Whack! Eee-Fwack! Whack! Eee-Fwack! Whack! Eee-Fwack! Whack! Eee-Fwack!
Both of them 'fought' with fast and wildly exaggerated moves that left their bodies open to obvious attacks. Pecku backed up while Tykon advanced. The rows of Darth Yarr's watched attentively.
"Now!" Tykon broke contact with Pecku's lightstick and he snapped the extendible blade back into its hilt. "I want you two Jedi to show everyone here how you move in a fight like this, so we can top off the choreography."
With a bemused expression, Qui-Gon inclined his head to the Director. He let his robe fall from his shoulders, caught it and tossed it away. A second later Obi-Wan's robe followed it. Then he faced his apprentice, unclipped his lightsaber and Obi-Wan did the same.
"You will attack," Qui-Gon instructed. They ignited their sabers, holding them up vertically in a brief salute.
"PEKKU!"
Their sabers went out. Qui-Gon turned an annoyed glare at Tykon.
= = = End Part 9