Inheritance


3.

Here he comes, and without his Padawan, I see. No surprise there; Kenobi is nothing if not intelligent, and he has doubtless sensed in the Force – or simply made the rational inference- that this meeting concerns the boy's recent lapse of conduct. I spare Yoda a sideways glance, but the old master is intent upon the newcomer, his eyes hooded in that special way that heralds a thorough grilling ahead. I wince on Kenobi's behalf.

It was not fair of Qui-Gon to burden the young man with this; but what could the Council say, when all was said and done? Skywalker proved himself a prodigy that day, dangerous whether or not he was trained; and Kenobi proved himself a prodigy as well, though he will never admit it and does not seem to realize it in the slightest. What the Force brings together so dramatically, we cannot sunder – not even out of pity for the one so burdened. The Council will not contend with the clearly revealed will of that which indwells us all.

Kenobi bows and takes a quick, assessing look at all our faces, confirming his suspicion that this special session is disciplinary in nature. I can see the certainty settle in – his mouth thins into an expressive determination, and that soft line appears between his brows. He's let his hair grow out since being Knighted – why all the young members of the Order do this upon reaching full rank, I will never understand. In this case, it gives the wearer a slightly rakish appearance which does nothing to recommend leniency.

Still, a part of me must admit that the debacle is only technically his fault. The Skywalker boy is a walking, talking disaster. We might as well be asking his master to contain a seismic event or turn aside a class three ion storm.

"Know do you, why summoned before the Council you are?' Yoda asks, skipping the preliminaries.

Kenobi has wariness stamped all over his youthful features, and only a keen observer would notice the slight twitch of one eyebrow, that barely contained insouciance threatening to overturn his construct of deferent calm. "I do not presume to know, master, but I have a fair notion, yes."

The ancient one shimmies backward in his chair, grunting. "Fair notion, say you. Explain."

I steeple my fingers. One thing I will grant readily: if anything outdoes Qui Gon's bygone antics in this chamber, it is those of his former Padawan. In this case, the student has far exceeded the master, for while the old rebel used to habitually drive the Council to distraction, and occasional outrage, his protégé could charm a gundark out of its meal and leave the thing purring. I can sense that Masters Mundi and Piell are already amused; they lounge at ease in their seats, anticipating a pleasant diversion. Their vote will be of no disciplinary value. I sigh.

Kenobi catches my eye, ever attentive to audience. I scowl back at him, but he doesn't bat an eyelash. That's a sign of good training, but I know better than to believe the ruse. He addresses himself to Yoda, whose face is wrinkled into a mass of dubious lines, nose crunched in vexation, clawed hands resting atop his stick.

"I imagine that the Council wishes a report on my Padawan's progress. There was a small incident, yesterday, which has been turned to proper benefit of the Temple community."

"You refer to the discovery of your Padawan in a refuse diposal site yesterday, without proper chaperonage?" Ki Adi prompts, eager to hear what defense will be employed to deflect criticism away from the impetuous Skywalker boy. This has grown into a kind of game over the last months; one which must soon come to an end.

Kenobi has the good grace to blush a little, but he doesn't break stride. As a side thought, I note that it might be a good idea to send him to the annual Chandrilan unity convention instead of Master Unduli; the Chandrilan planetary leadership is exclusively humanoid female, and notoriously fractious. It may be time to apply some underhanded diplomatic tactics, and by that I mean that Obi -Wan here might not have to open his mouth to make headway – or at least, it won't matter what he says. I stow this idea away for later consideration.

"…there was no incident, master, at least if you ask the constabulary or the local transport services," Kenobi almost smirks.

It's a pleasing sales pitch, but Yoda is not in a buying mood today. "Abuse of power, to save Order embarrassment," he snaps. "Use mind trick on common citizenry you will not, again."

Ouch. I press my fingers to my lips, smoothing away any trace of amusement. Kenobi's face blanches just a little, but he holds his defensive position a bit longer. "Yes, master… I will find some other way of ensuring that Anakin's indiscretion does not extend beyond these walls."

"You might consider containing him within these walls for a start," I suggest, infusing the words with a bit of acid. Sorry, young one, but we have a tradition, and it holds that the Padawan's commission is the master's omission.

That earns me a meek "Yes, Master Windu." In the ensuing awkward silence, I have an opportunity to observe how much progress we've made since the first meeting of this nature, no more than a fortnight into Skywalker's apprenticeship. And with a pang of concern, I note that there has been almost none; we've brought this up time and again, all but publicly censured Kenobi for the boy's undisciplined hijinks, and yet neither the frequency of the Padawan's offenses nor the master's frustration have abated. We are, it would seem, at an impasse, a stand off in which the limits of precedent have grown alarmingly blatant.

Something will have to be done. For both their sakes.

"He is polishing the initiate level dojo floors by hand, over the course of this week," Kenobi explains. "So his actions have been turned to a dual benefit – the work needed to be done and his peers have a clear example by way of deterrent."

Yoda snorts out his contemptuous dismissal of this rhetorical trick. "Deterrent, hm? Perhaps needed such a thing, you do.. Indulgent the Council has been so far, Obi-Wan. But perhaps a stricter approach required is?"

And the look on Kenobi's face at this moment is unaccountably alarming. He just nods, miserably, all the fight seemingly knocked out of him. "Yes, Master Yoda."

I stir, but the old master waves my objection aside. He favors the young Jedi with a singularly piercing expression and raps his stick against his seat. "Stop him from doing this again, you must. Another such incident – tolerated it will not be. Your responsibility is this boy. Remind you of that , I need not, hm?"

"No, master. I understand. It won't happen again."

Twelve and a half years, Qui Gon had this man as his apprentice. Twelve and a half years, and nothing- nothing - that old gundark could do would quash his Padawan's spirit. And now a street urchin from Tatooine has managed the impossible in a matter of months? Something is not right here – I sense a disturbance.

But this is not the time or place to raise such doubts. And besides, Yoda has already dismissed Kenobi, sending him on his way without a word of encouragement. They say I am the stern one, the intimidating face of authority. But I beg to differ. I don't like what I just witnessed, and Yoda knows it. His green eyes, half-hooded, slide sideways to regard me with a knowing light.

We will discuss it later. For now, other business awaits. But I won't forget. And I will take the matter into my own hands, if need be. For the Order's sake, for Qui Gon's sake… for my own sake.

And Force forgive me if I mull on this during the entire remainder of the long Council session.