Inheritance
14.
It is difficult to meditate; I cannot easily maintain my anchor while Anakin's distraction tugs persistently at my mind. He is disturbed; he has been since we first discussed the Feorians. Since I admitted that Jedi do, sometimes, free slaves.
Outside Republic jurisdiction we have no right to interfere with the established laws and customs of any world; we cannot impose our will upon those who do not recognize the same principles simply because we have the power. I know this; I have heard it time and again, argued its cause and worth until I am hoarse… and yet, there is still part of me that would shy away from the harsh truth it entails. We cannot save everyone.
Qui-Gon Jinn made exceptions as he saw fit. And now, with a twist of dread, I wonder why he did not make more of an exception for Anakin's mother. I never met her… but she must have been a remarkable woman in her own way. My master tried to buy her freedom when he liberated Anakin; but in the end, he was thwarted and left her behind on Tatooine, sadly languishing in the throes of slavery. Did he intend to go back later? Knowing him, he might have. He said nothing to me about it…. but what cause had I given him, then, to confide in me? I had the temerity, after that Council session, to -
Breathe.
There is no emotion. There is peace.
… Should I undertake that which he did not live to see done? Against every precept and precedent, and surely against the advice of the Council? Train the boy. That was and is my all-consuming mandate; and I must ask also whether such a covert action would teach anything of value. Attachment. Non-acceptance. Defiance. Disregard for law. Emotionality. Possession. Control. Are these to be my legacy to the "Chosen One"?
What is more important: the restoration of Balance… or the fate of this one good woman – one who courageously bid her son go on his way without her, to keep his face toward whatever destiny lies at his feet? The Force itself seemed to ordain these events. So why does my heart rebel, and for whom – in the last accounting – does it so ache? For she who accepted her lot, or for him, who must continue on alone, forsaking her comfort and guidance?
Shmi Skywalker, Qui-Gon said, was at peace. The Force, he said, would find a way to free her, if it were meant to be. Freedom, he said, spared no one insecurity, suffering or death. Shmi understood these things. She gave her son away without attachment.
But her son lives in fear for her. I sense it. We are bonded now, too, and I have shared unwillingly in his nightmares, seeing that same nameless dark rise to snatch at her, to whisk her away into the howling sand, or to impale her upon a blood-red blade, burning a hole through two hearts at once…
No. This is not a path that leads to answers or clarity. Breathe.
There is no –
"Master?"
Force, I'm tired. "Yes, Anakin?" Why should we pretend to meditate, when neither is able? Master Windu has mercifully chosen to patrol the village perimeter, so we have a moment of privacy.
"This isn't a very nice place to live."
Well, … no. It isn't. "Why do you say that?"
He shrugs, one shoulder lifting and dropping in a gesture of childish reticence. "Dunno. It just isn't, is all. And the Feorians – why did they choose this place? It feels weird here."
It does indeed; but I choose to skim over this latter fact. "The Feorians didn't precisely choose to live here, Padawan. They were offered very few options in the end."
"But I thought you said they were freed. How can you be free if you don't have a choice?"
Oh dear. But perhaps this is a teaching opportunity. It would be negligent to abstain from giving at least a cursory answer. "Freedom takes more than mere emancipation," I remind him. "They were liberated from slavery, yes; but thereafter, a new life and home had to be found for them. And they had been so many generations in bondage that they hardly knew what to do with themselves. People.. politicians… fought over it, for almost a year. Eventually, a group of scholars and activists arranged for the Feorians to be given unclaimed land – out here, on Gola – so they might preserve their cultural ways. I believe the Galactic Senate subsidizes them in some paltry way. It's not perfect."
"It's choobazzah," he retorts, face drawn into an impressive scowl, snub nose and round cheeks notwithstanding. "What's the use of freeing people if they end up living like this?"
"We did what we could," I reply. How dare he question the wisdom of a man half-a-century his senior, and a wise and powerful Jedi master? The sheer impudence of such implied criticism astounds me… until I remember whom it was that last threw Qui-Gon Jinn's decisions back in his face, and not with all due respect, either.
"Well, it wasn't very much, was it?" Anakin snorts, lower lip protruding in an angry pout. "What's the use of being a Jedi if you can't fix things?"
Why, you little –
But we are saved from further acrimonious exchange by the reappearance of Master Windu. A blast of cold night air accompanies him through the crude door of our shelter.
"I sense no immediate danger in the vicinity," he announces, "Though the Feorians have retreated into their shelters as though they expect a siege. Their chieftain informs me that the jabuur-weki passes through at midnight, to lay down judgment on the unworthy."
He crosses the small space and sits down upon the packed earth floor. There are four primitive sleeping mattresses built along the wall – palettes of skin and wooden planks, possibly less comfortable than the floor. Besides these, our guest house contains no furnishings beside a shallow fire pit lined with stone.
"What do you suppose this avenging spirit might truly be?" I inquire. Figments of the collective imagination seldom leave 'living corpses' behind.
"An invisible spirit, I don't think," he rumbles, waving a hand over the glowing embers in the pit. A flare of yellow light leaps up, obedient, and licks at the pile of tinder. His dark Korun features are cast in dancing shadow by the fire.
"The Force is invisible," Anakin pipes up. I cast him a repressive look, but of course it has no effect. "Why not an invisible spirit thing?"
Master Windu considers him gravely. "The Force is visible everywhere, Padawan," he corrects the boy sternly. "Look around you – there is nothing which the Force does not shape and sustain. This jabuur-weki, on the other hand…" He makes a dismissive gesture with one powerful hand, sweeping aside the mythical demon with the ease of one swatting a gadfly away. "I sense an elaborate deception at work here."
"So what're we gonna do about it?" Anakin demands, forgetting his protocols yet again. Why do I even try?
But Master Windu is in a tolerant mood, it would seem. His white smile flashes in the fire-fretted darkness. "The jabuur-weki walks at midnight," he says. "I think we ought to make a formal introduction."
