LIVING HISTORY
by ardavenport
= = = Part 12
Obi-Wan heard Jutwa and Timoz sigh loudly as soon as Qui-Gon disappeared through the archway leading to the Lake wing of the Castle. Yana looked relieved as well.
"You never said your Master was so . . . intimidating."
He frowned. "He isn't usually that way. Really, he's very friendly."
"Friendly?" Jutwa looked skeptical. "I couldn't believe it when he chopped off Director Tykon's saber prop. He looked like he was going to chop up Tykon next."
"He wouldn't do that," Obi-Wan denied. How could anyone think that any Jedi could do anything like that just because someone yelled at them? "And what about Director Tykon? He's never satisfied, no matter how well you do, and he's always angry about it; how can you learn anything from that?"
"He's the Director, he has to push us," Yana told him as if this should be obvious, "and besides that, he's Tykon. He's made his own History. He directed his first History Play when he was right out of the Mweweer Academy and it just killed everything else. He's one of the original founders of the Twagri Group. He's one of the youngest persons to be installed in the Archives of History, ever. That means, sometime in the future, people will be writing History Plays about him."
"And the people he's with," Timoz said gesturing to himself and his friends. "And he's not just a Director; he's a performer like us, too. He did 'Green Leaves' and 'The Lies Under the King's Table' . . . I know those ones have made it to the popular holos on Coruscant."
"And he's not angry," Jutwa added. "It's passion. And you're not going to make good art without passion. You're not going to get any art without passion. It isn't even History if you don't feel it."
Obi-Wan could feel the difference between passion and anger; Tykon was angry when he didn't get what he wanted. And if his Master was right, that the Director was really dissatisfied with the Play itself, then none of the performers had any chance of gaining his approval. But he did not want to argue the point, especially since he had not seen anything more than the minimal biographics information from their briefing. He had never heard of Ebsi Tykon before this mission. Even if Jedi did pay attention to the misma of popular entertainment on the Core worlds, a few notable works from an Outer Rim artist would be lost in the avalanche of choices that came and went like day-flies.
Yana also seemed to not want to get into an argument; she leaned toward him. "Well, perhaps Venerate Jedi Master Jinn still wasn't feeling well when he was cross with Director Tykon."
Obi-Wan knew that was not true, but he did not contradict her. They obviously had a ready excuse for anything that Tykon did.
They finished eating. Obi-Wan wasn't very hungry and only finished half the food on his plate. They went for a walk outside. The Castle had extensive gardens, all the paths lined with well trimmed green bushes and shrubs. Dozens of other dances were outside as well, though none of the technical and stage crew joined them; they did not get a break after their meal. The Castle had felt stuffy inside and Obi-Wan was glad for the fresh air.
Pointing at a trio of unmasked Darth Yarrs stretching and spinning in a grassy flower-edged circle, Obi-Wan asked what they wanted to practice. Yana and her friends looked scandalized.
"We can't practice any of the Play parts we know out here," she explained, "We can't even talk about it. Not where anyone can see or hear. We're just going to exercise."
"But anyone can see you, your costumes I mean."
Timoz waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, everybody knows who's in the Play and what they look like. That's known history. But we're forbidden to speak or divulge anything specific about it outside the Castle."
"We could be banned for life from the stage if we ever exposed anything about the story of a History Play." Jutwa warned. "Even struck from the Records if it's really bad. And I for one, want a good part in this one. Having a lead role in one of Director Tykon's History Plays gets you a lot better things than just dancing and acting in the background for any of us."
"Not that we know anything about the Mystery, anyway," Yana assured him before spying an unoccupied open area. "We can exercise over there before practice; it's been long enough after the meal."
Sighing, Obi-Wan held back the questions he had wanted to ask about why they had been singing about loving the Sith; they would have to be saved for later. He did not want to casue any trouble for them; they had enough of that with auditioning for Tykon. But he felt badly ill-informed. Was it common knowledge that Yarr's subjects loved her? The Jedi who destroyed her were helped by a servant who betrayed her. Why would anyone do that if they loved her?
They went through the winding paths to an open space, paved with tan and gray stone in an interconnecting pattern and surrounded by low flowering bushes and short wide trees with trailing branches, strands of bright green leaves hanging down to the ground.
Obi-Wan stretched with them, automatically clearing his mind, feeling the Force in the garden around him, the trees, the bushes, through the plant-scented air . . . in the three black-clad dancers facing him. They started out, each pursing their own routine, but gradually they synchronized, the three dancers following him. The sunlight shined bright on Jutwa's pale hair, on the red triangles on Yana's sleeves as she extended her arms, on the white half of the mask hanging over Timoz's chest as he lunged forward.
Breathing deeply again, Obi-Wan reached for the Force; it was there, but it seemed clouded. The three dancers dressed as Sith Lords, along with more in other parts of the gardens, were a distraction; he accepted that. He stepped forward . . . forward . . . forward . . . turn . . . arm out, forward, up. Mindful of each move, he felt the Force flow into his body, from everything around him, through him, under and above. Sweep with the arm, the leg, turn, strike-PUSH . . .
A bush a few paces away rustled, losing a few yellow and orange flower petals. It wasn't much, but it was what it was. He accepted it with an exhale, the Force slipping back at once into the background again. The air felt stuffy again, losing it's freshness.
To the side, and behind him, Yana, Jutwa and Timoz dropped their stances. They didn't even glance at the bush; they probably hadn't noticed.
"Aaaah," Yana sighed, "that was nice."
"Yeah, Timoz agreed, "but we'd better get back in for some real practice."
The other Yarrs seemed to have the same idea. Most of them were milling about in the great hall. Pecku strolled in from the stage area and announced that they would have an open practice until the auditions before third meal. Director Tykon was nowhere to be seen and no explanation was given for where he was.
"Come on." Yana skipped forward to the box of lightsticks. "Let's go find a room to practice in before all the good ones are taken." They grabbed lightsticks, along with Another Yarr, a tall youthful looking man with blue eyes and black and yellow striped hair who got Obi-Wan's attention.
"Excuse me, Venerate Jedi Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi, could you stay here and practice with us? And perhaps show us some of the fighting techniques that you used with Venerate Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn?" Five other Yarrs, of varying sizes and shapes, their eyes respectfully making the same request, stood behind him.
"Of course," he answered immediately. "However I can help."
A big smile breaking out on his face, the tall young Yarr gestured to the side. "Could we line up, taking it in turns with you like we did yesterday? And if you could tell us, please, where you think we might improve."
Obi-Wan frowned. "I can only tell you what I know about fighting. I think that could be very different from what Director Tykon wants you to do." He did not want to mislead them by telling them something that was correct for real lightsaber fighting but completely wrong for the Play. But the young Yarr's smile just got a little bigger.
"You honor us with your presence, Venerate Jedi Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi. And we are most grateful for the good luck you bring us." His eyes, and those of the other Yarr's glowed with admiration that Obi-Wan did not feel was quite deserved.
The Yarrs hurried to form a line, placing their black, white and red masks over their faces again, ready to take their turn. Shrugging Obi-Wan, turned toward Yana and her friends.
She glared at the other Yarrs, but then she, Jutwa and Timoz startled when she realized he was looking at them. Averting their eyes, they went to the back of the line. Blinking back surprise, Obi-Wan watched them go, but they put on their masks and did not look back at him.
Turning back to the tall Yarr, he asked what they needed. He and his friends gave him a quick demonstration of the routine required for the audition. It was a series of slashing advances for Yarr and dodges and retreats for the Jedi (the Yarrs did not know if it was Keth or Minigan since that information about the Play was still withheld). He did it with one and then the others, one at a time. As soon as one finished, he or she went to the back of the line for another turn.
He gave Yana an encouraging smile when her turn came up, but her eyes stared blankly back at him from behind the mask, her entire focus on the dance and nothing more. Jutwa and Timoz did the same. He wondered if he had offended them.
Repeating the routine over and over with the Yarrs, he noticed that the line kept growing until he was sure that every Yarr in the audition was there. After everyone had one turn they started coming after him faster, though hardly fast enough to challenge his training. At least he thought so at first, but as the dancers came around for their third turn he found himself tiring; the Castle air felt stuffy again. The Force was there but he felt out-of-synch with it and he relied on his own muscle memory and repetition to keep up the dance with the Yarrs. He could imagine Qui-Gon's voice in his head, telling him to focus.
"All right, auditions!"
Pekku's sudden annoucement jolted him out of the haze of automatic movement and the Yarr he practiced with jumped back. The whole group of them broke up, scattered and reformed into their neat lines. Tykon strolled up to them as if for an inspection. Behind him, Pekku with Qui-Gon, watched. Surprised, Obi-Wan wondered when his Master had returned from his tour of the Castle. Or had he come in with Pekku?
"This is the second audition. Your second chance for greatness." Tykon stared them all down. Behind him, Pecku and a stage technician set loose the hovering holo-droids. "Form a line!"
The Yarrs broke up again and reformed into a line. Some of the technicians ran up to them, checking their costumes for anything that might have come loose or needed repair. Obi-Wan looked down at the lightstick in his hand and up again, expecting Tykon to call him to his position. But he did not.
"Pecku!" Tykon called out. His assistant came forward with a lightsaber prop and stopped in front of Qui-Gon.
"You will do this audition with Venerate Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn!" the Director announced to his Yarrs.
Qui-Gon's eyebrown rose.
"You are a Sith Lord! Fighting a Jedi Knight!" Tykon pointed at Qui-Gon. "Your mortal enemy who is sworn to destroy you!" He paced before his performers again. "I expect your performances to show it!"
Holding the prop lightstick up with disdain, Qui-Gon curled his lip at it and then at Tykon. Obi-Wan looked from the Director to his Master. His Master didn't know any of the steps; he had not been practicing with any of the dancers.
Tykon pointed at the first Yarr in line and she stepped forward.
"Begin!"
The music started. Darth Yarr lunged.
Click! Click! Click!
The lightsticks tapped together, Qui-Gon simply blocking the dancer's swings as he backed up. This Yarr was following the routine perfectly, but Obi-Wan was sure it was too slow. The routine finished and the Yarr backed up to start again.
"Pick it up! You are fighting your deadliest enemy, not playing a sssats garden game!"
Click! Click! Click!
The Yarr attacked faster this time. But after the third step, Qui-Gon suddenly whirled to the side, bringing his stick down - - clik! - - quickly back up, then he backed up to the side as the Yarr pursued two more steps. He darted to the side, swinging his saber prop upward, knocking the Yarr's stick out of the way and then slashing his down again.
The next time, Qui-Gon changed his part after only two steps, but the Yarr seemed to be ready for him and reacted faster, still driving him back. The single keyboardist relentlessly played the music with the action. After doing the routine two more times Tykon told the Yarr to stop and he went into consultation with Pecku. The Director ignored Qui-Gon, left standing holding his lightstick.
The next Yarr came after Qui-Gon with more speed, but he startled and backed up when Qui-Gon changed the routine on him as well. The second time he tripped, fell rolling on the ground and coming up facing the Jedi. Tykon ordered him off after he did the routine only twice.
The auditions proceded that way and Obi-Wan lost count of how many had their turn, except for the dwindling number of Darth Yarrs in the line. After their audition, all of them went to an exit, presumably to take their costumes off.
Sitting on a bench, Obi-Wan grew weary of the auditioning; the keyboardist played the same music over and over and over. He could see that she wasn't paying any attention to it anymore; her hands danced over the keys on auto-pilot. Feeling very warm and uncomfortable, the young Jedi yawned and rubbed his eyes. He hoped that when the auditions were done, they could go back up to the apartment for dinner. He did not want to eat, but he could lay down and rest up in the tower. He knew he was sick. He realized he had been feeling it creeping up on him all afternoon. He just hoped he could leave quietly without notice.
When there were only two Yarrs left in the line, Obi-Wan thought seriously about going up to the tower before the auditons were done. He looked around for his robe and spotted it on a bench on the other side of the room. He wondered if it was worth the trouble to go get it. Then he wondered if he could make it all the way up the stairs to the apartment if he couldn't even cross Tamwa Hall to get his robe.
He stayed upright until the last Yarr finished. After seeing the determination of Yana and her friends, he did not want to ruin the audition for any them. But as soon as the music stopped, he lay down on the bench.
Footsteps pounded on the stone floor toward his bench.
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon touched his shoulder.
= = = End Part 12