LIVING HISTORY
by ardavenport
= = = Part 18
Obi-Wan sat with Yana and her friends in a foursome on the floor of Tamwa Hall. Other peformers and Play crew members sat together in their own groups where the Castle staff had told them to sit. Even the people working on the stage beyond the sound-muffling field wall were idle, sitting in small groups, waiting for something to happen.
After Qui-Gon left him to wonder what his instructions meant, Yana, Timoz and Jutwa found him. The three dancers greeted him warmly, though they did not touch him. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if it was deference to his rank or fear that he still might be contagious. The quarantine did not seem to have changed the Castle routine much. Access was already restricted because of the Play preparations. But the auditions were still suspended until confirmation of no new sephrada cases, giving the performers some time off, though the stage crew continued their construction work.
Very soon after Qui-Gon left, Yana pointed at the gallery overlooking the hall. When Obi-Wan looked, he saw Sebo, her pale yellow clothes distinctive from the performers, who all seemed to have been issued the same loose tan pants, light gray tunics and plain beige shoes. The performers were in awe of her, which initially surprised Obi-Wan. But Sebo lived the life of the exiled Lady of the Tower. She was rarely seen outside of it since she had taken her position decades ago. She was also the senior Venerate for the History Play, something that Yana and her friends would only talk about in hushed tones.
Soon after Sebo followed Qui-Gon down the entry to a corridor, Castle staff in blue tunics and robes appeared; they shouted orders for everyone to not move, stand and sit wherever they were. Any violators were to be considered for expulsion from the Living History Lands. Everyone involved in the Play immediately did as they were told. Obi-Wan was not sure if the edict applied to him, but he followed their instructions anyway.
What had his Master done?
While they waited, Yana, Jutwa and Timoz speculated about the possible new parts for the Play.
"Will there be new auditions for the new parts?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Oh, no," Yana shook her head. "If there are any new parts they won't be major. The main characters are set."
"And they won't be big parts, but they could be solos." Timoz grinned at the prospect of a new prize to win.
"That'll depend on who's doing the changes," Jutwa added with a grimace. "I hope it's Tykon; I don't think Mwemas likes me for anything."
"Of course it'll be Tykon. You've heard what they've been saying," Timoz finished in a near whisper. Both Yana and Jutwa winced back.
"What have they been saying?" Obi-Wan finally asked, leaning toward them.
"There've been a lot of replacements on the Creative Committee and that almost never happens," Yana confessed after glancing around them, as if she did not want the secret to escape from their little group. "Kiklum Gwos was the original writer and composer, but she didn't get along with Tykon. And then they brought in Lizm Was Tur after she left, but he didn't last either. Then they brought in Aka, Smetin and Mwemas because they've all worked with Tykon before."
"And the Chancellor is supposed to have threatened to cancel the History Play if Tykon couldn't get along with them." Timoz leaned into their little comspiracy as well.
"Even the Chancellor wouldn't have done that. Tykon would've been stuck here until Yarr's Mystery was revealed and that could've been years. It's fine if Gwos and Was Tur have to stick it out; they're not that popular. And they're not that good. But Tykon? He's too big."
"Why would Tykon have to stay here if the Play were cancelled?"
The three performers looked back at him. "Because if you've been told the Mystery, you're bound to the Living History Lands, like the Venerates. You can't leave until it's revealed, no matter how long it takes," Yana explained.
Timoz pointed upward, in the general direction of the Mountain part of the Castle. "Gwos and Was Tur are supposed to be staying in a cottage around here and they haven't been seen since they resigned."
Jutwa nodded. "They'll be at the Play for sure."
Obi-Wan was quite certain that this little detail had not been in his mission briefing. Had they told Qui-Gon the Mystery? If the Play was cancelled by the quarantine, would they be obliged to stay? He doubted the Jedi Council would agree to that. Was that why Qui-Gon had so suddenly jumped out of the tower? He looked up to where Qui-Gon and Sebo had gone.
"I hope they don't cancel the Play," he said seriously.
"They won't," Yana said with confidence. "Tykon's too important. He's Tykon. There would be 'Free Ebsi Tykon' protests all over the Living History Lands if they tried. He's supposed to be working on a holo-series right after this."
"Even Tykon isn't bigger than History," Timoz muttered. Yana gave her a cross glare, but she did not back down. "I'm not down-grading Tykon, but he hasn't directed or written any big projects in over five years, not since 'The Sealed Door'."
"What about 'Green Leaves'?"
"That one wasn't his; he was just in it! And, yeah, he stole the whole show, but it was only a small part and he was just acting like himself. He hasn't written a major work for a few years now." Timoz leaned forward. "And I heard from Gwoor that Twunar wasn't even sick after all."
"What has that got to do with anything?" Yana demanded.
"Because the quarantine gives Tykon and a few of the other Directors more time to work on their Plays. Tykon's supposed to have made a deal so Twunar could have an excuse for not being in the Play and the Healers went along with it because they want the quarantine, too."
"He wouldn't do that!" Yana hissed.
"Sssssshhhhhh!"
Both women turned their ire on Jutwa Eris for a second before they realized what he was looking at. One of the Castle Custodians frowned in their direction, instantly ending the rising tempers.
"Aaah! Something's happening!" He pointed..
The line of pale blue tunics that blocked the doorway where Qui-Gon had gone broke up. A moment later Qui-Gon appeared, taller than the others, his pale tunics standing out from the blue ones that hastily moved out of his way. He strode down the gallery. A voice called out and the Jedi stopped, turned around, his long brown hair hanging down his broad back.
Obi-Wan's three companions gasped and pointed when they saw Sebo's yellow tunic among the blues. Custodian Tykon's large bulk joined Sebo and Qui-Gon while the other Castle staff left the gallery. A group came down the stairs to the Great Hall and spread out, speaking quietly to the others.
Director Tykon, in tight yellow pants and green shirt, appeared from the archway leading to the rest of the Castle, spotted the people in the gallery and ran up the stairs, his assistant, Pecku right behind him. Soon after that, Sebo left with Tykon and Pecku. Qui-Gon turned to go and then stopped. He looked down at Tamwa Hall.
"Obi-Wan."
He leaped up, nodding a farwell to the others and sweeping his robe off the floor as he ran across the Hall and up the stairs. The Castle staff stepped aside for him as he passed. Down in the Hall, the same person who had gone about announcing that everyone should stop what they were doing and stand or sit in place was now calling out that everyone should resume their previous activities.
Qui-Gon met him in the gallery. "The quarantine will end the day after tomorrow if there are no reports of new sickness. We will spend that time in the tower until we are needed again for the next audition." Qui-Gon did not wait for his answer and he fell in step behind as they headed upstairs.
Obi-Wan said nothing as they went up the long spiral staircase. Qui-Gon's long legs could climb up two steps as a time, so Obi-Wan had to quick-trot after him. He kept his eyes up at his Master's back while he mentally went over what he would have to say.
As soon as the lift hatch closed, Obi-Wan took a deep breath.
And then let it out again as Qui-Gon headed for the fresher.
Alone in the open central area of the apartment, he turned around in a circle, throwing his head back. He bounced on his feet, to dispel the queasy chill in his stomach. He had to ask. It was not just curiosity Qui-Gon's instruction for him to notify the Temple if he did not return by sundown meant that he expected danger. Was it the holocron?
At the moment, the only danger Obi-Wan could sense was the severe rebuke he would get from Qui-Gon for defying his instruction to not ask about the Sith holocron again. It was so clear and simple, when the senior Masters in the Temple instructed Padawans to question their own Masters if they felt they were wrong. But in real life, it was very difficult.
The Master must learn from the Padawan, just as the Padawan learns from the Master.
That sounded so easy in theory.
The fresher door opened.
"Master."
Obi-Wan stood up straight, arms formally folded into the opposite sleeves of his robe. At first, Qui-Gon only glanced at him, but then he stopped and turned to face him.
"Padawan."
"You have returned before sundown. Will there be any need to contact the Jedi Temple in the future?" That seemed a safe enough inquiry to start with.
"No. My concerns were unfounded." Qui-Gon looked only slightly annoyed and his tone was neutral.
"Your warning implied a danger. Should I not know what that danger is? To be prepared for it?"
There was a pause, Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes lowering thoughtfully.
"No." He walked around his surprised apprentice to go to the small table by the food prep area.
"Master," Obi-Wan followed him. "If there is a danger, I should be told about it."
Qui-Gon picked up his robe from the back of one of the chairs. "I have confirmed that there is no danger. There is nothing more to be said about it."
"Is it Darth Yarr's holocron?" he persisted.
"Obi-Wan!"
He startled, but he did not back down, matching Qui-Gon's glare with his own. After a long silence it was the older man who broke the stand-off. Putting his robe back, he gestured to the other chair. Stiff-backed, Obi-Wan sat down with him.
Qui-Gon stared off past his right ear for a moment before speaking in a much more subdued tone.
"The Maarzim have more of Yarr's artifacts than just the holocron. They will all be released to us after the performance of the History Play."
"What else do they have?"
Qui-Gon held up a hand as if to ward off the question. "I am not at liberty to discuss anything about Sith artifacts with you. You know that."
Obi-Wan reluctantly nodded. Even the artifacts of the Sith, especially their holocrons, were Dark and corrupting, though Obi-Wan still wondered what that really meant. "Why were they concealed here for so long? Why did the Council not know about them?"
"I cannot discuss that either, though the Maarzim's motives will be revealed in the History Play." Qui-Gon leaned forward, elbows on the table. "The Maarzim version of the defeat of Darth Yarr differs significantly from what is in the Archives."
"How? Was Yarr not defeated?"
"I am bound by our hosts to not reveal anything about it, Obi-Wan. The Mystery will be revealed in the Play. Then it will up to the Council to decide on its validity." He looked almost defeated.
"Is this Mystery true?"
Shaking his head, Qui-Gon looked off past him again. "I do not know."
They sat in silence; Obi-Wan looked out the window, past the larger sleeping area, to the forested mountains and wondered how the Jedi Archives could be wrong, especially about a Sith, or what the Jedi Council would think when they reported the difference. That reminded him about something Yana and her friends told him.
"Master, the performers told me that anyone who is told a Mystery is forbidden to leave the Living History Lands, at least until it is revealed. I do not recall that in our mission briefing."
"Nor do I. Though I suppose that could be a problem." Qui-Gon looked completely unconcerned.
"Should we not tell the Maarzim that you cannot stay, even if the Play is canceled?"
Now his Master openly smiled. "Why? Nothing like that has happened."
"But - - "
"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's raised a hand stopped him. "This is primarily a diplomatic mission, and one key part of diplomany is to never act on crises that have not occurred. We will be mindful of it, yes. But if the Play proceeds, then the issue never needs to come up." He sat back in his chair, arm resting on the table, and smiled. "Though we will have to report to the Jedi Council that they should be more careful about their agreements.
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Fog rolled in that night, obscuring the moons-lit mountain top, then the forests, finally settling in around the Castle. Hazy blobs of light glowed from below. Looking down from the tower garden, Qui-Gon Jinn watched the lights of the town and then the Castle slowly disappear into the dark, drifting puffs. The air chilled with the oncoming moisture that freshened the air. The fog muffled the usual background night creatures and noises of civilization, a generator hum, almost too low to be heard but still felt, the distant movement of vehicles, an occasional shout.
He heard the lift activating, but he did not move, letting Obi-Wan welcome their guest.
"Master?" Obi-Wan spoke from the door. "Sebo wishes to speak with you."
He turned his head without really looking and nodded. Sebo joined him at the railing. Obi-Wan retreated back inside.
"I hope you're not going to jump again."
Qui-Gon shrugged and smiled. "No. That might be . . . . excessive."
"It was excessive the first time you did it. So, I do hope you don't do it again."
They stood together in silence of a time and the world below slowly disappeared under the rising fog bank.
"Director Tykon desperately wants you to participate in the Play."
Qui-Gon inhaled the crisp air through his nose. "Then he will have to learn to live with the disappointment."
"He is used to getting his way."
That was obvious to Qui-Gon. "Do you wish me to participate?"
"Would that change your mind?"
"No." He looked down at her, the light from inside shining on one side of her face. "Why was it necessary to reveal the Mystery to me? I have ceded my vote on the Committee to you. You did not need my permission to make the changes in the Play."
"Tykon thought you would agree to do it, if you knew the true History. And it's tradition. You are an honored Venerate for this Play, so you must be on the Committee. If you are on the Committee then you must attend. What would be the point otherwise? And aside from the additions to the Play, Director Tykon wishes to use the relics when the Mystery is revealed."
"How?"
"The lightsaber, the mask, the gauntlets; he wants me wearing them in the shadow dance when Nirid renounces herself as Yarr."
Frowning, he turned to her. "A lightsaber is not a weapon to be used by anyone other than a Jedi."
Sebo was unfazed by his disapproval. "I have handled it for decades. The Venerates of this Castle have for millennia." Her smile turned mischievious. "I have never had any mishaps. Like damaging a floor, for example."
Qui-Gon's frown sank into a glower.
"But I have been wondering," she tilted her head up at him, "Yarr's lightsaber never holds a charge for very long. I always have to have a spare power pack for it. The solemnity of any ritual is always spoiled when Yarr's lightsaber sputters out. But I have never, ever heard about Jedi needing to recharge their lightsabers. Never. I have even researched it. I've found nothing. Blasters and other weapons need to be recharged, or reloaded. But never lightsabers. Not even in stories. When do you do it?"
Qui-Gon returned her smile. Hanging on his belt, his own lightsaber had the same power-pack that he had put in when he first built it. When he activated it, he wielded it as not just a weapon, but as a part of himself, the Force flowing through him, guiding him, giving him and the blade an inexhaustible source of energy from all the life around him and beyond.
"We don't."
= = = End Part 18