Cian Nyal cursed in all three levels of the Quilekian sub-language as she struggled with the cosmetic stick. She was trying to line her eyes with it but had only succeeded in making herself look like an Endorian tree sloth.

She sighed and quickly wiped the liner from her eyes. Then she looked closely at herself in the mirror. She wondered if Qui-Gon would notice the changes in her; the slight creases beside her dark gray eyes, the little lines along the side of her mouth.

She tilted her head. Her long copper-colored hair was piled up in soft ringlets which framed her face. Then she looked down at the rose-colored gown she was wearing. She had always been terribly thin as a child, but had filled out as she had gotten older. Now she was afraid she may have filled out too much. Her waist was still slim, but her hips were a bit too round, she thought, and her breasts....she grimaced and turned away from the mirror. She didn’t even want to think about her breasts.

Cian turned and went out into the dining area. The table was set for four, candles glowing on the white tablecloth and her parents’ best china sparkling beneath the lights. She took a deep breath.

Then her comlink chimed. Cian hurried into her bedroom, sat on the bed and activated the holoscreen. The image of a dark-haired man in a military uniform appeared. It was Jeffron Sundancer.

“Cian,” he said warmly to her.

“Jeffron.”

His gaze moved over her appraisingly. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said smiling.

“I think I should be a little jealous,” he said, his voice teasing.

Cian blushed. “I wish you had been able to come tonight, dear.”

“So do I. I’ve heard quite a lot about this Qui-Gon Jinn. But, I still have much to do before I leave tomorrow for the war games. And I’d be a fifth wheel anyway. I know how much you’ve wanted to spend some time with your friends. How long have they been back?

“Two months, but they’ve all been terribly busy at the Temple.”

“Haven’t we all. So, it’s Master Jinn’s birthday you’re celebrating tonight?”

“No, his apprentice. Actually his birthday was last week. A formal celebration was held at the Temple, but I wanted to do something special for him.”

“Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

“When will you be back?”

“In about three weeks.”

Cian nodded.

“Have fun tonight,” he said.

“Thank you. Goodbye, dear.”

He signed off and Cian sat for a moment, her thoughts churning. She had been thinking so much about Qui-Gon she had completely forgotten about Jeffron. Suddenly she worried that having the dinner was a mistake. She shook her head. Nonsense. It wasn’t a date and Obi-Wan and Aalea would be there. Cian stood up and hurried back into the dining area, surveying the room one more time. Something was missing. The glassware.

She hurried into the kitchen. She opened one of the cabinets and took out four thin-stemmed glasses. Then she saw the bottle of Alderaanian wine her colleagues had given her when she left the university. She took it down from the shelf. It was from the monastery of Churon on the western continent of Alderaan. Cian had been saving it for a special occasion, but she could think of no more special occasion than this.

She went back into the dining area and placed the glassware and wine on the table. She was a bit worried about serving the wine. Although alcohol was not forbidden to the Jedi, it was something most rarely consumed. But, it was Obi-Wan’s birthday, and if Qui-Gon thought it best it not be served, he would let her know. Then her door chimed.

Cian’s heart beat hard in her chest. She went to the door. Before she opened it, she ran her hands quickly down the front of her gown, then lightly touched her hair. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the door’s lock. It slid open.

Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Aalea stood at the door’s entrance. Before Cian could say a word, however, Aalea brushed past Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. She ran to Cian and threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“Cian. I’m so glad to see you,” Aalea cried. She pulled back and looked at her. “Oh, and you look so pretty. I wish I could have dressed up.”

Cian saw all three were dressed in traditional Jedi attire.

Aalea turned towards Qui-Gon.

“Doesn’t she look pretty, Master?”

Qui-Gon smiled warmly at Cian and at the appreciation she saw in his eyes, her heart melted.

“Yes,” he said softly in his deep, musical voice. “She looks very beautiful.”

Cian blushed, then noting Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were still waiting politely for her to invite them in, she gestured for them to enter.

“Please, come in.”

The two Jedi walked past her. Cian pressed the door closed behind them.

“Let me take your robes,” she said. The three took off their robes and Cian carried them into her bedroom.

“Something smells good,” Obi-Wan said as Cian came back into the dining room.

“I hope you like it. It’s something new I decided to try. Please, sit down.”

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon sat adjacent to each other at the table, but Aalea grabbed Cian’s arm and pulled her.

“Let me help,” she said.

Cian laughed and accompanied Aalea into the kitchen.

“Aalea, you really don’t have to help me,” she said as she picked up one of the serving dishes.

“But I want to. I’ve missed you so much.”

“And I you,” Cian said warmly. Then she reached over and squeezed Aalea’s arm. “How is your master doing?”

Aalea’s eyes grew dim. “Not much better, I’m afraid.”

Cian moved closer and put an arm about Aalea’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that, dove. The healers can do nothing for him?”

Aalea slowly shook her head and sighed. “The damage he suffered from the plasma bomb radiation was too widespread. My master will never walk again.”

Cian hugged Aalea tightly. Then she pulled back and gently stroked her cheek.

“Don’t give up hope, Aalea. As long as there’s life, there’s hope.”

Aalea nodded and gave Cian a brave smile. “I won’t.”

Aalea reached over and picked up the bowl that held the vegetable salad. Then she turned and leaned close to Cian.

“Doesn’t he look handsome tonight?” she whispered.

“Yes, he does,” Cian agreed, “but then I’ve always thought Obi-Wan was handsome.”

“Obi-Wan?” Aalea laughed as if what Cian had said was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. “No, not him. Master Qui-Gon.”

Cian looked over at Aalea and saw the unabashed love shining in her violet eyes. The little girl who had risked her life ten years ago to save both her and Qui-Gon was gone. In her place was a young woman and that young woman was in love. It shone from Aalea’s face like the sun and sparkled in her eyes like stars.

“Yes, Qui-Gon looks very handsome,” Cian said. “They’re both two very handsome men and we," and Cian reached over and squeezed Aalea's arm, "are two very lucky women.”

Aalea beamed. She turned and hurried back into the dining area.

Cian sighed. As she picked up the serving dish and followed Aalea, she wondered if Qui-Gon knew Aalea had a crush on him and how he felt about it.

------------------------

Qui-Gon watched with amusement as Obi-Wan sat back and sighed contentedly.

“Mistress Nyal,” he said, “that was the best meal I’ve ever had.”

Cian dimpled and looked over at Qui-Gon.

“Really, Qui-Gon, I didn‘t know that unwarranted flattery was also part of a padawan’s training.”

“No, I meant it,” Obi-Wan said to her, his eyes wide. “It was delicious.”

“I was just teasing,” Cian said. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Aalea looked over at Cian.

“It was very good, Cian.” She then turned to Qui-Gon. “Wasn’t it, Master?”

“It was excellent,” he said smiling. He lifted his glass. “I’d like to offer a toast to our lovely and gracious hostess.”

Obi-Wan and Aalea picked up their glasses.

Cian lifted up her glass and noted that, although she and Qui-Gon only sipped at their wine, both Aalea and Obi-Wan drained their glasses. She could see neither were used to drinking.

“And this wine,” Obi-Wan exclaimed, his eyes bright as he set his empty glass down. “It’s, it’s---indescribable.”

“Would you like some more?” Cian asked.

“Yes, please,” he said as he passed over his glass.

“I’d like some more, too,” Aalea piped up. She looked over at Qui-Gon. “If it’s all right, Master?”

Cian glanced at Qui-Gon. He nodded. She was surprised. Both Aalea and Obi-Wan were now on their third glass of wine. But she supposed he was making a special allowance for the two young Jedi since it was Obi-Wan’s birthday dinner. Cian poured more wine into Aalea and Obi-Wan’s glasses.

“Cian, Aalea told me you’re working for the Diplomatic Corps now,” Qui-Gon said.

Cian nodded as she set the bottle down. “I was restless at the university. I had completed my cataloguing of Professor Landru’s work and wanted to do something different. Finis told me there was a position available at the Corps. I applied for it and got it.”

“How do you like it so far?” Qui-Gon asked.

“It’s a bit challenging, having to learn about so many different cultures, but I’m enjoying it.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Qui-Gon picked up his glass and sipped at the wine, trying hard not to stare at Cian. He was struck by how different she was from the twenty-two year old graduate student he had met ten years ago. He had been dispatched at that time by the Chancellor to check on her and her mentor, Professor Kom Landru. They had been on an archeological dig on Dyran. While exploring an ancient Sith Temple, the professor had awakened the spirit of a long-dead Sith lord which possessed him and then Cian. If it hadn’t been for Obi-Wan and Aalea’s intervention back on Coruscant, both he and Cian would have died. Now, the Cian who sat across from him had grown into a beautiful mature woman possessed of a serenity and gentleness which wrung his heart.

Cian’s dark gray eyes gazed back at him and a small smile hovered across her full lips. With a start Qui-Gon realized that, despite his efforts, he had been staring at her. He looked at the glass in his hand. The wine was very good, but also quite potent.

------------------------

Cian stood quickly. She had noted Qui-Gon staring at her from across the table and the look in his eyes had been so intense it had sent a shiver through her.

“Why don’t we go into the common area,” she said, trying to disguise the slight tremble in her voice. “I think we’ll be more comfortable there. I’ll take the dishes into the kitchen and bring out some chala.”

Obi-Wan stood also.

“Let me help you, Mistress Nyal.”

“No, I won’t hear of it. It’s your birthday dinner.”

“Please, let me.” And before Cian could stop him Obi-Wan began picking up dishes from the table and stacking them awkwardly in his arms.

“All right, you can help, but let me get those.”

Cian quickly grabbed the plates from Obi-Wan. She gave him a small knife to hold.

“Qui-Gon, you and Aalea go into the common room and make yourselves comfortable,” Cian called back as she went into the kitchen, Obi-Wan trailing behind her.

Once in the kitchen Cian pointed to where Obi-Wan could put the knife while she arranged the dishes into the cleanser.

“Mistress Nyal?” Obi-Wan said softly.

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” Cian said as she pressed the buttons which activated the cleanser.

“Do you know how old I am?” he asked.

Cian turned and looked at him. She noted that his face was flushed and she realized he was a bit more intoxicated than she had first thought.

“Yes, I know how old you are,” she said slowly. “You’re twenty-five.” She reached around him and activated the chala machine. The aroma of brewing chala quickly filled the room.

“Don’t you think that’s too old to be someone’s padawan?”

“I don’t know Obi-Wan. Is it?”

He shrugged.

“I think I have been a great disappointment to my master,” he said sadly.

Cian’s eyes widened. She reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Stop talking like that, Obi-Wan. You mean everything to Qui-Gon,” she said.

"Do I?" he asked, gazing miserably at her.

"Of course you do. He loves you like a son. It's just that, well, he's not the most demonstrative man in the world. His emotions are quiet, like a warm fire in a cozy room."

“Then why won’t he recommend me for the Trials?”

“I don’t know, Obi-Wan. But I’m sure it has nothing to do with his being disappointed in you. Trust me.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but Cian wasn’t sure she had convinced him.

"And then there‘s _her_," he went on.

“Who?” Cian asked as she arranged the chala service on a platter she had taken out of the cabinet.

"Aalea."

"What about Aalea, Obi-Wan?”

"She hates me,” he said.

Cian had picked up the platter, but put it down at Obi-Wan’s words. She looked over at him.

"Hates you? Obi-Wan, what would make you say a thing like that? Aalea doesn‘t hate you."

"Well, she doesn't like me."

"How do you know that?"

He sighed. "Because after Qui-Gon and I rescued her from that Hutt, she started shielding against me once more.” He stared gloomily back at Cian. “She hates me for forging that Force bond with her."

Cian smiled at him. He was quite cute when he was tipsy. When she had first met him ten years ago, after she and Qui-Gon had been rescued from Dyran, he had been an earnest fifteen year old; sincere, dedicated, but still possessing a teenager‘s charming awkwardness. Since then he had grown into an accomplished Jedi and, she had to admit, an incredibly good-looking young man who also appeared completely oblivious to his physical charms. It was a trait he shared with Aalea, this naive unawareness of how very attractive they both were. Cian supposed it was part of their Jedi training.

She patted his hand, then softly squeezed it.

"Obi-Wan, I’m quite sure Aalea doesn't hate you. She knows if you hadn't bonded with her she would have died. But remember, she was just a child when you did it. It must have been terribly frightening to her to come out of her coma able to hear your thoughts and sense your feelings. And she‘s still very young. You remember what it was like to be young, don‘t you?” she said teasingly.

“Yes,” he said, his voice solemn. “I was young once.”

_Oh, my dear, you still are_, Cian thought.

"You're so afraid people won't like you or accept you,” she continued. “Aalea's probably afraid that if you knew all the things she keeps hidden inside her you'd be, I don’t know, disgusted by her."

"But I wouldn't,” he said. "She doesn’t always conduct herself with the appropriate decorum for a Jedi and she’s rather high-spirited, but I don‘t find her disgusting. Actually, I think she‘s....”

Obi-Wan stopped and looked quickly away.

But Cian had seen the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes as he had talked about Aalea. She sighed. Aalea had a crush on Qui-Gon and now, it appeared, Obi-Wan had similar feelings for Aalea.

She reached over and squeezed his arm. He turned back to her, his blue-gray eyes solemn.

“Obi-Wan, if Aalea does harbor any dislike towards you, which I seriously doubt, I think it has more to do with Qui-Gon than with your bond."

Obi-Wan‘s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Qui-Gon? I don‘t understand?"

Cian picked up the chala service.

"We’ll discuss this some other time, dear. Come, let’s join the others.”

--------------

When Cian walked back with Obi-Wan into the common area, she noted Qui-Gon was sitting on the couch and Aalea was on the floor at his feet, talking quietly with him. Her slender legs were curled up under her.
Cian laid the chala service on a small table in the center of the common area. Obi-Wan sat in a chair next to the couch and Cian moved into a chair across from them.

Aalea turned toward Cian. She noted Aalea’s eyes were very bright. _Oh, dear_ Cian thought. Aalea was also intoxicated.

“Chala!” Aalea cried when she saw the service. “Here, Master, let me get you some.”

Aalea scooted over to the small table and knelt before the chala service. Cian was surprised at how gracefully she moved even though she was clearly affected by the wine. Her black hair gleamed softly under the light of the glowlamps. Maybe it was a Jedi trait, Cian thought.

Aalea picked up a cup and carefully poured some chala into it.

“You like it black, don’t you Master?” Aalea asked as she turned to Qui-Gon.

“Yes, Aalea. Thank you.” Qui-Gon leaned over as Aalea handed him the cup. Cian noted Aalea held the cup just a bit longer than was necessary as Qui-Gon took it from her. Her violet eyes were full as she gazed up at him. He smiled warmly down at her. _Careful, Qui-Gon_, Cian thought.

Aalea turned to Cian. “Would you like a cup?”

“Yes, dear, but I take mine with cream.”

Aalea poured chala into another cup and spooned cream into it. She handed the cup to Cian. She then moved back so that she was once again at Qui-Gon’s feet. She leaned her shoulder against his leg.

“Aren’t you going to have some, dear?” Cian asked.

Aalea shook her head and yawned. “I don’t like chala.”

Cian tilted her head towards Obi-Wan.

“Aalea, I think Obi-Wan would like some too, wouldn’t you, Obi-Wan?”

Aalea looked over at him.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Mistress Nyal.”

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“I’m sure,” he said softly. He glanced at Cian and she saw something move across his eyes. It looked to her like pain.

Qui-Gon sipped his chala but his gaze, Cian noted, was moving between Aalea and Obi-Wan, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

“Cian,” Aalea said. “Did you know there’s going to be a vacancy on the Jedi Council?”

Cian looked over at Qui-Gon. “Really?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Sira Lomax’s term is up. There are three limited-terms seats on the Council. The Council will vote for a new member in the upcoming weeks.”

Aalea turned and gazed up at Qui-Gon. “Master Qui-Gon has been nominated for the vacant seat,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

“That’s wonderful, Qui-Gon,” Cian said. “Congratulations.”

“I don’t think I have much of a chance. Ki-Adi-Mundi has also been nominated.”

“You would be the better choice, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “Ki-Adi-Mundi is only a Knight and although he is well qualified, he doesn’t have your experience.”

Qui-Gon laughed softly. “You‘re right, Obi-Wan. He doesn’t have my experience at having been called before the Council over the years to answer for my numerous transgressions.”

“They weren’t transgressions, Master,” Obi-Wan said hotly. “Yes, if you were to follow the Code a bit more stringently, your chances would be better, but no one is a better diplomat or a wiser negotiator than you. And the Council needs your unique perspective.”

Aalea looked up at Qui-Gon and placed her hand on his knee.

“Obi-Wan is right, Master. You should be on the Council.”

“But what of Obi-Wan? I haven’t finished my mastership of him.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward eagerly. “I’m ready for the Trials, Master. I know I am.”

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. Cian could see he didn’t want to discuss this right now. He was painfully aware of Obi-Wan’s concerns that another birthday had come and gone and still he had not been recommended for the Trials.

“Cian,” Qui-Gon said, glancing over at her. “Why don’t you give Obi-Wan his gift?”

“Oh, of course, I nearly forgot.”

Cian stood, went into her bedroom and retrieved the gaily wrapped box. She took it into the common room and handed the box to Obi-Wan.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

“Thank you, Mistress Nyal.”

Obi-Wan tore the wrapping off the box and opened it. He took out a plastic case which contained a silver disk. He looked down at the label. His eyes brightened.

“Thanks, Mistress Nyal,” he said grinning as he looked over at her. “How did you know?”

Cian glanced over at Qui-Gon.

“Oh, a little Jedi told me.” Qui-Gon nodded back at her, a small smile crinkling his lips.

Aalea scooted next to Obi-Wan. “What did you get?”

He showed her the disk.

“The Ultimate Collector Series of the Special Edition of ‘The Scarlet Baron of Corellia’ Trilogy,” Aalea read. She wrinkled up her nose. “Old Republic holovids?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s got enhanced visual and auditory features and there are also scenes in it from the upcoming prequels.”

“Prequels?” Aalea cried. “Why, by the Force, are they making prequels?” She shook her head dubiously.

Cian silently agreed. When she had asked Qui-Gon about a gift for Obi-Wan, he told her of Obi-Wan’s fondness for holovids about the Old Republic. Especially of his love for “The Scarlet Baron of Corellia” trilogy. The trilogy was one of the most popular holovids of all time, seen by billions throughout the Republic. Even Cian had seen it, but she had thought it nothing more than an overacted, overlong costume spectacle which had been short on history and long on melodrama. But at the look of pleasure in Obi-Wan’s eyes, she was glad she had gone ahead and gotten it for him.

Then Qui-Gon stood up, Aalea rose quickly next to him, and Obi-Wan shot to his feet. It’s as if they’re tethered to him, Cian thought as she got up from her chair. It’s as if we’re _all_ tethered to him.

“Thank you, Cian, for the lovely dinner,” Qui-Gon said. “But I‘m afraid we must leave. I have a meeting with Chancellor Valorum in the morning and Aalea and Obi-Wan both have duties at the Temple which require them to be up early.”

“You’re meeting with Finis in the morning?” Cian asked. “So am I.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “My meeting is at 0900.”

“So is mine,” Cian said. “It seems he has something he wants to discuss with both of us.”

“It would appear so.”

They smiled at each other and Cian noted Aalea was watching the exchange between them with wide eyes.

“I’ll get your robes,” Cian said quickly.

She went into her bedroom. Qui-Gon followed her and helped her gather up the robes.

He leaned close to her.

“I just wanted to thank you for having this dinner for Obi-Wan,” he said. “Unfortunately, we Jedi are somewhat hidebound in our observation of tradition. The ceremony which was held for him at the Temple was a bit, shall we say, dry.”

Cian was conscious of his nearness in a way which made her voice shake slightly.

“It was no problem, Qui-Gon. I enjoyed having you here. I’ve missed you all so much.”

“I also wanted to congratulate you on your upcoming marriage.”

Cian turned, her eyes wide. “How did you----?”

“It’s not a secret, is it?” he asked smiling.

“No, of course it’s not. It’s just that, well, I haven‘t accepted yet. I wanted some time to think about. What with my new job and all.... ” Cian’s voice trailed off.

Qui-Gon looked down at her. “Cian, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in contact with you over the years. I meant to, but...”

“You don’t have to explain, Qui-Gon.”

“It wasn’t a reflection of my feelings regarding our friendship.”

“I know that,” she said softly.

He moved closer to her. Cian’s heart pounded in her chest.

“I wish, I had hoped....” he said, then he lifted his hand and gently cupped her face, his fingers lightly stroking her cheek. Sighing deeply, he shook his head, drew his hand away and smiled gently down at her.

And, for a moment, as Cian looked up at him; at his wide, strong brow, warm blue eyes and firm, but sensual lips, she didn’t know whether it was the wine or the fact they were in the intimate space of her bedroom, but for a moment she had thought he was going to take her into his arms and kiss her. She took a deep breath.

“Shall we put the padawans to bed?” she said lightly to break the mood.

Qui-Gon smiled down at her.

“Yes, I think it’s way past their bedtime.”

The moment passed and he followed her into the common area.

As Cian helped Aalea into her robe, Qui-Gon assisted Obi-Wan who was having trouble getting his arms into the voluminous sleeves.

Cian walked over and kissed Obi-Wan on the cheek.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

He gave her a lopsided smile, his voice slightly slurred.

“Thank you, Mistress Nyal, and thanks for the wonderful dinner and the great gift”.

“You’re welcome, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan then bowed to Cian but, as he did so, he leaned over so far Qui-Gon had to quickly grab the back of his robe to keep him from toppling over. Aalea quietly giggled as Obi-Wan rose, a sheepish grin on his face.

Aalea then walked over and hugged Cian. She whispered in Cian’s ear.

“Obi-Wan has terrible taste in holovids, doesn‘t he?”

Cian whispered back. “Yes, dear, he most certainly does. But let’s keep that between ourselves.”

Aalea nodded and smiled. She moved back to stand next to Qui-Gon.

“Good night, Cian,” Qui-Gon said as he bowed to her. “And thank you for” and he glanced at the two somewhat intoxicated young Jedi on either side of him, “a most interesting evening.”

He then smiled at her and their eyes locked long enough that Cian felt the blood rushing in her ears.

_Steady, girl_ she thought.

“You’re quite welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he said.

“Yes, tomorrow.”

And with that Qui-Gon turned and escorted his two slightly swaying charges to the speederbus terminal.

Cian watched them for a moment, then called out after him. “And good luck, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon turned his head and frowned at her. But Cian only laughed gaily as she closed her door.

Part Fourteen

Qui-Gon gazed out at the passing cityscape of Coruscant as the speederbus made its way towards the Jedi Temple. Even this late at night the city-wide planet bustled with activity, its majestic kilometer high spires and dazzling lights a dramatic backdrop to the affairs of the billions of sentient beings who lived on it.

He turned away from the window and glanced at Aalea who had drifted off to sleep, her head resting on his shoulder. Obi-Wan sat across from him, his legs stretched out in front of him, his boots crossed at the ankles. He was awake but stared quietly out the window. He had been silent during their ride and Qui-Gon saw he was half-asleep.

He supposed he should not have let them drink so much wine, but he hadn’t seen any harm in it and it had been Obi-Wan’s birthday dinner after all. And as Qui-Gon thought about the dinner, he found himself thinking about Cian.

For a moment, when they had been alone in her bedroom and he had looked down into her dark gray eyes, he had felt something stir inside him. Something he had not felt in a long time. And she had looked so incredibly lovely. A corner of his mouth curled up. She had filled out some since he’d last seen her, but in a way that drew a man’s eyes to those parts of a woman that were the most delightful to look upon.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he brought to mind how she had looked. The gown she’d been wearing had called attention to her softly rounded hips and beautiful full breasts. A surge of heat pulsed through him. He shook his head, opened his eyes and took a deep breath, quickly focusing on a meditation that would subdue the currents of desire that were swirling through his blood. Cian was going to be married and any chance Qui-Gon might have had her with was now past. He would have to remember that.

The speederbus stopped and Aalea and Obi-Wan both woke up. The driver asked Qui-Gon if he needed help getting the two inside, but Qui-Gon thanked him and assured him he could handle it. He took both of them by the arms and walked them into the Temple. Since it was late the corridors had been largely empty.

Qui-Gon pressed open the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters. He had decided to drop Obi-Wan off first, then take Aalea to her quarters. As Qui-Gon entered, he steered Aalea to the settee in the common area. She sat slowly. He then led Obi-Wan into his sleep room. As the young Jedi looked over at his bed, a wide smile spread across his face. Without a word he collapsed on it and fell asleep.

Qui-Gon frowned. He picked up the holovid disk which had slipped from Obi-Wan’s hand and laid it on a shelf. He then leaned over and removed Obi-Wan’s robe and boots. He pulled the coverlet over him and brushed his hand across his hair.

_Sleep well, Obi-Wan. And happy birthday_. He turned and went back into the common area.

Aalea had disappeared.

Qui-Gon walked around to the front of the settee. She was lying on it, her knees pulled up to her chest, her robe wrapped snugly around her. She was fast asleep. Qui-Gon sighed. He knelt down and picked her up. She nestled her head into his shoulder, but didn‘t wake.

He carried her to her quarters. He slid open the door and took her into her sleep room, laying her gently on the bed. As with Obi-Wan, he removed only her robe and boots. As he was pulling the coverlet over her, she woke up.

“Master,” she said smiling. “Where am I?”

“You’re in your quarters in the Temple.”

“Is Master Ke-Ondra here?”

“No, Aalea, he’s not here. He’s in the Healers’ wing, remember?”

She pushed herself up to a sitting position. Qui-Gon sighed. He had hoped to leave before she awoke.

“I miss him,” she said softly.

“You must have faith Master Ke-Ondra will recover.” Yet even as Qui-Gon spoke the words he knew how hollow they sounded. Ke-Ondra had remained paralyzed ever since he and Obi-Wan had brought him back from Faronta. Chances that he would regain the use of his body again were slim.

“What if he doesn’t recover?” Aalea cried. “I’ll no longer have a master. I’ll have to leave the Order, won’t I?”

Qui-Gon sat next to her on the bed.

“Of course not. At least not right away. You’ll have an entire year in which to find someone to take you as their padawan. But, let’s not talk of that. We must have hope that Ke-Ondra will recover. I understand you‘ve been visiting him everyday.”

Aalea leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Yes, I have,” she said softly. “It’s so hard seeing him like that. So helpless.” She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “And I’m so lonely without him.”

Qui-Gon put his arm around her.

“You’re not alone, Aalea. I will always be here for you.”

“I wish you were my master,” she said. “Not because of what happened to Master Ke-Ondra, of course,” she added quickly. “I know how lucky I was to have someone like him pick me as their padawan. But, I wanted so much to be your padawan, too. For as long as I could remember. And then you chose _him_,” and her voice hardened slightly.

“Aalea, you mustn’t talk that way about Obi-Wan. It’s not his fault I chose him.”

“Obi-Wan.” She sniffed disdainfully. “He thinks he’s the very model of the perfect Jedi.” She made a dismissive gesture. “And why you would choose someone who likes that awful ‘Scarlet Baron of Corellia’ trilogy is beyond me, Master.”

Qui-Gon laughed softly. Aalea slipped her arms about his waist and snuggled deeper against his shoulder. A faint alarm went off in his head.

“I would like for you and Obi-Wan to try and be friends,” he said.

“We can try,” Aalea said and Qui-Gon suspected trying was about all he was going to get from her for the time being.

Qui-Gon moved slightly.

“It’s late, Aalea. You should get some rest.”

Aalea’s arms tightened about his waist. She looked up at him and he was again struck by how beautiful she had become.

“Master?” she said softly. Qui-Gon noted her voice was slightly slurred.

“Yes, Aalea?”

“I love you.”

“And I love you,” he said automatically, as he had ever since she was a child, but the alarms in his head wailed when he saw the expression which blossomed on her face.

“You do?” she said breathlessly, her arms sliding up and around his neck.

“Of course, Aalea, you know---” but before Qui-Gon could finish, Aalea lifted her face up to his and kissed him.

For a moment, Qui-Gon couldn’t believe what was happening. Aalea’s arms tightened about his neck and he could feel her heart beating wildly against him. And, as she pressed her lips urgently onto his, the alarms in his head screamed. He quickly pulled away from her.

Aalea stared back at him, her eyes wide. Gently, Qui-Gon drew her arms from about his neck. Then, realization of what she had done dawned on her face.

“Oh, Master!” she cried. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s all right, Aalea. It’s over now.”

She lifted her hands to her face. “What must you think of me!”

“I think nothing of you, Aalea, except that you are a very lovely young woman.”

“I didn’t mean.... I’m so sorry....” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

Qui-Gon was troubled at how distraught she was becoming.

“Aalea, don’t upset yourself. It’s all right.”

“You’re not angry with me?” she asked in a small voice.

“Of course not. Now, lay down and go to sleep.”

Aalea laid down, but he could see the distress in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“We’ll talk later. Get some rest,” he said.

Aalea nodded. Tears glistened on her cheeks. Qui-Gon was tempted to wipe them away, as he had done when she was a child, but something told him not to. He got up from the bed.

“Good night, Aalea.”

“Good night, Master.”

Qui-Gon turned and left. When the door slid closed behind him, he stood for a moment and took a deep breath. Although he had not let Aalea see it, her kiss had upset him greatly. He needed to talk with someone about it. Cian. Yes, she was the closet thing Aalea had to a mother. He would discuss this with her tomorrow. Maybe she could help him understand what had just happened and what he should do about it.

-----------------

"Obi-Wan"

Obi-Wan grunted. He turned over and tried to bury his face deeper into his pillow. Someone was calling his name, but he could hardly hear them for the drums beating madly in his head.

"Obi-Wan, wake up." Now that someone was shaking him.

Obi-Wan groaned and opened his eyes.

Qui-Gon was standing over him. His master was holding a cup of steaming chala. Obi-Wan could smell it.

"Master," he cried as he quickly sat up. "What time is it?"

"You're not late, if that's what you're worried about." He handed the cup to Obi-Wan. "Here, drink this."

Obi-Wan took the cup and sipped the chala. It was hot and good. As his head began to clear, the smell of the chala reminded him of last evening. The birthday dinner. Cian. Aalea. He frowned.

"Is it that bad?" Qui-Gon asked.

"What?" Obi-Wan looked up and saw Qui-Gon was gesturing towards the cup in his hand. "The chala? No, it's very good. Just what I need."

Obi-Wan stood and saw he was still dressed in his clothes. He looked sheepishly up at Qui-Gon.

“Sorry about last night, Master. Guess I had a little too much wine.”

“That’s quite all right, Obi-Wan. It was your birthday, after all. I believe some allowance in Jedi decorum was in order.”

Qui-Gon then turned and walked back into the common area. Obi-Wan followed him, sipping his chala.

"Obi-Wan, I stopped by because I want you to do a favor for me. I would do it myself, but it would make me late for my meeting with the Chancellor."

"Of course, Master. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to check on Aalea for me."

"Aalea?" Obi-Wan choked on his chala.

Qui-Gon glanced sharply at him.

"Is there some problem, Obi-Wan?"

"No. Uh, is there something wrong with Aalea?" he asked quickly to change the subject.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice pointed.

"Because, Master," Obi-Wan said slowly, "you just asked me to check on her."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Yes. I did, didn’t I?” He cleared his throat. “No, there's nothing wrong with her. Just stop by her quarters before your meeting with Master Yoda and,” he paused, then finished faintly, “check on her.”

Obi-Wan nodded. "Of course, Master."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." And with that Qui-Gon strode quickly out the door.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Something was definitely bothering Qui-Gon. He quickly went over the events of last night and, except for the fact he and Aaela had had too much wine, he didn’t know what else could be upsetting his master. Of course, Obi-Wan couldn’t recall much of what had happened after they left Cian's apartment.

He shrugged as he headed for the showers. Whatever was bothering his master, for the time being, it appeared Qui-Gon wanted to keep it to himself.

-----------------

Obi-Wan chimed Aalea's door again. He had already chimed it twice and if she didn't answer on this one, he was going to leave. The door remained closed. He sighed. He had tried. He turned to leave and then he heard a soft voice behind him.

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

He turned around and his throat tightened.

Aalea stood before him and, for a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if he was having a vision. Her violet eyes, ringed by long black lashes, regarded him sleepily. Her black hair, which she normally wore in a tight bun, was unbound, except for her thick padawan braid, and lay heavily about her slender shoulders. But what really caused the blood to rush to his face was the fact she was wearing only a blue sleep gown, one strap of which had slipped over her shoulder. He found his gaze lingering on her bare skin.

"Is there something you want?" Aalea said, her voice throaty from having just woken up.

"Huh? What?" Obi-Wan stammered as he drew his eyes away from her shoulder.

"Yes, uh," he cleared his throat and addressed her more formally. "Master Qui-Gon asked me to stop by and see if you were all right."

Aalea's eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" she asked sharply.

Obi-Wan sighed. First Qui-Gon, now Aalea. Had he missed something? He felt as if he had just walked into the middle of a play.

"Nothing makes me think anything is wrong," he said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "Master Qui-Gon asked me to stop by and check on you and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Nothing more and nothing less."

Aalea raised her chin and stared haughtily up at him.

"Well, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you have fulfilled your duty to your master with your customary and much heralded competence. And, as you can see, I’m quite all right."

“Fine,” he said gruffly, irked by her aloof behavior. “I will so inform my master you are quote, quite all right, unquote.”

When Obi-Wan saw the anger smoldering in her eyes at his words, he immediately regretted having spoken to her so. He was just about to apologize when, as Aalea moved to close the door on him, her strap slipped further down, revealing even more of her.

Obi-Wan could see a hint of the gentle curving of one of her breasts and, as he stared at it, he wondered if it would feel as soft and warm as it looked. Aalea followed his gaze with her eyes. When she saw where he was staring, she quickly pulled the strap up. Then she looked back at him, her eyes impaling his. Obi-Wan felt like a bug caught squirming under a pin.

"Is there anything else?" she asked, her voice like hot ice.

"No, nothing else," he replied, his face burning.

"Then good day, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she said curtly. She pressed her door closed.

Obi-Wan stood for a moment and noted with dismay his head was pounding. All right. He had done as Qui-Gon asked and checked on Aalea. And she was acting just as strangely as his master. But that wasn’t his concern. Whatever was going on it was between his master and Aalea. He was just the messenger.

He glanced at his wristchrono. He had an hour before he had to meet with Master Yoda. Just enough time to stop by the gymnasium and work up a good sweat dueling with the training bots.

He turned and marched down the corridors, his boots hammering on the floor and, despite the fact Aalea Ve’Red was the last person he wanted to be thinking about at that moment, Obi-Wan couldn't get the image of her bare shoulder and the soft curve of her breast out of his mind.

--------------------

Cian walked into the office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic and was startled to see Valorum was not alone. She had assumed when his aide had given her permission to enter, he was free. She hesitated for a moment, but then Valorum, who was sitting behind his desk, saw her at the door and waved her in.

“Senator Palpatine, you remember Cian Nyal?”

Cian looked over as the tall man with the proud face rose from the chair in front of Valorum’s desk.

“Yes, Chancellor. We met at the reception for the Quilekian delegation,” Palpatine replied.

“Cian is the Republic’s newest diplomatic representative, Senator.”

Palpatine took Cian’s hand and kissed it.

“Congratulations, Mistress Nyal. The Republic is most fortunate to have such a charming and beautiful ambassador.”

“Thank you. Forgive me for intruding, Senator, but I thought the Chancellor was alone.”

“That’s quite all right. I was just leaving.” He glanced over at Valorum. “I’ll have my draft of the bill regarding sanctions against the Trade Federation for your perusal next week if that is satisfactory with you, Chancellor.”

Valorum nodded. “That will be more than satisfactory.”

Palpatine turned back towards Cian. He gave her a deep and courtly bow then, with a sweep of his dark blue robes, quickly left the Chancellor’s office. The door slid closed behind him.

“I’m sorry, Finis, your aide said you were free, and, well,” Cian glanced at her wristchrono, “I am a little early.”

Valorum took Cian’s elbow and led her to the plush couch against the wall of his office.

“That’s quite all right, Cian. Senator Palaptine had just stopped by to inform me Senators Joaja and Sukhip are going to hold a press conference this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Cian said, her eyebrow raised as she sat on the couch. “Is there something wrong?”

“Another round of accusations regarding corruption in my administration,” Valorum said as he sat next to her. “The esteemed senators claim to have uncovered evidence that some of my appointees in the Bureau of Interstellar Trade have been accepting bribes.” He sighed heavily and looked over at the window of his office. “Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever see the end of this.”

Cian gazed at his aristocratic profile. There weren’t many to whom Valorum would have confessed such a thing, but he and Cian were very close. When her parents had died, it was Valorum who had taken her into his household and raised her. He was surrogate father, mentor, and friend. She reached over and took his hand.

“Don’t worry, Finis. All these allegations will soon be seen for the baseless lies they are.”

“Thank you, Cian,” he said, giving her a small smile. “But enough talk of politics. How did your dinner go last night?”

“Wonderful,” Cian replied. “Well, actually, Obi-Wan and Aalea both got a little tipsy.” She smiled.

“Aalea? Oh, yes, now I remember. Qui-Gon introduced her to me some years back. The little Jedi with the most extraordinary eyes. Quite a striking-looking child as I recall.”

“Well, not so little anymore. She’s eighteen now. And even more striking.”

“Hmmm. And Qui-Gon?”

“What about him?” Cian asked. She knew what he was waiting to hear. He wanted to know how she had dealt with seeing Qui-Gon again after so many years. Valorum was the only person to whom Cian had unburdened her heart regarding her feelings for the Jedi Master.

Cian sighed as she looked beyond him at the breathtaking view out his wall-sized window of Coruscant; the transparisteel and smoked duracrete towers which stretched to the horizon, the dozens of lanes of floating skycars. Billions of sentient beings lived within its towering spires and murky depths and yet, out of all that bustling multitude, the thought of only one could set her heart to racing.

“Come now, Cian,” Valorum said as he patted her hand. “You would not have arrived early unless you wanted to talk.”

“What do you want me to say, Finis? That I still care for him? Then yes, I’ll say it. I still care for him.”

“And?” he prompted her.

“And what? He’s Qui-Gon Jinn. Jedi Master. Devoted to the Jedi Order and to the Force. What I want...” Cian paused, then she shrugged. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“And what do you want?”

“To love and be loved,” she said smiling sadly. “Isn’t that what most people want? Isn‘t that what I‘ll have with Jeffron?”

“I’m not a philosopher, Cian. Therefore I can not say what most people want, but I do wonder if marrying a man you do not love is the way to achieve your heart’s desire.”

Cian looked over at Valorum, her eyes wide.

“How can you say such a thing, Finis? Of course I love Jeffron!”

“You may love him, but you’re not _in_ love with him.”

“Now you are being a philosopher. You’re playing with words.”

The comlink on Valorum’s desk beeped. He stood and walked over to it. A holographic image of his administrative aide Sei Taria appeared.

“Chancellor, Master Jinn is here to see you,” she said.

“Thank you, Sei. Send him in please.”

Valorum deactivated the link. Cian rose from the couch. Valorum walked over to her from his desk, took her hands and squeezed them.

“Cian, take some advice from an old man; be certain of what you’re doing. Listen to your heart. And don’t give up on love, true love. In this cold dark place we call the universe, love is the only thing which gives meaning to it all.”

“I thought you weren’t a philosopher, Finis,” she said, one brow arching up.

He laughed. The door to Valorum’s office opened and Qui-Gon strode in.
Cian drew her hands from Valorum as he walked over to greet Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon stopped before the Chancellor and bowed. Valorum inclined his head, then took the Jedi’s hand in his, shaking it.

“Good to see you, Qui-Gon. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to welcome you back but,” and he turned and swept his hand towards his desk which was covered with datachips, “as you can see....”

“No need to apologize, Chancellor. Things have been as equally hectic at the Temple.”

Valourm gestured towards Cian.

“I believe you are already acquainted with Mistress Nyal.”

Qui-Gon’s warm gaze swept over Cian.

“Yes, Mistress Nyal and I are well acquainted. She cooked a most delicious meal last night for my padawan’s birthday.”

Valorum walked Qui-Gon over to the chairs in front of his desk. Cian followed and sat in one, Qui-Gon the other. Valorum then walked around the desk and sat down.

“Then I am a very envious man, Qui-Gon," he said. "Cian’s culinary gifts are well known around the Senate chambers.”

Cian dimpled. Qui-Gon looked over at her and smiled.

Valorum leaned forward on his desk, his slender hands folded neatly before him.

“I asked you both here because I have an assignment for you.”

Cian’s heart skipped. For both of them?

“The planet of Jalat recently elected a new First Minister,” Valorum continued. “He has expressed interest in establishing relations with the Republic. The Jalatans are a notoriously xenophobic people, so this is an unprecedented opportunity. He has requested that not only a Republic emissary be sent, but a representative of the Jedi Order.”

Cian sat in shock. This was not what she had expected at all. A mission with Qui-Gon? She glanced over at him but, as usual, his expression was stoic.

“This _is_ unprecedented,” Qui-Gon said. “What little we do know of the Jalatans suggest they have much to offer the Republic. Do you have any other information on them?”

Valorum searched among the datachips on his desk. He picked up one and handed it to Qui-Gon.

“Everything you need to know about your mission is on that datachip.”

Valorum glanced over to Cian. “Cian, I realize this is your first assignment as a member of the Diplomatic Corps. Do you have any objections to Qui-Gon accompanying you?”

“No, of course not. I am well aware of Master Jinn’s expertise in matters of negotiations and diplomacy.”

“Excellent!” Valorum slapped his hands on his desk and stood quickly. “You’re to leave at the end of the week on the Republic Cruiser _Alliance_. Good luck and may the Force be with you.”

Qui-Gon stood and bowed to Valorum. Cian also stood and, when she caught Valorum’s eye, raised her brows at him. He looked back at her, smiling slightly.

Qui-Gon turned towards Cian.

“If you have a few moments, Cian, perhaps we should discuss what needs to be done before our departure.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned back to Valorum. “Good day, Finis.”

“Good day,” he said to her and Qui-Gon.

Cian turned and walked out of the office, Qui-Gon beside her.

Once they were in the reception area, he stopped and looked down at her.

“You are not happy about this,” he said.

Cian glanced over to where Valorum’s aide was sitting at her desk. Although the dark-haired woman appeared to be engrossed in whatever she was reading on her datapad, Cian did not feel comfortable talking in front of her.

“You said you wanted to talk about the mission,” Cian said. “Why don’t we stop by a chalashop. If you have time, that is.”

“I have time.” He took her arm and led her towards the building’s lift. “Actually, there’s something I wish to talk to you about.”

“Oh, what’s that?”

“Aalea.”

----------------

Aalea walked quietly down the aisle of the Healer’s Wing. To her it was the most sacred place in the Temple, for it was here the Healers and their assistants nursed the bodies and souls of injured, sick, and dying Jedi. Aalea could imagine no higher service or calling.

As she made her way through the wing, she recalled the day ten years ago when she had awoken here after her journey along the Force matrix in search of Qui-Gon. It had nearly killed her. However, when Aalea came out of her coma, she discovered Obi-Wan, in a desperate attempt to save her life, had bonded with her. The result was a life-long link between them.

Thinking about the bond brought to mind her encounter with him that morning. Her cheeks burned when she thought of the way he had stared at her. How rude he was. She shook her head vigorously as she walked, causing one of the Healer’s assistants to glance at her as she passed. She was not going to think about Obi-Wan Kenobi, at least not right now.

Aalea stopped before Ke-Ondra’s bed. She had visited him every day since their return from Faronta two months ago. Although his condition had improved somewhat and most of his burns had healed, he was still paralyzed from the neck down.

Ke-Ondra’s eyes were closed. Aalea moved nearer.

“Aalea,” he said softly, his eyes still closed.

“Master, how did you know it was me?” she said laughing as she sat next to his bed.

He opened his eyes. They were a dark forest green with shimmering flecks of red in them. He smiled.

“I smelled your perfume.”

“But I’m not wearing any perfume.”

“I smelled the perfume of your soul, little Aalea.”

Aalea shook her head. Her master was always saying things she did not understand. She knew most species in the galaxy found his features frightening, but she had never known a more kind or compassionate being. He was much like Master Qui-Gon in that.

“How are you today, Master?”

Ke-Ondra grinned at her with his sharp teeth.

“Why, I do believe this morning I moved the little toe of my left foot.”

“Really, Master?” Aalea cried. “That’s wonderful.”

Aalea wanted to weep, for she knew Ke-Ondra was only teasing her, but it was a little game the two of them liked to play. Sometimes it was the middle finger of his right hand, or a muscle in his shoulder, or some other part of his body. But she knew, as he did, he was completely incapable of any movement on his own.

“How was the birthday dinner last night?”

“It was okay,” Aalea murmured.

“But....?” Ke-Ondra prompted.

“But what?” Aalea said, aware her master was watching her closely.

“Something happened. Something which did not please you.”

“No, it was all right. I...” but she stopped.

She could not bring herself to tell him what had happened last night with Qui-Gon. It was bad enough she had lost Qui-Gon’s respect, as she was sure she had; she didn’t want to lose Ke-Ondra’s also.

When she had confessed to her master what she had done to the smuggler Vol after he had tried to rape her, how she had kicked him as he lay unconscious on the floor of her cell, her master had told her not to blame herself for being human. It was only natural that she had reacted the way she did to such a terrible thing; but, to help her, he had also led her in a guided mediation to deal with the anger she had felt.

But this was different. She had acted like a shameless strumpet with Qui-Gon. She didn’t think she could ever look the Jedi Master in the face again. All morning she had been terrified of running into him in the halls of the Temple.

“It’s nothing, Master.”

“If you are certain, Aalea. But if you should change your mind, I am here for you.”

Aalea nodded. She didn’t think she would change her mind, however.

Ke-Ondra gazed wordlessly at her for a moment and Aalea sensed he was about to speak of something which he found painful. She saw it in his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“There is something I must tell you, Aalea.”

“What is it, Master?”

“I have officially requested the Council that you be released from me as my padawan.”

“No, master! Why?” Aalea cried.

“It must be done, but it is with your well-being in mind that I do so. We both know I will never walk again,” and he shook his head as Aalea opened her mouth to protest. “No, Padawan. Listen. One of the virtues of a Jedi is the ability to face the truth. You must be free so another can choose you. And I have no doubt this will happen. You have been a good apprentice. Both Master Yoda and the Council are aware of this.”

Tears filled Aalea’s eyes. She had known this moment was coming, but to have to finally face it and know it as truth was heartbreaking.

“But, what will happen to you, Master?” Aalea asked.

“I am told that soon I will be transferred to the Temple sanitarium.”

Aalea nodded. The sanitarium was a separate building located on the grounds of the Temple where severely injured, dying, and elderly Jedi were allowed to live out their lives in tranquility and comfort. Those who wished could continue to be of service to the Order, but for those who chose not to be of service or were incapable of it, the sanitarium was a final place of peace.

“My mind is active, Aalea,” Ke-Ondra said. “There is much I can still do to be of service.”

Aalea lifted his hand to her face. She kissed it, her tears splashing on his skin.

“I will miss you so much, my Master,” she whispered.

“And I you, my padawan. But, you can always come and visit me.”

“Oh I will,” she cried. “I will.”

Part Fifteen

Obi-Wan knelt on one knee before Yoda. He was in the Jedi Master’s private quarters which was filled with so many plants it resembled a miniature arboretum; golden moon ferns, mist-green lava vines, moist tendrils of blue swamp glory, delicate purple tea lilies and other vegetation filled the room. A small rock garden in the corner was bathed by a tiny waterfall. The scent of moss and earth, leaf and flower filled Obi-Wan’s nose. Yoda sat on a green cushion, chewing thoughtfully on a yarkel root.

Obi-Wan tried not to wince at the sight of the root. Qui-Gon had told him once how, when he was Yoda’s apprentice, he had wanted to emulate his master in everything. Since Yoda liked to chew on yarkel roots, Qui-Gon had gone to the Temple kitchen and asked for one. The cook had looked at him curiously but handed the root over. Qui-Gon confessed it had been months before the awful taste finally left his mouth.

“Birthday dinner, how was it?” Yoda asked.

“It was very nice, Master. Mistress Nyal is an excellent cook.”

Yoda nodded. “For me has she prepared many fine dishes.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. Yoda looked piercingly at him.

“Too long have you and Master Qui-Gon from Temple been.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda went back to chewing on his yarkel root and Obi-Wan stilled his mind. On other occasions when he had been called before the Jedi Master, Yoda would sometimes sit for long moments saying nothing. When Obi-Wan had been younger it had driven him crazy, but over time he had learned to quiet his mind and wait until Yoda chose to speak.

“Force collar which was used on Padawan Aalea, identified it we have.”

Obi-Wan glanced sharply at Yoda. The Jedi Master also had a habit of abruptly changing the subject.

“You have? What is it, Master?”

“An ancient Sith device. From the time of the wars between the Sith and the Jedi. For the transport of captive Jedi was this device used.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but the thought of anyone wanting such a thing sent a shiver of unease through him.

“But that is not why I asked you to come,” Yoda said. “Mission I have for you.”

“For me, Master?”

“Yes, on this mission Master Qui-Gon will not accompany you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart beat faster. He was getting a mission of his own. It had to mean he was closer to being considered for the Trials. He struggled to keep a smile from spreading across his face for Yoda was watching him closely.

Instead he bowed his head slightly, his face still.

“I live to serve,” he said humbly.

“Hmmmph,” Yoda said. He was not fooled by Obi-Wan’s act. He had seen the excitement flare up in the young man’s eyes.

“You to the planetary system of Sylvonna are to go,” Yoda went on. “The daughter of the King of Sylvonna and the son of the King of Tarkasia are to marry. For two hundred years have these planets been at war. Finally peace they have made. This marriage that peace will seal. You as representative of the Republic, Guardian of the Peace and Honorary Bodyguard for the groom will be.”

That didn’t sound too bad, Obi-Wan thought. It wasn’t a blood and sweat mission as he liked to think of the more intense ones he and his master had been on, but it was very high profile and it sounded like a walk in the park. A nice, easy mission to impress the Council with.

“And Padawan Aalea will accompany you as your acting apprentice,” Yoda said.

“What!” Obi-Wan cried before he could stop himself.

Yoda glared reproachfully at him.

“Forgive me, Master,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Someday, _if_ a Knight you become,” and Yoda stared coldly at Obi-Wan as if to say it was a very big if, “you may an apprentice of your own decide to take. On this mission you as master to Aalea will be. Practice for you it is. Learn from you she will. Learn from her you will.

“But Aalea already has a master,” Obi-Wan said. This had to be a mistake. Yoda couldn’t be serious about assigning Aalea to him.

Yoda shook his head sadly. “Knight Ke-Ondra will not recover. Request has he made to be released from mastership of her. For now, until by another she is chosen, masterless is she.”

“Master Yoda, I don’t think it’s a good idea to assign Aalea---”

Yoda raised his hand to silence him.

“No more have you to say. Your mission have you. You and Padawan Aalea in two days will leave.”

Obi-Wan lowered his head. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan then stood, bowed once more and left Yoda’s quarters and, as he walked down the corridor, he noted with dismay that his head was pounding again.

-----------------------------

“Aalea kissed you last night. Didn’t she?”

Qui-Gon was drinking his chala, but he nearly spilled it at Cian’s words. She was sitting across from him at a small table in a chalashop they had found near Valorum’s office. He stared, complete surprise on his face.

“How did you know?” he finally asked.

Cian tilted her head and smiled.

“Well, you are many things, Qui-Gon. Jedi Master. Warrior. Ambassador. But you are not, nor were you ever, an eighteen year old girl. I was. That’s how I know.”

Qui-Gon set the cup down. He brushed at the front of his tunic where some drops of chala had spilled. He then sighed and placed his hands on the table.

Cian leaned forward. “What happened?”

Qui-Gon told Cian everything that had transpired after he, Obi-Wan and Aalea left her apartment. When he finished, he looked across at her helplessly.

“What should I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? But---”

Cian picked up her chala and sipped thoughtfully at it. Qui-Gon waited. She set the cup down.

“Your first instinct is to avoid her, correct?’

He nodded. “I don’t want to encourage this affection. I’ve never done anything, as far as I know, to lead her to believe---.”

“Of course you haven’t. Except by being yourself. Aalea has loved you all her life. It’s natural that as she matures and begins to have these types of feelings, she would express them towards you. But please, Qui-Gon, don’t avoid her. Based on what you told me, she already feels terrible about what happened and she’s probably afraid she’s lost not only your respect, but your love. If you avoid her, you will only confirm that fear.”

“But, what if she persists---”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.”

“How can you be sure?” Qui-Gon asked. Then when he saw the smile on her lips, he nodded. “Because you were once an eighteen year old girl.”

“Exactly. I’m not saying she’ll stop having these feelings for you over night but, with time, she’ll transfer them to someone more appropriate. She’s very beautiful and she has a good heart.” Cian smiled. “Men will be flocking at her door, if they haven’t already.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Cian, you forget Aalea is a Jedi. She will not experience life the same as others.”

“What do you mean, Qui-Gon?” Cian asked, her voice tight.

Qui-Gon glanced at her. She was frowning.

“I mean,” he went on, “although it may be normal for young women to be courted by young men, Aalea has another destiny, another path to follow.”

“Another path to follow?” Cian repeated slowly. “Yes, but a path she really had no choice in.”

Now Qui-Gon could clearly hear the irritation in Cian’s voice. But he wasn’t surprised. Cian’s late father, Senator Sydalli Nyal, had been an outspoken critic of the Jedi and their involvement in the affairs of the Republic. When his own daughter was found to be Force sensitive, the senator had steadfastly refused the Order’s offer to train her. Cian had grown up with a marked disbelief in the Force; a disbelief she held until she met Qui-Gon ten years ago on Dyran and used her Force healing abilities to save his life. Since then she had become more at ease with her Force sensitivity. However, over the years they had also had conversations like this in which Cian would criticize some practice of the Jedi Order. Its tradition of bringing children to the Temple at a very young age was a particular sore spot with her.

“Cian, we have discussed this----.”

“You expect Aalea to act like a Jedi Master, don’t you?” Cian said, her voice rising. “To not have natural desires and needs. And you’re doing the same thing to Obi-Wan.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand you Jedi some times. You never really gave Obi-Wan and Aalea a choice.”

“Cian, you’re not being fair. Aalea and Obi-Wan have choices. They can leave the Order if they wish.”

“But they won’t, will they?” Cian cried, her voice sharp. “Because the Order is all they’ve ever known. And if they did leave, where would they go? What would they do? And you know them both so well, Qui-Gon. You know they would rather die than disappoint you.”

Qui-Gon sighed. This was getting them nowhere. Cian was clearly distressed and he suspected she was upset about more than what she perceived as an injustice against Obi-Wan and Aalea. He was tempted to access the Living Force to see if he could discern what was really bothering her, but he had never done that with her. He had always trusted her to tell him what was in her heart. When she was ready, he believed she would do so.

“Cian, you know quite well the Order’s reasons for training initiates so young. We must avoid any taint of anger and fear which could possibly lead the child to the dark side.”

Cian sighed and crossed her arms.

“I‘m well aware of that, but I still think it‘s wrong. When I think of what almost happened to Aalea on Fartonta---.”

She stopped, bit her lip and looked quickly away from him.

“What do you mean? What almost happened to her?” Qui-Gon asked.

Cian looked back at him and shook her head. “I can’t tell you. Aalea made me promise.”

“I know she was tortured by Luba’s men, but...,” and then Qui-Gon fell silent. He looked deep into Cian’s eyes.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” he whispered.

“It‘s not an easy thing to talk about. Especially with a man.”

“Have you ever been---?”

Cian vigorously shook her head. “No, thank the Lady. But it’s such a dangerous path you‘ve set her on, Qui-Gon. She was lucky to get out of that situation alive.”

Qui-Gon said nothing for Cian was only voicing the same reservations he had felt when he and Obi-Wan rescued Aalea from Luba. But he also knew how important it was for the Jedi to remain a presence in the galaxy. There were so few of them. If the Jedi Order was to survive it had to foster Force gifted children like Aalea and Obi-Wan. He looked over at Cian. A succession of emotions flickered across her lovely face. Sadness, longing, then resignation. She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon. I didn’t mean to lash out at you. It’s just that...I wish....”

He leaned over and took her hand in his.

“What do you wish?” he asked softly.

She pulled her hand away.

“Don’t do that,” she murmured.

“Cian, what’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “We were talking about Aalea, not me.”

Qui-Gon was tempted to press the issue regarding what was really bothering her, but decided not to. He would wait. They had not seen each other for quite a while. He did not want to push her.

Cian took a deep breath. “Please, Qui-Gon, do as I say regarding Aalea. Don’t avoid her. Let her know you love her and always will. Remember, despite evidence to the contrary, Aalea still has a child’s heart. And to a child there is no twilight. There is only night and day. Either they are loved or they are not.”

“But---”

“Don’t worry. If you like, I’ll speak with her.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I have been trained in many things but, regarding the hearts of young women, I admit my deficiency.”

Cian smiled and he was glad to see her smile, but he also saw there was still some sadness in her eyes.

“Now,” he said. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“And what was that?”

“About our mission to Jalat. It does not please you I am to accompany you.”

A faint blush appeared along her cheeks.

“No, of course not,” she said. “I’m happy to have you along. Since it’s my first mission for the Corps, I welcome your expertise.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just hadn’t expected it. But you didn’t seem surprised.”

“That’s because I already knew about it.”

“What?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Yoda informed me the Chancellor had asked permission of the Council for me to accompany you. It was granted.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “Well, how do you feel about it? Accompanying me, that is?”

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never been to Jalat.”

Cian stared at him for a moment and he sensed that was not the answer she had expected nor wanted. However, before he could say more, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small datapad.

“Well,” she said briskly. “I suppose we should start preparing for it.”

Qui-Gon reached into the pouch on his belt and took out the datachip Valorum had given him. He handed it to her. Cian slipped it into the datapad and, as the information scrolled across the screen, they spent the rest of the morning drinking chala and discussing the mission.

---------------------

Aalea sat fuming in the speederbus. A brown-haired man sitting across from her smiled. She nodded and smiled back, but inside she was still seething.

When she had been told by Yoda she was to accompany Obi-Wan on a mission, initially she had only been disappointed it wasn’t going to be a more exciting one. Acting as Guardian of the Peace and Honorary Bodyguard to a bride-to-be sounded prestigious enough, but Aalea didn’t think she would see much action. Probably involved a lot of standing around and looking stoic, she imagined.

But when Yoda also told her she would be going as Obi-Wan’s acting apprentice, it had taken all of her willpower to suppress the anger which had surged inside her.

Obi-Wan was just a padawan like her. Yes, he’d been a padawan far longer than she, but that didn’t matter. He had not been confirmed as a Knight. Yet, Yoda and the Council had given him an authority over her Aa;ea did not believe he had earned.

The speederbus halted. Aalea looked up at the floating holographic sign above her head. It wasn’t her stop. Passengers got on and off. The speederbus moved again and Aalea returned to staring gloomily out the window.

But that wasn’t the worse. Obi-Wan had contacted her and said he wanted to discuss the mission. They’d met in the Temple library. Aalea recalled how he’d stood, his arms folded within the sleeves of his robe, a cool look of pompous authority in his blue-gray eyes. Then he’d the audacity to say he expected her to act with the utmost decorum while they were on the mission and to never forget who and what she was. Aalea gritted her teeth as she recalled how she’d had to address him as master as he continued to lecture her.

The brown-haired man looked over at her with concern and Aalea realized she was frowning. She smiled to let him know she was all right. He nodded and went back to reading his newsfilm. Aalea sighed. This anger wasn’t doing her any good.

The speederbus halted. Aalea looked up. It was her stop. She stood, nodded briefly to the man, then jumped down to the platform. The wind whipped at her robe and tore at her hair. Drops of water splattered on her face.

She looked up. Occasionally, as a result of the water which evaporated and then condensed from the millions of rooftop exhaust vents on Coruscant, squalls would suddenly develop. Aalea drew her hood over her head as the rain fell. She walked quickly down the street which led to Cian’s apartment.

------------------

Cian sat at her desk in her apartment, drumming her fingers as she listened to the rain. She looked over at her holopicture of Jeffron. She had met him a year ago at a diplomatic function on Coruscant she‘d attended with Finis.

While there she had not paid much attention to the tall dark-haired Republic officer but he, apparently, had paid close attention to her. The next day he contacted her and asked her out to dinner. She told him she was unable to go as she was leaving for Alderaan that very day. A week later, he showed up at her office at the university, a bouquet of Jaharan roses in his arms. They started to see each other after that. Then, one day, he asked her to marry him.

Cian had not answered him at first, for the image of a tall, bearded man with long hair and intense blue eyes had appeared in her mind. Therefore, she did the only thing she could think to do. She asked Jeffron for time to think his proposal over. She used her new job with the diplomatic corps as an excuse, but the truth was she still had hope, feeble and fragile as it was, that somehow, someway, she could win Qui-Gon‘s heart.

Now, not only was Qui-Gon back in her life, Finis had just arranged for her to spend the next few weeks alone with him. Well, not exactly alone, but alone in the sense no one they knew would be around. Cian sighed. Then she heard her front door chime. She stood and went to answer it.

It was Aalea. The rain streamed in gray sheets around her. Beneath the hood of her robe, her violet eyes were blazing.

“Aalea,” Cian said. “Come in before you get swept away, dear.”

Aalea walked in, took off her robe, then threw herself on Cian’s couch.

“Have you heard, Cian? Do you know what the Council has done to me?”

Cian sat next to her. She reached up and smoothed back some of the hair which had escaped from its bun.

“What has happened?”

Aalea quickly told Cian about her being assigned to Obi-Wan as his acting apprentice for their mission to Sylvonna.

“And then,” Aalea finished, “he had the _nerve_ to say he expected me to conduct myself with the utmost decorum while we were on the mission. Can you believe that?”

Cian, who had sat through Aalea’s tirade trying not to smile at the affronted young woman, reached over and took Aalea’s hand in hers.

“Yes, I can believe it.”

Aalea turned wide eyes on Cian. “What?”

“Try to look at it from Obi-Wan’s perspective, Aalea. He’s just been given his first mission without Qui-Gon and, not only that, he’s also been given the responsibility of looking after you.”

“But I don’t need looking---”

“Hush, dear. This is important.”

Aalea swallowed, then nodded.

“I’m sure he meant nothing insulting with his remarks,” and Cian held up her hand as Aalea started to protest again, “but he had to be certain you understood the seriousness of the situation. The success of this mission could affect whether or not he’s going to be considered for the Trials. And whether you will find another master.”

Aalea sighed. “I understand that, Cian, but if the Council was going to assign me as an acting apprentice to somebody, why couldn’t it have been to someone more--I don‘t know--grown up. Obi-Wan is just a boy.”

Cian laughed. “Aalea, Obi-Wan is twenty-five.”

“I don’t mean his age. I mean the way he acts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he stares at me sometimes. This morning, for instance. He wakes me up and asks me some perfectly silly question about whether I was feeling all right, then stands there just staring at me. If he saw the strap from my sleep gown had fallen from my shoulder, he could have said something instead of staring like that? That’s rude, don’t you think?”

Cian shook her head. Sometimes she wondered if Aalea and Qui-Gon weren’t truly father and daughter. They were both so blind to the obvious.

“Aalea, if a handsome young man like Obi-Wan were to stare at me, I wouldn’t necessarily think of it as rudeness.”

Aalea only shrugged.

Cian took a deep breath. She had intended on contacting Aalea before she left for Jalat, but now that she was here, it was as good a time as any to do as she had promised Qui-Gon.

“Aalea, I had a talk with Qui-Gon today after our meeting with the Chancellor.”

Aalea’s expression shifted from one of petulance, as she mulled over her conversation with Obi-Wan, to one of alarm.

“Did he tell you what I did?”

“Yes, he did.”

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Aalea cried.

Cian moved closer to Aalea and put her arm around her.

“Of course he doesn’t hate you, dear. But he is concerned. He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? How?”

“Aalea, Qui-Gon loves you very much, but he can not, would not, return your love the way you wanted him to last night. Dear, he’s old enough to be your father.”

“Oh, Cian, I know that, I know he’s too old for me, but I love him so much! It hurts to love some one that bad. It‘s like a stomachache that won‘t go away.”

Cian’s heart twisted. She knew exactly how Aalea felt. She looked deeply into the young woman’s pain-lashed eyes.

“It’s not easy loving someone who can’t, or won’t, return your love,” Cian said gently as she stroked Aalea’s cheek. “It’s probably the worst pain in all the universe.”

“But what should I do? How can I make the pain go away?”

“You can’t _make_ it go away, Aalea. It will have to go away on it’s own. But, remember, never fear you will lose Qui-Gon‘s love. It’s just that he loves you as if your were his daughter. And trust me, that is not a love to take lightly.”

“But, I wish he could love me that other way, too. Is that wrong?”

“No, of course it’s not wrong.”

Aalea wept and Cian held her as she cried. Then, once her tears were spent, Cian gently pulled away from her and lifted the girl’s chin.

“Aalea, someday, maybe even sooner than you think, you’ll meet someone who’ll be just right for you. You will love him and he will love you and you may still hurt inside, but it will be a good hurt, because it will come from wanting to spend every moment of every day with him.”

“I can’t imagine feeling that way about anyone but Master Qui-Gon. And I can’t imagine anyone ever feeling that way about me.”

_Oh, dove, if only I could open your heart. For someone, I suspect, does feel that way about you_, Cian thought.

“Now, there’s something I must tell you. Qui-Gon and I have been assigned to work together on a mission. We’ll be leaving at the end of the week.”

Aalea tilted her head at the news. She glanced down at her hands for a moment. Then she looked up, her eyes dancing.

“Want to swap him for Obi-Wan?”

Cian laughed and pulled the girl to her in a tight hug. Aalea wiped the tears from her face. She looked over at Cian.

“I love you," she said.

Cian kissed Aalea on the cheek. “And I love you too, dear. Now, I have an idea. Why don’t we go shopping tomorrow, if you‘re free that is? I need to pick up a few things before I leave for Jalat. Isn’t there something you’d like to take with you on your mission?”

“Like what?”

Cian tilted her head. “Hmmmm, I don’t know. You are going to a wedding.” She picked up Aalea’s padawan braid and stroked it. “Maybe some ribbons for your braid, or a set of cosmetic sticks, or a new scarf.”

Aalea shook her head.

“Obi-Wan’s not going to let me wear any of that stuff. Especially after his little lecture about Jedi decorum. When I asked him what I should bring for the mission he said,” and Cian was astonished when Aalea did a perfect imitation of Obi-Wan’s accented voice, “Just bring your Jedi gear. Nothing else. Is that clear?”

“Well, what Obi-Wan doesn’t know, Obi-Wan can’t disapprove of,” Cian said. “And from what I hear Sylvonnan weddings are a nonstop party. Maybe you’ll get a chance to sneak away from him and have some fun."

Aalea’s eyes sparkled. “It would be wicked of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your mission, yes, it would be terribly wicked,” Cian agreed. The two women laughed.

-----------------------

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon shifted into fighting stance, a Corellian rapier in one hand, a dagger in the other. Obi-Wan moved to Qui-Gon’s left, the point of his sword level with Qui-Gon’s face, a dagger in his other hand. They circled each other.

The two men were alone in the gymnasium at the Temple. It was late, nearly midnight. Unable to sleep, Obi-Wan had contacted Qui-Gon and asked if he wouldn‘t mind sparring with him.

Sometime ago, when Obi-Wan first discovered Old Republic holovids, he convinced Qui-Gon to practice old-style Corellian fencing with him. Different in technique from lightsaber dueling, both men had come to enjoy it over the years.

Obi-Wan advanced, driving his rapier toward Qui-Gon’s ribs, but Qui-Gon quickly parried, then spun away from him. His master then lunged with his dagger.

Obi-Wan caught it with the blade of his rapier. The dagger slid down the blade as Qui-Gon pressed his attack.

Obi-Wan thrust out with his knife toward Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon’s rapier rose up under Obi-Wan’s guard, driving toward his heart. Obi-Wan, realizing his peril, swiftly deflected the rapier away with his dagger.

“Excellent, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said as the two men stepped back from each other. “But, I almost got you there. Your mind is not on the match, Padawan.”

_That’s an understatement_, Obi-Wan thought as he attacked again, a flurry of strokes which, for a time, kept Qui-Gon so occupied he couldn‘t make any counters; he was too busy parrying against the younger Jedi‘s advance.

Then, suddenly, Qui-Gon turned aside one of Obi-Wan’s strokes, deftly evaded the counter-swing, twisted, then whacked Obi-Wan smartly on the backside with the rapier.

“Ow!” Obi-Wan cried, more from embarrassment than from having felt any actual pain.

“All right, Obi-Wan. That’s enough.”

Qui-Gon turned and walked over to the side of the gym where he placed the blades into a rack. He picked up a towel and tossed it to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan caught the towel with his rapier. He flicked it around his neck with the blade, then put his rapier and the dagger in the rack.

Qui-Gon picked up another towel. He sat on one of the benches alongside the gymnasium wall, wiping his face and neck.

“Shall we talk, Padawan?”

“About what, Master?”

“About what’s troubling you?”

Obi-Wan sighed as he sat next to Qui-Gon. He pulled the towel from around his neck and balled it up in his hand.

“It’s this mission, Master. I still don’t think it’s wise to assign Aalea as my acting apprentice. I know it’s only practice, but...” He twisted the towel, then dropped it on the floor.

“But what?”

“I had no choice in the matter. If this were real, I would have had a choice as to who should be my padawan. And I wouldn’t have chosen someone like Aalea.”

“What do you mean ‘someone like Aalea‘?”

“She’s, she’s....difficult.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “According to Ke-Ondra, Aalea was a hard-working and diligent padawan-learner.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Are you talking about your Force bond with her?”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

Qui-Gon wrapped his towel around his neck, leaned back against the wall and stretched out his long legs.

“I would think the bond would be an advantage to your master/padawan relationship.”

“Not if someone is shielding against you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you with that, Obi-Wan. You and Aalea must work that out on your own. Give her time.”

Obi-Wan picked up his towel and twisted it between his hands.

“It’s fine with me if she wants to keep shielding,” he said frowning.

Qui-Gon sighed. “Is there anything else I _can_ help you with?”

Obi-Wan wrapped his towel around his neck. Then, unconsciously, he copied his master’s posture, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him.

“Well, I could use some advice on how to deal with the mission. I’ve looked over the briefs and it seems pretty straightforward. Although there was some opposition to the treaty on both sides, it appears to have been smoothed out. Looks to me like we’ll be nothing more than window-dressing for the wedding.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “That’s a dangerous attitude to take, Obi-Wan. Sylvonna and Tarkasia were at war for 200 years. There could still be resentment within both parties regarding the peace accord. Be wary. Remember, you and Aalea are also there as Guardians of the Peace. Keep your eyes open. Watch. Listen.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan looked over at Qui-Gon, a small smile on his lips. “This will be the first time in years we haven’t been on a mission together. Will you miss me?”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Of course. But change is good. New experiences help us to grow.”

“Especially if it’s an experience with someone like Mistress Nyal.”

Qui-Gon frowned at Obi-Wan, his gaze piercing.

Oh, oh, Obi-Wan thought. Now what had he said?

Qui-Gon saw the look on Obi-Wan’s face and shook his head.

“Sorry. I thought you were implying something.”

“No problem, Master. I was just thinking you’re going on a mission with Mistress Nyal and....”

“And what?”

“Want to swap her for Aalea?” Obi-Wan asked, his eyes dancing.

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Really, that’s not kind, Obi-Wan. Aalea is,” then Qui-Gon thought about her impetuous kissing of him, “someone from whom you can learn much,” he finished.

Obi-Wan nodded. He agreed there was much Aalea could teach him and foremost would be how to become a better Jedi. The incident at her quarters that morning, the way she had looked, the things he had felt, Obi-Wan had spent most of the afternoon meditating on. He had wanted to remind himself of who he was and what it was he truly desired. He had resisted such urges before and he was certain he could do so again.

Thus, when he had met with Aalea later to discuss the mission with her, he had been detached and dispassionate. He had watched coolly the anger smoldering in her violet eyes, noted objectively the color rising in her cheeks and, had even thought it faintly interesting she could say ‘yes, master’ without moving her lips. As a result, Obi-Wan was certain the only thing he now felt towards her was some apprehension as to whether she would prove a liability on the mission.

He looked over at his master‘s strong and noble profile. In Obi-Wan‘s eyes, Qui-Gon was the quintessential Jedi. He was certain his master had never been distracted from his duty or destiny by the sight of a smooth bare shoulder or the curve of a silken breast, the sound of a soft sweet voice or the dazzling beauty of a pair of violet eyes. No, his master had dedicated his entire life to the will of the Force. That was Obi-Wan‘s goal also.

Qui-Gon stood and looked down at him.

“We’d both better get some rest, Obi-Wan. You’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow and I still have much to do before I leave at the end of the week.”

Obi-Wan nodded, stood and followed Qui-Gon to the showers.

“You’re flying too fast, Master.”

Obi-Wan glanced over at Aalea who sat next to him. The lights from the instrument panel of the cockpit lit up the angles of her face in a kaleidoscope of colors and her black hair shone from the starglow outside the window. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. She continued to stare out at the stars as they streaked past.

“No,” he said tightly. “You are wrong. I am not flying too fast.”

Aalea only shrugged and pulled her seat strap tighter across her body.
Obi-Wan frowned. He and Aalea had left Coruscant three hours ago but she had spent most of their flying time in the back of the ship. Obi-Wan had finally gotten tired of being alone so he had ordered her to join him in the cockpit, ostensibly to show her some of the features of the skipship.

However, although she had listened dutifully, her only responses had been an unenthusiastic string of “Yes, Master” and “That’s very interesting, Master,” which had finally irritated him so much he had given up talking to her.

Which seemed to suit her fine for she had then turned away from him and stared silently out the window. Now that she had finally spoken, he decided it was a good time to again make sure she understood the seriousness of their mission.

“Aalea.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I think we should go over the mission before we reach Sylvonna.”

Aalea nodded. “That is very wise, Master. I would never have thought of such a thing, being that I am only a lowly padawan.”

Obi-Wan glanced over at her. He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was making fun of him, but he didn’t particularly care for the lilt in her voice when she said master.

“Aalea, you don’t have to call me “master” all the time.”

“I know that, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed then continued. “We must remember to always conduct ourselves in a manner appropriate as representatives of the Republic and the Jedi Order.”

“Of course, Master. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. Though I do find your use of the word "we" interesting.”

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"And?"

She turned towards him, her violet eyes gazing intently into his.

"Well, I just couldn’t imagine _you_ would ever do anything which would be considered inappropriate, Master. You are the very model of the perfect Jedi. Or so I‘ve heard,” she added with just the hint of a thin smile.

Obi-Wan knew that wasn’t true; she was just trying to bait him. He decided to ignore her comment.

“Do you have any questions or concerns regarding the mission, Aalea?”

“Like what, Master?”

“Well, I’ve been on a number of diplomatic missions with Master Qui-Gon over the years and I know you and Knight Ke-Ondra were usually not given such assignments. Maybe there’s something I could help you with.”

Aalea shook her head. “I’ve read the mission briefs, Master, and I know what is expected of us. We are to serve as Guardians of the Peace and Honorary Bodyguards to the bride and groom. Sounds straightforward to me.”

“Yes, but we must remain cautious. Remember, Sylvonna and Tarkasia were at war for 200 years. There still may be some resentment regarding the armistice. We must watch, listen, and not let our guard down.”

“Of course, Master. I shall, as you say, not let my guard down.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Aalea, I sense that you’re not happy about the mission---”

Aalea turned towards him, her eyes wide. “What ever gave you that idea, Master?”

“What? Well, I don‘t know, you---”

“I‘m sorry, Master, but you‘re quite wrong. I’m very happy about the _mission_.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, nodding dubiously. “You’re very happy about the _mission._ But there’s nothing else bothering you, right?”

Aalea shrugged. “I am a Jedi. I live to serve.”

“That’s not an answer, Aalea.”

“Are you ordering me to give you a different answer, Master?”

“Of course I‘m not ordering you!” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He looked down at the panel before him. Satisfied they were still on course for Sylvonna, he turned towards Aalea. She had gone back to staring out the window.

“Look, Aalea, I think for the sake of the mission we should clear up any misunderstandings between us. If we’re to succeed, we must work together. If there are any problems, we should try to solve them before we get to Sylvonna.”

Aalea shook her head. “I hate to disappoint you, Master, but I don‘t have a problem.” She shifted in her seat, then turned towards him. “But, I’m thinking that since you brought the subject up in the first place, perhaps it’s you who has a problem.”

He was about to assure her he didn’t, but he knew that wasn’t so. Maybe it was better to tell her the truth and get it out in the open.

“All right, Aalea,” he said. “I wasn’t entirely pleased when I was told you had been assigned as my acting apprentice.”

Aalea said nothing for a moment, but her eyes grew wider.

“Really, Master? Why not?” she finally asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

“Because you’re not experienced with these kinds of missions. Diplomatic missions require a certain level of prudence.”

“A certain level of prudence,” Aalea repeated, her eyes glittering.

“Yes, and though I understand you were a diligent and hard-working student under Knight Ke-Ondra’s tutelage, I’ve also heard you’re somewhat impulsive and rash. Attributes which can be disastrous on missions like this.”

“Oh, you heard that, did you?” she said, her dark brows rising.

“Yes, I did.”

“But not from Master Ke-Ondra?”

“No, but I’ve---”

Aalea tilted her head, her violet eyes darkening as she held his gaze.

“And you’re telling me this because?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said simply.

“The truth,” she repeated, nodding. “All right. Let us be truthful with one another. Permission to speak freely?”

“Of course, Aalea.”

“I also wasn’t pleased at being assigned to you. As far as I’m concerned, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’ve been given authority over me that you haven’t rightly earned. You’re not a Knight yet.”

Obi-Wan glanced sharply over at her. She boldly met his eyes, her chin lifted.

“It wasn’t my decision, Aalea,” Obi-Wan said, his voice harsh with frustration. “It was the Council’s. And if I’d been given a choice, I wouldn’t have---.”

Obi-Wan stopped, took a deep breath, and swiveled back towards the instrument panel.

“You wouldn’t have chosen me,” Aalea finished coolly.

Obi-Wan remained quiet for a long moment, his gaze fastened on the panel before him.

“No,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t have.”

Aalea said nothing. She turned away from him. When Obi-Wan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye all he could see was her profile and it was set in stone.

They sat like that for awhile, neither saying a word to the other. Then Obi-Wan decided he couldn’t stand her brooding silence any longer.

“Aalea, if you wish, you don’t have to stay up here with me.”

She sat silently for a long moment. Then she unhooked her seat strap and stood. She looked down at him.

“Permission to leave, Master?”

Obi-Wan nodded curtly and Aalea moved past him and headed toward the back of the ship. When Obi-Wan heard the cockpit door slide shut behind him, he finally released his breath.

That hadn’t gone well. He didn’t understand it. He had faced down pirates, marauders, raiders and Hutts, but when it came to Aalea he was never quite certain what he should say or do. He wondered what Qui-Gon would have done.

------------------

Aalea walked into the small galley of the skipship. She had initially been headed toward her quarters, but she suddenly had an urge for a cup of tea.

She bit her lip. She hadn’t realized Obi-Wan was so disapproving of her. She knew he and Qui-Gon were extremely close, closer than most masters and their padawans, so she wondered for a moment if Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan about the kiss.

Aalea shook her head. That wasn't likely. She could understand Qui-Gon’s having discussed it with Cian, but she couldn’t imagine he would have talked about it with Obi-Wan. And since Aalea was also shielding against Obi-Wan there was no way he could have found out what happened through their bond.

No, Obi-Wan just didn’t approve of her. And, as far as she knew, he never had. Even when she was a child, during those times when Qui-Gon would come to visit her, Obi-Wan would either quickly excuse himself or stand silently to the side, a slight frown on his face. Therefore, when Aalea had come out of her coma ten years ago and discovered he had bonded with her, it had shocked her for she had been so certain he didn’t care for her at all. Yet, he had saved her life.

Aalea looked around the galley as she searched for the tea. For such a small ship, the galley was well-stocked. The skipship was a prototype; a smaller, faster starship which the Jedi Council was considering using for missions. It had been given to the Order by Horesh-Kessel Inc., one of the Republic’s largest starship manufacturers. The company hoped to obtain a contract with the Jedi.

When she and Obi-Wan had arrived that morning at the starport near the Temple and the portmaster had informed them the skipship was going to be their transport to Sylvonna, Obi-Wan’s face, which until then had been set in a stoic mask, broke into a wide smile.

He and the Horesh-Kessel rep, who had been on hand to answer any questions, had gone inside the ship, the two of them talking animatedly about the ship’s rating and capacity and a lot of other stuff Aalea hadn’t found the least bit interesting.

Later, when Aalea was loading her traveling case on board she heard Obi-Wan, who was outside performing some last minute checks on the ship, call out a greeting to Qui-Gon and Cian. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had been successful at avoiding Qui-Gon for the last three days. Despite Cian’s reassurances that he didn’t hate her, Aalea hadn’t been able to bring herself to face him. Then she heard Qui-Gon ask Obi-Wan where she was. Obi-Wan’s footsteps pounded through the ship as he came in search of her. He stopped when he saw her kneeling on the floor, her hands on her traveling case. He looked at her for a moment, than jerked his head toward the outside.

“My master and Mistress Nyal want to say goodbye to you.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Aalea said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

“Are you all right?” Obi-Wan asked as he looked closely at her. “You’re not ill, are you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, don’t be too long. We have to leave soon.”

He turned and went back outside.

Aalea sighed and pushed her traveling case far under her cot. Then, taking a deep breath, she got up and left the ship. As she walked over to where Qui-Gon and Cian were talking with Obi-Wan, Aalea kept her head down so that at first all she saw were the front of Qui-Gon’s boots. Then she felt a finger under her chin and her head was slowly lifted.

Qui-Gon gazed down at her, his smile open and warm.

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye, Aalea?” he asked gently.

“No, of course not, Master.”

“I haven’t seen you these last few days. I was afraid I wouldn’t get a chance to wish you good luck on your mission.”

“Oh, well, you know, Master, I've been busy preparing for the mission, and, well...” Aalea stopped because she suspected Qui-Gon knew exactly why he hadn’t seen her since the night she'd kissed him.

Aalea glanced over to Obi-Wan who was intently watching the exchange between her and Qui-Gon. She suddenly wished he would go away and tinker with his precious ship so she could talk privately with Qui-Gon.

She looked helplessly over at Cian and then, as if she had read Aalea’s mind, Cian went over to Obi-Wan, took him by the arm and asked him if he wouldn’t mind showing her around the ship. As they walked away, Obi-Wan began talking enthusiastically to Cian about the ship‘s innovative design and hyperlight engines.

Qui-Gon smiled as he watched them walk away.

“He’s very excited about that ship, isn’t he?”

Aalea shrugged and frowned. “It’s the only thing he’s smiled about all day.”

“I suggested to the Council Obi-Wan be allowed to test fly it. He’s a good pilot and if the Council is considering using it for missions, he’s the best person to determine its potential.”

“Yes, Master,” was all Aalea could think to say. She didn’t particularly want to talk about the skipship or Obi-Wan, for that matter.

She gazed up at Qui-Gon’s strong handsome face and her heart turned over. She loved him so much and yet, she knew it was a love she would have to keep to herself. For Cian was right. Not only was Qui-Gon old enough to be her father, he was also a Jedi Master. Even if, by some slight chance, he felt the same way about her as she did about him, he would never act upon it.

Qui-Gon placed his hands gently on Aalea’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Aalea. I’m not angry with you. Nor do I hate you.”

“I know, Master.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You will always have a special place in my heart. Never doubt that. Now, before you and Obi-Wan leave, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course, Master. You can ask me anything.”

“May I give you a hug?”

Aalea smiled and tears welled in her eyes.

“Oh, yes,” she cried and moved quickly into his arms. She sighed as she felt his strong arms encircle her. And as she pressed her cheek against his broad chest and listened joyfully to the robust beating of his heart, the tears spilled from her eyes. Then, holding him just a moment longer, she stepped back.

Qui-Gon looked down at her, his blue eyes warm. Then he gently stroked the tears from her cheek.

“Good luck on your mission, Aalea. And please, be supportive of Obi-Wan. He can be a bit demanding at times, especially on himself, but you can learn much from him.”

“I‘ll try, Master,” she said.

Qui-Gon shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Aalea, you know better. What does Master Yoda always say?”

Aalea smiled through her tears.

“Do or do not. There is no try.” And the two of them laughed together and Aalea knew then that she had not lost him as she had feared.

She turned as she heard Obi-Wan and Cian exiting the ship.

“It’s quite the ship, Qui-Gon,” Cian said as she moved next to him.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Obi-Wan has already named her.”

Qui-Gon glanced over at Obi-Wan. “Really, Obi-Wan? What do you call her?”

Obi-Wan, who had moved next to Aalea, was staring curiously at her and didn‘t hear Qui-Gon‘s question. Aalea, realizing there were still some tears on her face, hurriedly wiped them away.

“Master Qui-Gon asked you a question, Obi-Wan,” she said.

“What?" Obi-Wan turned quickly towards Qui-Gon. "I'm sorry, Master. I didn't hear you.”

“The name of the ship. What is it?”

“Oh, I’ve decided to call her the ‘Lady Cian‘, in honor of Mistress Nyal. If she doesn’t mind, of course,” he said bowing to her.

Cian blushed. “I’m flattered. But you do me too much honor, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled broadly at Cian‘s gracing of him with that title.

“You are deserving of praise, Mistress Nyal, and worthy of much more than my humble attempts to pay you homage.”

Aalea had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. She couldn’t believe the way Obi-Wan was talking. He sounded like some peer of the realm from those awful Old Republic holovids he loved so much. She glanced over at him and was struck by the warmth in his eyes as he gazed back at Cian. Then he turned towards Aalea and his eyes were once again cool and aloof as he looked down at her.

“We’d better get going, Aalea,” he said brusquely. “We do have a schedule.”

“Yes, Master,” Aalea said. She then glanced over at Qui-Gon. He smiled back at her, but also shook his head warningly.

Cian had then quickly kissed her and Obi-Wan, hugging them tightly and wishing them well on their mission. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had clasped arms, exchanging a look which spoke volumes.

Then, with one final round of good-byes and hugs, she and Obi-Wan had entered the ship and taken off. And as Aalea had sat in her seat, the skipship tearing through the Coruscant sky, she had stared out the window at Qui-Gon and Cian’s figures as they had gotten smaller and smaller until they, and Coruscant itself, finally disappeared from her sight.

Now, as Aalea wandered about the galley, she told herself she would see Qui-Gon and Cian again. But she had this mission to get through first. Now that she knew Obi-Wan was so unhappy about her being on it with him, she was determined not to give him any reasons to justify his misgivings.

She could be just as good a Jedi as he was, she thought angrily. Then she stopped and realized anger was not the proper response to her frustration. During his mastership of her, Ke-Ondra had lectured her repeatedly about her quick temper.

Aalea finally found the tea. She quickly made a pot. Once the tea was done, she poured some into a cup and, as she took it to her quarters, decided she would find some way to make peace with Obi-Wan. Both their futures depended upon the success of this mission. And it wasn’t as if they had to like each other in order to work together.

As the Jalatan shuttle in which Qui-Gon and Cian were passengers flew down toward the First Minister’s Audience Hall, Qui-Gon saw Cian close her eyes. Then, when the shuttle suddenly dropped a few meters, she reached over and quickly grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

Although they had been on Jalat a few days now and had been transported throughout the capital city and its surrounding districts, Cian had not gotten used to the fact the shuttles were completely transparent. Qui-Gon had initially found the design startling, but aesthetically pleasing. Cian, on the other hand, had confessed to Qui-Gon it felt as if they were floating in mid-air.

Their pilot guided the shuttle to the tall, majestic building in which Cian and Qui-Gon were to have their audience with the First Minister and his Council. Qui-Gon knew landings were the hardest for her and, he had to admit, the sensation one was hurtling unprotected toward the ground was hard to discount.

The pilot smoothly banked the shuttle and then swerved toward a small landing area just outside the Audience Hall. As the shuttle hovered for a minute, Cian squeezed Qui-Gon’s hand even tighter. He was amazed a woman with such small hands could have such a punishing grip. As he tried to ease his hand from hers, Cian opened her eyes. She looked down at what she was doing, then quickly snatched her hand away.

“Oh, Qui-Gon, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she watched him rub the blood flow back into his hand.

“Quite all right, Cian. My hand is always at your service, but a little forewarning would be appreciated.”

Cian shook her head as their pilot finally landed the shuttle.

“I hate flying in these things,” she murmured.

“But you have to admit,” Qui-Gon said as their pilot exited the ship, ran to their door, opened it and bowed, “they’re wonderful for sightseeing.”

Cian stepped unsteadily out of the shuttle, then waited as Qui-Gon climbed out behind her. He looked around. Like all Jalatan structures, the Audience Hall was of a clean, if somewhat stark, design. Tall columns of a soft pink stone banked the large entrance.

A wind blew across the landing field and ruffled Cian’s delicately arranged hair. Qui-Gon looked at it with a smile. Cian had spent all of last evening trying on several garments and rearranging her hair in various styles, all in an attempt to find the perfect one for their audience. Qui-Gon had sat dutifully in the sitting room of her suite in the Residence Hall, waiting patiently as she had emerged from her bedroom in a new outfit or hairstyle for him to evaluate. As far as he was concerned Cian looked lovely no matter what she was wearing, and he had told her so, but she’d been hard pressed to finally decide on an outfit. It was, after all, her first assignment as emissary for the Republic. After what had seemed to Qui-Gon an endless parade of feminine finery, Cian had finally decided on a blue high-necked gown with softly flowing sleeves. She had piled her bronze-colored hair up into ringlets which framed her face. Noting Qui-Gon was staring at her, Cian looked down at her gown.

“Is there something wrong? Is there a tear or, Lady forbid, a stain? No, I know what it is. It‘s the fit, isn‘t it? It‘s too tight across...,” and she gestured miserably across the bodice of her gown.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. The fit was rather snug there, but Cian was rather well-endowed in that particular area of her anatomy. He quickly drew his eyes away from her breasts and looked into her dark gray eyes which were watching him anxiously.

“There’s nothing wrong, Cian,” he said quickly. “You look lovely, as I said before. No, I was just thinking I’m very glad I’m a Jedi.”

“Oh, really, and why is that?”

He gestured at his robe, tunic and pants.

“Because I don’t have to lose my mind wondering what to wear,” he said smiling.

Cian nudged him sharply in the side with her elbow. He chuckled, then looked across the landing area where the First Minister’s aide-de-camp, Epena, hurried towards them.

“Welcome, welcome, most esteemed Jedi Master Jinn and Republic Emissary Nyal,” Epena said to them in his faintly lisping Jalatan accent.

Epena was, like most Jalatans, slender, with dark orange eyes and sea-green hair but, where most of his people were tall, some even taller than Qui-Gon, Epena was the same height as Cian and she barely came up to Qui-Gon’s chest. Epena bowed deeply to them.

Qui-Gon and Cian returned his bow.

“Thank you, Salu Epena,” Cian said.

Qui-Gon had decided since it was, technically, Cian’s assignment, he would let her handle the formalities. He knew he had been asked along only because the Jalatans were curious about the Jedi Order. Epena waved his hand to indicate that Qui-Gon and Cian should precede him into the hall.

As Qui-Gon walked with Cian through the entrance, he had to stop himself from glancing back at Epena who walked behind them. He had not gotten used to the Jalatan custom that those of the Commoner caste were required to walk behind those of a higher caste. He and Cian, as diplomats, had been granted honorary membership in the Administrate caste which had afforded them this, in his opinion, annoying consideration. The Jalatans apparently did not find it difficult to carry on conversations with people who walked behind them, but both he and Cian found it hard not to turn around whenever someone behind them was talking.

“They are all assembled and waiting for you,” Epena said as they entered the hall.

Once inside the Audience Hall Qui-Gon was impressed at how the Jalatans had managed to create a sense of grandeur without an overbearing impression of grandiosity.

As Epena, Qui-Gon and Cian approached the far end of the hall, Qui-Gon slowed his pace a bit so he was a step behind Cian, slightly to her left. He wanted the First Minster and his Council to know it was Cian who was the Republic’s official representative.

They reached the end of the hall and stopped before a raised dais. On the dais was a long table. At the center of the table sat an elderly wide-faced man who grinned broadly as they approached. Along both sides of the table sat six other Jalatans. Epena had explained earlier that the Council itself was comprised of two representatives from three of the major Jalatan castes; the Administrate, Religious, and Military caste. The Commoner caste, of which Epena was a member, did not have a representative on the Council but, traditionally, it was the Administrate caste who looked out for the interests of the Commoners.

Epena moved from behind Qui-Gon and Cian to stand in front of the dais. He then bowed so deeply that for a moment Qui-Gon was afraid his head was going to hit the floor.

Rising, Epena turned and gestured toward Qui-Gon and Cian.

“Most honored First Minister and esteemed members of the Council of the Jalatan people, I present to you, from the Galactic Republic, Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Knight, and Mistress Cian Nyal, Republic Emissary.”

Epena had instructed both Qui-Gon and Cian as to how deeply they should bow. Since they were honorary members of the Administrate caste, they were not required to bow as low as Epena, but they did have to show the proper respect to the First Minister and the Council. Qui-Gon bowed first, to show he was secondary to Cian, therefore his bow was deeper. Then Cian bowed slightly, tipping her head gracefully.

“Welcome, Master Jinn and Mistress Nyal,” the wide-faced man with the broad smile said to them. Epena glanced up at the man with a worried frown and Qui-Gon sensed something had just occurred which had thrown Epena off.

The elderly man then stood and walked around the table. As he stepped down from the dais, a distinct murmur rose from the table. Epena looked like he was about to go into an apoplectic fit.

The man then walked over to Cian. He took her hand and pumped it vigorously.

“Welcome, welcome! I am First Minister Shiro. I am so happy you are here. So very happy. Welcome. Welcome.”

Qui-Gon could see Cian was also taken aback by what she now perceived was a breach in protocol, but she quickly recovered. She smiled warmly at the First Minister who continued to briskly shake her hand.

“Thank you, First Minister Shiro. We are also very happy to be here.”

Shiro shook Cian’s hand a few moments longer, continuing to smile broadly at her. Then he released her hand and turned toward Qui-Gon.

“Yes, welcome, welcome, Jedi Master Jinn. So very glad you are here, so very glad,” and he took Qui-Gon’s hand and shook it heartily.

Qui-Gon inclined his head as he returned the First Minister’s handshake. He was struck by the overwhelming sense of good will emanating from him. Shiro was not a young man, but his face shone with the unabashed innocence and guilelessness of a young boy.

Epena, who had continued to stare in alarm at the First Minister, finally aroused himself out of his state of shock and hurried over to Shiro’s side. He whispered animatedly in Shiro’s ear.

“Yes, yes, I know. Calm yourself,” the First Minister said waving his hand.

Shiro turned away from Epena and smiled.

“Salu Epena has reminded me I must not continue to violate protocol. Therefore I will return to the dais as he instructs.”

Shiro turned back to the dais, went up to his center seat at the table and sat down.

The members of the Council, who had watched the entire display with emotions, Qui-Gon noted, ranging from disbelief to outrage to humor, finally settled down.

Shiro glanced along both sides of the table.

“Members of the Council,” he began, “as your newly elected First Minister, you are aware that one of my first acts was to initiate contact with the Galactic Republic. For too long have the Jalatan people remained isolated. It is time we embrace our fellow beings who reside in the skies beyond our world. That is why I asked the Republic to send a representative of both the Senate and the Jedi Order so that they may know us and we may know them.”

He gazed down at Qui-Gon and Cian and smiled warmly at them.

“That is all very well, First Minister. However, not all of the Jalatan people welcome this new initiative of yours.”

Qui-Gon looked closely at the man who was speaking. He had a high-domed head, a thin mouth and close-set dark orange eyes which glittered as he gazed down with cold disdain at Cian and Qui-Gon.

“Thank you, Salu Rukal, for reminding us of that,” Shiro said. “Master Jinn, Mistress Nyal, may I present Salu Rukal, Chief Priest of the Jalatan religious caste.”

Qui-Gon bowed and Cian nodded to Rukal. Rukal, however, did not acknowledge their gestures. He continued to stare coldly at them.

“Salu Rukal is worried that contact with outside systems may lead to a corruption of our people,” Shiro explained.

“Not may, First Minister. It will corrupt our people,” he said sharply. “This Galactic Republic of theirs is unclean.”

Cian moved forward a step.

“Salu Rukal, there is much we do not know about the other, but I am hoping that while we are here, Master Jinn and I may help you to learn the truth about the Republic and the Jedi Order of which we are representatives and clear up any misconceptions you may have.”

Rukal glared down at Cian.

“Truth,” he sneered. “What do you know of truth, unbeliever? Only the Jalatans have been blessed with the truth, which is the knowledge of Syad, the energy which binds the universe together. And this one,” and he pointed at Qui-Gon, “claims to have knowledge of the Syad, which he calls the Force. It is a blasphemy, I say, a heresy. We can not allow its foul taint to pollute our people.”

At the far end of a table, a Jalatan male clapped his hands slowly and mockingly.

“A pretty speech, Rukal," he said scornfully, "but, like all your speeches, it was long on wind and short on substance.”

The man who spoke was younger than Rukal and Shiro. He was also powerfully built for a Jalatan and wore what Qui-Gon surmised was a military uniform.

Rukal glared down the table at the younger man.

“General Nesshin, you of all people should understand the threat these beings pose to our way of life.”

Neeshin gazed down at Cian and Qui-Gon, his orange almond shaped eyes thoughtful.

“Threat?” He tilted his head as he studied them. “That remains to be seen. But I do agree, and please mark this down Salu Rukal, for I promise it will be the only time I ever agree with you, we must be cautious.”

“Cautious?” Rukal cried. “No, send them back where they came from! This woman and this Jedi” and Rukal sneered the word, “are an abomination!”

Shiro stood and glared over at Rukal.

“Stop it, Salu Rukal! I will not tolerate this from you any longer. These people are our guests.”

Qui-Gon watched the heated exchange between the Jaltans with growing concern for he had begun to sense a distinct and mounting disturbance in the Force. It felt as if some great and terrible beast, which until that moment had been slumbering quietly, was slowly awakening. He glanced around for the source, but the feeling was illusive, just out of reach of his awareness. But of one thing he was certain, the disturbance was gathering about Cian. He moved closer to her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He saw the look of concern on her face. Cian was not a Jedi, but she was Force sensitive and Qui-Gon could see she also sensed the disturbance.

Rukal stared back at Shiro for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

“Forgive me, First Minister, for my outburst.”

Qui-Gon noted Rukal did not apologize to him or Cian.

“You are forgiven, Salu Rukal,” Shiro said. “Now, all of you should have received copies of the prospectus from Mistress Nyal regarding the opening of trade and diplomatic relations with the Republic. We will vote in a few weeks on whether to initiate such relations. However, I hope you will take the time until then to meet with Master Jinn and Mistress Nyal so that you can learn more about the Republic which they both serve.”

Qui-Gon quickly registered the responses of the Council members to Shiro’s words. Rukal, the chief priest, continued to glare at him and Cian. The young Jalatan general, Neeshin, slouched in his chair, a small smile on his handsome face. His gaze, Qui-Gon also noted, was fastened on Cian‘s breasts. The two members of the Administrate caste, a male and female, sat with stoic expressions on their face, displaying neither acceptance nor disapproval of Shiro’s words. And of the remaining two Council members, the religious caste member appeared to be unreceptive, but not as hostile as Rukal, and the other military caste member, an older woman who sat stiffly in her uniform, only looked bored.

“Thank you, First Minister Shiro and members of the Council,” Cian said. “Master Jinn and I will be more than happy to answer any questions you may have about the Republic and the Jedi Order.”

“Good. Then I adjourn this audience,” Shiro said. The Council members rose from their chairs.

As Qui-Gon and Cian waited to be officially dismissed from the audience, Shiro left the table and walked down the dais towards them. He gestured for Epena to come closer.

Shiro stopped in front of Cian. He glanced back as the Council members continued to file out of the Audience Hall. Once the Hall was clear, he took Cian’s hand in his.

“My dear, I must apologize for the behavior of Chief Priest Rukal. He is very dedicated to his calling and when he heard a Jedi was coming to Jalat, it sent him into a rather bizarre fit of rage. I personally don’t understand it, but I am sorry you had to be a witness to it.”

“It’s quite all right, First Minister Shiro. No harm was done,” Cian said.

“I am glad you are so understanding, Mistress Nyal. I would like to invite you and Master Jinn to my private residence for dinner tonight with my wife and I. You would greatly honor my humble home if you would accept.”

“The honor is ours, First Minister. Of course we accept.”

“Good.” Shiro turned towards Epena. “See that everything is arranged for them, Epena.”

Epena bowed deeply. “Yes, First Minister.”

“Until tonight.” Shiro then turned and left the Audience Hall.

Cian turned towards Qui-Gon. He could see she was about to comment on the Force disturbance, but he cautioned her with his eyes not to speak of it yet. She glanced at Epena, then nodded to show she understood. It wasn’t that Qui-Gon mistrusted the Jalatan aide, but until he was certain as to who or what was the source of the disturbance he wanted to remain cautious.

“I will contact you later this afternoon regarding the arrangements for your dinner with the First Minister,” Epena said. “It is a very great honor the First Minister has bestowed on you. Not many are invited to his private residence.”

Epena then waited for Qui-Gon and Cian to precede him out of the Audience Hall.

--------------------------

Cian collapsed into the blue over-stuffed couch in the sitting room of her suite at the Residence Hall. She quickly kicked off the heeled slippers she had worn to the audience. Qui-Gon sat in a chair across from her. He watched her wince as she wriggled her toes.

“My feet are killing me,” she groaned. “Whatever possessed me to wear those shoes?”

Qui-Gon quickly stood, walked across the room and sat on the couch next to her. Without a word he lifted her legs and placed her feet in his lap.

“Qui-Gon!” Cian cried. “Whatever are you doing?”

Qui-Gon rubbed her feet.

“It is a Jedi massage. It will help to ease the pain.”

Cian giggled. “That tickles,” she said.

“It is not supposed to tickle,” Qui-Gon said reproachfully.

“Well, it does.” Then Cian let out a low moan which set a shiver of electricity through Qui-Gon. He glanced up at her. Her eyes were closed.

“Oh, that feels absolutely delicious,” she said softly.

“It’s not supposed to feel that way either.”

Cian’s eyes snapped open.

“Well, by the Lady, what _is_ it supposed to feel like?”

Qui-Gon firmly pressed his hands into the soles of her feet.

“It is supposed to feel like nothing. The purpose of the massage is to put you into a state of emptiness so that the pain will flow into that space and leave your body.”

Cian settled her shoulders deeper into the couch.

“State of emptiness,” she scoffed softly.

As Qui-Gon continued to massage Cian’s feet he saw that she was almost purring.

“Qui-Gon,” she murmured, her eyes half-closed.

“Yes?”

“How do you think Aalea and Obi-Wan are doing?”

He looked over at her. “Why do you ask?”

She tilted her head as she regarded him.

“Well, the Sylvonnans are a very erotic people. The act of love is almost a sacrament to them. And Obi-Wan is such a serious young man.”

“Obi-Wan will be fine, Cian. I’ve trained him over the years to deal with all kinds of cultures and customs.”

“Hmmm. And then there’s Aalea.”

“What about her?”

“She’s incredibly beautiful and the Sylvonnans worship physical beauty. Aren’t you worried about that?”

“Should I be worried? Do you think she’ll be harmed in some way?”

“Oh, no,” Cian said quickly. “The Sylvonnans are not like that at all. Physical love is never forced on anyone, but she may receive a lot of attention because of her appearance.”

“And?”

“And I just hope Obi-Wan can deal with it. I hope he doesn’t blame her if the Sylvonnans make a fuss over her. He’s so worried about her conducting herself with the,” and Cian lifted her hands and lowered and raised the first two fingers of each hand, “‘proper measure of Jedi decorum.’ What ever that means,” she finished with a slight frown.

Qui-Gon chuckled softly as he continued to massage Cian‘s feet.

“Well, you have to admit, Cian, Aalea is a bit impetuous and high-spirited.”

“Of course she is, Qui-Gon. She’s eighteen years old. What do you and Obi-Wan expect her to act like? An old woman?”

Qui-Gon shook his head, his mouth crinkling into a smile.

“Of course not. Don’t worry, Cian, I can assure you they both will be fine. Obi-Wan’s quite capable and nothing will happen on their mission which he can’t handle.”

“I hope you’re right, Qui-Gon. Thought it wouldn‘t hurt Obi-Wan to loosen up some.”

Cian closed her eyes as Qui-Gon continued the massage. After a bit, he noted with growing disquiet that Cian’s gown had risen along her legs. He stared for a moment at the smoothness of her skin. Suddenly he felt very warm. He finished the massage, then quickly stood.

Cian’s eyes flew open. She looked up at him.

“What’s wrong, Qui-Gon?”

“Nothing is wrong. I have completed the massage. How do you feel?”

Cian wriggled her toes.

“I feel wonderful. Thank you.” She continued to stare curiously up at him.

Qui-Gon went back to his chair and sat.

“Cian, perhaps we should discuss what happened today at the audience.”

“The disturbance in the Force.”

“Yes.”

Cian shook her head and folded her hands in her lap.

“It was illusive, like a prickling or an itching, just at the edge of my awareness.”

“When did you first notice it?” Qui-Gon asked.

Cian thought for a moment.

“When Chief Priest Rukal began speaking.”

“So did I.”

“Do you think Rukal is the source of the disturbance?”

“I’m not certain, but he did mention the Syad. It sounds like the Jedi concept of the Force.”

“We know so little about their religious practices. Perhaps we should do some research into it. We could ask Epena to help us.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Qui-Gon was about to tell Cian about his perception the Force disturbance had been gathering about her but until he was certain as to its source, he decided there was no reason to unnecessarily alarm her.

“I think the audience went well today,” she said.

“Yes,” Qui-Gon agreed. “It will not be an easy road; however, I’m encouraged by First Minister Shiro’s enthusiasm.”

“I like him,” Cian said smiling.

“So do I. I’m looking forward to our dinner tonight. Speaking of,” and Qui-Gon glanced at his wristchrono, “I have enough time to mediate and exercise before we have to leave.”

He stood and inclined his head to Cian.

“With your permission, Emissary?”

Cian looked up at him and smiled.

“Granted, Master Jinn.”

He returned her smile and left her suite.

-----------------------

They were late.

As Aalea looked out the cockpit window at the approaching landing field of the capital city of Sylvonna, she felt waves of frustration coming from Obi-Wan. Her shields against their Force bond were up, so she wasn’t sensing his feelings, but it was apparent he was anxious. His brow was furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line, and all his responses to her questions had been in clipped, one-word sentences. But she knew he wasn‘t angry at her; he was angry at himself.

Honing in on the coordinates provided by the Sylvonnan dockmaster, Obi-Wan piloted the skipship to their designated landing area. Aalea saw that it was quite small. The entire spaceport was crowded with hundreds of ships of assorted sizes and designs. The guests for the wedding, she surmised. For a moment Aalea was afraid Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to squeeze their ship into the tiny space set aside for them, but Qui-Gon was right. Obi-Wan was a good pilot. Their skipship landed next to a large transport with more than enough room to spare.

Once the ship was on the ground, Obi-Wan let out a deep breath. He stared for a moment out the window.

“We’re not just late,” he finally said. “We’re very late.”

“Yes, Master,” Aalea agreed.

He glanced over at her, his eyes questioning.

Aalea suspected he thought she was still teasing him, but she wasn’t. She had stopped playing that silly game of responding to him by constantly saying the word master hours ago.

“It’s not your fault we’re late,” she said.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We were supposed to be here yesterday. This is not a good start.”

Aalea didn’t know what to say, for she agreed, it was not a good start. But the fault was not Obi-Wan's. The skipship’s nav computer had crashed. As a result they’d had to search for a suitable planet where they could land and make repairs. That had taken a few hours. Once they had found one, a deserted little ball of dust which didn’t even have a name, only a number, it had then taken Obi-Wan six additional hours to reprogram the nav computer. As a result, as Obi-Wan had observed, they were not only late, they were very late.

As Aalea looked out the window she saw a grossly overweight Sylvonnan, dressed in a dazzling array of brightly colored robes, running at a dead heat towards their ship. He waved at them with a fat hand weighed down with rings that sparkled madly in the sunlight.

Obi-Wan followed Aalea’s gaze. He groaned softly.

“Oh, no.” He quickly unbuckled his seat straps. “Come on.”

“What’s wrong? Who is that man?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He ran out of the cockpit towards the ship’s entrance. He quickly keyed in the code which would open the door, Aalea behind him. The door swung up and the landing ramp extended.

Aalea looked out. The fat man stood at the bottom of the ramp, peering anxiously up at her and Obi-Wan.

“Oh, thank the Great Lover, you are finally here! Come, come, we must hurry.” He waved frantically at them to exit the ship.

Obi-Wan and Aalea ran down the ramp.

“You are the Jedi Guardians, correct?” he asked quickly.

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry we’re so---”

The man shook his head and grabbed Obi-Wan and Aalea by the arms dragging them from the ship.

“No time. No time. We must hurry.”

“Wait.” Obi-Wan jerked back, forcing the man to stop pulling him and Aalea. “Who are you? Where are you taking us?”

The fat man glanced angrily over at Obi-Wan.

“My name is Marni and I am the King’s Major-Domo and Chief Eunuch. I am taking you to the reception which is being held to welcome the wedding guests. The reception, by the way, which started hours ago and for which you two are terribly late. Now, if you don’t mind,” and he reached over and grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm. He had not let go of Aalea’s.

“All right, you can take us,” Obi-Wan said as he pulled his arm free from Marni‘s grasp, “but we will not be dragged.”

Marni rolled his eyes. He reached into his voluminous robes and pulled out a heavily scented silk handkerchief. He wiped at his bald head which was drenched with sweat.

“This is terrible, terrible. Look at me. I’m sweating like a Tarkasian sow. Fine, have it your way, you terribly late Jedi,” he said angrily. “But we must hurry!”

Marni turned and ran, his robes flapping about him.

Aalea was amazed at how quickly Marni ran for he was possibly the fattest man she had ever seen. She looked over at Obi-Wan. He shrugged and then ran after the eunuch, Aalea beside him.

----------------------

Aalea’s heart beat hard in her chest. She stood next to Obi-Wan in a large atrium in the palace of the King and Queen of Sylvonna. Around her milled hundreds of Sylvonnans. The combination of the heat from their bodies, the scent of their heavy perfumes, and the sound of their mingled voices had all combined to give her a terrible headache.

She glanced over at Obi-Wan who stood quietly at her side. His arms were folded within his robe and he stared stonily ahead. They had just learned that they, as Guardians of the Peace and Honorary Bodyguards to the bride and groom, had been scheduled to enter the Reception Hall first. That had been hours ago. Now, as a result of their arriving late, they would enter the Hall last. This was not an auspicious beginning to their mission. No doubt Master Yoda and the Jedi Council would hear of it.

Aalea looked down at herself. She wished she had had a chance to shower and change into fresh clothing, but Marni had vehemently denied her and Obi-Wan’s request they at least be allowed to go to their quarters first.

Instead he had hurriedly escorted them to this atrium just outside the Reception Hall. He had then quickly instructed them on the correct procedure with which they were to enter the Hall and greet the King and Queen. With a final reproachful glance at them, and a disdainful sniff as he had looked up and down at their dusty clothing, he had scurried off on his plump legs, waving his hands and calling after some other heavily perfumed and overly dressed courtier.

Aalea took a deep breath and then wished she had not. The Sylvonnans seemed to be deeply in love with perfume. Dozens of different scents--musk, floral, and herbal---assaulted her nose. Aalea’s head swam and for a horrifying moment she felt faint. She then realized it had been hours since she had ate. She wondered if she should mention how she felt to Obi-Wan, but looking over at him and noting the firm set to his mouth and the deep furrow in his brow, she decided not to. He had enough on his mind.

Finally, the great doors before which Obi-Wan and Aalea stood swung open. They entered the Hall and a cacophony of fanfare blew around them. It was an enormous room, the largest Aalea had ever seen. The blue and white tinted ceiling soared so far above it seemed to merge with the sky.

As Aalea walked with Obi-Wan towards the dais upon which the King and Queen sat, she made the mistake of bending her head back as she looked up at the ceiling. Suddenly she became dizzy and lost her sense of direction.

She stumbled slightly. Then she felt someone grab her arm and steady her. She looked over. It was Obi-Wan and his eyes were boring into hers as if to ask what did she think she was doing.

From the dais Aalea heard the distant tinkling of laughter. She blushed. Obi-Wan squeezed her arm and glared at her. Then he let go of her, adjusted his robe, frowned, and gestured with his head that she continue to accompany him to the dais.

Humiliation spread through Aalea. Could this day get any worse? Finally, she and Obi-Wan arrived at the foot of the dais.

Before Aalea even had a chance to look at the King and Queen, she bowed as she had been instructed by Marni. Again she felt herself growing dizzy, so she held her bow a few moments longer than required. She closed her eyes and inhaled, then exhaled a deep cleansing breath. Rising up, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Obi-Wan, who had risen seconds ago, was staring irritably at her.

Tears stung Aalea’s eyes. She couldn’t help it if she felt faint. She was so hungry and there were so many people and it was so hot. Her robe pressed down on her like a great weight. She glanced frantically about her. Then she saw, seated on a small throne on the dais, a girl who looked to be about sixteen. She had vivid green eyes and bright red hair. She was staring at Aalea, but her expression was friendly and she had a sympathetic smile on her pixyish face.

Suddenly, a loud crack drew Aalea’s attention away from the girl. She glanced over and saw Marni, who was standing to her right, pounding a great staff on the floor.

“Our Dread Lord and Lady,” he cried out in a loud high voice, “before you has come, in great supplication and humbleness, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Aalea Ve’Red, Guardians of the Peace, representatives of the Galactic Senate and the Jedi Council, and Honorary Bodyguards to their Royal Highnesses Princess Nadira of Sylvonna and Prince Ishan of Tarkasia.”

Aalea looked up at the thrones upon which sat the King and Queen of Sylvonna and gasped. They had to be the two most beautiful people she had ever seen. King Tahal was a broad shouldered man with thick black hair and dark brown eyes. He had a neat goatee which he stroked slowly as he gazed down at Aalea. Queen Samar was blond with large blue-green eyes. She wore a tightly fitting gown with a plunging neckline which showed off every curve of her magnificent figure.

Obi-Wan stepped forward slightly.

“I bring greetings to the Dread Lord and Lady of Sylvonna from the Senate of the Galactic Republic and the Council of the Jedi Order.” He then bowed and moved back next to Aalea.

The king and queen said nothing, but then Queen Samar leaned over and whispered something to her husband. He grinned broadly at her words. Then, raising a hand, he gestured towards Aalea to come closer.

At first Aalea wasn’t sure he meant her. She even turned around to see who he was pointing at. When she turned back, the king gestured at her again, smiled and nodded his head.

Aalea glanced over at Obi-Wan. He didn’t look at her, but nodded his head curtly, giving her permission to approach.

Aalea did so, aware that hundreds of eyes were locked on her. She walked up to the dais, and then, because she still felt faint, climbed slowly up the steps.

She stopped in front of the king and queen. She was afraid to bow, for fear she would fall over, so she lowered her head in supplication.

“Come closer, little one. We won’t bite. At least not yet,” King Tahal said. Then he laughed as if he had made a joke and Queen Samar laughed softly with him.

Aalea moved closer until she was standing directly in front of the king. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would leap from her chest.

“They’re terribly late, wouldn’t you say, my dear,” Tahal said to Samar.

She nodded. “Most inappropriate.”

Fear pulsed through Aalea.

“Please, your most dread majesties,” she began in a soft voice.

King Tahal’s eyebrows shot up and Aalea feared she had violated some code of behavior by speaking. She wished she and her master had been assigned to diplomatic missions. It was so hard to know what was permitted and what was not.

Tahal leaned forward. “Do not be frightened. You may speak.”

Aalea cleared her throat. “Please, your majesties, there‘s a very good reason why we‘re late.” She glanced down at Obi-Wan who was staring curiously up at her.

She moved nearer and lowered her voice. Tahal seemed to take great delight in her moving close to him. He and Samar bent over so that the three appeared to be huddled in a secret conference. Both Tahal and Samar were now so close to Aalea she could smell their perfumes. The combination of the musky scent of the king's and the floral scent of the queen's made her even more dizzy.

“The nav computer on our ship crashed,” she continued. “It sent us off course. My master had to reprogram it and, well, considering he accomplished in six hours what normally would have taken twelve, I--” and she stopped for Tahal and Samar had both moved away from her and were sitting back in their thrones, watching her intently.

Aalea stepped back, her thoughts churning. What was wrong now?

“She‘s quite the beauty, isn’t she, my dear?” Tahal said to his wife.

Queen Samar gazed at Aalea, her blue-green eyes large and warm.

“Yes, my love, quite. And here I thought the Jedi were all so unattractive.” She glanced down the dais at Obi-Wan and her brows lifted in appreciation.

“And the eyes,” the King continued. “Extraordinary. Such an unusual color. One feels as if one were looking into the eyes of Sera, the Great Lover herself, wouldn’t you say?”

Samar drew her gaze lazily away from Obi-Wan and looked deep into Aalea’s eyes.

“Oh, yes, my love. And her mouth, like a warm, ripe fruit,” she purred. “Just waiting to be plucked and tasted.”

Aalea was growing more and more uncomfortable with what was happening. Tahal and Samar were talking about her as if she were some kind of specimen. And what was Obi-Wan making of all this?

“Is she acceptable, my dear?” Tahal asked his wife.

Samar nodded. “More than acceptable. She will make a fitting honorguard for our daughter’s wedding.”

“You may step back now,” Tahal told Aalea. “And do not worry, little one. Nothing will be said about your arriving late. After seeing you, it was well worth the wait.”

Aalea inclined her head and then, carefully, for she felt more lightheaded than before, she turned and left the dais. As she walked back over to Obi-Wan, she was almost afraid to look at him. But she did and was surprised to see, not the irritation she had expected, but a look of puzzlement on his face. She wondered if he had heard what the king and queen had said about her.

Marni struck the floor with his staff.

“To the Jedi, I present she who is the heart of our world, the Rose of Sylvonna, the Princess Nadira.”

Aalea glanced up and saw the red-haired girl nod slightly. The Reception Hall rang with applause and cheers. Nadira’s green eyes gazed about her with delight. Then she glanced over at Aalea and smiled, her round cheeks deeply dimpled.

Marni thumped his staff. “The royal family will now retire.”

Tahal, Samar and Nadira rose from their thrones and moved slowly from the dais. As Aalea waited next to Obi-Wan she felt as if her head were floating away from her body. The room was sweltering. Sweat poured down her back and her legs trembled. Aalea took a deep breath, hoping to clear her head when, suddenly, she felt herself pitching towards the floor, darkness and silence overwhelming her.

----------------

Aalea awoke to find herself lying in a plush, silken bed. She looked around. She was in a large chamber, the walls of which were adorned with gauzy layers of ruby and emerald drapes. Tiny scarlet birds with black beaks trilled in golden cages scattered about the room.

Aalea could also smell flowers, their scent rich and drugging, and in the distance she heard the sparkling tinkle of a fountain. Then, as she slowly moved her arms and legs, she realized with a shock she was completely naked. Aalea looked wildly around, but saw no signs of her tunic or pants. She also noted that her hair, which she normally wore in a bun, had been loosened. She was just about to get up when she heard loud voices coming from outside the closed door of the chamber.

“I insist that you let me see her.” It was Obi-Wan. He sounded both frustrated and worried.

“And I insist that you leave, you young pup! You have no business here!” cried a woman’s voice Aalea didn’t recognize. It was an older voice with a slight accent which made the woman sound nasal.

“She is my padawan, therefore I demand to see her.”

“Padawan?” the woman’s voice croaked. “What’s that? Are you saying she’s your concubine?”

“No!” Obi-Wan cried out. “She’s my apprentice.”

“Apprentice, eh? Well, what kind of master are you? The poor thing was sweltering in all those clothes. The hottest day in Sylvonnan history and you had her wearing a tunic, pants, boots and a robe!”

“That is the way the Jedi dress,” Obi-Wan’s voice said from behind the door.

“Then the Jedi are fools! Now, be gone with you!”

Aalea sat up, but before she could get out of the bed, a small figure raced towards her from behind a wall of curtains. It was Princess Nadira. Behind her glided three young women.

Aalea quickly pulled the bedcover over her nakedness as Nadira leaned over and pushed her back into bed.

“You must not get up yet,” Nadira scolded. Her green eyes looked disapprovingly down at Aalea.

“Where am I? How did I get here?” Aalea asked.

“You are in my chambers, Jedi Aalea, and how you got here is my servants brought you.”

Aalea shook her head. “But I don’t understand? What happened?”

“You fainted! In front of everyone,” Nadira said breathlessly, her eyes dancing. “It was very exciting! And quite scandalous! No one is allowed to faint during a reception until the royal family has left.”

“What?”

Nadira nodded her head vigorously.

“Oh yes, Jedi Aalea. The receptions take hours and hours and it is always so hot and people get tired and usually someone faints, but they are not allowed to until we leave. It is considered an act of treason.”

“An act of treason?” Aalea gasped, her heart thudding inside her, her eyes wide.

Nadira peered worriedly down at Aalea and patted her hand.

“Do not worry, Jedi Aalea. You have diplomatic immunity. You will not be put to death.”

Aalea sighed. Then she turned her head. She could still hear Obi-Wan and the older woman yelling outside the chambers.

“What’s going on out there?”

Nadira glanced toward the door of her chamber. She shrugged.

“Oh, that is just my handmatron Badalah arguing with your lover.”

“My what?” Aalea cried.

Nadira looked curiously down at Aalea. “Your lover. Jedi Obi-Wan.”

“He is not my lover,” Aalea said firmly. “He’s my master, at least while we’re on this mission. What made you think such a thing?” Then remembering she was addressing royalty, Aalea quickly added, “your highness.”

Nadira sat next to Aalea.

“Well, he is so pretty and you are so pretty, I just thought....” Nadira then shrugged and smiled as if her line of reasoning made perfect sense.

“I can assure you, your highness, that Obi-Wan and I are _not_ lovers.” Aalea shook her head. Lovers indeed. That was funny. Obi-Wan could hardly stand her. She was nothing but an annoyance to him.

Aalea glanced toward the door as the voices outside grew louder.

“Why won't your handmatron let him see me?”

“Because that is forbidden. No man is allowed inside my bower.”

“Then I’ll go and see him. Please, your highness, can you find me something to wear?“ Aalea looked down to where she had pulled the bedcover over herself.

Nadira gestured to one of the young women standing behind her who ran to a huge wardrobe and pulled out a silk lilac robe. The handmaiden took it over to the bed and handed it to Aalea, who quickly drew it about herself. She tried not to appear embarrassed for Nadira and her handmaidens were watching her closely. Since she assumed they were the ones who had undressed her, it wasn’t as if they were seeing something they hadn’t already seen. A pair of slippers were quickly laid beside the bed and Aalea put them on.

“Where are my clothes, your highness?” Aalea asked.

Nadira cocked her head as she regarded Aalea.

“You are very beautiful, Jedi Aalea, but the clothes you wear,” and Nadira shuddered, “they were not only very ugly, but very dusty. They are being cleaned.”

“Well, we didn’t get a chance to change into our cleaner clothes,” Aalea said as she stepped down from the raised platform the huge bed sat upon and made her way across the room, “and we’d been on that rock for six hours while Obi-Wan fixed the nav computer and then we raced like mad to get here and that fat man”---Nadira giggled at that---“wouldn’t let us change and...” Aalea stopped.

She looked over at Nadira who was laughing at her.

“What’s so funny, your highness?”

“You talk a lot, Jedi Aalea. But I like you. I like you very much.”

“Oh, well, thank you, your highness. I like you too. Now, may I please see Obi-Wan?”

Nadira took Aalea by the arm and walked her out of the bower and into the outer room where Obi-Wan stood arguing with a heavy-set, black haired woman. When Aalea and Nadira came through the door he and the woman stopped shouting at each other.

Aalea walked over to Obi-Wan and bowed. She was so ashamed, she almost couldn‘t bring herself to look him in the eye. How could she have allowed herself to faint? It was something a proper Jedi would never have let happen and she was certain Obi-Wan was going to reprimand her about it. She braced herself for a lecture on how she had violated some aspect of Jedi propriety.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

Aalea‘s mouth dropped open. She looked into his eyes but all she could see was concern. She quickly recovered from her shock and nodded.

“Yes, Master. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess of everything, haven’t I?

“No, not at all. If I had only known...” Then Obi-Wan stopped and glanced sharply over at Badalah and Nadira who were intently watching the conversation between him and Aalea.

“Excuse us, please, your highness,” Obi-Wan said as he took Aalea by the elbow and steered her a few feet away.

He leaned close to her and spoke in a low voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling faint?”

“We were already so late, Master, and I was certain I could make it through the reception, but when the king and queen asked me to come up on the dais, they were both wearing so much perfume, it made me dizzy.” Aalea stopped and sighed heavily. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Well, as far as I can see no real damage was done. It is considered an act of treason to faint during the reception, but since we’re ambassadors, we’re immune to any prosecution. And, from what I’ve been able to discern, the Sylvonnans seem quite taken with you.”

“With me?”

“Actually, they’re quite taken with ‘the Rose of Sylvonna’,” and he gestured with his eyes over at Nadira, “and she is quite taken with you. And anything Nadira likes, the Sylvonnans like. But, the next time you feel ill, let me know. There’s no use risking a diplomatic incident.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ve been informed you’ll be quartered in the princess’ wing while we’re here.”

“Where will you be?”

“In a complex adjacent to the palace which has been set aside for the Tarkasian wedding party.”

“Are they here yet?”

“No, they’re not expected for a few more days. I’m to fly to their homeworld today and accompany them here as part of my duties as Honorary Bodyguard to Prince Ishan.”

Aalea nodded. Suddenly, she was afraid to be left alone, but she quickly schooled her face so Obi-Wan would not suspect.

“Will you be all right until I get back?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m feeling much better. Once I eat something, of course.”

“Yes, make sure you get something to eat. When I return from Tarkasia, I’ll teach you some bio-techniques that will help you avoid a similar situation. But, I’d better go now. I don’t want to be late.”

He then glanced over to where Nadira was watching them, a wide smile on her elfin face, her green eyes sparkling. Aalea saw Obi-Wan’s eyes grow anxious.

He looked back at Aalea and quickly cleared his throat.

“Aalea, don’t forget our prior discussions about Jedi decorum. Remember who and what you are.”

His gaze then swept disapprovingly over her hair, which was lying loose about her shoulders, and the silken robe and slippers she was wearing.

Aalea frowned and gritted her teeth. Jedi decorum again. Would he ever stop singing that tune? It wasn’t her fault her clothes had been taken away and her hair undone. She was about to tell him so in no uncertain terms, but decided it would not do for Nadira and Badalah to see them arguing. That was one of the major tenets of the Master-Padawan relationship. Any disagreements were always to be discussed in private.
Instead, she lowered her head submissively.

“Yes, Master,” Aalea said in a tight voice, her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed when she raised them to his. “I shall not forget myself while you are gone.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but Aalea noted with satisfaction that there was still some doubt in his eyes. They walked over to where Badalah and Nadira were waiting.

Obi-Wan frowned over at Badalah who glared fiercely back at him. Then he smoothed out his face and bowed deeply to Nadira.

“Your highness.”

Nadira giggled, then dipped her head slightly.

Obi-Wan turned to Aalea. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan turned on his heel and strode through the door, his robe flying out behind him.

----------------------
As soon as Obi-Wan had left her chamber, Princess Nadira started laughing.

Aalea sighed. Now what was so funny? She looked over at the princess.

“Are all Jedi so pretty?” Nadira asked.

“Pretty? You mean Obi-Wan?”

“Oh, yes, Jedi Aalea. He is a very pretty fellow, especially when he is angry.”

Aalea shook her head. She didn’t think Obi-Wan would appreciate being called pretty.

“Are you certain you and Jedi Obi-Wan are not lovers?” Nadira went on. “Because if you are not, you should make him your lover. I am thinking he would make a very excellent one.”

“Your highness, Obi-Wan is not nor will he ever be my---” Aalea began.

“It is very easy to tell if a man will make a good lover, is it not, Badalah?” Nadira went on.

“That is very true, poppet,” Badalah answered.

“The way a man carries himself is a very good sign, Jedi Aalea,” Nadira said. “If a man is at ease in his body, it means he will be at ease during the act of love. I am thinking Jedi Obi-Wan is very much at ease in his body.”

The princess then shook her head and frowned slightly.

“However, it was very hard to see what his body looked like under all those ugly clothes you Jedi wear. Have you ever seen his body, Jedi Aalea? I am thinking he must have a very pretty one. He has such a pretty face.”

“Your highness, please, this topic is not---” Aalea said.

Nadira put her hands behind her back and Aalea was suddenly reminded of the instructors at the Jedi Temple. Nadira was talking about Obi-Wan as if he were some specimen she was dissecting.

“And his voice. Such a pleasing music it has.” Nadira closed her eyes for a moment. “Very nice I am thinking for whispering sweet nothings on a moonlit night, do you not agree, Badalah?”

Badalah only shrugged, her brows pulled down in a frown.

“He also has well-shaped hands. That is good. It means he will know how to touch you and make you feel nice, Jedi Aalea. And the eyes.” Nadira sighed. “Such a pretty color. Gray and blue all mixed together. Bedchamber eyes. That is what they are called, is that not so, Badalah?”

“Your highness, I don‘t think--” Aalea said urgently, but Nadira ignored her, swept away in her analysis of Obi-Wan.

“His mouth is pretty, too. I am thinking he must be a very nice kisser. Have you ever kissed him, Jedi Aalea?”

“No, your highness,” Aalea said gritting her teeth.” I have not nor do I ever intend to kiss him.”

“How can you not be wanting to kiss such a pretty fellow, Jedi Aalea?” Nadira said, her green eyes twinkling. “I am thinking you are still light in the head to say such a thing. Perhaps you should lie down some more.”

“Your highness---”

“I am thinking Jedi Obi-Wan’s kisses would be as soft as rose petals and as sweet as cherry bonbons. Do you not agree, Badalah?”

Badalah rolled her eyes. Aalea could see the handmatron did not share Nadira’s enthusiastic appraisal of Obi-Wan’s attributes while Aalea herself was becoming quite annoyed with the princess's continued babbling about him.

“Your highness---,” she said.

“And that deep dimple in his chin.” Nadira nodded sagely. “I am not certain, but I am thinking that is a very good sign he has a very big--”

“Your highness! Please!” Aalea shouted.

Nadira’s eyes widened as she looked over at Aalea.

“Your highness, please forgive my outburst,” Aaela said quickly. “But he is my master. And he is nothing like that. He is a Jedi and we Jedi are...” Aalea stopped and swallowed. She was suddenly reminded of her kissing of Master Qui-Gon. Her cheeks burned in remembrance.

Nadira looked keenly at Aalea for a long moment, her green eyes sharp and assessing.

“But if he is not your lover, Jedi Aalea,” she finally asked, “how can you be certain of what he is or is not like?”

Aalea ignored Nadira’s question. She was very uncomfortable with all this talk about Obi-Wan’s eyes, hands and mouth. The more Nadira had gone on talking about him, the warmer Aalea had become.

“Your highness, I‘m sorry,” Aalea said, “but such things are not discussed where I come from.”

Nadira continued to stare at Aalea, her elfin face thoughtful. She then nodded.

“Ah, I see.” She and Badalah exchanged a meaningful look.

“I am now suspecting why it is you are so upset,” Nadira said as she moved closer to Aalea and placed her hand over Aalea’s heart. She then reached up and touched Aalea‘s forehead.

“Yes, I see now. Your head and your heart are not one.”

Aalea shook her head. She had no idea what Nadira was talking about and, at that moment, she really didn’t care.

“Your highness, I respectfully request that my clothes be returned to me. I’m already in enough trouble with my master. And I’d also like to get my travel case from our ship before he leaves.”

“Your case has already been taken to your quarters, Jedi Aalea,” Nadira said, “and, as for your clothes, would you rather not wear something else? You are very beautiful. Much too beautiful for such ugly clothes.” Nadira wrinkled up her face.

“They are not ugly. They are practical, your highness. They are the traditional apparel of the Jedi Order and symbolize our commitment to a life of service.”

Badalah shook her dark curly head and sniffed disdainfully.

“Life of service, by the eye of the Prude," she said contemptuously. "More likely a life of servitude.”

“Please, your highness,” Aalea said. “I must have my clothes.”

Nadira sighed. “All right, Jedi Aalea. If it is so important to you, they will be returned when they are clean. I suppose you would like to go to your quarters now?”

“Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Badalah will take you to them. And then, after you are settled in, I order you to return so that you can tell me everything about Jedi Obi-Wan.”

And with that Nadira pranced back into her bower where Aalea could hear her prattling to her handmaidens about how pretty Jedi Obi-Wan was.

Aalea sighed heavily as she followed Badalah to her quarters. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the rest of the day talking about Obi-Wan Kenobi. What a silly mission this was turning out to be.

As Cian and Qui-Gon exited from the shuttle which had brought them from the capital, a breeze rich with the smell of the sea swept over them.

Cian took a deep breath and smiled up at Qui-Gon.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve smelled the sea.”

“Yes, it‘s been a long time for me too.” He also took a deep breath. “What I find fascinating is that the sea, no matter what world I’m on, always seems to smell the same.”

Qui-Gon then looked over at what First Minister Shiro called his “humble home.”

The villa was magnificent. Situated on a bluff which overlooked the Emerald Sea, the alabaster stones of which it was built glowed beneath the enormous Jalatan moon and star-speckled sky.

“It’s beautiful,“ Cian gasped as she looked over at it.

Qui-Gon glanced down at her. He was still amazed at how much clothing she had been able to pack in the single travel case she had brought.

Tonight she wore a dark gray strapless gown bordered in black. Her bronze-colored hair was loose and flowed over her shoulders. Tiny black pearls ringed her neck and she wore a matching pair of earrings. She had worried that the gown was too somber-looking, but he had told her it was fine and brought out the color of her eyes.

“Yes,” he agreed as he gazed down at her. “Quite beautiful.”

She looked up at him and when their eyes met, she blushed slightly. She took his arm. “Shall we go in?”

They walked towards the entrance of the villa. A Jalatan servant, dressed in white, hurried toward them. He bowed deeply, then gestured for them to precede him into the house.

They entered the ornate foyer. Giant jade urns overflowing with scarlet and saffron blossoms stood against the gold lacquered walls. The fragrance from the flowers was delicate, but enticing. The servant darted around them and gestured for them to go through a set of large double doors to the left of the foyer.

Qui-Gon and Cian entered what appeared to be the library. The high walls were covered with leather bound books. A fire burned cheerfully in the large marble fireplace in front of which stood Shiro.

“Welcome, Mistress Nyal, Master Jinn,” Shiro cried as he walked across the richly carpeted floor to greet them. He took their hands and squeezed them warmly. “I hope your flight here was uneventful.”

Qui-Gon smiled. For some reason, flying in the transparent shuttle at night had not distressed Cian as much as doing so during the day did. Therefore, his hands had been spared her punishing grip this time around.

“It was a very pleasant trip, First Minister,” he said.

“Good.“ Shiro took Cian’s arm and drew her away from Qui-Gon. “Come, my dear, and you also, Master Jinn. My wife has been wanting so much to meet the two of you.”

He led Qui-Gon and Cian into a small anteroom off the library. In it was a divan upon which lay an elderly Jalatan woman. She was dressed in a light green gown and around her shoulders she clutched a thick blue shawl.

“Vati,” Shiro called softly as he guided Cian over to the woman. “She is here. Just as I promised.”

The woman lifted heavy-lidded eyes. A soft smile spread across her weathered face.

“Oh, you are as lovely as my husband described,” she whispered.

“May I present my life and my love, my wife Vati,” Shiro said as he gazed fondly down at the elderly woman.

Qui-Gon bowed deeply and Cian curtsied.

Vati acknowledged them with a slight incline of her head.

“Welcome to our humble home, Master Jinn, Mistress Nyal.”

“Are you up to joining us for dinner, my wife?” Shiro asked her.

Vati smiled. “Yes, I believe I am. You were right, my husband. Resting here has refreshed me.”

As Vati tried to rise, Shiro quickly let go of Cian’s arm and rushed over to her. He slipped his arm about her shoulders and helped her from the couch.

Shiro turned to Qui-Gon and Cian.

“Go ahead, please, my friends. My servant will show you to the dining room. We shall be along shortly.”

As Qui-Gon and Cian turned to leave, Vati called softly after them.

“I am so very glad you were able to come.”

Qui-Gon turned back and looked deeply into her eyes. They were dim from the sickness he could see was ravaging her body, but the goodness of her spirit blazed through her illness like sunlight burning through a cloud.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he said warmly in turn.

He took Cian’s arm and the two of them walked back into the library where the servant escorted them to the dining room.

-------------

Later, after dinner, which Qui-Gon had found not only pleasant, but quite filling, Shiro escorted him and Cian to a veranda which overlooked the sea.

Vati, who had excused herself halfway through the meal, was already there, lying on a long couch, her back supported by heaps of cushions.

“Come, my dear, sit here,” Vati said to Cian. She pointed to a chair beside her. Cian went over and sat next to her. Qui-Gon and Shiro took chairs adjacent to them.

“Have you enjoyed your visit to Jalat so far?” Vati asked Cian.

“Very much, Sala Vati,” Cian replied. “Your world is very beautiful.”

Vati nodded. She gazed out over the moon-rippled waters.

“Yes, it is very lovely, but there is also a darkness upon it.”

Shiro glanced sharply over at his wife.

“Vati, you promised you would not speak of such things.”

She turned back to her husband. “It must be spoken of, Shiro. And if not to them, then to whom? For too long have you refused to see what is before your eyes. If we are to ask Master Jinn and Mistress Nyal to report back to their government what goes on here, whether it would be wise to establish relations with us, then they must have the truth.”

Shiro sighed. He turned to Qui-Gon and Cian.

“My wife speaks of Rukal.”

“The Chief Priest?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Shiro nodded. “You see, Rukal became Chief Priest of the religious caste five turns ago---”

“And since that time,” Vati interrupted, “there has been a darkness in the temples. The ceremonies are tainted, the people are uneasy and you, my husband, do nothing.”

“But, my wife, there is no evidence for your suspicions. Each time I have asked you to provide me with some proof that I might present to the Council to address your concerns, you have none to give. All you have said is you have felt a disturbance.”

Qui-Gon jumped visibly at Vati’s words. Cian glanced quickly over at him.

Vati drew her shawl tighter about her.

“Rukal is evil, Shiro. Ignore that and you condemn us all.”

Qui-Gon leaned forward. “This Syad which Rukal spoke of at the audience this morning, Sala Vati. Can you explain it?”

“It is the foundation of our religious belief, Master Jinn,” Vati replied. “The Syad is the force which binds the universe together. It is the living embodiment of the godhead. Priests like Rukal are able to channel the Syad, to perform miracles and feats of power. However, according to the tenets of our belief, such power is to be used only for good. To heal, not to hurt. To serve, not to master.”

“It sounds very much like the Jedi concept of the Force.”

Vati nodded. “I have heard this. That is why my husband asked for a representative of the Jedi order to accompany the Republic emissary. He had hoped that by showing Rukal there was much the Republic and Jalat had in common, it would help to ease Rukal’s fears about the possible pollution of our beliefs.”

“But that has not happened?” Cian asked.

Vati shook her head. “It appears the opposite has occurred. For example, Rukal has been preaching in his cathedral in the capital that you, Master Jinn, will be the harbinger of the rise of a new Dark Age.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cian cried. “Qui-Gon the bringer of darkness?”

Vati shrugged. “Nevertheless, that is what he has been saying.”

Cian looked over at Shiro.

“I have heard this, too, Mistress Nyal” he told her. “I should have mentioned it to you, and I apologize for not having done so, but I did not think it was of any great matter.”

“Well, it is of great matter, my husband,” Vati chided.

Qui-Gon looked over at Shiro. “I would like for you to arrange for Cian and I to meet with Rukal.”

“What?” Shiro cried. “After what my wife has just said, you and Mistress Nyal wish to walk into the lion’s den?”

Qui-Gon glanced over at Cian and gestured with his eyes she should speak. She nodded back at him.

“First Minister Shiro,” Cian said. “Qui-Gon and I were sent here to establish relations with your world and its people. If there is some misunderstandings within the religious caste regarding us, the only way to clear it up is by meeting with Rukal.”

Shiro sighed heavily and looked over at his wife.

“She is right, my husband. Only by confronting the lie, can its power be diminished.”

“Very well. I shall contact Epena and arrange it. I still do not think it is a good idea. But I will do as you have requested.”

“Thank you, Salu Shiro,” Cian said.

Shiro then slapped his hands together briskly.

“Now, tomorrow I have arranged for you and Master Jinn to go on a tour of our largest military installation in the Tuhar Provinces. General Neeshin has arranged everything. We’re to leave at the hour of the Gentle Dawn.”

Qui-Gon quickly translated that into Republic time.

“Then perhaps Cian and I should make arrangements to return to the Residence Hall.” It had taken them two hours flying time to reach Shiro’s home. If they left now they would be lucky to get four hours of sleep once they arrived back.

“No, no,” Shiro protested. “I have already arranged it. You are to stay here tonight, my friends.”

“Oh, but we can’t,” Cian said. “It would be such an imposition.”

“Not at all,” Vati said smiling. She gestured towards the large villa. “As you can see there is plenty of room.”

“But, I,” and Cian glanced quickly over at Qui-Gon, “we didn’t bring anything...”

Shiro rang a tiny silver bell on a table next to his chair.

“I will have my servants see to your needs, Mistress Cian. You will stay here. That way you will get plenty of rest and be completely refreshed for your tour in the morning.”

A servant appeared on the veranda and Shiro quickly explained the situation to him. The servant bowed deeply and hurried back into the villa.

“My husband,” Vati said.

“Yes, my wife?”

“I believe I am ready to retire for the evening.”

“Of course.” Shiro went over to his wife and helped her as she rose from the couch. Qui-Gon stood and Cian rose next to him. Shiro looked over at them as he helped his wife into the villa.

“No, please, remain here, my friends. I shall be back. Unless you wished to retire now?”

Qui-Gon looked over at Cian. Now that they didn’t have to worry about getting back to the capital, he was content to sit a little longer on the veranda and enjoy the beauty of the Jalatan night. Cian smiled over at him and he saw she agreed.

“No,” he said turning to Shiro. “We’re not quite ready to retire. We shall remain here until you return.”

“Yes, please do stay, Master Jinn,” Vati said. “Do not let me spoil the rest of the evening for you and Mistress Nyal. I shall see you in the morning. Pleasant night to you both.”

Shiro took his wife inside.

Cian looked over at Qui-Gon as she returned to her seat. “She’s very ill, isn’t she?”

Qui-Gon nodded. He sat in his chair.

“I could not discern the nature of her illness, but her life force is very weak.”

He then looked beyond Cian and watched the waves moving upon the shore below them and, as the rhythmic ebbing and flowing of the water worked upon his mind, he thought of Vati’s words regarding Rukal’s depiction of him as the harbinger of a Dark Age. He had kept his expression still, but a menacing current of unease had swirled through him as if the Force were trying to warn him of some yet to be faced danger.

--------------------- Cian looked over at Qui-Gon as he gazed silently out at the sea beyond Shiro‘s villa. They had been on Jalat for a week now and, during that time, although they had spent nearly every waking moment together, they had maintained a cordial, yet reserved familiarity with the other. Of course, she thought ruefully, that had always been the tenor of their relationship.

Cian turned her head and looked out at the sea. The Jalatan moon’s gold reflection shimmered on the dark waves. The smell of the sea floated over her along with the subtle hint of jasmine. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Yes, that had been their relationship over the years, friendly but formal, for it hadn’t taken long for Cian to learn what kind of man the Jedi Master was.

Independent in both spirit and mind, strong, wise and kind, he was also a restless soul whom, Cian knew, had spent his entire life searching for that which he believed would finally justify his years of service to the will of the Force. She also knew he was totally committed to that path and that he would, without a moment’s hesitation, follow it wherever it led.

Cian opened her eyes. She smiled slightly at him as he continued to stare out at the sea. He was also terribly, but charmingly, stubborn. Once he had made up his mind about something, he clung to that belief with an unwavering obstinacy. That tenaciousness, combined with his idealism, had also made him something of a rebel within the Order.

She sighed. And, finally, she had to admit, he was very attractive physically. Yet, like Obi-Wan and Aalea, he appeared to be totally oblivious of it.

Then, almost as if he had heard her thoughts, Qui-Gon turned from the sea and looked across at her, giving her a smile which sent her pulse racing. As he continued to gaze over at her, Cian felt her body growing warm. She swallowed in a throat suddenly gone dry and all she could think of was how much she wanted, right then, to feel his arms around her.

She came back to herself when Shiro returned to the veranda. A servant glided silently behind him carrying a tray upon which was a decanter and three glasses. The servant placed the tray upon a low table, quickly poured the light blue wine into the glasses, then, just as silently, departed.

Shiro leaned over the table and picked up a glass and passed it to Cian. He then gave one to Qui-Gon and took up the last for himself. He lifted his glass in a toast.

“To the future, my friends.”

“To the future,” replied Qui-Gon and Cian.

Cian drank her wine and was surprised at how good it was. She looked over at Shiro who was watching her closely.

“I see you like it, Mistress Nyal. You are a connoisseur, yes?”

“Not a connoisseur, Salu Shiro, but I do appreciate a fine vintage.”

“It comes from Shunon province, on the eastern continent. Very good grapes they grow there.”

Shiro took his seat and set his glass down on a small table to his right.

“Again, thank you my friends for coming tonight. My wife, as you have seen, is quite ill. We seldom have visitors, but when I told her about you, Mistress Nyal, and how beautiful and charming you were, and you, Master Jinn, and how noble and kind you were, she wanted so much to meet you.”

“The honor was ours, Salu Shiro,” Qui-Gon said. “And it was a pleasure to meet Sala Vati. She has a very strong spirit.”

Shiro nodded sadly. “Yes, her spirit is strong and it is good, but the body....” He took a deep breath and gazed sadly out at the ocean.

“Is there no hope, Salu Shiro? Cian asked.

Shiro turned back to her.

“Hope, my lovely one? There must always be hope or what is the point of living. But, the prognosis is not good. She has a year, maybe two, at the most.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cian said softly.

Shiro reached over and patted Cian’s hand.

“Do not trouble yourself, dear lady. Now, Vati ordered me to talk only of good and happy things when I returned to you or we would have been remiss in our duties as hosts to provide you with a pleasant memory of our evening together.”

And with that Shiro regaled both Qui-Gon and Cian with delightful stories of his boyhood and his love of Jalatan literature.

--------------------

In his inner chamber in his citadel in Jholan Province, Rukal, Chief Priest of the religious caste of the planet Jalat, knelt before the holographic image of his master.

“Where are the Jedi and the woman now?” Lord Sidious asked.

“They are visiting First Minister Shiro at his private estate,” Rukal answered.

“Are there enough votes among the Council members to ensure this initiative of his will not pass?”

“It will be very close, my lord, but I believe there are enough to ensure that Jalat will not establish relations with the Republic.”

“Make certain of it, Rukal, if you someday hope to rule this world.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rukal cleared his throat. “What of my request regarding the Republic emissary, my lord?”

Rukal could not see Sidious’ eyes beneath his black hood, but he sensed his dark master’s gaze on him. For long moments, Sidious did not answer.

Rukal risked speaking. “She is very strong with the Force and---.”

“Yes, I know. I am well aware of her strength, Rukal.”

“Yes, my lord.” Rukal was becoming nervous. He did not understand his master’s apparent hesitation about Cian Nyal. When Rukal had sensed at the audience how brightly she burned with the Syad, he had immediately thought to what use he could put such potential. And, as his master had noted earlier, she had also not be tainted by any training by the cursed Jedi.

“Take her,” Sidious finally said. “But make certain that her abduction is not traced to you. Our work here must not be compromised. Do nothing that will jeopardize that.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Once you have her, I will send Lord Maul to retrieve her.”

“My lord?” Rukal cried. “I do not understand? I thought---”

Sidious sneered. “Do you think I would leave such a prize in your feeble hands, Rukal? You will deliver her to me. I have uses for one such as she, once I have shown her the true nature of the Force.”

Rukal suppressed the anger which surged within him. He had intended on keeping the woman for himself.

“Yes, my lord,” he said. “What about the Jedi?”

“Leave the Jedi to me.”

“Lord, please, allow me to make a gift to you of his head.”

“No,” Sidious snarled. “You are not to confront him. You are no match for him. He is a Master among the Jedi.”

Rukal gritted his teeth. “Yes, my lord.”

Sidious abruptly cut the communication.

Rukal rose to his feet. No match for him, he thought angrily. Sidious was wrong. Rukal knew he was more than a match for the Jedi. Had he not been under the tutelage of Lord Sidious for the last five turns?

Rukal walked over to his desk and sat. He laced his fingers under his chin as he recalled his first meeting with his mysterious master.

Not long after he was elected Chief Priest, Rukal had been contacted by a stranger dressed in black who had come upon him while he was meditating in his chamber. Before Rukal could summon his guards he had felt a pressure on his throat. Not enough to kill, just enough to prevent him from crying out.

His eyes bulging, his lungs struggling for breath, Rukal watched as the stranger, its face hidden in a deep hood, waited for some sign that he would not summon help. Rukal stiffly nodded and the hold on his throat ceased.

The stranger reached under his robe. In his hand was a palm sized holo-projecter. The stranger activated it and the image of a figure, also dressed in a black robe and hood, appeared.

The figure identified itself as Lord Sidious and the stranger in Rukal‘s chamber as Lord Maul. Rukal trembled, for he sensed the great power both beings possessed. Lord Sidious then told Rukal he had been chosen to help bring about a Great Age of Darkness and, once that Age was upon them he, Rukal, would be made ruler of Jalat. And so, in preparation for that time, over the last five turns, Lord Sidious had shared with Rukal much knowledge about the true nature of the Syad.

A knock at his door brought Rukal out of his musings.

“What is it?” he called out irritably.

The door creaked open and his aide, Tydre, peered around it.

He gestured for Tydre to enter. The young Jalatan did so. He bowed to Rukal.

“What do you want, Tydre.”

Tydre handed a slip of paper to Rukal.

“A message from First Minister Shiro. He asks permission for the Jedi and the Republic Emissary to meet with you.”

Rukal snatched the paper from Tydre. He read it quickly, then crushed it between his hands and dropped it on his desk.

“Denied. I will not meet with the Jedi.”

Tydre’s eyes widened. “You will not?”

“Have you gone deaf, Tydre? No, I will not meet with him. To what purpose? He is my enemy.”

Tydre stared at Rukal, his bafflement apparent. Rukal’s aide, like Shiro and the other members of the Council, did not know why Rukal hated the Jedi so much, but that was because none of them knew about Lord Sidious. That had been part of his master’s agreement to pass on his knowledge of the dark side to Rukal. Lord Sidious and Lord Maul were to remain a secret.

“However,” Rukal said to Tydre, “When the Jedi and the woman do return to the capital, I want you to contact the Republic Emissary. Make certain she is alone when you do so. Tell her I wish to meet with her. But only her. Not the Jedi. And when you go to see her, no one must know that you are connected to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. You may leave me now, Tydre.”

Tydre bowed.

“Yes, Master.” He turned and left.

Once Tydre was gone, Rukal returned to his ruminations. He knew it would not be in his best interest to disobey Sidious, but he was eager to test his dark skills. If Sidious would not let him confront the Jedi, then perhaps Rukal could at least turn the woman to the dark side before sending her to him. It would prove to Sidious how capable he was, perhaps even convince him to rid himself of that high and mighty Darth Maul and make Rukal his apprentice.

Rukal smiled, his dark orange eyes glittering in the shifting shadows within his chamber. He recalled how the woman had stood before him, so beautiful and proud at the audience, that arrogant Jedi next to her.

Yes, Rukal thought, before he turned her over to Sidious he would break that proud spirit of hers; he would watch her beg for mercy, and then, at the last, he would turn her to the dark side and make her an agent for the destruction of all that she cherished and loved, the Jedi included.

Part Twenty

As Obi-Wan waited for clearance to land his ship at the Tarkasian starport, his thoughts drifted back to Aalea. When she had suddenly fallen to the floor beside him in the audience hall, his heart had almost leapt out of his chest and he had been horribly reminded of that day ten years ago when he found her comatose in his quarters.

He had knelt next to her, fearful that, for all he knew, she was having a relapse of her previous experience ten years ago. However, before he could make certain she was all right, Nadira’s servants had gathered Aalea up and spirited her away to the princess’ chambers where he’d had to face down that horror of a handmatron before he could even see her.

Then, when Aalea had walked out of Nadira’s bower, her hair about her shoulders and dressed in that immodest lilac robe, Obi-Wan saw that what he had feared had come to pass. Aalea had allowed herself to be swept up in the Sylvonnan culture; a breach in the maintenance of propriety which he was so certain he’d made clear to her.

He sighed. What was he going to do with her? She was exasperating. Then he frowned, for he also found himself thinking of that robe she’d been wearing. It had clung provocatively to every curve of her body, revealing how high and firm her breasts were. Then it had slipped along her slender waist and hugged her gently rounded hips.

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily. And it had been translucent enough that nothing much had been left to his imagination regarding her lovely body. He quickly shook his head as a flood of warmth surged through him.

No, he thought sternly. He would not think of her in that way. He took a deep breath, focused his mind, then cooled the heat rising within him. And he had been doing so well, he thought. It was that world. Sylvonna. With its perfume-rich air, half-clad inhabitants, and sensual decadence; it had weakened him and he had forgot himself.

He thought of Qui-Gon. His master had devoted his entire life to the will of the Force, forgoing both wife and family. Obi-Wan was determined to do the same. He would not forget himself again. He just hoped Aalea would remember who she was while he was gone.

As Obi-Wan looked out the cockpit window at the Tarkasian capital, he was pleased to see that what he had heard of its society appeared true. Regimented and highly militaristic, the Tarkasians prized discipline and order. Obi-Wan saw this reflected not only in the architecture but in the straight and deliberate lines of the streets.

The comm on his instrument panel beeped, alerting him that landing coordinates were being fed to his ship from port control. He piloted the skipship towards the area which had been set aside for him.

----------------

As Obi-Wan waited patiently outside the tall bronze doors which led to the throne room, he noted with satisfaction the efficient way the servants moved through the corridor. The two guards who stood outside the throne room wore the crisp black uniforms of the Tarkasian military. Gold epaulets gleamed on their shoulders, their ebony boots shone, and their posture was ram-rod straight.

Yes, Obi-Wan thought. This was much better. No perfumed eunuchs, or half-dressed handmaidens, or green-eyed princesses with high, annoying laughs. He took a deep breath and took pleasure in the fact the air was free of perfume and incense. Too bad the wedding was not going to take place here but, since he would be residing in the complex set aside for the Tarkasians, he would be sheltered somewhat from the Sylvonnan’s fondness for debauchery.

The doors swung open and the guards stepped aside. Straightening his shoulders, Obi-Wan strode into the throne room.

Though not as grand or as ornate as the one on Sylvonna, Obi-Was was still struck by the sense of power suggested in the high arches. His boots hammered on the marble floor as he marched to the dais upon which sat the King and Queen of Tarkasia.

When he reached the dais, he bowed deeply. To his right, a bald man with sharp black eyes and a long drooping mustache cried out in a ringing voice.

“Majesties, I present to you, Obi-Wan Kenobi of the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan looked up at the thrones. “I bring greetings to the Royal Majesties of Tarkasia from the Senate of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Council.”

“We welcome you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” King Lucan said. Lucan was, like all Tarkasian males over forty, completely bald. He had piercing hazel eyes, a sharp-planed face and a wide thin mouth. He was dressed, as the guards had been, in the black uniform of the Tarkasian military.

Next to him sat his wife, Queen Cassia. She was a stately woman with dark brown skin, black hair and light golden eyes. She wore a forest-green, high-necked gown. She gazed coolly at Obi-Wan.

“We trust your journey here was uneventful,” Lucan said to Obi-Wan.

“It was, your majesty.”

“Good.” Lucan gestured towards a young man who stood slightly to his left. “I present to you my youngest son, Prince Ishan, for whom you are to be Honorary Bodyguard.”

Ishan stepped forward. He was dressed in a military uniform similar to his father’s. He was slender and tall, much taller than Obi-Wan, but appeared to be only 18. He had his mother’s large golden eyes and thick black hair, but his skin was not as dark as hers. Obi-Wan could see Lucan’s features in the boy’s sharp cheekbones and wide mouth. The prince nodded awkwardly to Obi-Wan, a shy smile on his face.

“Prince Ishan,” Obi-Wan said as he bowed.

“Now that you are here, Master Kenobi,” King Lucan said in his well-modulated voice, “we will prepare for our departure. We shall be leaving the day after tomorrow for Sylvonna. Seleth will show you to your quarters.” He pointed to the man with the drooping mustache who had announced Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Obi-Wan said as he bowed.

As Obi-Wan turned to follow Seleth, he heard a voice call out.

“Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan looked behind him. Lucan and Cassia had left their thrones and gone through a set of doors behind them, but Ishan was running towards him. Obi-Wan stopped to let the young prince catch up.

“Master Kenobi,” Ishan said, an anxious look on his face, “when you’re settled in your quarters, would you mind if I stopped by later? To talk with you? I’m very interested in learning all about the Jedi. You‘re the first Jedi I‘ve ever met and I have so many questions. If it wouldn’t be an imposition, of course.”

“I would be honored by your presence, your highness.”

A wide smile broke across Ishan’s face and made him look even younger.

“You would? Oh, that’s wonderful. Yes, I shall stop by. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Ishan grinned at Obi-Wan for a moment then, bobbing his head, turned and ran towards the door his parents had gone through. Just as he opened it, he slipped, but awkwardly caught the edge of the door and kept himself from sprawling across the floor. He turned and grinned sheepishly back at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. Ishan was all arms and legs and reminded Obi-Wan of a fellow initiate at the Temple named Tukak. Tukak had been tall like Ishan, awkward and ungainly, but Obi-Wan couldn’t recall anyone with a kinder heart. He wondered if Ishan was the same.

Seleth cleared his throat and Obi-Wan turned and followed him to his quarters.

-----------------------

Aalea suppressed a yawn. The late afternoon sun beat down on her head and the noise and dust from the bazaar was giving her a headache. She looked over to where Nadira, Badalah and the handmaidens were clustered about a stall which was selling fabrics. They were trying to decide on the perfect choice for Nadira’s wedding-night gown.

“Jedi Aalea,” Nadira cried out in her high clear voice. “Come and tell me what you are thinking of this one.”

Aalea sighed and moved closer to the stall.

Nadira held up a piece of fabric which, as far as Aalea could see, was so sheer it was practically invisible. If Nadira meant to wear that on her wedding night she might as well be naked. But Aalea kept that to herself.

“It’s very nice, your highness,” she said instead.

“Then I shall take it,” Nadira announced to the leering stall keeper. He bowed his head and, grinning, cried out a thousand blessings from Sera, the Great Lover, to light upon her highnesses’ head as Badalah counted out the coins to pay for it.

The stall keeper’s assistant carefully wrapped the fabric and handed the package to one of the handmaidens who, along with the princesses’ guards, were practically covered in boxes, parcels and packages.

Fortunately for Aalea, as Honorary Bodyguard, she was exempt from having to be a royal pack animal. She carried nothing but her lightsaber which was clipped to her belt. Because the capital was still suffering under a heat wave, Aalea had left her robe in her quarters, but she had finally gotten her Jedi uniform back and was wearing that.

She put her hand on her lightsaber. She had been so shaken by the events of yesterday, it wasn’t until she was walking with Badalah to her quarters that she had thought to ask what had happened to her lightsaber when her clothes had been removed. Badalah had assured Aalea she had quickly locked the weapon away before the princess could get her inquisitive little fingers on it.

After Aalea had settled into her quarters and returned to Nadira’s chamber, the princess had been so distracted by the shopping trip Badalah had planned to purchase items for the wedding, she had completely forgotten all about her order that Aalea tell her everything about Obi-Wan. Which had suited Aalea just fine.

Nadira and her entourage moved on to another stall. As Aalea followed, keeping close to the princess for she took her duties as bodyguard very seriously, she found her thoughts drifting back to yesterday. Before Obi-Wan had returned to his aggravating lecturing of her about Jedi decorum, she had been struck by the frank concern in his eyes. She had never seen that look in his eyes before, at least not when he was looking at her.

Then another thought occurred to her. He had probably only been worried that if anything were to happen to her as his acting-apprentice it would reflect badly on him with the Jedi Council. Aalea nodded her head firmly. Yes, that was it. Nothing more.

“Jedi Aalea,” Nadira called out again, her voice trembling with excitement. She and the rest of her party were standing in front of a nondescript little stall which, unlike the others, had no garish banners advertising its wares. An old woman sat huddled in the darkness of the booth, her wrinkled face peering out from under a dusty gray hood.

“Yes, your highness?” Aalea said as she moved closer.

Nadira held up a tiny golden vial. The liquid inside it glistened in the sunlight.

“Do you know what this is, Jedi Aalea?” Nadira asked breathlessly, her green eyes bright.

Aalea shook her head as she gazed at the vial. It seemed to glow with a light of its own.

“It is called the Attar of Love,” Nadira whispered. “Very rare. Very expensive. We are lucky this one even has it.”

Aalea was already growing suspicious as to the properties of the liquid in the vial. Certainly its name did not bode well.

“That’s very nice, your highness,” she said cautiously.

“I am going to make a gift of it to you.”

“Thank you, your highness, but that’s not---”

“You are going to find it most useful when you and Jedi Obi-Wan finally stop playing this silly game with each other.”

“Game? Your highness, I’m afraid I don’t---”

Nadira looked keenly at Aalea. “You are wondering what game I am speaking of, are you not? It is the silly game which men and women have been playing with each other for thousands of years. Is that not so, Badalah?”

“Yes, poppet, that is so.”

“This silly game of Jedi Obi-Wan pretending he does not care for you and you pretending you do not care for him,” Nadira said as she shook her finger at Aalea. “That is the game I am speaking of.”

Aalea’s eyes widened as she looked back at the green-eyed princess.

“I have been observing of the look in Jedi Obi-Wan’s eyes when he looks upon you and the look in your eyes when you look upon him,” Nadira went on. “I am hoping you two are not thinking that just because you are of the mystifying Jedi you are so good at the hiding of your feelings that one such as I could not be observing of them.”

Aalea sighed deeply. She did not understand why Nadira was so insistent there was anything between her and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was a fellow Jedi, padawan to Master Qui-Gon and, while they were on this mission, her acting master. Beyond that he meant nothing more to her. Why couldn’t Nadira see that?

“Your highness, I’m afraid you are quite mistaken. Obi-Wan and I are not playing any kind of game with each other. We’re not hiding any feelings and, I can assure you, there is nothing between us. Certainly nothing like you‘re suggesting.”

Nadira crossed her arms, titled her head and looked at Aaela for a long moment.

“I am seeing you are still living in two pieces, Jedi Aalea. I will therefore keep the Attar for you until you are finally of one piece.”

Aalea didn’t know what to say to that because, once again, she had no idea what Nadira was talking about.

The princess turned away from her and began haggling with the stall-keeper. Aalea couldn’t follow any of it because, as she had learned during their shopping trip, Sylvonna had a unique trade language which consisted of a number of bewildering hand signals.

As Aalea watched in fascination, the old woman and the young princess exchanged a rapid-fire sequence of gestures. At one point the old woman fiercely shook her head at Nadira. The princess stamped her foot, her green eyes blazing. The two exchanged another heated series of hand motions. Finally, the old woman held up four gnarled fingers. Nadira glared at her, then quickly nodded.

She turned to Badalah. “Pay this one.”

Badalah did so and then, to Aalea’s surprise, the old woman immediately pulled down the shade to her stall, closed it and went scurrying off into the crowd. Badalah carefully placed the vial into a large cloth bag she was carrying.

“Why did she leave?” Aalea asked Nadira.

“I told you, Jedi Aalea. The Attar of Love is very expensive. That one has just earned enough to live on for the rest of the year.”

“Well, your highness, if it’s that expensive, I certainly can’t take---”

Nadira shook her head and frowned. “You must take it. It is an act of treason to refuse a gift from the royal family. However, I will wait until you are of one piece before I offer it to you again.”

Nadira then smiled and squeezed Aalea’s arm.

“When you wear the Attar of Love, Jedi Aalea, and Jedi Obi-Wan breathes of its scent, I promise you, it will make him very happy. He will then make love to you in such a way as to make your toes curl.” She winked at Aalea. “You will see.”

Aalea sighed heavily. If Nadira thought she was ever going to wear that perfume or let Obi-Wan do anything to her that made her toes curl, or anything else on her body curl, for that matter, the princess was gravely mistaken.

“Your highness,” Badalah said, “it is time for us to return to the palace. You have not yet had your nap.”

Nadira pouted and was about to stamp her foot, but Aalea could see by the look in Badalah’s eyes that Nadira’s temper tantrum wasn’t going to work.

“All right, Badalah,” Nadira said sulkily. She lifted her head.
“I am thinking we shall be returning to the palace,” she announced imperiously to the guards and handmaidens.

_Thank the Force_, Aalea thought as they walked back to Nadira’s private shuttle. Aalea was hot and thirsty and tired and all she wanted to do was soak in a nice cool tub for the rest of the day. They’d been out shopping since early that morning.

They climbed into the shuttle and, as it took off towards the palace, Aalea wondered how things were going for Obi-Wan on Tarkasia. At least he didn’t have to spend all morning shopping with a spoiled princess, she thought grumpily.

--------------------------------

“And you’ve been at the Temple all your life?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I was brought to the Temple when I was a baby.”

Ishan mulled over that. He and Obi-Wan were sitting in Obi-Wan’s quarters in the Tarkasian palace.

“Don’t you miss your parents?”

“I never really knew them. The Jedi Order is my family.”

“Do you think your parents miss you?”

“I don’t know, your highness. Maybe. But, since they gave me to the Temple willingly, I’m certain they did it because they wanted what was best for me.”

Ishan nodded. “That is what parents are supposed to do for their children, isn‘t it? Give the child what’s best for the child, not what’s best for the parents?”

“I’ve never been a parent, Prince Ishan, but yes, I think that is what parents are supposed to do.”

Ishan was about to say something else, but then the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters slammed open.

“Brother! So this is where you’ve been hiding!”

A tall brown-skinned man in his late twenties with russet-colored eyes, a neat black beard and long braided hair strode into Obi-Wan’s quarters. He was as tall as Ishan, but broader of body and more muscular. He grabbed Ishan in a bear hug and roughly, but affectionately, disheveled his hair.

Ishan struggled to talk past the man’s arms.

“Master Kenobi, my brother, Prince Markus.”

Obi-Wan stood and bowed.

Markus released Ishan and looked down at Obi-Wan.

“So you’re the Jedi. Kinda short, aren’t you? Thought all you Jedi were ten feet tall and had lightening bolts coming out of your eyes.”

“Markus, you shouldn’t talk that way to Master Kenobi,” Ishan said, his voice filled with outrage. “It’s disrespectful.”

Markus threw his head back and let out a great peal of laughter.

“Now, come little brother, you know me. Respectful? Never.”

He glanced over at Obi-Wan.

“No insult was intended, Master Kenobi. I know how much my brother reveres the Jedi and I can’t resist teasing him about it.”

“No insult intended, no insult taken,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Markus nodded. He strode over to a table upon which was a bowl of fruit. He picked up a large peach and tore into it with strong white teeth.

“So, when do we leave so that my brother can finally pluck the Rose of Sylvonna.” Markus grinned over at Obi-Wan and winked.

Ishan’s face darkened with blood. “Markus,” he said warningly.

Markus walked back over to Ishan and Obi-Wan, the pulp from the peach gleaming on his chin. He slapped Ishan on the shoulder.

“My brother is a virgin, Master Kenobi,” Markus said, “so such talk never fails to make him blush like a maiden. But you and I are men. We know the joys and delight of women.”

Ishan gave his brother a dark look. Markus bit into the peach again, chewing lustily.

“Ah, what pleasures await you, little brother,” he whispered as he leered at Ishan.

“Isn’t that right, Jedi?” and Markus abruptly turned and elbowed Obi-Wan roughly in the ribs.

“All right, Markus, that’s enough. I was talking to Master Kenobi, so if you don’t mind...,” and Obi-Wan was surprised when Ishan grabbed his larger brother by the arm and pulled him quickly towards the door.

“Fine, fine, I‘ll go,” Markus cried, laughing loudly as Ishan pushed him out of the room, “but make sure the Jedi instructs you on what to do on your wedding night, little brother, or we may find ourselves at war again if you fail to please the Rose. And don‘t forget, she‘s a Sylvonnan. They‘re all born knowing about the act of love.”

Ishan slammed the door on Markus’ laughter. He turned and shook his head.

“Forgive my brother, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “That’s quite all right, your highness. He’s rather high-spirited for a Tarkasian, but he appears pleasant enough.”

Ishan walked back over to his chair and sat. Obi-Wan took his seat again.

“Oh, yes, he’s a great brother. None better. But he loves only three things; women, the bullfights and our mother. And me, I guess, though I don’t know why. We’re nothing alike. But then, I‘m not like anyone in my family,” Ishan said sadly.

“I’m sure that’s not true, your highness.”

Ishan only shrugged. Then he spent the rest of the afternoon asking Obi-Wan questions about the Jedi.

----------------------

Two days after Nadira’s excursion to the bazaar, Aalea gazed moodily out the window of the princess’ chamber. Sylvonna was a beautiful world with its towering gold capped minarets and crystalline ruby and emerald towers, but it was all becoming a bit much.

She hated to admit it, but she was looking forward to Obi-Wan’s return from Tarkasia. Not that she wanted to be subjected to anymore of his dreary lectures on Jedi decorum, but at least he was---and Aalea grimaced as Nadira and her handmaidens burst into another round of squealing laughter---quiet.

“Jedi Aalea, come away from that window right this minute,” Nadira cried petulantly. “You have been staring out it for hours.”

Aalea sighed and turned back to the room. It hadn’t been hours, only a few minutes but Nadira, like all the Sylvonnans, had a habit of blowing everything out of proportion.

The princess was sitting on the floor, her handmaidens gathered about her. They were playing some silly game called dom-jop which, as far as Aalea could see, involved nothing more than moving brightly colored circular pieces across a board made up of a dizzying array of blue and red lines.

“Do not worry, Jedi Aalea. He will be back soon,” Nadira said as Aalea walked over, crossed her legs and sat next to the princess.

“Who?” Aalea asked.

Nadira moved one of her pieces across the board.

“Jedi Obi-Wan. I am thinking you are missing him very much.“

“I am certainly _not_ missing him very much, your highness. I can assure you of that.”

Nadira looked over at Aalea, her green eyes twinkling.

“I do not believe you. How can you not be missing such a pretty fellow?”

“Oh, it‘s not difficult, your highness. Trust me.”

“Jedi Aalea, you are so very funny. You say one thing with your mouth and another thing with your eyes.”

Nadira then sucked on her finger, studied the board for a moment, then quickly reached over and moved her piece.

“Dom-jop!” she cried.

The handmaidens clapped and congratulated Nadira at having won another game. Aalea sighed. Nadira won all the games because, Aalea suspected, the handmaidens let her win.

“What do you mean, your highness, my eyes say another thing?” she asked.

“Well,” Nadira said as she watched the handmaidens set the board up for another game, “you speak as if you do not care for Jedi Obi-Wan and yet, when you look at him there is something different in your eyes.”

Aalea scoffed at that and shook her head.

Nadira looked over at Badalah.

“Is it not true, Badalah, that the eyes are the mirrors of the heart?”

“Yes, that is very true, poppet,” Badalah nodded sagely from her chair where she sat working on Nadira’s wedding-night gown.

“So, as I told you the other day,” Nadira went on, “I am thinking that you are of two pieces. That what is in your heart,” and she reached over and touched Aalea on her chest, “has not traveled to your head.” She stroked Aalea’s forehead. Then she touched Aalea’s throat. “It is jammed here by all the words you speak which you do not mean.”

Aalea’s lips puckered with irritation. Nonsense. Nadira was suggesting Aalea didn’t know her own mind. But she did. She had no feelings for Obi-Wan other than her annoyance at his continued lording of his authority over her.

Princess Nadira thought he was, as she put it, ‘a pretty fellow’ and, Aalea had to admit, though grudgingly, he wasn’t bad looking. He did have nice eyes. Aalea tilted her head and a corner of her mouth quirked up. That dimple in his chin was kind of cute, too. She laid her hand on her cheek. And she was very much aware of the talk about the Temple that Obi-Wan had the potential to become a great Jedi Knight. Maybe one of the greatest ever.

Aalea quickly shook her head, put her hand back in her lap and frowned darkly. However, on the other hand, he was also a smug, bossy, know-it-all.

“Forgive me, your highness,” Aalea said to Nadira who had been intently watching the emotions flitting across Aalea’s face. “But you are mistaken. My heart and my head are one. Obi-Wan is nothing more to me than a fellow Jedi.” She shrugged. “We’re not even friends. We have absolutely nothing in common.”

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, Aalea thought. There was their Force bond, but Nadira didn’t need to know about that.

“He‘s rude, arrogant, and quite full of himself,” Aalea went on, her voice rising. “And he also thinks he’s so....” She stopped for Nadira and her handmaidens were laughing hysterically.

“What is so funny, your highness?”

Nadira gasped through her laughter.

“Oh, you are, Jedi Aalea, you are! What is the line from that play, Badalah?”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Badalah answered promptly.

“Yes, that is it. You protest too much, Jedi Aalea.” Nadira reached over and put her hand on Aalea’s knee, squeezing it warmly. “Who are you trying to convince that you do not care for Jedi Obi-Wan? Me or yourself?”

Aalea took a deep breath.

“Your highness, please forgive my impertinence, but this is a conversation which I would respectfully request we drop. Obi-Wan Kenobi means nothing to me. Nothing.”

Nadira tilted her head and gazed silently at Aalea, a small smile on her lips. She then glanced over at Badalah, who shrugged her meaty shoulders, shook her head and went back to working on Nadira’s wedding night-gown.

“I was hoping, Jedi Aalea, that--wait, what is the saying, Badalah?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yes, I was hoping that with Jedi Obi-Wan’s absence, your heart would have become fonder for him, but I am seeing that is not the case.” Nadira sadly shook her head. “I am thinking that I will not be giving to you the Attar of Love anytime soon. You Jedi are terribly stubborn I am discovering.”

“Your highness, I really don’t think you know---,” but then Aalea decided it wasn‘t worth it. She could see that if anyone was being stubborn it was Nadira for insisting that there was something between her and Obi-Wan when there was most certainly not. She decided to change the subject.

“Your highness, what is this Attar of Love? Why is it so rare?”

Nadira’s face brightened. She looked over at Badalah.

“Shall I tell her the story, Badalah, or would you like to?”

“You tell her, poppet.”

Nadira nodded and scooted closer to Aalea.

“Once, long ago, there was a beautiful deer-maiden named Jashala. She lived near the mountains of Halina and there she tended her flocks of deer. One day a young prince by the name of Khial was hunting in the forests and he came upon Jashala. He took one look at her and feel deeply in love. But, because she was only a commoner, his parents forbade him from marrying her.

“Khial went back to his silver palace, but he was very sad and would not eat or sleep. His parents cried and cried, begging Khial to eat, to sleep, but he would not. Finally, one day he died from grief.”

Nadira sighed and Aalea saw tears in her eyes. The princess wiped them away quickly and went on with the story.

“Jashala learned of the death of the prince and it broke her heart. She sat upon the side of the mountain of Halina and wept and, it is said, for every tear she shed which fell upon the ground a golden flower sprouted which we call Jashala in memory of her. When Jashala could no longer bear her sorrow over the death of her love, she threw herself off the mountain. When she died, all the golden flowers died, except one. That is why they are so rare, Jedi Aalea. And it is from the Jashala flower that the Attar of Love is made.”

Aalea found herself touched by the story although she also knew it was nothing more than a myth created, as most myths were, to explain the mysteries of nature.

“But what does this Attar of Love do?” Aalea asked and then wished she had not. She was afraid Nadira was going to start prattling about how it prolonged the act of love or something of that nature.

“Well, actually, I have never made use of it, Jedi Aalea. As I said, we were very lucky to even find it. But, it is said that when a woman wears it and the man who loves her inhales its scent, he and she are joined together forever and that not even the veil of death will separate them.”

Aalea sat still for a moment for, as Nadira had spoken, she had felt a shiver across her spine, as if cold fingers had been laid upon her back. She looked across at the princess and saw, to her surprise, pity and sympathy in Nadira’s eyes.

Aalea shook herself. All of this had nothing to do with her. It was just a story.

“Thank you for sharing that, your highness.”

“You are very welcome, Jedi Aalea,” Nadira said as she turned back to the dom-jop board. “Now, since I have told you a story, I order you to tell me a story in pleasant exchange.”

“A story? About what?”

“I do not know. A true story. Tell me about your parents.”

“My parents? I never knew them. I was an orphan.”

Nadira and her handmaidens suddenly stopped moving their game pieces and stared at Aalea. Even Badalah looked wide-eyed over at her.

“An orphan?” Nadira gasped. Tears welled in her large green eyes. “Oh, poor, poor Jedi Aalea,” Nadira cried and with that she burst into sobs, dropping her face into her hands. Soon all the handmaidens were crying and even Badalah was weeping.

Aalea looked around her in shock. What had brought this on? She had not gotten used to how emotional the Sylvonnans were.

She reached over and patted Nadira’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, your highness. Please, don’t cry.”

Nadira lifted her head and gazed back at Aalea, her face wet with tears.

“I did not know, Jedi Aalea,” she bawled. “Parentless! Oh, how you must miss them!”

“I never knew them, your highness. Master Qui-Gon found me when I was a baby and brought me to the Jedi Temple.”

The handmaidens and Badalah were wiping at their eyes and gazing mournfully over at Aalea.

Nadira sniffled. “Master Qui-Gon? Who is he?”

Aalea settled herself more comfortably on the floor.

“Master Qui-Gon is a Jedi,” she began eagerly, “but he is the greatest Jedi of them all.”

“What does he look like?” Nadira asked as she wiped her face with a silk handkerchief one of the handmaidens had given her. “Is he pretty like Jedi Obi-Wan?”

Aalea shook her head vigorously.

“He’s not pretty, your highness. He’s handsome and tall and strong. He’s not a boy like Obi-Wan. He’s a man.”

Badalah had come over and taken Nadira into her arms. She looked over at Aalea.

“Well, why didn’t he come with you instead of that pup?”

“He’s on another mission with Cian. The Council wanted Obi-Wan to get some practice being a master and such.”

“You mean he’s not a real master?” Badalah asked.

“No, but while we’re on this mission, I have to treat him as if he were one.” Aalea grimaced.

“I knew it,” Badalah nodded. “That pup! Still got milk on his chin and throwing his weight around as if he were the bull of the herd.”

Aalea smiled. She was relieved to see that Badalah, the handmaidens and Nadira had recovered from their crying bout. She would have to be more careful about what she said from here on. It wouldn’t do for Obi-Wan to come back and find that, unwittingly, she’d committed some other illegal act. For all she knew, making the Rose of Sylvonna cry could be grounds for being boiled in oil.

“Who is this Cian person you were speaking of who is on the mission with Jedi Qui-Gon?” Nadira asked.

“Cian? Cian Nyal is my best friend and the mother and sister I never had.”

“Ah,” Nadira sighed. “I am so very happy you have such a one in your life, Jedi Aalea. Is she pretty like you?”

Aalea shook her head and smiled. “She’s not pretty, your highness. She’s beautiful.”

“Then that is the story I want you to tell, Jedi Aalea,” Nadira said. “Tell us about the handsome Jedi Qui-Gon and the beautiful Cian Nyal.”

And so Aalea told Nadira, Badalah and the handmaidens the story of how she and Cian once saved Qui-Gon from the evil spirit of a long-dead Lord of Darkness.

----------------------

Obi-Wan looked over as Ishan gazed out the cockpit window as they flew to Sylvonna. It had taken some doing on Prince Markus’ part to convince his parents to let Ishan accompany Obi-Wan in the skipship.

When Ishan had first asked his parents, they had vehemently denied their permission. However, when Markus explained to them that, one, not only was Ishan going to be in the company of a Jedi but, two, an entire squadron of the Tarkasian fleet was accompanying the wedding party to Sylvonna, the king and queen finally gave their consent.

Obi-Wan was glad for the company. Over the last two days he had found Ishan to be a pleasant, earnest and well-meaning young man and Obi-Wan had greatly enjoyed their talks about the Jedi Order. Talking to Ishan about the Jedi way of life had also helped confirm to Obi-Wan his own commitment to his life’s purpose.

“Master Kenobi,” Ishan said as he turned away from the window and looked over at Obi-Wan.

“Yes, your highness?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “In love?”

Ishan‘s eyes widened.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is that a subject which is forbidden to the Jedi?”

“No, of course not, your highness. It’s just, well, I’m afraid I don’t see where you’re going with the question.”

Ishan sighed. “Master Kenobi, I’m about to marry someone I don’t even know. And since I don’t know her, I can’t possibly love her. And I’ve never been in love. I was just wondering what it felt like.”

“Your highness, I don’t think I’m the best person you should talk to about this. Have you discussed this with your parents?”

Ishan laughed sarcastically. “Oh, yes, Master Kenobi, if by discussion you mean they talked and I listened. I have no choice, you see. The peace between Tarkasia and Sylvonna must be sealed with a marriage. Did you know the peace accord was signed 12 years ago? Nadira was supposed to marry Markus once she came of age, but King Tahal and Queen Samar thought he was too old for her, so I was betrothed to her instead. As a result, I will live the rest of my life on Sylvonna and probably never see Tarkasia again.”

“I‘m sure you‘ll be allowed to visit, your highness.”

Ishan shook his head. “I envy you so much, Master Kenobi. You get to travel all around the galaxy and see all kinds of amazing places. You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love or live out the rest of your life among strangers.” He sighed deeply. “I wish I were a Jedi.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, your highness. New experiences always appear unsettling at first, but some good can be found, even in the most hopeless of situations.”

“All right, Master Kenobi,” Ishan said. “You’ve met her. What is she like?”

“Who?”

“My future wife. Princess Nadira.”

For a moment Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He’d only met Nadira for a few moments and all he remembered of her was the impishness in her bright green eyes and that annoying laugh of hers. He supposed one could say she was pretty; however, if Obi-Wan were going to marry, which of course he had no intention of ever doing so, it wouldn’t be to anyone like Nadira.

“Well, I only saw her for a few moments, your highness, you understand, but, uh, she’s very charming,” Obi-Wan said tentatively, “and pleasant and she’s, uh, let’s see, did I say she was charming?”

Ishan continued to stare at him.

“And very pretty,” Obi-Wan finished lamely.

Ishan gazed at him for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. Then he nodded curtly. He crossed his arms and looked out the cockpit window.

“I see,” was all he said.

Obi-Wan sighed and turned back to his instrument panel.