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

Part Twenty-One

When Cian awoke she was slightly disoriented and, for a moment, didn’t recognize her surroundings. Then she remembered she was in Shiro’s villa and she and Qui-Gon had been invited to stay the night.

She gazed sleepily at the golden morning light which streamed through the windows of her chamber as she lifted her arms and stretched. She noted that the sun was extremely bright for early morning.

Cian sat up quickly, her heart thumping. It wasn’t early morning; it was late morning. She rose from the bed and drew a robe over the nightdress which Shiro’s servant had given her last night. She pushed her feet into a pair of slippers and ran from the bedchamber and into the outer sitting room.

She stopped. One of the servants was standing quietly inside the room. The servant bowed and motioned for Cian to precede her out the door.

Once they were out of the room the servant gestured for her to go to the end of the hallway. Cian walked until she reached a set of clear double doors. The servant darted around her, opened the doors, bowed, them motioned for her to enter.

Cian walked into a brilliantly lit sunroom which faced the ocean. The blue-green water sparkled under the sun. Inside the room was a white table with two chairs. In one of the chairs sat Vati.

“Pleasant morning, Mistress Nyal,” Vati said.

Cian bowed. “Pleasant morning, Sala Vati.”

“Come. Sit. I have just finished my morning meal, but I will have the servants bring yours.”

Cian walked over and sat at the table.

“Excuse me, Sala Vati, but what time is it?”

“The hour of the Blossoming Flower.”

“The hour of the.....? But, I was supposed to leave for the inspection tour of the military base with your husband and Qui-Gon at the hour of the Gentle Dawn. That was...,” Cian quickly calculated, “two hours ago.”

Vati nodded, smiling. “Yes, that is correct. Shiro and Master Jinn have already gone.”

“But, why didn’t they wake me?”

“I asked them to let you sleep, Mistress Nyal. Do not be angry with them. I am afraid it was all my doing. I wanted you to spend the day with me. And honestly, did you really want to listen to General Neeshin talk about his horrible weapons?” Vati shuddered. “I hate even thinking about the need for such things.”

Cian sighed. She was a bit annoyed at having been left behind. It was, after all, her first diplomatic mission, but Sala Vati was right. Touring military installations was not high on her list of favorite things to do and Qui-Gon could report back to her what he had seen.

She looked over at Vati and smiled.

“I would love to spend the day with you, Sala Vati.”

Cian looked around her. And it was quite lovely with the warm sunshine, the beautiful sea, and the lilting songs of the brightly-colored birds which perched in the tall willows near the villa.

“I am so happy you are not angry with me, Mistress Nyal. I do not let on to Shiro, but I get terribly lonely out here.”

Cian reached over and took the older woman’s hand in hers.

“Please, call me Cian, Sala Vati.”

Vati smiled. “Only if you will call me Vati.”

The two women smiled at each other.

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

As Qui-Gon and Shiro stepped out of the shuttle which had brought them to Tuhar province, Qui-Gon saw before him an entire battalion of Jalatan soldiers lined up in precise military formation. General Neeshin, resplendent in a dark blue and gold uniform, saluted smartly as Qui-Gon and Shiro walked towards him. Then Qui-Gon saw a look of disappointment spread across the young general’s handsome face. He stepped forward and peered anxiously around Qui-Gon and Shiro at the now departing shuttle.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Where is who, General Neeshin?” Shiro asked.

“Mistress Nyal. Wasn’t she supposed to come with you?”

“Yes, she was,” Shiro said, “but she is spending the day with my wife. Is there some problem, General Neeshin?”

Neeshin glanced irritably over at Shiro.

“No, of course not, First Minister. I was just looking forward to seeing her again. No offense, but she is much more pleasant to look upon than you two.”

Shiro chuckled. He took Neeshin by the arm and gestured for Qui-Gon to accompany him as they inspected the troops.

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

Later that afternoon after the tour, Qui-Gon, Shiro and Neeshin sat in Neeshin’s office.

“So, Master Jinn, what did you think?” Neeshin asked from behind his desk.

“Very impressive, General Neeshin. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more disciplined military operation.”

Neeshin bowed his head in acknowledgement of Qui-Gon‘s praise.

“So,” he asked, “where are and you Mistress Nyal headed next?”

Shiro coughed and glanced worriedly over at Qui-Gon.

“I tried to make arrangements for them to visit Rukal at his cathedral in the capital, but he would have none of it.”

“What?” roared Neeshin. He stared crossly at Qui-Gon. “Why, by the tooth of the Penitent, would you want to go see that son of a malik?”

“General Neeshin,” Shiro chided him. “Show some respect.”

Neeshin merely shrugged.

Qui-Gon gazed calmly back at him.

“It appears Salu Rukal possesses some erroneous beliefs regarding the Jedi which must be addressed if Cian and I are to be successful with our mission here.”

“Erroneous beliefs? Is that what you call it? I call it fanaticism.”

“I take it you are at issue with Salu Rukal’s religious beliefs?”

Neeshin leaned forward and stared hard at Qui-Gon.

“I have no issues with the religious caste, Master Jinn. The military caste shares many of their beliefs, but Rukal..,” Neeshin gestured angrily, “if my mother were alive she’d say Rukal stinks like a farquog.”

Qui-Gon lifted his brow and glanced over at Shiro.

“It’s an old saying, Master Jinn. It means Rukal may look safe on the outside, but the meat inside is rotten.”

Qui-Gon nodded and turned back to Neeshin.

“I see. That remains to be seen, General.”

Neeshin glared at Qui-Gon for a moment. Then he reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. He waved it at Qui-Gon.

“Listen to this and you will see what kind of man you’re so desperate to meet.”

In a harsh, guttural voice Neeshin read.

“Sanctified are the strong; damned are the weak. Sanctified are the powerful; damned are the feeble. Sanctified are the bold; damned are the humble. Sanctified are the iron-handed; damned are the forgivers.”

Neeshin laid the paper down. “There’s more, but I don’t think I need to read it. I found leaflets like these being distributed to my soldiers by acolytes of Rukal’s. I have since forbade them from visiting my military bases.”

“Yes, General Neeshin, an action which I warned you not to do,” Shiro said.

Neeshin shrugged. “I shall do what I must, First Minister. I will not have that poison being spread to my troops.” He looked heatedly at Shiro. “I respect you very much, Salu Shiro, but heed my warning. Rukal is a dangerous man. A very dangerous man.”

Neeshin balled up the paper and threw it across the room.

“But enough talk about that walking corpse.”

He reached down and pulled open another drawer in his desk. He took out a decanter and three glasses.

“Jalatan rum, Master Jinn. The soldier’s drink.”

He quickly poured the dark red liquid into the glasses, stood, walked around his desk and gave Shiro and Qui-Gon a glass each.

Neeshin then sat on the corner of his desk. He lifted his glass in a toast.

“To Mistress Nyal and Sala Vati.”

Neeshin quickly knocked back his rum, wiped his mouth and set the glass down on his desk with a satisfied grunt.

Qui-Gon and Shiro repeated the toast, then sipped gingerly at their drinks.

Neeshin grinned. “It’s not going to bite, gentlemen.”

Qui-Gon smiled slightly. The rum tasted horrible and, as he glanced over at Shiro, he could see the First Minister agreed.

“All right,” Neeshin growled. “Don’t kill yourselves.”

He snatched the glasses from them and put them on his desk. He then poured himself another glass, drank it quickly, set it down, then eyed Qui-Gon.

“So tell me, Master Jinn,” he asked grinning. “What is she like?”

“Who?”

“Mistress Nyal. What is she like?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, General Neeshin.”

Neeshin hunkered down, leaning close to Qui-Gon.

“Come, Master Jinn. It’s just us men here. I mean, what is she _like_? You know?” And Neeshin quickly raised and lowered his brows.

“General Neeshin, I don’t think it’s proper for you to be---” Shiro said.

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes at Neeshin. He liked the young Jalatan, but such questions about Cian made him uncomfortable.

“If you’re asking me, General Neeshin,” Qui-Gon said evenly, “what Cian is like as a lover, I’m afraid I can’t answer that. She and I are friends only. However, if you are asking what kind of person she is, I can say I know of no finer woman and I would be most appreciative if you would show her the respect she deserves and refrain from inquiring about her in this manner.”

Neeshin’s eyes widened and he drew back from Qui-Gon. For a moment, Qui-Gon wondered if he had made the general angry. Then Neeshin burst out in a loud laugh, reached over and slapped Qui-Gon on the arm.

“Forgive, Master Jinn. I meant no disrespect. You are right, Mistress Nyal is a very fine woman. I apologize for my bad manners.” He bowed his head. He then looked up, his eyes dancing. “But, I can’t believe you would let a woman like that slip through---”

Shiro stood quickly.

“All right, General Neeshin,” he said. “That is quite enough. Master Jinn and I are ready to return to my villa.”

Neeshin laughed. “Fine, fine, First Minister. Forgive me for only being a man.”

Neeshin walked around his desk, activated the comlink and ordered a shuttle to stand waiting to take Shiro and Qui-Gon back to the villa.

As Qui-Gon and Shiro turned to leave, Neeshin walked over and took Qui-Gon by the arm.

“Master Jinn, I am sorry. I meant no disrespect. But,” and Neeshin shook his head regretfully and drew air quickly through his teeth, “with a woman like that at his side, what couldn’t a man accomplish. Don’t you agree?”

Qui-Gon looked down at Neeshin silently for a moment. He thought about Cian; her beauty, her compassion and her kindness.

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “What couldn’t a man accomplish.”

Neeshin squeezed Qui-Gon’s arm, then motioned for him to precede him out of the office.

---------

As the shuttle carrying Qui-Gon and Shiro back to the villa flew over the Jalatan landscape, Qui-Gon started thoughtfully out at it. He was still thinking about General Neeshin’s comments regarding Cian.

He turned towards Shiro.

“Excuse me, First Minister. May I ask you a personal question?”

Shiro turned towards him smiling.

“Of course, Master Jinn.”

“How long have you and Sala Vati been married?

“A year.” At the look on Qui-Gon’s face, Shiro laughed. “I see you are surprised, Master Jinn. We are very old, Vati and I, to be newlyweds, yes? But it is true. We married just last year.”

“Did you know of her illness when you married?”

“Oh, yes. For that reason Vati initially turned down my offer of marriage. She knew she did not have long to live, but I did not care.”

“Had you been married before,” Qui-Gon asked.

Shiro shook his head. “I have been a public servant all my life, Master Jinn. Devoting myself to the Administrate caste, the cause of the Commoner caste, and the Jalatan people. But one day I was walking in the market and I saw this woman. Not young, or even what one would call pretty. But when I saw her, I knew. She was the one.”

Qui-Gon nodded. Shiro peered up at him.

“Have you ever been married, Master Jinn?”

“No, never.”

“Is it forbidden for the Jedi to do so?”

“No, but it is a hard life. Most of us choose not to burden another with the demands and sacrifices it requires.”

“I do not know much about the Jedi, Master Jinn,” Shiro said, “but, as far as I can see life, no matter who or what you are, is always hard; difficult, painful, unfair. It wasn’t until I met Vati, however, that I also discovered life can be joyous, beautiful and fulfilling. Especially when you have someone to share it with”

Qui-Gon smiled. “You love her very much.”

“Yes,” Shiro said, his voice thick with passion. “More than anything. I will miss her very much when the time comes for her to pass away into the Celestial Paradise, but I will not regret the time we have had together. As short as it may prove to be.”

Qui-Gon reached over and squeezed Shiro’s hand. The First Minister looked back at him, his dark orange eyes misty. Then he smiled.

“I hope, Master Jinn, that someday you will find what I have found. And when you do, I hope your time with her will be as sweet as mine has been with Vati.”

“I do not think that is destined for me, First Minister,” Qui-Gon said quietly, “but I thank you for your kind thoughts.”

Qui-Gon removed his hand from Shiro’s. He turned and gazed out at the passing landscape.

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

Cian sighed deeply. After having spent the entire day with Vati, touring the villa and talking about their lives, Vati had suggested Cian might like to relax in the villa’s saunahouse before dinner. Qui-Gon and Shiro weren’t expected back from their inspection tour of the military base until later that evening. Cian had gladly accepted Vati’s offer.

Now she gazed contentedly up at the dark blue canopy which enclosed the huge redwood sauna tub she and Vati were in. The steam from the tub mingled with the scent of fragrant herbs. Willows swayed above them and dew-dampened ferns surrounded them. Along the wall of the saunahouse, a tiny waterfall tumbled merrily over black speckled rocks.

Vati looked over at Cian and smiled. “You are enjoying, yes?”

Cian sank deeper into the water and relished the soothing warmth of it over her bare skin.

“Oh, yes, Vati. I am enjoying it very much.”

“Then you would not mind if a personal question I asked?”

Cian shook her head and closed her eyes.

“No,” she murmured. “I would not mind.”

“Why have you not revealed your heart to Master Qui-Gon?”

“What?” Cian’s eyes snapped open. She looked over at Vati.

“It is so plain to see. How heartsick you are. And he is the source, yes?”

“Sala Vati, I don’t think---”

“I have upset you, I see, for you have chosen to be formal with me again. And that was not my intention. May I be frank?”

Before Cian could answer, Vati went on.

“I like you very much. And Master Qui-Gon, too, even though I have only known you both for a short time. Shiro will tell you I have a gift when it comes to people. I can see into their hearts. That is why I know you are heartsick. And so is he.”

“Vati, I can assure you Qui-Gon is not heartsick. And neither am I. Actually, I’m seeing someone. Someone who is very dear to me. He has asked me to marry him.”

“But you have not accepted?”

“No, I haven’t, but---”

“You care for him, but you do not love him.”

“I do love----”

“But you are not _in_ love with him.”

Cian shook her head. Finis had said the same thing to her before she left for Jalat. Was it that obvious?

Cian sighed. She gazed over at the older Jalatan woman. Cian and her own mother had never been close. Her parents had died when she was thirteen. However, even when they’d been alive, Cian had not spent much time with them. They had always been traveling about the galaxy as part of her father‘s duties as Senator for their homeworld. She had never thought before that she’d suffered for not having had a close relationship with her mother, but now she wondered. Other than Finis, she had not spoken of her love for Qui-Gon to anyone else; certainly not to another woman.

“Vati,” Cian began. The older woman flated closer to her.

“I do love him,” Cian went on quietly. “I’ve loved him for as long as I‘ve known him. But, you don’t understand. He’s a Jedi Master. His entire life has been dedicated to the will of the Force. It speaks to him.”

“And you are afraid that if you should tell him what is in your heart, the Force will drown out your words and he will not hear them.”

Cian laughed softly. “That’s an understatement.”

Vati nodded. “The Force, as you call it, does speak to him. I can see it in his eyes. But, perhaps he is ready after so long listening to it, to hear something else, yes?”

Cian shrugged. But before she could answer she heard male voices coming from the entranceway to the saunahouse. She recognized Shiro’s and---her heart pounded in her chest---Qui-Gon! They were coming down the hall. Cian looked wide-eyed over at Vati.

The older woman smiled at her.

“It is customary for Shiro to invite his guest to the saunahouse.”

“But, but...” Cian looked over to where her robe was lying on the bench.

“Ah, my wife,” Shiro called out as he came around the corner. “Look who I have with me.”

Cian looked up as Qui-Gon strode barefoot around the corner, a thick blue robe wrapped about his tall frame. He stopped and stared when he saw Cian and Vati were already in the sauna tub.

Cian stared too, not only because she was surprised to see Qui-Gon, but because someone, a servant she guessed, had tied his long hair up into a topknot. He lifted his eyes towards his hair and shrugged. Then he smiled at her and Cian’s heart melted.

Shiro had already taken off his robe. He eased his body into the water, then floated over to Vati and kissed her on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day, my wife?”

“Yes, my husband. Cian and I spent a delightful day together.”

Shiro beamed over at Cian.

“I am glad to hear that.”

He then turned back to Qui-Gon who still stood at the side of the tub.

“Come, come,” he cried, waving at Qui-Gon. “The water is most delightful.”

Qui-Gon nodded. Cian’s heart beat even harder as she watched him remove his robe and slide his long body into the water. She glanced down, fearful he might be self-conscious at her presence. When she looked up, he was gazing over at her, his blue eyes warm.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked as he drifted towards her.

“Angry? About what?” Then she remembered. “Well, I have to admit I was a bit peeved, the two of you sneaking off like that. How did your tour go?”

He floated closer to her. “It was enlightening.”

Cian smiled at him, then was aware Vati and Shiro were watching her and Qui-Gon closely. She blushed.

Qui-Gon glanced over at the elderly Jalatan couple. He looked back at Cian and his smile deepened.

Suddenly, Vati moaned.

“Are you all right, Vati?” Cian asked.

“Yes, my dear. But I think I should retire for a bit before dinner. Escort me to my chamber, my husband.”

“But, my wife, I just got in...Ow!”

Shiro looked into Vati’s face and at her expression he quickly turned towards Qui-Gon and Cian.

“Uh, yes, I do believe it is time for my wife to rest a bit before dinner.”

He and Vati moved towards the edge of the sauna tub. Shiro climbed quickly out, put on his robe, than helped Vati out and into her robe.
Cian and Qui-Gon exchanged looks, then they both started to move towards the edge.

Vati looked at them and shook her head vigorously.

“No, no, please, stay,” she said. “I would lose face if I thought that because of my weakness you did not fully experience the healing benefits of the saunahouse. I insist you remain.”

As Shiro helped his wife to the door, he turned back to Qui-Gon and Cian.

“I will return short---Ow! Umm, it looks like I will see you both at dinner. Enjoy, my friends.”

He and Vati disappeared around the corner leaving Cian and Qui-Gon alone.

Cian looked over at Qui-Gon as they floated in the sauna tub. He was grinning broadly at her.

“What is so funny, Qui-Gon?” she asked.

He moved closer to her.

“We have been outflanked, Cian. And by a master strategist, it would appear.”

Cian laughed softly.

“Yes, it would appear that way.” She glanced up at his topknot. “I like your hair that way. It reminds me the Zenwislwin wizards of Xenos IV.”

“I’m not sure it would catch on at the Jedi Temple, however,” Qui-Gon said smiling.

Cian’s breath caught in her throat as she looked across at him. She noticed he was watching her intently and she was extremely aware of his virile appeal. Though she had tried not to stare when he had removed his robe, she had been impressed at how firm and muscular his body was despite his age.

And, as she became more and more mindful of the silky feel of the warm water swirling around her, the sensual fragrance of the herbs, and the awareness that they both were unclothed, a delicious shudder thrummed through her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears as he continued to watch her quietly.

He drifted closer.

“Cian,” he said.

She tingled at the sound of her name in his mouth.

“Yes, Qui-Gon,” she said softly.

“Why haven’t you spoken of your fiance, Major Sundancer?”

Cian looked at him in surprise.

“Jeffron? I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, well, he’s not my fiance. Not yet, not officially...” Her voice trailed off.

“What is he like?”

Cian smiled. “Good. Kind. Strong. Well-loved by his men. He has this....integrity about him. He’s....he’s... very much like you,” she finished softly.

Cian glanced down. She was afraid to let Qui-Gon look into her eyes, afraid he would see the truth she had just revealed to Vati. That it really wasn’t Jeffron she loved.

Qui-Gon’s hand rose under the water and lifted her chin.

She looked up at him. His gaze was as soft as a caress. As he gently stroked her cheek with his fingers, she drew in a deep shuddering breath.

“Integrity is important to you, isn’t he?” he asked softly.

“Yes.”

“And you would not wish for the man you loved to be other than what he is?”

“If what he is, is what I fell in love with,” she answered, “then, yes, Qui-Gon, I would not wish for him to be false to himself.”

Qui-Gon nodded. He lowered his hand, moved closer to her.

“Do you love him?” he asked.

She didn‘t answer for a long moment. Qui-Gon waited.

“I love Jeffron,” she finally said, “but I’m not _in_ love with him.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Oh, yes,” Cian whispered, “there is.”

“What?”

“The difference is he does not live in my heart.”

“And why is that?”

“Because my heart is already full,” she replied.

Qui-Gon was very close to her now. Their bodies touched briefly beneath the swirling waters. Cian’s cheeks colored under the heat of his gaze and their eyes were so locked on the other their breathing had become as one.

“Qui-Gon,” she began. Then she shook her head, looked away from him.

She felt his hands move under the water and touch her, his fingers lightly trailing over her skin. She turned back to him.

She had to tell him, now, for Vati was right. Cian was heartsick and it was eating her alive. She cared for Jeffron and always would, but the man she truly loved, the man she wanted with all her heart and body and soul was here with her.

She moved closer to Qui-Gon. So close she could feel his warm breath across her face. So close she could see nothing but his eyes and she was drowning in them. So close that if she moved just one inch more her lips would be on his.

“Qui-Gon,” she began.

Qui-Gon’s hands moved under the water, clasped her firmly about the waist and pulled her close to him. A shudder passed through Cian as he slipped his hands up her sides. She inhaled sharply when she felt the tips of his fingers brushing over her breasts.

“Cian,” he said huskily, his eyes searching her face.

“Qui-Gon,” she whispered. “Oh, Qui-Gon, I lo---.”

“Oh! Forgive, most honored guests!”

Cian jumped away from Qui-Gon and looked over at the edge of the sauna tub.

One of the servants was standing and staring at them, his mouth open, his eyes wide. He was holding a bucket of flowering herbs. He bowed deeply, then rising, timidly showed the bucket to them.

“I was to have put these in earlier in the day, most honored guests. I did not think anyone was here. Please, please, a thousand pardons.”

He bowed again, but this time did not rise.

Cian glanced over at Qui-Gon. He floated quickly over to the servant.

“It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “We were just leaving.”

The servant rose from his bow.

“Please, I can come back. Please, you may stay.”

Qui-Gon climbed out and wrapped his robe about him.

“No, that’s all right. I think it’s time we got ready for dinner anyway. Don’t you, Cian?”

He looked over at her. Cian nodded and drifted over to the edge. The servant turned his head as she got out. Qui-Gon, who had picked up her robe, held it out for her. As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, for a moment, she felt Qui-Gon’s hands on her shoulders. He rubbed them gently. Cian tied the robe about her, then looked up at him. He tilted his head at her, then shrugged slightly, a gentle smile on his face. Cian turned and nodded to the servant to let him know she was not angry with him. The servant bowed again, then scurried over to the herbal garden.

Cian followed Qui-Gon out of the saunahouse, her thoughts churning, her heart pounding, her body in flames.

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

Part Twenty-Two

Obi-Wan, his arms folded within the sleeves of his robe, stood in the doorway to Nadira‘s outer chambers. He had just arrived on Sylvonna from Tarkasia and, after having seen that Prince Ishan and his family were settled in their complex, had come in search of Aalea.

Badalah, who was blocking the entrance, eyed him up and down.

“What do you want, pup?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I’m looking for Aalea.”

“She’s not here. Did you check her chamber?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “The handmaiden you assigned to her didn’t know where she was. I assumed she was here.”

“Well, you assumed wrong,” Badalah said crossly.

“Who is it, Badalah?” Obi-Wan heard a high clear voice ask.

“No one, your highness,” Badalah said, narrowing her eyes as if daring Obi-Wan to dispute her description of him.

“Jedi Obi-Wan!” Nadira cried as she peered around Badalah. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into her outer chamber. “You have returned, finally.”

Badalah watched with a dark frown as Nadira pulled Obi-Wan over to a settee.

“Sit, Jedi Obi-Wan,” Nadira said as she flopped onto it.

Obi-Wan bowed, then sat next to Nadira whose green eyes were sparkling.

“Now, tell me,” she said breathlessly, “what is he like?”

“Who, your highness?”

Nadira scowled. “My husband-to-be. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Oh, yes, Prince Ishan.” Obi-Wan cocked his head. “He’s, uh, very tall, your highness.”

“Very tall?” Nadira mulled over that. “What else?”

“What else?” Obi-Wan repeated.

Nadira was watching him closely. Obi-Wan was suddenly uncomfortable. He wasn’t very good at this.

“He’s ugly, isn’t he?” Nadira cried as Obi-Wan remained silent, her eyes filling with tears. “I have seen his holophotos, but I am thinking by the look on your face that they lied.”

“No, your highness, he‘s not ugly, not at all,” Obi-Wan said hastily.

“Then what’s wrong with him?” Nadira wailed.

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Obi-Wan said, his agitation rising. This was getting out of hand. “Please, your highness, where is Aalea?”

“Why do you want to see her so badly, pup?” Badalah asked, looking him up and down. “Need her to quench that fire in your loins? Didn’t get a chance to put it out while you were on Tarkasia, did you? Or is it that you didn’t want to? Don’t blame you. I’ve heard that Tarkasian women are as bad in bed as the Great Prude himself.”

“That is not why I want to see Aalea,” Obi-Wan exclaimed in an outraged voice.

Badalah only crossed her arms and looked at him skeptically.

Obi-Wan decided right then he’d had enough of both of them. He stood quickly.

“Your highness, please excuse me,” he said, “but I must find Aalea. There are things I need to go over with her regarding tonight’s banquet. The banquet where, I respectfully remind you, you will finally meet your husband-to-be and all your questions will be answered.”

He bowed, turned and walked towards the door.

“She is in the gymnasium, Jedi Obi-Wan,” Nadira said softly.

Obi-Wan turned and looked back at the princess. She was gazing sadly down at her lap. Obi-Wan went over to her, sat and took her hand.

“Your highness,” he said gently.

Nadira looked up at him with a woeful expression.

“Please, don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said. “Prince Ishan is not ugly. Trust me. He’s, well, I‘d guess one could say he’s quite handsome.”

“Really?” Nadira sniffled. “Is he as pretty as you?”

Badalah snorted scornfully.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, then shot Badalah a quick glance of annoyance. He turned back to Nadira.

“I don’t know about that, your highness, but I believe you will be quite pleased.”

She nodded and squeezed his hand. Then she leaned close to him, her emerald eyes twinkling through her tears.

“I think Jedi Aalea has been missing you very much,” she whispered.

Obi-Wan doubted that, but he smiled at Nadira and thanked her for the information.

Obi-Wan stood and bowed to Nadira. As he turned to leave, he noted that Badalah was watching him with a curious expression on her doughy face. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what it meant and, not wanting to find out, quickly left Nadira’s chamber.

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

Obi-Wan finally found the palace gymnasium after having walked through what seemed to him endless miles of corridors. He still hadn‘t gotten used to being back among the Sylvonnans and their fondness for curving hallways which seemed to go nowhere and for giving the vaguest of directions.

He stood unnoticed in the entrance to the gym. A number of Sylvonnan guardsmen were inside exercising. But, Obi-Wan noted with dismay, an equally large number of them were lounging against the wall watching as Aalea went through a lightsaber practice routine.

Her hair, which she normally worn in a bun, was tied back in a long thick braid which snaked down her back. She was also wearing a dark blue body suit which, Obi-Wan noted, showed off every curve of her slender body. Instead of her lightsaber, she was using one of the longswords favored by the Sylvonnans.

The guardsmen watched with admiring looks on their faces as Aalea gracefully and fluidly moved through the Seven Forms of the Venerable Jedi Swordmaster D‘aja. It was an ancient exercise and difficult to do. It involved not only sword-work, but flips and tumbles. Obi-Wan was surprised Aalea even knew how to do it. But, as he watched her, he noted her stance was a bit off in the Fifth Form and in the last and Seventh form, her sword movement was incorrect.

When she was done, the guardsmen clapped and cheered. Obi-Wan watched Aalea closely to see how she would react. A frown flickered across her face, then she smiled and bowed slightly to them. The men cheered even louder but, just as they started to move towards her, Obi-Wan decided it was time to announce his presence. He could sense through the Force they meant her no harm but, like all Sylvonnans, they unquestionably had matters of the flesh on their mind and Aalea’s beauty drew them like moths to a flame.

Obi-wan walked quickly into the gym. Aalea had turned slightly, so her back was to him, but she must have noted the suddenly wary expressions on the guardsmen’s faces, for she wheeled around.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and, for a moment, Obi-Wan thought he saw something that looked like gladness in her face, but it was so fleeting he was sure it must have been his imagination.

“Master,” she said, her expression solemn. “You’ve returned.” She bowed to him.

“Aalea,” he said curtly.

“Uh, I was just getting in some exercise.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan glanced over to where the guardsmen were eyeing him and Aalea. He frowned at them. Without a word, the group turned away.

Obi-Wan looked back at Aalea.

“That doesn’t look like standard Jedi issue,” he said as he scrutinized her body suit.

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

“No, it isn’t, Master. Cian bought it for me.”

“Cian?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess it’s all right then.”

Aalea inclined her head, but her expression was tight as she looked back up at him.

“I noticed you were going through the Seven Forms of Master D‘aja,” Obi-Wan said.

“And you’re surprised I know how to do it, aren’t you?” Aalea said, one slender brow arched.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I am. It’s a very advanced exercise and you did it well, but your stance was off in the Fifth Form and your sword movement was incorrect in the Seventh.”

Aalea frowned slightly.

“Here, let me show you.”

Obi-Wan walked over to the side of the gym where he took off his robe and put it on a bench. He unclipped his lightsaber and laid it on his robe. He then took one of the longswords out of a rack and went back over to Aalea.

“Now watch,” he told her. He moved quickly through the Seven Forms. He turned to her.

“Did you see the difference?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, you try it.”

Aalea moved into the opening position for the First Form. Then, her face set, she went through the routine again, duplicating him perfectly.

“Excellent, Aalea. You’re a quick study.”

“So my master always said.”

As Obi-Wan went over to retrieve his robe and lightsaber, Aalea called out to him.

“Master?”

He turned back to her.

“Yes, Aalea?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve sparred with anyone. Would you mind doing so with me? I don’t want to get rusty.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment. He had never sparred with her before and he wasn’t exactly keen on doing so in front of the Sylvonnans but it was, after all, part of his duties as her acting master to help her maintain her skills.

“Of course, Aalea.”

He went back over to her. She bowed. He returned it. He then raised the Sylovnnan longsword in salute. She repeated the gesture.

“Is there any particular style you’d prefer---?”

But before Obi-Wan could finish, Aalea was already on the attack. She moved towards him quickly, her sword swinging.

Obi-Wan’s body immediately shifted into battle mode as Aalea advanced on him. The clash of their swords echoed in the cavernous room. Obi-Wan quickly ascertained Aalea’s fighting style. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed and agility.

As he parried one of her strokes and made to counter it with a swing, she spun away from him; then she flipped over his head and engaged him from behind. He turned to meet her.

Her eyes never left his. Good, he thought. She had been taught to keep her attention on her opponents’ eyes. They exchanged a flurry of blows and hits. Obi-Wan had to admit, she was quite good and, he also noted, her expression never changed; it remained calm, almost serene, her eyes locked on his. He twisted away as she tried a movement that should have knocked his sword from his hand.

Aalea’s eyes widened slightly at his having anticipated the move. But he had recognized it. It was one Qui-Gon had taught him. He was not surprised she knew it. His master had instructed her on many things when she was a child.

Aalea engaged him again, her movements swift and precise, but Obi-Wan had already detected a vulnerability in her style. She frequently left her right side exposed.

As their swords rang and clashed against each other, he slightly unfocused his thoughts so that nothing would appear in his eyes that would warn her of what he was about to do.

Then, quickly, he thrust his sword towards her left side. Aalea was caught slightly off-balance as she twisted to parry the lunge. Obi-Wan then attacked her right side and, as she moved to parry that, he knocked her sword from her hand. It clattered to the floor.

Obi-Wan raised his blade and pointed it at Aalea. As was the custom, he addressed her.

“Do you yield?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her chest heaving, her eyes boring into his. Then, quick as a flash, she reached out her hand and, using the Force, called her sword back to her. She raised it en garde to him.

What was she doing? All right, Obi-Wan thought grimly, if a sparring was what she wanted, a sparring was what she was going to get.

As Obi-Wan and Aalea dueled about the gymnasium, Obi-Wan noted out of the corner of his eye that all of the Sylvonnan guardsmen were now watching them. Just then, Aalea swung at his legs, apparently having noted his attention had wavered for a moment. Obi-Wan jumped and leapt over her. Aalea spun around, her braid swinging. He saw a brief flare of anger in her eyes. He would caution her about that later.

As Aalea attacked him, Obi-Wan noted once again that she left her right side open. He made a mental note to discuss that with her also. This time when he exploited her weakness, he used a different maneuver, but the result was the same. Her sword clattered to the floor.

“Do you yield?” he asked again.

Aalea lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze. Obi-Wan groaned softly when, her violet eyes blazing, she reached out and drew her sword back to her hand. They battled about the room and, once again, Obi-Wan disarmed her and asked if she would yield. This time she answered him by not only calling her sword back to her hand, but flipping over him.

The guardsmen cheered. Obi-Wan sighed.

As they fought this time, Obi-Wan slowly, but methodically, guided her towards the wall. This time he was determined to end their match. He had restrained himself before, in deference to her inexperience, but now his sword was a blur as he forced her backwards. He saw she was breathing hard as she frantically tried to match his strokes.

When he had her where he wanted her, he swiftly disarmed her. This time, however, he dropped his own sword, grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall to keep her from leaping away from him.

“All right, Aalea. That’s enough. Do you yield?”

“Yield?” she gasped, her chest heaving. “To you? Never!”

She raised her chin as she glared up at him. Obi-Wan looked down at her and squeezed her shoulders. By the Force, she was willful. How had her master put up with her? Aalea stared up at him, her eyes flaring with defiance. But, Obi-Wan noted with surprise, she was also shivering under his hands.

He looked down at Aalea’s lips which, he saw with a tightening throat, had parted slightly and were also trembling. His gaze lingered on her mouth. How had Queen Samar described it at the audience? Like a warm ripe fruit just waiting to be plucked and tasted. Obi-Wan’s heart thudded in his chest. He looked back into her eyes.

They were still burning with insolence as she gazed up at him but, oh, he thought, they were also so dazzling and so incredibly beautiful. And as Obi-Wan leaned closer to her, he thought he saw something else in her eyes besides her usual impertinence, something soft and alive, like a rose just beginning to bud. He gripped her shoulders tighter.

“The prize is won, young master Jedi. She is yours. Take her,” a voice suddenly cried out.

Obi-Wan turned his head. The guardsmen were looking over at him and Aalea, broad smiles on their faces. To the Sylvonnans his and Aalea’s sparring had looked like some kind of love-play and now that Obi-Wan had defeated her, they expected him to claim her as his reward. Obi-Wan looked back at Aalea. She frowned darkly at him.

Obi-Wan then let go of her shoulders and turned to the guardsmen. Suddenly a line of dialogue from _The Scarlet Baron of Corellia_ popped into his head and, for a long time afterwards, Obi-Wan would never really know what possessed him to say it. Maybe he had just wanted to knock some of that insolence out of her eyes.

“I fear I have yet to prove myself worthy of such a prize,” he said, gesturing towards Aalea. “The battle is won, but the war remains to be fought.” He bowed slightly.

The guardsmen applauded, their laughter ringing through the gym.

“Well said,” one of them cried out.

As the guardsmen turned away, Obi-Wan looked back at Aalea. She had moved away from the wall and was glaring at him.

“Prize?” she cried. “_Prize_? How dare you, Obi-Wan Kenobi! I am no one‘s _prize_. Especially not yours!”

“I meant nothing by it, Aalea. I only said it to appease the Sylvonnans. You know how they are.” He cocked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head. “Or would you rather I had done as they asked and taken you?”

Her violet eyes darkened as she stared at him.

“I would have liked to see you try,” she replied in a low voice.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms.

“You know, Aalea, if you had just yielded the first time, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault you had to go off and start blathering like one of those puffed up noblemen from those awful Old Republic holovids.”

“No, but----”

Aalea abruptly turned away from him and walked over to where her sword lay on the floor. She picked it up. Obi-Wan noted she kept her nose in the air as she walked with stiff dignity past the guardsmen over to the sword rack, but they only smiled at her as if they expected her to be insulted.

Obi-Wan picked up his sword and took it to the rack. He then went over to his things. As he clipped his lightsaber onto his belt, he looked over at Aalea where she stood waiting for him.

“Aalea, where’s your lightsaber?”

“In my quarters.”

Obi-Wan drew on his robe.

“It’s not wise for you to be separated from your lightsaber.”

Aalea crossed her arms, her lips thin with irritation.

“I’m not _separated_ from it, Master. I just didn’t think I needed it to do my exercises. I knew they had practice weapons here.”

“That’s not the point, Aalea,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “A Jedi must always be prepared for any contingency. Remember what we discussed before, how we must always be on guard while we’re on this mission.”

“I didn’t think a war was going to start while I was in the gym, Master,” she said irritably.

“From now on I want you to have your lightsaber with you at all times. Is that clear?” he said.

Aalea inclined her head. When she raised it, her gaze was scorching.

“Perfectly clear, Master,” she said evenly.

“Good. After you’ve showered and changed, come to my quarters in the Tarkasian complex and we’ll discuss tonight’s banquet.”

“As you wish, Master.”

Aalea bowed, turned and marched out of the gym. Her braid danced along her back and the end of it, Obi-Wan noted with a tightening throat, twitched bewitchingly over her taut rear.

As he walked out of the gymnasium, Obi-Wan was not surprised to hear more laughter coming from the guardsmen. He sighed heavily.

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

As Aalea stood next to Obi-Wan along the wall, watching as the Tarkasians and the Sylvonnans filed into the banquet room, she wondered for the umpteenth time what it was about her Obi-Wan disapproved of so much. She knew she wasn’t the perfect Jedi, but since she’d been on this mission with him, she had been rebuked, chastised and lectured more times than in all her years with her master.

She glanced over at him and noted how serious he was trying to look with his arms folded within his robe, his brow slightly furrowed and his mouth set. He thinks he’s Master Qui-Gon, she thought irritably.

Then, Aalea thought about their sparring in the gym earlier. She knew she should have yielded to him the first time he disarmed her, for she had no illusions about her skills in comparison to his. He was far superior to her. But having to give ground to him was the bitterest pill. He was already so terribly full of himself. And the way he had spouted that horrible dialogue from that awful Old Republic holovid. His prize! Aalea snorted softly, then glanced over at Obi-Wan to see if he had heard, but he continued to gaze stoically at the guests as they came into the banquet hall.

Then Aalea frowned, for something else had happened that had disturbed her even more than his calling her his prize. When he had grabbed her to prevent her from jumping away from him, something had surged through her. Not anger, not humiliation, not embarrassment. Something else. Something that had felt strangely and frighteningly pleasant. For she had been conscious of him in a way she’d never had before; of his strong warm hands on her shoulders, the way his blue-gray eyes had held hers, and the way his voice had begged her to give herself to him.

No, Aalea thought quickly, that wasn’t what he’d said. He had asked her to yield, not give herself to him. What had made her think he’d said that?

She shook her head and focused her attention back on the banquet hall. Two long tables faced each other. At the end of the tables another had been placed at which sat King Tahal and Queen Samar. To their right King Lucan and Queen Cassia were being seated. Next to Queen Cassia a tall, broad-shouldered man with russet-colored eyes and braided black hair slipped into his chair.

Glancing about the room, the man spotted Obi-Wan. He waved.

Obi-Wan nodded. Then the man’s eyes shifted to Aalea and widened. A large grin spread across his handsome face. He winked at her. Aalea, not wanting to be rude, gave him a small smile. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Obi-Wan’s frown deepen.

Aalea sighed. She’d probably be lectured later about how she had once again violated Jedi propriety by smiling at a stranger. She was about to ask Obi-Wan who the man was, but noting the disapproving expression on Obi-Wan’s face, thought better of it. She looked back to the entrances as the rest of the guests funneled in.

Once the guests had all been seated, it was Obi-Wan and Aalea’s signal, as Honorary Bodyguards, to escort Ishan and Nadira into the hall for their formal introduction. Obi-Wan went to the left and Aalea to the right.

As Aalea entered the tiny anteroom where Nadira and Badalah waited, she glanced back at the man with the long braided hair. He was still grinning at her.

“Have they all finally sat down?” Badalah asked crossly.

“Yes,” Aalea answered.

She looked over at Nadira. The princess was swathed in a glittering array of brightly-colored gowns. Her face was veiled and only her large green eyes were visible.

“Oh, Jedi Aalea,” she whispered. “I am so afraid.”

Aalea quickly took Nadira’s hand. It was cold and shaking.

“Don’t worry, your highness. I am here.”

Badalah was peering out the door.

“Something’s going on, Aalea.”

Aalea squeezed Nadira’s hand, then walked over to Badalah.

She looked out into the hall. Badalah was right. The guests were in a stir and Aalea could see a man with a long black mustache whispering something into King Lucan’s ear and, whatever it was, Lucan didn’t like what he was hearing. Aalea saw no signs of either Obi-Wan or Ishan. She looked over at Badalah who only shrugged her shoulders.

Then King Tahal’s chief eunuch, Marni, ran into the hall and rushed over to Tahal. He leaned towards the king’s ear and whispered. Tahal leapt up, his face a thundercloud, his black eyes burning.

“What treachery is this?” he roared.

Aalea turned back to Nadira.

“I’ll be right back, your highness.”

Nadira only nodded, her eyes bright with fear. She had heard her father’s cry of outrage.

Aalea ran into the hall and over to the head table. She went up to King Tahal.

“What is wrong, your majesty?”

Tahal turned toward her. He thrust his hand towards Lucan.

“Their son has decided he does not wish to marry my daughter. He has run off. To become a Jedi!”

“What?” Aalea cried, looking over at Lucan.

King Lucan’s hazel eyes were frosty as he looked at her.

“Yes, it appears my son has been corrupted by you Jedi and has decided to forgo his filial duty. I blame Master Kenobi for this.”

“Don’t try to place the blame on someone else, Lucan,” Tahal shouted. “You had this planned from the start. How dare you barbarians come to my world and dishonor my daughter!”

“Barbarians?” Lucan cried. “How dare you call _us_ barbarians, Tahal. What do you perfumed degenerates know of civilization? We should have you destroyed you when we had the chance.”

“Destroy us?” Tahal bellowed. “You were the ones who sued for peace because you knew we were winning, Lucan.”

Aalea watched in horror as the guests, Sylvonnans and Tarkasians, began to rise from their chairs, eyeing each other from across the tables. She glanced around the tension-filled hall. The situation was becoming a powder keg. And where was Obi-Wan?

“We sued for peace because we were close to wiping your kind out forever!” Lucan cried, his bald head glistening with sweat. Queen Cassia reached over and tried to grab her husband’s arm, but Lucan angrily shook her off. He then pulled a dagger from the belt on his black uniform and brandished it at Tahal.

Tahal reached over to one of his guards and pulled a knife out of his shoulder holster. He moved toward Lucan. Suddenly, the tall man with the braids who had winked at Aalea jumped in front of Lucan, his own blade drawn.

“Stand back, Tahal, or I’ll cut your heart out where you stand.”

“Move aside, Prince Markus. This is between your father and me.”

“It may be between you and father, but you’ll have to go through me to get to him.”

“So be it,” Tahal sneered.

Aalea was about to draw her lightsaber when a scream from behind distracted her. It was Nadira. She had come out of the anteroom and was standing in the door, her hands raised up in horror.

“Nadira,” Aalea shouted. “Go back inside.”

Nadira only stood, her eyes wide as she looked about her.

Tahal leapt onto Markus and the two men struggled. Pandemonium broke out in the hall. Guests either screamed and ran for the doors or shouted and drew weapons. Aalea was nearly knocked to the floor when a Sylvonnan guardsman and a Tarkasian noble broke into a fight near her.

As Aalea tried to make her way through the melee to where Tahal and Markus were fighting, out of the corner of her eye she saw Nadira running through the crowd to her parents. Aalea switched direction and ran towards her.

Before Aalea could get to her, however, the fleeing guests pushed Nadira to the floor. Aalea‘s stomach tightened. The princess was sure to be trampled.

Calling upon the Force, Aalea leapt over the running guests. She landed next to Nadira who was cowering on the floor. Aalea quickly drew her lightsaber and ignited it. She whipped it around her, careful not to touch anyone, but wanting to clear a space around Nadira.

“Stand back!” she shouted.

The sight of the lightsaber stopped the guests in their tracks.

“All of you, drop your weapons!” Aalea cried out as she stood over Nadira.

Most of the guests who were near her and had drawn weapons complied, but Aalea could still see pockets of fighting going on about the hall and Tahal and Markus were still struggling.

Lucan was restraining Cassia who screamed for Markus and Tahal to stop. Queen Samar, meanwhile, had fainted and Marni was bent over her, trying frantically to revive her.

“Drop your weapons,” Aalea cried again.

Then, just as she was about to run over to stop Tahal and Markus, she saw a blur of movement. Suddenly Obi-Wan was standing next to the two men, his lightsaber blazing.

“Do as she says. Drop your weapons. Now!” he shouted, his eyes fierce.

Markus, who was bleeding from his side, looked over at Obi-Wan, shrugged, then dropped his knife to the floor. King Tahal, who was bleeding from his arm, frowned at the Jedi, then dropped his. Obi-Wan powered down his lightsaber.

Queen Cassia immediately ran over to Markus. She helped her son into a chair. Then she waved frantically at the healers who, accompanied by servants, rushed into the hall with stretchers for the injured.

As one of the Sylvonann healers went over to Markus, Lucan grabbed the healer‘s arm.

“I will not have my son treated by a Sylvonnan,” he cried, his hazel eyes blazing.

Obi-Wan walked over to Lucan and pulled the king’s hand away from the healer.

“You will allow Prince Markus to be cared for, King Lucan.”

Lucan jerked his hand away and glared at Obi-Wan.

“This is all your fault, Jedi,” he hissed. “I promise, your superiors will hear of this.”

He turned and tried to take Cassia’s arm, but the queen snatched it away. She then followed her son’s stretcher as the servants took Markus to the infirmary. Lucan watched his wife leave with a frown then, glancing angrily over at Obi-Wan, strode quickly from the hall.

Obi-Wan turned and walked over to where Aalea still stood guard over Nadira. She powered down her lightsaber.

Obi-Wan gave her a quick look, then knelt next to Nadira who was being rocked by Badalah.

“Are you all right, your highness,” he asked gently.

“Yes, Jedi Obi-Wan,” Nadira said, her voice trembling, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I am very fine. Thanks to Jedi Aalea.”

Obi-Wan helped Nadira to her feet. Her robes were all in disarray and her veil had been torn off. She thanked him, then, when she saw her father being carried out of the hall, ran quickly over to him. Badalah followed her.

The stretcher bearers stopped for a moment. King Tahal reached up and gently stroked Nadira’s cheek, assuring her he was all right. Nadira clung to his hand, tears streaming down her face. Queen Samar, who had been revived, gently drew her daughter away as Tahal was taken to the infirmary. Then she and Badalah escorted the weeping princess out of the banquet hall.

Obi-Wan turned towards Aalea. “Are you all right, Aalea?”

Aalea nodded. She looked around at the ruined banquet table, overturned chairs and broken glasses and dishes.

“Things got a little out of hand, Master.”

Obi-Wan looked around him unhappily. “Yes, a little.”

“What happened? Where’s Prince Ishan.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “When I went to the anteroom to escort him into the hall, it was empty. I thought Ishan had been delayed for some reason, so I went to his quarters. That’s where I found Seleth, Lucan’s Major-Domo. He’d just found a note left by Ishan saying he would not marry Nadira and he was running away to become a Jedi Knight.”

Aalea shook her head. “A Jedi Knight? What ever gave him that idea?”

Obi-Wan looked at Aalea uneasily.

“That may be my fault. He and I talked a great deal about the Jedi Order while I was on Tarkasia. But I had no idea....” Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “I was on my way to search for him when I sensed you were in trouble.”

Aalea glanced sharply at him. “You sensed I was in trouble?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said distractedly. He watched as more servants began moving into the hall to start the clean-up. He shook his head.

“This is not good, Aalea. The entire peace accord is in jeopardy.”

Aalea agreed and she was certain Lucan would hold to his threat and contact the Jedi Council.

“What should we do, Master?”

Obi-Wan looked over at her.

“We must find Ishan. I’m going to go look for him. Remain here and make certain no more blood is shed.”

“Yes, Master.”

As Obi-Wan started to move away, he turned back.

“Aalea?”

“Yes, Master?”

“You did a good job protecting Nadira.” He smiled at her, then turned away, his robe flying out behind him as he ran from the hall.

Aalea tilted her head as she watched Obi-Wan leave. He had smiled at her, something he’d not done since their mission had begun. He should smile more often, she thought. He had a nice smile.

Then she looked about her at the wreckage in the hall. How were they going to fix this?

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

It was later that night following the disaster at the banquet. Obi-Wan had returned from searching for Ishan, but had not found the young prince. Ishan’s father had then contacted the Jedi Council and angrily informed them Obi-Wan had encouraged Ishan to run away.

As a result, both Aalea and Obi-Wan were standing at attention in the palace’s communication center in front of a holographic image of Yoda which was being transmitted from Courscant.

“Fix this you will,” Yoda said sternly, his eyes regarding Obi-Wan with displeasure.

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“Find the prince. Repair the peace.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda then glanced over at Aalea. He looked at her for a moment, then abruptly broke the connection. His image faded.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, then exhaled it sharply. He lowered his head for a moment.

“It’s not your fault,” Aalea said gently.

Obi-Wan didn’t respond at first. Then he looked over at her.

“No, Aalea,” he said. “It is my fault. I should have seen Ishan was planning to run away.”

“How could you have possibly foreseen he was going to do something like this?”

“Master Qui-Gon would have,” Obi-Wan said dejectedly, shaking his head. “He’s always telling me to keep my attention on the here and now. If I had, I would have seen how terribly unhappy Ishan was about this wedding.”

“You’re being much too hard on yourself, Obi-Wan,” Aalea said.

Then, surprising even herself, she reached over and squeezed his hand.

Obi-Wan glanced down at her hand, then looked questioningly into her eyes.

Aalea quickly drew her hand away.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn‘t have done that.”

“No, it’s all right,” Obi-Wan said. “Thank you, Aalea. For being supportive, I mean.” He gave her a small smile.

Two smiles in one day, Aalea thought. That had to be a record. Then she recalled his comment earlier about having sensed she was in trouble.

“Master?”

“Yes, Aalea.”

“You said earlier you sensed I was in trouble. What did you mean?”

Obi-Wan frowned slightly.

“I just sensed something was wrong. That you needed me.”

“Through the bond?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened and Aalea was just as surprised as he that she’d brought up the subject of their Force bond. In the ten years since Obi-Wan had forged it, neither had ever spoken of it to the other.

“The bond?” he repeated slowly. “You’re still shielding against me, aren’t you?”

Aalea shifted her feet and glanced down quickly.

“Yes, but so are you, right?” She looked up at him from under her lashes.

He didn‘t answer her right away. Aalea waited as a flurry of expressions swept across his face.

“Yes, I am,” he finally said. “I mean, I am now. I wasn’t earlier but only because I was worried something might happen while I was gone. I though it best to maintain some kind of contact with you. For the sake of the mission, you understand.”

Aalea mulled over that for a moment. She noted Obi-wan was watching her closely and that some emotion she couldn’t quite read was in his eyes.
Then he looked away, adjusted his robes and checked to make sure his lightsaber was clipped securely to his belt.

“I’m going to go look for Ishan,” he said.

“Master, it’s very late. You should get some rest. There are people searching all through the capital. They’ll find him.”

Obi-Wan sighed, then nodded.

“You’re right. But, if they haven’t found him by morning, I’m going to keep looking. I know you don’t think it’s my fault, but I can’t help feeling responsible.”

Aalea didn’t know what to say. She’d had no idea Obi-Wan was so hard on himself. It must be a terrible burden, feeling responsible for things one didn’t have any control over.

She wondered if it came from his having been Qui-Gon’s apprentice all these years, trying so hard to live up to his master’s expectations, wanting so much to be worthy of him. Aalea too wanted to be seen as worthy in Qui-Gon’s eyes but, she suddenly realized, she would never be under the same pressures as Obi-Wan. He was Qui-Gon’s padawan and the Jedi Master’s expectations for Obi-Wan were much higher than they would ever be for her.

Aalea also wondered if this was why Obi-Wan took himself so seriously and was so overly concerned with things such as decorum and correctness. She knew that Qui-Gon had almost not chosen Obi-Wan as his padawan and that there had also been a painful incident in their past when the two had parted ways for a bit. Perhaps Obi-Wan was still fearful he would do something to justify Qui-Gon’s initial misgivings about him. Aalea felt a sudden wave of sympathy for him.

“I’ll help you look for Ishan tomorrow,” she offered.

“No, I’ll do it. Stay close to Nadira. You may be of some comfort to her. She likes you very much.”

Aalea shrugged.

“Sometimes she gets on my nerves and she’s terribly spoiled but,” and Aalea sighed, “she does have a good heart.”

Obi-Wan laughed softly.

“Yes, she is and she does. Come, I‘ll walk you to your quarters.”

Aalea tried not to stare at Obi-Wan as they left the communications center. Two smiles and a laugh in the same day. Was this the same Obi-Wan she’d spent the last couple weeks with? Obi-Wan the Stoic. Obi-Wan the Solemn. Aalea shook her head. Maybe diplomatic disasters brought out his good side.

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

Part Twenty-Three

Rukal, Chief Priest of the religious caste of the planet of Jalat, watched as the latest addition to his inner circle of acolytes knelt before him. They were in his audience chamber at his citadel in Jholan Province. The initiate was quite young, the youngest yet. She gazed up at him with fervent eyes. She wasn’t especially strong with the Syad, but she had other talents Rukal had found useful. She had also proven a willing, if unimaginative, bed partner.

Rukal reached over and dipped his thumb into the ebony bowl of blood which his aide, Tydre, held. He turned back to the young woman and placed his thumb on her forehead.

“I mark you as one of the Chosen. Now rise.”

The young woman rose and, at Rukal’s signal, turned and faced the twelve other members of his inner circle. Rukal raised his hands. The acolytes rose as one.

“There is no peace; there is anger,” Rukal began and the acolytes chanted the words back at him, their voices rolling through the chamber.

“There is no fear; there is power. There is no death; there is immortality. There is no light; there is only the dark.”

Rukal gazed at his inner circle. It was small, but growing. Lord Sidious had instructed Rukal to be very careful about whom he let share in the knowledge Sidious was giving him about the dark side of the Syad. And what knowledge! Power Rukal had only dreamt of when he had been a mere acolyte in the religious caste.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Rukal slowly levitated the mammoth stone altar which sat before him. He opened his eyes as it rose, then floated over the heads of his acolytes. They looked up, gasping, at this revelation of their master’s power. Focusing his will on it, Rukal guided the huge stone block through the air.

Rukal smiled. A month ago he’d had to punish one of his followers for insubordination. He had performed the levitation as he did at every ceremony but, when the altar hovered over the unsuspecting head of the acolyte, Rukal had released his will from it. He could still see the dried blood stains in the creases at the bottom of the stone.

Satisfied that he had sufficiently cowered his acolytes, Rukal slowly returned the altar to its resting place. He looked with great pleasure upon his followers as they gazed up at him with fear and wonder in their eyes. Rukal then nodded to Tydre who struck a gong, signaling the audience was over.

The acolytes filed out of the chamber. The young female initiate lagged behind, her dark orange eyes gazing deeply into Rukal’s. He knew she was hoping he would ask her to remain. His recent coupling with her had given her power over the others. Or so she imagined. Rukal was tempted, but he was already bored with her.

He gave her a slight smile, than quickly turned away, gesturing for Tydre to follow him. It was time to put into action his plan regarding the abduction of Cian Nyal. Both she and the Jedi were scheduled to return to the capital that day. He and Tydre entered his private chamber.

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

As Qui-Gon clipped his lightsaber onto his belt, he glanced at himself in the mirror. _I am getting old_. He leaned forward and noted the deeper lines alongside his eyes and the gray in his hair and beard. _Yes, most definitely older_. He wondered if Cian had noticed.

And, as Qui-Gon thought of her, he recalled what had happened yesterday in the saunahouse and the way she had emerged from the water like some newly-born goddess; droplets glistening on her full breasts, slender waist, and softly rounded hips and, as Qui-Gon continued to think of her, his body warmed in response, for he had wanted her, had wanted her so much he had almost.... He quickly shook his head and cleared his mind.

Yes, he was getting older but, apparently, not any wiser. Qui-Gon had devoted his life to the Jedi Order and had dedicated himself, body and soul, to the will of the Force. His commitment had been total and unwavering. Yet, even during those long years of service, he’d had some lovers; not many, for always, the Force had continued to speak to him, guiding him, goading him, leading him to whatever final destiny awaited him.

And because of that commitment to his life‘s purpose, he had kept his distance from Cian and had, over the years, lessened any contact with her. He knew that she loved him, had known it for a long time, but he had hoped she would find someone to whom she could give her love and have what he knew she desired and, most certainly, deserved: children, a family, someone to spend the rest of her life with.

Qui-Gon sighed and quickly drew on his robe. What had almost happened with her was something he would to have ensure never happened again. Not so much for his sake, but for hers. He grabbed his travel case from the bed and left the chamber. His and Cian’s travel cases had been brought in from the capital when Shiro had invited them to remain one more night at the villa.

As Qui-Gon walked into the outer sitting room, one of the omnipresent servants bowed, then quickly took the case from his hand. Qui-Gon was about to protest, but knew it would do no good explaining the Jedi preferred not to be catered to in such a manner.

The servant, as usual, waited for Qui-Gon to precede him out the door. Once in the hallway, Qui-Gon made his way down the stairs to the outside.

Shiro, Vati and Cian stood just beyond the villa‘s entrance. Qui-Gon bowed to Shiro and Vati. He glanced over at Cian. She met his eyes, then looked quickly away. During dinner last night she had been quiet and subdued. After they had both retired to their separate rooms in the villa, Qui-Gon had been tempted to visit her, but had decided against it. He had sensed she was not yet ready to talk about what had almost happened in the saunahouse.

Vati walked slowly over to Qui-Gon.

"Master Qui-Gon.”

“Sala Vati.”

“I have so much enjoyed your visit with us. I hope, once relations have been established between Jalat and the Republic, you will come and visit us again.”

“The honor would be mine, Sala Vati. I will never forget the hospitality you have so graciously shown us.”

She nodded. Then she gestured for Qui-Gon to bend down. He did so and she leaned close to his ear.

“Take some advice from a dying woman, Master Qui-Gon,” she said softly. “Open your heart to other voices.”

Then she pulled back and squeezed his hand, her eyes gazing deeply into his. Her words had startled and puzzled him, but he nodded.

Shiro walked over and put his arm about his wife. He then looked up at Qui-Gon.

“Thank you again, my friend, for agreeing to stay one more night with us. We have much enjoyed your company.”

“As have we,” Qui-Gon said as he looked over at Cian. She gazed back at him, her dark gray eyes solemn; then she walked over and took his arm. He was surprised at how pleased he was when she did so.

She looked over at Shiro and Vati.

“Yes, thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“You are most welcome, Mistress Nyal,” Shiro said. “I will see you both again at the end of the week.”

Qui-Gon nodded. He looked over to where their shuttle had landed. The servants scurried over to it, his and Cian’s travel cases in their hands.

They exchanged final goodbyes with Shiro and Vati. Then they walked over and boarded the shuttle. As it rose from the landing pad, Qui-Gon looked back at the villa through the transparent walls of the shuttle. Shiro and Vati stood at the entrance, their hands raised in farewell. Qui-Gon lifted his in return. Cian saw the movement and looked back at the couple. She raised her hand, gazing back until the villa had vanished from sight.

Sighing, she turned around and looked over at Qui-Gon.

“I shall miss Vati very much,” she said. “I hope I will have the opportunity to see her again before we leave.”

“As do I.” Qui-Gon took a deep breath. Although he had promised himself he would wait until she was ready to talk about what had happened in the saunahouse, he wanted her to know he hoped it would not affect their friendship. He was about to speak of it when she suddenly said something about Obi-Wan.

“I‘m sorry, Cian. What did you say?” he asked.

“I’m worried about Obi-Wan.”

“Really? Why?”

She shrugged slightly. “Well, it is his first mission without you, and he has Aalea to look after, and they’re both so young, and...” Her voice trailed off.

“And what?”

Cian pursed her lips and looked out the window at the passing scenery for a moment. She turned back to Qui-Gon.

“He’s in love with her. You do know that?”

“Who is in love with whom, Cian?”

“Obi-Wan. He’s in love with Aalea.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Aalea and Obi-Can can barely stand each other. They’re like oil and water.”

Cian smiled sadly at him. “But that’s just it, Qui-Gon. He doesn’t _know_ he’s in love with her. At least not yet. He’s feels it, but either can‘t or won‘t admit it. Even to himself. That’s why he’s so cold and stiff with her.”

Qui-Gon mulled over that.

“What do your instincts tell you about Aalea? How does she feel about him?”

“She still believes it’s you that she loves, and she does, but not in the way she thinks. If he wanted to, Obi-Wan could easily win her heart.”

Qui-Gon sighed deeply.

“I hope this will not affect their mission. If I had known, I would have spoken against their being assigned together.”

“Why?”

“Such feelings can be a distraction.”

Cian shook her head. “You’re not giving them much credit, Qui-Gon. They are Jedi. And they’ve both been well-trained.”

“But as you just noted, they are young. And Sylvonna is---”

“The love capital of the galaxy.” She squeezed his arm. “They’ll be all right. Don’t worry. I‘m sorry I brought it up.”

Qui-Gon remained silent for a moment, staring out the window of the shuttle.

“I hope,” he finally said, “if you are correct, and Obi-Wan does have such feelings for Aalea, he will keep them to himself.”

Cian looked sharply at him. “Why?”

“We are Jedi, Cian. At any time the Force may call us to walk in dark and desolate places. Places where we must often go alone.”

Qui-Gon could feel Cian’s body tensing alongside his. He glanced at her and noted the skin around her eyes had tightened.

“Then tell me this, Qui-Gon. What if, by some chance, Obi-Wan and Aalea should discover they love each other. Are you saying they must hide it, not only from the one they love but from themselves? What kind of a life is that? What chance for fulfillment or happiness does it offer?"

“Cian, a Jedi’s life is one of service and there is much fulfillment in that. But the path the Force guides us on is not an easy one. To ask another to bear that burden...” He shook his head. “It is a hard life. Love only makes it harder; for the one who loves and the one who is loved. You know that.”

“Yes, I do know that,” Cian said softly. She drew her arm away from his. He reached over and took her hand.

“Don’t pull away,” he said gently.

“Isn‘t that what you want me to do?” Cian cried out suddenly. “Isn‘t that what you‘re trying to tell me with all your talk about dark places and how love only makes a Jedi‘s life harder?”

Qui-Gon glanced at their shuttle pilot, but he appeared oblivious to them.

“Cian. I---”

“You don‘t have to say any more, Qui-Gon,” Cian said, her eyes dark with pain. She turned away from him and for a long moment she stared out the window. Qui-Gon waited. Then with a deep breath she turned and faced him.

“I’m sorry, Qui-Gon,” she said. “Please forgive me.”

He took her hand.

“Cian, you don’t have to apologize.”

She pulled her hand away from his.

“Yes, I do. I _must_ apologize, I will apologize,” she went on in a choked voice, “not only for my outburst, but for my behavior yesterday in the saunahouse. I don’t know what came over me. I can assure you it won‘t happen again.”

“Cian...” Qui-Gon said, but she turned away from him again. If they had been bonded, Qui-Gon imagined she would have started shielding against him. Instead, she arranged her body in such a way as to let him know she no longer wished to talk.

Qui-Gon sighed. He was beginning to feel, for both their sakes, the sooner their mission was over, the better.

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

The next morning after her and Qui-Gon‘s return from Shiro‘s villa, Cian walked alone in the gardens of the Residence Hall. Her thoughts were, as they had been all night, on Qui-Gon. She had not seen him since their arrival late yesterday afternoon at the capital. Both had retired to their separate suites and Cian had her dinner brought to her rooms for she’d wanted to be alone. She’d needed time to sort out her feelings.

Now, after having spent most of the night thinking about it, she had made her decision. Once the mission to Jalat was over, she was going to contact Jeffron and tell him she could not marry him; not because she still harbored some girlish fantasy she could win Qui-Gon’s heart, for she now knew that would never happen.

No, it was because Finis and Vati were right. It would not be fair to Jeffron to marry him when she truly did not love him. The man she loved, the man she would love until the last breath left her body, was already spoken for. The Force had his heart.

Cian walked down a path which took her to a small shaded nook within the garden. She sat on a stone bench. She then closed her eyes and, as Qui-Gon had shown her, opened herself up to the Force. It never spoke to her as it did to him, but she was aware of it. It flowed through her like some great river, strong and clean and fresh.

As Cian let herself fall within the Force, she became acutely aware of the life that surrounded her; earthworms burrowing through the soil, bees and butterflies drifting among the flowers, birds nestling in the boughs of the trees. Life enclosed and enfolded her; pulsating, throbbing, beating, fluttering, thrumming. And there, just at the edge, she felt him. Qui-Gon. Not his thoughts or his feelings, for there was no bond between them as existed between Aalea and Obi-Wan, but she sensed him, his life force like a flame, bright and strong.

Cian sighed. She hadn’t been very nice to him yesterday and, even though she knew she could never win his love he was still, she hoped, her friend. And she also missed him. Terribly. Cian quickly stood. Just as she was about to leave the garden in search of him, she heard a voice behind her.

“Forgive me, Mistress Nyal.”

Cian turned. It was one of the Residence Hall servants. He bowed deeply then gestured to a young Jalatan who stood next to him.

“This one has asked permission to speak to you.”

The servant stepped back, bowed again, and quickly left the garden.

Cian looked at the young man. She wasn’t able to discern his caste for he was wearing a plain white jacket and trousers. He bowed deeply to her.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mistress Nyal. My name is Tydre. I am Chief Priest Rukal’s aide. He asked me to come and invite you to meet with him. He would like to discuss the upcoming Council vote on whether to establish relations with the Republic.”

“Really? When would he like to meet?”

Tydre cleared his throat, glanced quickly around.

“Now, Mistress Nyal.”

“Now? Oh, well, let me see if I can find Qui-Gon.”

Tydre moved a step closer to Cian.

“I’m sorry, Mistress Nyal, you do not understand,” he said quickly. “Salu Rukal will only meet with you.” He smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid my master is still a bit uncomfortable around the Jedi.”

Cian hesitated for a moment. She recalled the disturbance in the Force both she and Qui-Gon had sensed at the audience hall and their speculation Rukal had been the source. She looked closely at Tydre. He gazed calmly back at her. She mentally shrugged. More than likely what she had felt had only been Rukal’s apprehension about Qui-Gon.

“Mistress Nyal, my master has a very tight schedule. If you wish to meet with him, we must leave now.”

“Yes, of course. Will I need to arrange transport?”

“No, all has been arranged.” He then bowed and gestured for her to precede him out of the garden.

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

Qui-Gon slowly opened his eyes and gently increased his breathing. He had spent the early part of the morning in deep meditation. The late morning sun poured through the windows of his chamber. He stood, stretched, and noticed with some chagrin there was a stitch in a muscle of his upper back. He worked the muscle about until the stitch eased. Then he walked from his bedchamber into the sitting room.

He glanced at the comlink on the table to see if Cian had left him a message, but there was nothing. She must still be upset. Qui-Gon’s thoughts churned as he thought of her. Last night, unasked for but undeniable, he had dreamt of her; had dreamt they were making love, her lips soft and warm on his, her slender arms about his neck, her sighs of pleasure like a summer breeze across his face.

And as he had held her and loved her, the dream had seemed so real that, when he had awakened, his lips had tingled from the memory of her kiss. But, it had only been a dream. He and Cian were not nor had ever been lovers. They had yet even to share a kiss.

Qui-Gon sighed and drew on his robe. As much as he suspected it would not be wise to do so, he had to see her. He quickly left his suite.

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

Cian gazed out the windows of the shuttle. Tydre had told her Rukal wanted to meet with her at his private citadel in Jholan province. As she looked down at the neatly tended fields of the province, she was once again struck by the beauty of this world. If she could convince Rukal that relations with the Republic would benefit and enrich the religious caste, this beautiful world and its lovely people would be a wonderful addition to the Republic. Cian turned back to Tydre who was watching her, his expression unreadable.

“How long have you been the Chief Priest’s aide?”

“These last four turns. My parents were killed in the flooding of the Year of the Dying Crane. The religious caste took me in.”

“I’m so very sorry for your loss, Salu Tydre.” Cian reached over and put her hand over his and squeezed it warmly.

Tydre glanced down at her hand on his, then back at her, his eyes wide and full of surprise. Then, he shook his head.

“There is no need for sorrow, Mistress Nyal. It was the will of the Syad that my parents died. If they had not, I would never have been taken in by Salu Rukal.”

Cian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. When she was young she had lost her parents in a starliner explosion, but she had never thought it was the will of the Force or anything that they had died. But she supposed for some, finding meaning in what she could only see as a tragic accident was of some comfort. She nodded and removed her hand.

“How much longer before we arrive at the citadel?”

“Not long. You are eager to meet my master?”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

Tydre gazed back at her, his dark orange eyes piercing. “He is also eager to meet you, Mistress Nyal.”

Cian nodded and turned back to looking out the window. Her thoughts returned to Qui-Gon. She had wanted to leave a message informing him of her meeting with Rukal, but Tydre had insisted they had to leave right away. Once she arrived at the citadel she would ask that a message be sent to Qui-Gon letting him know where she was and when she would be back.

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

Qui-Gon watched, his arms folded within the sleeves of his robe, as Epena, First Minister Shiro’s aide, questioned a servant. They were in the main reception room of the Residence Hall.

“And you don’t know where Mistress Nyal went?”

“No, Salu Epena,” the servant replied.

“Nor the name or the caste of the man with whom she left?”

“No, Salu Epena. The man came and asked if he could speak with Mistress Nyal. I took him to where she was walking in the garden. They talked for a bit and then Mistress Nyal left with him.”

Epena glanced over at Qui-Gon.

“I’m sorry, Master Jinn. This man was the only one who saw Mistress Nyal leave.”

Qui-Gon nodded. Epena then quickly dismissed the servant and turned back to Qui-Gon.

“Perhaps she made mention to you as to what her plans were for the day.”

Qui-Gon shook his head.

“I haven’t spoken to Cian since late yesterday afternoon.”

“Well, I would not worry, Master Jinn. Perhaps she has gone sightseeing and hired the man as a guide. Or shopping. She did make inquiry to me yesterday regarding a shop. She said she wanted to pick up some, let me see, what was the word she used? Ah, yes, souvenirs.”

Qui-Gon nodded, a smile on his face.

“She probably wanted to purchase something to take back for Obi-Wan and Aalea.”

“Obi-Wan and Aalea? They are her children?”

Qui-Gon laughed. “No, though as protective of them as she is, they might as well be. No, Obi-Wan and Aalea are Jedi. Obi-Wan is my apprentice and Aalea is,” and Qui-Gon tilted his head as he thought of her. “Aalea is my heart,” he finished softly.

“Ah,” Epena said. “Well, I am sure Mistress Nyal will be back later. Meanwhile, Master Jinn, since it appears your day is free, would you care to join me in a game of doua.”

“Doua? I’m not familiar with it.”

Epena smiled. “Ah, doua is a wonderful game. A game of chance and strategy. I think you will like it.”

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

Rukal watched as Cian and Tydre disembarked from the shuttle. He stood in a window in the citadel. Excellent, he thought. He had not doubted she would come. She was so eager to please. He had seen it at the audience. He turned from the window and sat down in his chair. As he waited for Tydre to bring her to him, he laced his long fingers before him.

When the Jedi realized the woman was missing, Rukal knew he would tear the capital apart in search of her for Rukal had noted at the audience the way the Jedi had looked at her. When Rukal had focused his will on her, the Jedi had sensed it and moved closer to her. She was important to him. Very important. And, as much as Rukal wanted to believe the Jedi was no match for him, he also knew he could prove a formidable enemy if he ever discovered Rukal had anything to do with her disappearance.

But Rukal had made certain there was no way her abduction could be traced back to him. And if, by some small chance, a link was made between him and her, the woman would be well on her way to Lord Sidious by then.

A knock on the door jerked Rukal out of his musings.

“Come,” he called.

The door opened. Rukal’s breath quickened. Tydre escorted Cian Nyal into his office and Rukal could not help but think of a beautiful butterfly flying blindly into a spider‘s web.

She wore a dark red gown which clung to her like a second skin. Rukal’s lips trembled as she walked towards him. She burned so brightly with the Syad it was a wonder she did not burst into flames. If he succeeded in turning her to the dark side, she would truly be a prize for Lord Sidious.

She stopped before his desk. Rukal stood up and bowed to her. She returned his bow.

Rukal gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he took his seat.

“Please, sit, Mistress Nyal.”

As Cian sat Rukal noted how gracefully she moved.

“Salu Rukal, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Of course, Mistress Nyal.”

“Could you arrange for a message to be sent back to the Residence Hall? I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to inform Qui-Gon about my meeting with you.”

“Of course. My aide will see to it.”

Rukal raised his eyes and gave Tydre a long hard look. Tydre nodded to show he understood no message was to be sent. Rukal then turned and smiled thinly at Cian.

“Do not worry, Mistress Nyal. The Jedi will be told all he needs to know regarding your whereabouts.”

“Thank you, Salu Rukal.”

“You may leave us now, Tydre. I will send for you if I need you.”

Tydre bowed deeply and left the room.

Rukal folded his hands before him on his desk. As his eyes roved over Cian’s lush figure, he felt his cock hardening. Perhaps, before he turned her over to Lord Sidious, he would take his pleasure of her. Rukal noted, with some admiration, that Cian did not fidget nor break his gaze as he continued to stare at her. Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned forward.

“Mistress Nyal?”

“Yes, Salu Rukal?”

“You don’t know how much I’ve looked forward to our meeting.”

---------

Qui-Gon stood in First Minister Shiro’s office, his body tense with worry. It was well past midnight. Shiro had just arrived in the capital from his villa. Upon receiving Qui-Gon’s message regarding Cian’s disappearance, he had immediately returned.

“I have contacted General Neeshin,” Shiro said as he walked over to Qui-Gon from his desk. “He has promised men to help in the search.” He sorrowfully shook his head. “This is terrible, terrible, my friend. But, I can assure you we will not rest until she is found.”

Qui-Gon nodded and took a deep breath. When Cian had not returned to the Residence Hall by the end of the day and no sign of her had been seen in the capital, it had not taken his Jedi instincts to know something had happened to her. When he had tried to reach out to her through the Force, he had felt nothing. No sensation, no awareness, no indication she even existed. It was as if she had fallen into some black hole.

Qui-Gon turned and looked out the window. He reached out with his feelings once more, to try and sense some trace of her in the darkness which stretched before him but, like all his efforts before, there was nothing.

He felt Shiro’s touch on his arm.

“I have contacted the Chancellor and apprised him of the situation.”

Qui-Gon looked down into the First Minister‘s kindly face.

“Thank you, Salu Shiro.”

The door opened and Epena walked in. He bowed.

“I did as you requested, Master Jinn, and contacted Chief Priest Rukal. He says that, unfortunately, he has not seen nor heard from Mistress Nyal. He conveys his condolences on this most unfortunate incident.”

Shiro looked questioningly over at Qui-Gon.

“I asked him to contact Salu Rukal for me,” Qui-Gon told him. “I thought perhaps Cian had arranged to meet with him.”

“Would she have done so without you?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “It is officially her mission, First Minister.”

Qui-Gon was tempted to tell Shiro about his having sensed a disturbance in the Force at the audience hall and that Rukal had appeared to be the source, but he knew he was on very shaky ground. He had no evidence that Rukal was involved in Cian’s disappearance and, without such evidence, he could not risk a diplomatic incident by accusing him.

“Do not worry, my friend,” Shiro said as he squeezed Qui-Gon‘s arm. “We will not stop searching until she is found.”

Qui-Gon nodded and turned back to the window. _And neither will I._

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

Part Twenty-Four

Aalea gazed out the windows of Nadira’s bower. It was the evening of the day following the banquet. The sun was just setting on the horizon and the lights of the capital were slowly coming on.

Obi-Wan had been gone all day searching for Prince Ishan. She had last heard from him two hours ago when he had contacted her by comlink to update her on the search. She had asked again if he needed her help, but he had told her to stay near Nadira.

Aalea glanced behind her. Badalah sat in a chair, Nadira in her lap. The handmatron was singing a lullaby to the princess. Nadira had spent the entire day with her father. King Tahal was going to recover from his injuries, as was Prince Markus, but the peace between their two worlds was still in jeopardy.

King Lucan had joined in the search for Ishan but had come back later, his haughty demeanor of yesterday replaced by growing anguish over the continued absence of his youngest son.

Aalea sighed heavily. She leaned her forehead against the glass. She was restless. And where was Obi-Wan? Then, for the second time in as many days, she thought about their Force bond.

For the past ten years Aalea had erected shields against the bond because the very idea of it troubled her. Her thoughts and her feelings were her own and the idea that someone could hear them or feel them terrified her. Especially some one like Obi-Wan. But now she wondered what would happen if she were to let her mental shields down. What would it feel like to sense him the way he had sensed her yesterday?

Aalea closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly lowered her shields. At first she sensed nothing out of the ordinary. She was aware, as always, of the Force and the way it surrounded her. She could also feel the quiet, but brittle, tension throughout the palace. But nothing of Obi-Wan.

She took another deep breath and concentrated harder. Then, for a reason Aalea didn’t want to think about too deeply, she focused on the way Obi-Wan had smiled at her yesterday. Suddenly, she was aware of him. At first it felt like a soft whisper in a dark room or the scent of roses on a moonless night. But as she focused more and more on him, her awareness of him deepened and sharpened.

Aalea trembled a little, for she was still afraid, but she forced herself to keep reaching towards him. He was shielding against her, so she couldn’t hear his thoughts, but she could sense his feelings. He was agitated, no, excited. Yes, very excited.

Aalea tried to probe deeper to discover what he was so stirred up about, but she couldn‘t get through the shields in his mind. She sighed, then quickly raised her shields. Well, at least he was all right. And excited. Though about what she didn’t have a clue.

Aalea turned away from the window and went over to Badalah and Nadira. The handmatron looked up and smiled. She continued to sing softly to Nadria, her plump hand slowly stroking the princess’s bright red hair. Nadira’s eyes were closed, but Aalea didn’t think she was sleeping. No one had been able to sleep much since the banquet.

Aalea sat on the floor next to Badalah’s chair. She reached over and stroked Nadira’s cheek. Nadira slowly opened her eyes. She gave Aalea a small sad smile, but said nothing. Aalea’s heart turned over. She had spent the last few days wishing Nadira would stop her incessant babbling, but now Aalea would have given anything to hear her high bubbly voice. She wouldn’t even mind if the princess were to prattle about Obi-Wan and how pretty he was. But Nadira remained silent. She nestled her head deeper into Badalah’s heavy bosom and closed her eyes.

Aalea leaned against Badalah’s thigh. She too closed her eyes and listened quietly as the handmatron sang softly to them both.

-----------

“Aalea, wake up.”

Aalea’s eyes snapped open. She was lying on Nadira’s bed. She must have fallen asleep and someone had moved her there. She looked up.

Obi-Wan was looking down at her, Nadira and Badalah next to him.

“Master, forgive me,” Aalea said as she quickly sat up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s all right. It’s good you got some rest. I’m going to need your help.”

“My help? For what?”

Then she realized Obi-Wan was in Nadira’s bower, something which was supposedly forbidden for any man. She looked over at Badalah, but the handmatron appeared not to care. Neither did Nadira. Both of them were watching Obi-Wan with expectant looks on their faces.

“I need your help sneaking Nadira out of the palace,” he said.

Aalea shook her head. She wondered if she was dreaming for she was sure she hadn’t heard Obi-Wan right. Sneak the Rose of Sylvonna out of the palace?

“You’re going to what?”

“I’ve found Prince Ishan,” he said.

“You have? Where is he?”

“I don’t have time to explain. He’s agreed to meet with Nadira. We‘re going to take her to him.”

“But, I don’t understand. Why didn’t he come to the palace to see her?”

“He’s not ready to face his parents yet.“

“You should have brought him back with you, Master,” Aalea said frowning. “Dragged him if you had to. Hasn’t he caused enough trouble?”

“Aalea, please, we don‘t have time for this. Now, my plan is to dress Nadira as one of her handmaidens.”

Aalea stared at Obi-Wan. This didn’t sound like him at all. Sneaking royal princesses out of palaces? Arranging secret trysts in the middle of the night? She was tempted to reach over and check his forehead to see if he was feverish.

“Well, are you coming or not?” he said as she continued to stare at him.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

Aalea got up from the bed and quickly adjusted her clothing. She made sure her lightsaber was clipped to her belt. Then she picked up her robe from a chair and put it on.

Nadira and Badalah, meanwhile, had disappeared behind a panel. A few minutes later, Nadira reappeared, dressed in one of her handmaiden’s outfits. Her bright red hair was hidden under a scarf and she was veiled. Her large green eyes were shining.

Aalea went over to her.

“Are you sure about this, your highness?”

“Oh, yes, Jedi Aalea,” Nadira said eagerly. “I was so afraid to meet him yesterday because there were so many people. But I am thinking this is much better. And I have never snuck out of the palace before. It is very exciting, do you not think?”

Aalea wasn’t sure about that. She glanced over at Obi-Wan who was waiting by the door. If he thought they were in trouble now, this little plan of his, if it blew up in their faces, could guarantee that not only would the two of them never become Jedi Knights, they could possibly wind up spending the rest of their lives in the fire mines of Timir.

“Are you ready, your highness?” Obi-Wan asked Nadira.

“Oh, yes, Jedi Obi-Wan! I am very ready. I am not afraid,” she said breathlessly as she walked over to him.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly down at Nadira and Aalea noted once again, her throat tightening, how terribly handsome he was when he smiled. He glanced quickly over at her.

“Aalea?”

“I guess so, Master, but you still should’ve just dragged him back,” she said crossly. “Personally, I think we should just inform---.”

He silenced her with a raised hand. Then he looked over at Badalah.

“Yes, yes, pup,” Badalah said grumpily. “I know what I’m supposed to do. If anyone asks to see Nadira while you’re gone I’m supposed to, what was the word you used?”

“Stall them,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes, stall them.”

Badalah then reached over and grabbed Nadira in a fierce hug. She released the princess and glared at Obi-Wan.

“You make sure you take care of her, pup. Or you‘ll answer to me, I promise you that,” she said fiercely.

“Don’t worry, Badalah, Aalea and I will watch over her.”

And with that, Obi-Wan gestured for Aalea and Nadira to precede him out the door.

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

The three of them, to Aalea’s surprise, encountered no obstacles as they left the palace. Apparently the events of yesterday were still so much the topic of discussion no one thought anything of Aalea, Obi-Wan and one of Nadira’s handmaidens leaving the palace in the middle of the night.

One of the guardsmen at the palace entrance had asked them where they were going, but Obi-Wan quickly explained that Nadira was still feeling poorly and he and Aalea, since it was quite late, were escorting one of her handmaidens to the apothecary for some medicine. At the mention of the Rose of Sylvonna’s distress, the guardsman’s eyes had filled with tears. He had quickly waved them through.

Now, Aalea was surprised to see Obi-Wan was leading her and Nadira to the Sylvonnan space port. It was pretty much deserted this time of night and any personnel around only glanced idly at them.

Obi-Wan took them to the skipship. He turned to Nadira.

“Are you ready, your highness?”

Nadira nodded, her eyes sparkling from the lights of the starport.

Obi-Wan keyed in the code to open the ship. The door opened and the ramp lowered to the ground. Obi-Wan gestured for Nadira to enter. The princess hesitated for a moment then, lifting up her gown, ran up the ramp. Just as Aalea was about to follow, Obi-Wan grabbed her arm and jerked her back. He then closed the door behind Nadira.

“Why did you do that?” Aalea cried. “Aren’t we taking her to Ishan?”

“We have. He’s inside.”

“What? That’s where he’s been hiding all this time?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “That’s why no one could find him. While I was searching, I decided to stop by and check on the ship. Ishan must have memorized the entry code when we took off from Tarkasia. I think he was hoping to stow away with us.”

Aalea looked back at the ship.

“So, what are we supposed to do while they’re in there?”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan said.

He walked over to where some storage boxes were stacked against a freighter which was parked next to the skipship. Carefully arranging his robe, he sat, leaned back against the freighter, folded his arms before him, stretched out his legs and crossed his boots at the ankle.

Aalea stared at him. Crazy. That was the only explanation. Obi-Wan had gone crazy. She walked over and sat on the box next to him.

“Master, please, forgive my impertinence, but this is nuts! What is this going to solve?” Aalea waved her hand towards the skipship. “So you brought them together. What do you think is going to happen? That they’re going to take one look at each other and fall madly in love?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Whatever happens, Aalea, it can’t be any worse than what’s already occurred.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s the matter, don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I do not. And I don’t believe you do either.”

“You’d be surprised,” he said softly. He looked at her for a long moment, then closed his eyes.

She stared at him, unable to believe he was just going to sit there while Nadira and Ishan were inside the skipship. But he didn’t stir.
Aalea leaned back against the freighter, took a deep breath and set herself to wait. After about a quarter of an hour had passed, she couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

“Master?”

“Hmmm?” Obi-Wan said, his eyes still closed.

“Whatever gave you this crazy idea in the first place?”

He didn’t answer her at first.

“Master Qui-Gon did,” he finally said.

“You’ve spoken with him?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, his eyes still closed, “but I asked myself, what would my master have done in this situation? He would have looked for a solution inside the problem, not outside. So I imagined what it must have been like for Ishan to have to meet the girl he was supposed to marry in front of so many people. I also remembered something he said while we were on Tarkasia. About how parents should do what’s best for their children. All that hoopla yesterday wasn’t for the benefit of Nadira and Ishan. It was for the glory and ego of their parents.

“But this,” and he opened his eyes, gesturing toward the skipship, “is for them.” He then looked over at Aalea and she was struck at how beautiful his eyes were under the lights of the starport.

“Of course,” he went on in a dry voice, “if you’re right, and Nadira and Ishan should discover they don’t care for each other, at least they can find that out privately without a hundred pair of eyes upon them. And we're no worse off than we were before.”

Aalea had to admit his reasoning made sense, sort of. She gazed back at him.

“Very insightful, Master.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“Thank you, Padawan,” he said, his eyes dancing.

Aalea shook her finger at him.

“Don’t you push it, Kenobi. You’re only my master until this mission is over. You’re still just a lowly padawan like me.”

Obi-Wan held up his hands in mock surrender.

“All right, all right, Aalea. I’m sorry,” he said laughing.

Aalea glared at him but his laughter was so infectious Aalea soon found herself laughing too. Then, as she looked over at him, she felt something stir inside her. The feeling twisted within her like a fish caught on a lure or a bird struggling through a wind storm. It pushed and pulled at her this feeling; made her want to run away from Obi-Wan and, yet at the same time, never leave his side.

Both of them had stopped laughing, but they continued to gaze into each other’s eyes. Aalea was suddenly aware of Obi-Wan’s presence in a way that made her heart beat fast and the bottom of her stomach feel as if it were dropping away from her. Then she saw Obi-Wan stir as he looked back at her. He moved closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers. Aalea’s breath quickened and she felt a ripple of excitement as Obi-Wan moved his lips closer to her.

Suddenly, the sound of the skipship door opening drew their attention away from each other. Obi-Wan rose quickly from the crates and so did Aalea. They walked over to the ship. Aalea peered up into the dark opening. At first she could see nothing, then Nadira walked out, her hand firmly clasped by a tall young man with dark golden eyes and black curly hair. Nadira’s face was unveiled and as she gazed up at Ishan, her green eyes were dancing. Ishan looked down at Aalea and Obi-Wan, a sheepish grin on his face. Then he turned and carefully escorted Nadira down the ramp.

Obi-Wan glanced over at Aalea with an I-told-you-so look on his face. She glowered at him for a moment, then gave him a small smile, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgment of his insight regarding the two.

Obi-Wan bowed to Nadira and Ishan.

“Your highnesses.”

"You were right, Master Kenobi," Prince Ishan said as he gazed fondly down at Nadira. “She is very charming.”

“Yes, Jedi Obi-Wan,” Nadira said, nodding her head briskly. “You were right. He is very tall.” She gazed up at Ishan with shining eyes.

“We’d better get back to the palace, your highnesses,” Obi-Wan said.

As Aalea and Obi-Wan escorted the prince and princess through the capital, Aalea moved closer to Obi-Wan.

“Did you really think they were going to come out of there liking each other so much?” she whispered.

“I really didn’t know,” he replied in a low voice. “But, as I said before, I figured we didn’t have anything to lose.”

“So you took a chance?”

“Yes, I guess you could say I did.”

She tilted her head as she looked up at him.

“Master Qui-Gon would be very proud of you, I think.”

Obi-Wan looked at her and smiled. Aalea smiled back.

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

The reuniting of Prince Ishan with his parents was a joyous occasion. King Lucan had not realized how much his youngest son meant to him until the boy had gone missing. Upon his return, he had taken Ishan into his arms and held him quietly for a long moment. Then Queen Cassia had kissed Ishan’s face so many times Aalea had been afraid the prince was going to die from embarrassment.

Prince Markus, who was still wearing a bacta bandage from the knife wound to his side, had embraced his little brother and then, ruffling his hair, immediately began teasing him about his upcoming wedding night. Ishan’s father apologized to Obi-Wan and Aalea for having gotten them into trouble and sent a message to Yoda informing the Jedi Master of Obi-Wan and Aalea’s involvement in the finding of his son. King Tahal had, at first, refused to go through with the wedding. But after Nadira had rushed into his arms, tears streaming from her eyes, begging him to let her marry Ishan, his heart softened and he agreed.

The palace then went into hyperdrive in preparation for the wedding. Aalea and Obi-Wan tried their best to stay out of the way, but Nadira insisted Aalea remain by her side and Ishan did the same with Obi-Wan.

Finally, the morning of the wedding dawned. Bells rang continuously throughout the capital and the streets were filled with the celebrating populace for Tahal and Samar had proclaimed the wedding day a planet-wide holiday.

Aalea was in Nadira’s bower watching, with a bemused expression, as chaos raged about her. Badalah was in an uproar as she shouted at the servants and handmaidens who ran frantically to and fro. The royal hairdresser was all in a nervious titter and kept dropping her comb as she tried to arrange the curls in Nadira’s hair.

Aalea shook her head. She doubted she would ever marry but, if she did, she hoped it wouldn't be a circus like this. But then she wasn’t a royal princess.

“Jedi Aalea,” Nadira called out as the hairdresser begged her to be still. “Come here.”

Aalea walked over to Nadira. The princess was dressed in her wedding gown which, Aalea had to admit, was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. It was a creamy white silk inlaid with diamonds and sapphires. Nadira waved to one of the handmaidens who immediately rushed over, her arms full of a silken dress which shimmered with a rainbow of colors.

“This is for you, Jedi Aalea. I would like for you to wear it to my wedding.”

The handmaiden held up the gown and Aalea’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, your highness, thank you, thank you very much, but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Nadira frowned. “Why not? Does it not please you?”

“Oh, yes, it pleases me very much, but Obi-Wan would never allow it.”

Nadira clapped her hands. One of the handmaidens ran over.

“Summon Jedi Obi-Wan,” Nadira ordered.

The handmaiden scampered away.

“Forgive me, your highness,” Aalea said, “but I fear you’re wasting your time.”

“We shall see,” Nadira said, bobbing her head forcefully and causing one of her carefully coiffed curls to unravel. The hairdresser screamed.

But Aalea was right. When Obi-Wan came to the chamber and Nadira informed him she wanted Aalea to wear the dress he respectfully, but firmly told her Aalea could not. Aalea was on Sylvonna as Nadira’s Honorary Bodyguard, not as a guest. The princess frowned and Aalea saw she was gearing up for one of her tantrums but then, surprisingly, it was Badalah who backed Obi-Wan.

“He’s right, poppet,” she said. “You must respect his wishes in this. He knows what is best.”

Nadira sighed heavily.

“All right, Badalah. I am supposing you are right. But, it is a shame. Jedi Aalea would look so lovely in the dress.”

Obi-Wan looked over at Badalah and inclined his head. She smiled at him, then went back to screaming and shouting at the handmaidens and servants.

Obi-Wan turned to Aalea.

“I’m sorry, Aalea. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“No, of course not. I really didn’t want to wear it anyway,“ she said softly as she watched the handmaiden take the dress away.

Obi-Wan looked closely at her. “Yes, I can see that.”

“Is Prince Ishan ready?” Aalea asked quickly to change the subject.

“Almost, though things are not as hectic over there as they are here.”

Obi-Wan then looked over at Nadira as the hairdresser fussed with the princesss’ curls. A slight frown creased his forehead. He turned to Aalea.

“I have something I must do.” He touched her arm. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“All right, Master.”

He turned quickly and left the chamber. Aalea then searched until she found herself a nice, quiet corner where she could wait until Nadira was ready.

-----------

Marni, King Tahal's Chief Eunuch, his perfumed robes flapping about his plumps legs, rushed up to Aalea as she waited in the corridor outside the Reception Hall. The guests had all been seated inside. Nadira was expected at any moment and Aalea was to escort her and her wedding party into the Hall.

“Where is he?” Marni asked angrily, his fat face flushed and sweating.

“Where is who?”

“The other Jedi. Obi-Wan.”

“I don’t know, Marni. Isn’t he with Prince Ishan and his family?”

“No, he is not,” Marni answered irritably. “No one has seen him.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where he is.”

“Well, I suggest you find him. And quickly. It’s bad enough you Jedi were late for the Royal Audience. But the Royal Wedding?” Marni shook his head in horror and dashed away.

Aalea watched as the Chief Eunuch ran off. She looked down the hall. She saw no sign of Nadira‘s wedding party. She had a few moments. She reached for the comlink on her belt then decided, again for a reason she didn’t want to think about too much, to try to reach Obi-Wan through their bond.

She closed her eyes and lowered the shields in her mind. This time she found him right away. He was nearby and his shields were up, but she sensed him. She concentrated to see if she could locate him. He was down a level, but making his way towards the Reception Hall. Aalea turned and ran to the main staircase.

Obi-Wan was running up the stairs, his robe flying out behind him.

“Master,” she called out.

Obi-Wan stopped and looked up at her. Then he ran up the rest of the stairs, took Aalea by the hand and led her into an empty room off the corridor.

“Here,” he said quickly.

He handed her a small package.

“What’s this?” Aalea asked.

“I thought that, well, since you couldn’t wear that dress you could...” Obi-Wan shrugged and gestured at the package.

Aalea looked at him curiously for a moment, then quickly tore open the tissue paper. Inside was a violet silk ribbon. She ran it slowly through her fingers.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“I thought, maybe, you could wear it....” He pointed to her padawan braid.

Aalea gazed at him for a moment. Obi-Wan’s face reddened as she continued to stare at him.

He made as if to take the ribbon from her.

“I’m sorry, it was a silly...”

Aalea pulled the ribbon away from his reach.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is?”

Aalea smiled and nodded. “But, I’m going to need help.”

“Help?”

“Yes. We don’t have much time. Would you mind braiding it into my hair?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Aalea quickly unbraided her padawan braid, then Obi-Wan took the ribbon and wove it quickly through her hair. When he was done, he held her braid and gently stroked it.

Aalea smiled at him. Then, reaching up she touched his hand as it continued to stroke her braid . Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he looked down at her. They gazed at each other for a long breathless moment. Then, slowly, Obi-Wan lowered his mouth to hers. Aalea’s heart thudded but, just as she was about to close her eyes in anticipation of his kiss, she remembered the eunuch.

“We’d better hurry, Master,” she whispered just before Obi-Wan‘s lips touched hers. “Marni is already in a lather regarding your absence.”

“What?” Obi-Wan started. Then he quickly stepped away from Aalea.

“Yes, you‘re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “We don’t want to be late. Again.”

Aalea laughed. They ran out of the room.

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

Obi-Wan sighed contentedly as he pushed himself away from the table. One thing he had to say for the Sylvonnans, they certainly knew how to put on a wedding feast. Seven courses had been served to the guests and, as each dish had been brought into the banquet hall Marni, in his high-pitched voice, had announced the name of each one.

Obi-Wan remembered in particular something called the Passion Plate which had consisted of what were considered to be aphrodisiacs; Corellian oysters, poached jumbo shrimp from Mon Calamari, thin sliced sesame squid salad, sweet soy barbecued eel and Alderaanan caviar.

Obi-Wan knew, of course, that there was no validity to the supposedly aphrodisiacal attributes of the food. He had therefore watched with amusement as Prince Markus, despite the bacta bandage Obi-Wan knew he was wearing, wolfed down his serving of the Passion Plate.

Obi-Wan looked about him. Although all the main courses had been served, the wedding feast was still in full swing. The guests, Sylvonnan and Tarkasian alike, sang, laughed, danced and drank together.

Desert was now being served and, as a servant moved next to Obi-Wan and showed him the desert tray, Obi-Wan had a hard time deciding between the “Love Torte”, a deep rich chocolate cake with white chocolate icing or the other desert, the name of which, “the Nipples of the Goddess”, had brought a blush to Obi-Wan’s cheeks. It was a vanilla and chocolate ice cream concoction with Yavinian bananas, butter-scotch and chocolate sauce. Obi-Wan decided to go with the ice cream.

As Obi-Wan ate his ice cream, he looked over at Nadira and Ishan who sat at the head of the table, their parents on either side of them. Nadira laughed gaily as Ishan fed her bits of honeyed fruit. Her green eyes were bright and Obi-Wan had to admit she looked very lovely. Nadira looked over at Obi-Wan and tilted her head to where Aalea sat at the other end of the table. She motioned with her eyes that Obi-Wan should go to her, but Obi-Wan only smiled and shook his head.

Nadira pouted, but then Ishan picked up another piece of fruit and she focused her attention back on her husband, giggling hysterically as he teased her with it.

Obi-Wan looked over to where Aalea was sitting. Markus sat next to her and the prince was leaning down, whispering something in her ear. Aalea smiled at Markus but Obi-Wan could see her eyes were guarded.

Obi-Wan had a sudden urge to go over and tell Markus to stop bothering her, but was afraid if he did so it would be interpreted as his having some sort of proprietary interest in Aalea. It was bad enough Nadira seemed to think they were lovers; it wouldn’t do for everyone else to think so too.

Instead, Obi-Wan decided to out and get some fresh air. Because the wedding feast had been going on nonstop for the past five hours, the hall had become close and warm.

Obi-Wan stood outside for a long time, breathing in the cool night air and gazing up at the full Sylvonnan moon and the twinkling stars. He thought about his master and wondered how he and Cian were doing on their mission.

Then, suppressing a yawn, Obi-wan went back into the hall. He saw the glowlamps had been switched off and the servants had exchanged them for large red candles which had been placed all about the hall. As Obi-Wan walked back to his seat he also noted the candles gave off a strong, strangely compelling scent.

He looked around. Ishan and Nadira had risen from the table and were making their way out of the hall. Their parents followed them. The servants sang a song blessing the wedding night. They then threw flower petals about the couple as they walked, arm and arm, to the nuptial chamber.

Once they were gone Obi-Wan noted, with growing apprehension, that the guests around him were starting to engage in the most immodest and brazen behavior. He took a deep breath, then realized, his heart pounding, that the incense coming from the candles was some kind of potent aphrodisiacal drug, placed in the hall to ensure all guests over the age of consent took enthusiastic part in blessing the couple’s nuptial night; a Sylvonnan custom which Obi-Wan had, unfortunately, forgotten about.

And, unlike the food that had been served, Obi-Wan saw that the aphrodisiac in the candles was genuine. He looked around in alarm as the banquet hall turned into a free-for-all of erotic activity.

Then, as the scent of the candles filled Obi-Wan’s lungs and the aphrodisiac worked its way through his body, Obi-Wan felt a fierce fire beginning to burn inside him and he found himself thinking of Aalea and how she had looked coming out of Nadira‘s bower the day she’d fainted; how that sheer lilac robe she’d been wearing had revealed so much of her body.

By the Force, he wanted her! Obi-Wan looked frantically through the writhing bodies around him, his only thought, his only need to find her. And when he found her---_Gods_!---the things he would do to her!

Obi-Wan stared to make his way through the hall, his heart pounding, his body hardening. Then suddenly he stopped. He took a deep ragged breath.
No, he had to get hold of himself. He had been drugged and he knew what the protocol was for that. He quickly employed a Jedi bio-technique which neutralized the effects of the aphrodisiac in his system.

When his head finally cleared and the fire inside him died, he went in search of Aalea. She had been exposed to the candles far longer than he and, his stomach tightening, she’d also been sitting next to Prince Markus.

Obi-Wan’s search, however, proved to be something of an obstacle course for as he made his way through the hall, both women and men, singles, couples, trios and quartets pulled at him as he passed, inviting him with lascivious looks and fevered appeals to join them in their erotic play.

Obi-Wan forced his way past the guests who were now all coupling shamelessly around him. Then he saw Aalea and, just as he had feared, Prince Markus had an arm about her shoulder and was leading her out of the hall. Obi-Wan could see Aalea had no idea what was going on. She had a dazed expression on her face and she kept looking around as if she were searching for someone.

Obi-Wan finally reached the entrance to the hall just as Markus and Aalea stepped into the dark corridor.

“Prince Markus,” he called.

Markus stopped and turned, Aalea clutched close to him. He looked over at Obi-Wan, his dark brown eyes enflamed.

“Master Kenobi. Care to join us?” he said in a dreamy voice.

Obi-Wan walked over and grabbed Aalea’s arm. He pulled her away from Markus.

“No, your highness, I would not care to join you. And neither would she.”

Markus frowned. He cocked his head.

“Really, Master Kenobi. Surely you don’t mean to keep her all to yourself? That’s not very sociable.”

“Markus,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “You’re under the influence of an aphrodisiac.”

“Of course I am,” Markus said cheerfully. He leaned close to Obi-Wan and peered into his face. “Ah, but I can see you are not. Pity. I guess what they say about the Jedi is true. No fun.”

He then sighed and looked over at Aalea.

“Ah, my lovely one, too bad. What pleasures I would have shown you. But,” and he shrugged his massive shoulders, “perhaps another time.”

He bowed and made his way back into the banquet hall.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Then he turned and looked over at Aalea. She was gazing up at him with an enraptured look on her face, her lips in a half smile, her pupils so dilated her violet eyes looked black. He had to get her away from the effects of the candles.

Taking her by the arm Obi-Wan led her outside to one of the palace gardens. Fortunately, it was unoccupied. The Sylvonnan moon shone like silver gauze on the heavily scented roses, gardenias and orchids.

Obi-Wan turned to Aalea. But, before he could say a word, Aalea quickly lifted her arms and wrapped them about his neck. She ran her hands slowly through his hair, her fingers stroking his padawan braid, her eyes smoldering.

“Obi-Wan,” she whispered, her voice deep and dusky. “Oh, my Obi-Wan. You found me. I was hoping you would. I looked and looked for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I didn’t want to go with Prince Markus. You’re the only one I want. The only one.”

“Aalea, listen to me,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been drugged. There’s some kind of extremely potent aphrodisiac in the candles. It’s part of the Sylvonnan wedding custom. The guests are supposed to help bless the nuptial night by indulging---.”

Aalea lifted a finger and pressed it against Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“You talk too much,” she whispered as she stroked his mouth with her finger. “No more talking.”

“Aalea, listen---.”

Her moon-filled eyes gazed hotly up into his.

“Do you know what Nadira said about you?” she asked breathlessly

Obi-Wan swallowed and shook his head as Aalea continued to caress his lips with her finger.

“She said your kisses would be as soft as rose petals and as sweet as cherry bonbons.” Aalea lifted her face to his. “Prove it to me. Kiss me.”

“Aalea, listen---.”

“She also said you would touch me and make me feel nice. Touch me, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened.

“Aalea, you’re not yourself. Let me take you to your quarters.”

Aalea pressed herself against him. Obi-Wan’s throat constricted as her breasts crushed onto his chest. Then, her eyes filled with tenderness, she lifted her hands and gently caressed his face.

“Oh, how could I have been so blind,” she said softly. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Aalea, don‘t---.”

Aalea kissed him on the neck and, at the touch of her lips, the fire flared within Obi-Wan again; but this time it wasn’t the candles. It was her.

Obi-Wan sighed as Aalea‘s soft moist mouth moved slowly over his throat. He then lifted his hands and wove them through the bun at her neck, quickly loosening her hair. The strands slipped like silk through his fingers, cascading down her back. He ran his hands through them, his fingers tangling in their soft richness. Then, breathing deeply, Obi-Wan pressed his face against Aalea’s shoulder and let himself drown in her. _Gods, she was so sweet_!

Obi-Wan’s heart pounded as Aalea nibbled at his ear. A part of him knew he should stop what was happening because Aalea was under the influence of the aphrodisiac, but Obi-Wan hadn’t realized how much he had longed for this moment; to have her so warm and soft in his arms. He held her tighter.

“Aalea, my lovely Aalea,” he whispered. “I want you so much.”

“And I you. Take me, Obi-Wan. Take me now.”

Obi-Wan lowered his head and covered Aalea’s mouth with his. She passionately returned his kiss and he could feel her heart beating furiously against him. He held her even tighter and their kiss became a soldering heat, melding their bodies together. They kissed for long soul-shuddering moments and, as Obi-Wan moved his mouth slowly over hers, nothing in the universe existed but her lips.

Then, her mouth still firm and moist against his, Aalea slid her arms from about Obi-Wan’s neck and began pulling urgently at his clothing and Obi-Wan knew that she also yearned for what he wanted most at that moment; for the two of them to make love right there on the moon-drenched grass under the star-dappled Sylvonnan sky.

She wanted him and he wanted her and the part of Obi-Wan that was slowly lowering her to the ground told him that was all he needed to know, but the other part, the accountable part, was telling him this was wrong. Though their mission was nearly over, he was still Aalea’s acting master and he had a responsibility, both to her and to himself. He would not take advantage of her like this.

Obi-Wan quickly broke their kiss and grabbed her arms.

“Aalea,” he said firmly as he shook her, her hair flying wildly about her flushed face. “Listen to me! You’ve been drugged. Use the bio-techniques you were taught to neutralize the effect of drugs. Do it now! That‘s an order!”

Aalea shook her head numbly as she looked up at him, her eyes dazed, her breath short and sharp. Then she slowly nodded and closed her eyes.

Obi-Wan watched as the aphrodisiac's hold on her dissipated. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around.

“Master?”

“Are you all right, Aalea?”

She nodded. “What’s going on? Why are we outside?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No. I just remember feeling dizzy and lightheaded.” She glanced quickly away from him. “Was it something in the candles?”

“Yes, some kind of aphrodisiac,” he said as he stared at her. Aalea wouldn’t meet his eyes. But before he could say more Marni ran into the garden.

“There you are,” the eunuch said reproachfully, his plump face glistening with sweat. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

Marni glanced approvingly around garden.

“Hmmm, a nice private spot you Jedi have found.”

He then swept his gaze appreciatively over Obi-Wan’s tangled clothing, Aalea‘s loosened and tousled hair and her kiss-swollen mouth. He looked slyly over at Obi-Wan and winked.

“What do you want, Marni?” Obi-Wan said curtly. He was in no mood to deal with the Chief Eunuch’s antics.

“Well, no need to get huffy,” Marni said sniffing. He lifted his head and gazed down his long nose at them. “I have been ordered by King Tahal and Queen Samar to escort the two of you to their bedchamber.”

“What?” Obi-Wan cried.

“Yes. You and the young lady have been chosen out of all the wedding guests for the great honor of enjoying this nuptial night with them.” He then gave them both a lascivious look. “And by the looks of it, the two of you are more than ready to join them.”

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth. He glanced over at Aalea who was watching him with wide eyes. By the Force, he couldn’t wait to get off this benighted planet. He looked irately back at Marni.

“Please convey to their dread majesties my most heartfelt thanks for this...‘great honor’,” Obi-Wan said tightly, “but I’m afraid we must humbly decline.”

“What? Decline? But---” Marni sputtered.

“Yes, my apprentice is not feeling well. Isn’t that right, Aalea?” Obi-Wan said, his brows rising as he looked over at her.

“Oh, uh, yes. I’m not feeling well. I think I may be coming down with something; something contagious,” she finished weakly.

Marni stared at the two Jedi for a long moment. Then he inclined his head.

“I shall convey your message to my most dread majesties.”

With a swirl of his scented silk robes, he quickly left the garden.

Obi-Wan let out a deep sigh. He looked over at Aalea.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” he said.

Aalea’s eyes widened.

Then Obi-Wan realized what he had said.

“No, no,” he said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant is you should sleep in my quarters in the Tarkasian complex, away from the palace, until the effect of the candles wear off.”

“Yes, Master. I think that would be a good idea,” Aalea said as she glanced back towards the entrance leading to the banquet hall. They both could hear the passionate moans and cries of the wedding guests as they surrendered to the influence of the candles.

Obi-Wan gestured for her to accompany him and they made their way through the gardens, off the palace grounds and to his quarters.

Obi-Wan opened the door. Aalea stepped inside. He then went into the bedroom and found some extra blankets. He took the blankets into the front room and laid them on the couch.

“I’ll sleep here. You can have the bed,” he said.

“No, Master,” Aalea said quickly. “I wouldn’t think of putting you out. I’ll sleep here.”

Obi-Wan spread the blankets on the couch. He turned and looked over at her.

“Aalea, I’m too tired to argue with you. Do as I say and take the bed.”

Aalea nodded. She looked down, her hair falling like a curtain about her face. Obi-Wan could see a faint blush along her cheeks. Fearing he had been too severe with her, he touched her arm.

“I’m sorry, Aalea. Forgive me if I sounded harsh. But, I am quite tired.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Master,” she said softly. She turned away and went into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Obi-Wan sat on the couch. He couldn’t believe what had almost happened in the garden. He and Aalea had to get off this world before they both wound up doing something they would later come to regret.

He took a deep breath and focused his mind on a Jedi mantra of self-control for his thoughts were still in turmoil, his lips still tingled from her kiss and his body still burned from her touch. After a bit he achieved some measure of calmness.

Then he found himself thinking about Aalea’s words that it had always been him. What she had said had both excited and troubled him. For the truth was he loved Aalea and had loved her from the moment he saw her lying unconscious and bruised in Qui-Gon’s arms when they had rescued her from Luba the Hutt.

But, Obi-Wan hadn’t known what to do with his feelings and he had therefore kept them hidden. Then he had discovered she was in love with his master. He had seen it in her eyes at his birthday dinner at Cian‘s, the way Aalea had gazed adoringly at Qui-Gon. As a result Obi-Wan had suppressed his love even more, pushed it down so deep he had been certain he no longer cared for her.

But he did. Yes, she was willful and a bit too high-spirited to be a proper Jedi, but that was part of what he loved about her. She was everything he had once been and sometimes wished he still were.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the couch. Yet, he was also afraid to love because it made him do and say things he never would have thought possible. As he’d learned that morning when he saw the sadness in her eyes when he’d told her she could not wear that dress to the wedding. He had suddenly realized that he never wanted to see that look in her eyes again. So, on the spur of the moment, he had rushed to the market place and bought her that silk ribbon. On his way back to the palace, he had been afraid she would spurn the gift or laugh at him for being silly.

Instead, she had said it was beautiful and her eyes had softened as he wove it through her hair.

Obi-Wan sighed in the darkness. Just a few steps away Aalea was lying in the bed he‘d been sleeping in for the past few days and, he imagined, her black hair was probably spread like dark moonlight across the golden pillows, her lithe body sliding along the satin sheets. Obi-Wan twisted as he felt his shaft hardening in response to his imaginings. Gods, even without the influence of those cursed candles, his thoughts were still feverish.

Obi-Wan quickly shook his head, took a deep breath and focused on a meditation that would help him maintain control over his body. Once he was satisfied he was in control of himself again, he laid down and pulled the blankets over him.

He gazed off into the shifting shadows of the room. It was all so confusing. No wonder Qui-Gon had once told him love only made the life of a Jedi harder. It was hard enough trying to understand the Force. But love? That was even harder. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he willed himself to sleep. He had not asked for this, he thought, as he slowly drifted off into slumber.

He had not chosen love; love had chosen him.

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

Part Twenty-Five

The morning after the wedding, Obi-Wan quickly packed his things into his travel case. Although he had developed a deep fondness for both Ishan and Nadira, he was eager to get back to Coruscant. With a final look to ensure he had not forgotten anything, he left the quarters.

As he walked down the hall, he saw Prince Markus coming out of his rooms. The prince’s dark brown eyes were red-rimmed and he kept reaching up and gingerly touching his forehead. Hangover, Obi-Wan quickly surmised. He walked over to Markus.

“Good morning, your highness.”

Markus groaned as he stared blearily down at Obi-Wan.

“Must you talk so loud, Jedi.”

“Sorry. Late night, I take it?”

“Of course,” Markus snapped. “It _was_ a wedding feast. By the way, where did you and that lovely little Jedi sneak off to? Tahal and Samar were quite put out when you refused their invitation.”

Obi-Wan grimaced at the mention of Nadira‘s parents.

“We didn’t sneak off anywhere,” Obi-Wan said as he accompanied the prince down the corridor. “Aalea and I had no wish to participate in an orgy with their royal majesties.”

Markus grinned and nudged Obi-Wan in the side.

“Ah, Jedi, then you don’t know what you missed. When you didn‘t attend them, they invited me and a friend.” He winked broadly. “And what a friend.” Markus brought the tips of his fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Delectable. And that Samar, by the gods!” Markus groaned and rolled his eyes. Then he gave Obi-Wan a searching look.

“Hey, you and Aalea didn’t forget to go and get your morning-after shots, did you? Wouldn’t want to have any surprises nine months down the line now would you, Jedi,” Markus said grinning.

Obi-Wan quickened his steps. He didn’t want to discuss anything with Markus about last night. Obi-Wan hadn‘t forgotten about the birth control shots provided for the guests by the Sylvonnans, however, since nothing had happened between him and Aalea to warrant such shots, there had been no reason to get them. But it had been close, Obi-Wan realized. Terribly, wonderfully, frighteningly close.

Obi-Wan sighed as he walked with Markus. When he had arisen that morning, he’d discovered Aalea had already left. For a moment, as Obi-Wan read her hastily written message telling him she was going to her quarters to pack her things, the night before had come back to him like some fevered dream; a dream of moonlight, the scent of roses and of her, soft and warm in his arms, her sweet mouth under his.

Markus leaned close to Obi-Wan and interrupted his musings about Aalea.

“I think I’m going to stay on Sylvonna for a while, Jedi,” he said.

“Really, your highness?” Obi-Wan said dryly. He was not surprised.

“Yes. I am going to teach Tahal how to bull fight. We have become great friends. He and I have a lot in common.”

Obi-Wan didn’t doubt that since they had apparently shared Tahal's wife last night. He finally reached the entrance of the complex. Placing his case on the floor, he turned toward Markus and extended his hand.

“Good-bye, Prince Markus. It has been an honor knowing you.”

Markus grasped Obi-Wan’s upper arm and squeezed it.

“You, also, Master Kenobi. And thanks for what you did for Ishan.”

Obi-Wan nodded. As he picked up his case and made his way to the palace he heard Markus cry out behind him.

“Tell that lovely little Jedi I said goodbye too. And tell her I’m sorry I didn’t get to know her better, if you know what I mean.”

Markus laughed loudly as Obi-Wan walked quickly away from him.

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

Aalea stood awkwardly as Badalah held her, the handmatron’s tears soaking her shoulder. She had stopped by Nadira’s chamber to say goodbye, only to discover she and Ishan were now living in a different section of the palace. Badalah, however, had still been in the chamber, supervising the transfer of Nadira’s things.

“Oh, goodbye, goodbye, my poor little motherless child,” Badalah sobbed. “I shall so miss looking at your beautiful face. Promise you will come back and visit old Badalah.”

“Of course, I will, Badalah” Aalea said.

She finally managed to free herself from the handmatron’s beefy arms. She took the old woman’s hands in hers and squeezed them.

“Aalea.”

Aalea turned. Obi-Wan was standing in the doorway, his travel case in his hand. He glanced between her and Badalah.

Badalah drew her hands away from Aalea and walked over to Obi-Wan. At the look of shock on Obi-Wan’s face Aalea was almost afraid the handmatron was going to hit him.

Instead Badalah threw her arms around Obi-Wan and hugged him.

“Goodbye, pup,” she blubbered. “Take good care of her, the poor motherless thing.”

“Goodbye, Badalah,” Obi-Wan said as he tried to extricate himself from her arms. He looked over at Aalea, mouthing the words “help me” as Badalah kept squeezing him.

Aalea ran over and pulled Badalah from Obi-Wan. The handmatron then reached into a pocket on her wide skirt and pulled out a handkerchief. She held it to her face and blew her nose into it. Obi-Wan jumped at the sound.

Badalah stuffed the handkerchief back into the pocket on her skirt. She gazed at the two of them and shook her head.

“How lovely you two are together. Promise me you will invite me to the wedding.”

She kissed them both quickly on the cheeks.

“Farewell, Badalah,” Aalea said as she picked up her travel case and followed Obi-Wan out of the chamber. As they walked down the corridor, Obi-Wan glanced back to where Badalah still stood in the door, waving mournfully at them.

He inclined his head, then turned to Aalea.

“What was that about a wedding?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I have no idea,” Aalea said, then looked quickly away from him.

She had pretended with him last night, had acted as if she didn’t recall what had occurred while she was under the influence of the aphrodisiac. But she remembered everything. What she had said, what she did, how it had felt; Obi-Wan’s lean, muscled body pressed so hard against her, his hands running through her hair, his voice whispering her name, and his kiss. Aalea closed her eyes for a moment. Oh, she thought breathlessly, Nadira had been so right about his kisses.

Aalea glanced at Obi-Wan out of the corner of her eye as they walked down the corridors. Was it possible? Had she always loved him and just hadn’t wanted to accept it? When she had awoken that morning, Obi-Wan had still been asleep on the couch. After she had written him a quick note to let him know she was going back to her quarters in the palace, she had stood for a moment and watched him as he slept.

He had looked so vulnerable and helpless with his hair tousled, his mouth slightly open and his lashes like wings on his cheeks. He hadn’t looked at all like the arrogant know-it-all she’d always thought of him as being. At that moment he’d only looked like a tired, sweet little boy and Aalea had wanted so much to reach over and stroke his hair. But she hadn’t. Instead she’d quietly left his quarters.

Aalea again shook her head. It was all so confusing. For, if she truly did love Obi-Wan, had always loved him, then she hadn’t really loved Master Qui-Gon. No, that wasn‘t right; she had loved Qui-Gon, did love him, would always love him, just not in that way she‘d thought. Cian had been right. But Aalea suddenly realized she was also afraid to love Obi-Wan. Love only made the life of a Jedi harder. It was difficult enough trying to understand the Force. But love? That was even harder.

She looked over at Obi-Wan as they continued to walk down the corridor and noted he kept glancing over at her padawan braid. Aalea had put the ribbon he’d given her back into it that morning. She was afraid he was going to tell her that since the wedding was now over, she had to remove it. But he didn’t say a word. He looked back at her and, at the warmth she saw in his eyes, Aalea’s heart skipped a beat.

She stopped walking and so did he. They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Aalea took a deep breath.

“Obi-Wan...”

“Aalea...”

They stopped and laughed self-consciously.

She gestured towards him.

“You first.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, you.”

“All right.” She quickly cleared her throat. “Obi-Wan, about last night....”

“Jedi, Jedi,” a high-pitched voice screeched at them.

Aalea and Obi-Wan turned as Marni ran towards them. Aalea was still amazed at how fast the eunuch could run.

He stopped, panting, in front of them.

“What is it, Marni,” Obi-Wan asked. “Are we late for something?”

“No, thank the Great Lover, you are not,” Marni said irritably. “There is an incoming message for you in the communications center. It is from Coruscant.”

“Thank you, Marni,” Obi-Wan said, bowing slightly.

Marni sniffed disdainfully at Obi-Wan and ambled away.

Obi-Wan grinned. “I think he’s still annoyed at me because I turned down that invitation from Samar and Tahal for us to join them in their orgy last night.”

“I don’t care if he is annoyed,” Aalea said testily. “Great honor, indeed.”

Obi-Wan smiled down at her.

“We’d better go see what that message is about.”

Aalea nodded. She would talk to him later about last night.

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

“Congratulate you, I must,” Yoda said. “Fine job you have done.”

Obi-Wan and Aalea bowed to Yoda’s image as it was being generated in the Sylvonnan communications center.

“To Coruscant you will now return.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

Aalea stepped forward.

“Excuse me, Master Yoda. But have you heard from Master Qui-Gon and Cian? Is their mission going well?”

The expression on Yoda’s face stiffened. His large eyes gazed somberly back at them.

“News I fear to say is not good.”

Obi-Wan and Aalea exchanged quick, worried glances.

“What‘s happened?” Obi-Wan asked

“Mistress Nyal is missing. Even now Master Qui-Gon for her searches.”

“Missing?” Aalea cried.

“No time is there for this to discuss. Return to Coruscant you must immediately.”

Obi-Wan stepped closer to Yoda’s image.

“Master Yoda, I would like permission to go to Jalat and assist my master in his search for Mistress Nyal.”

Aalea stepped next to him.

“I would like to go also, Master.”

“No. Permission denied. To Coruscant you will return. Jalat is not yet member of the Republic. Authority you do not have to go there.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan said, “we can’t just stand by while---”

Yoda’s image leaned forward.

“Return to Coruscant. Master Qui-Gon this can handle. Find her he will. Your help he needs not.”

Yoda’s image faded away as he cut the communication.

Obi-Wan lowered his head. He took a deep breath.

Aalea reached over and touched his arm. He looked over at her and saw his own concern for Qui-Gon and Cian reflected in her lovely eyes. She squeezed his arm.

Together they left the communications center, their hearts heavy with worry.

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

Nadira kissed Aalea on both cheeks as tears flowed down her face.

“I shall miss you so much, Jedi Aalea,” she cried.

She, Aalea, Obi-Wan, and Ishan were at the starport in front of the skipship. Sylvonnan and Tarkasian guardsmen stood at attention behind them. Nadira and Ishan had insisted on coming to see Aalea and Obi-Wan off. However, Aalea suspected they were also feeling sentimental about seeing, for the last time, the ship where they had met.

Aalea hugged the little princess.

“And I shall miss you, your highness,” she said.

She felt Nadira slip something into her hand. Aalea looked down. It was a small golden vial. The Attar of Love.

“You are no longer in two pieces, Jedi Aalea. I can see that,” Nadira said, her green eyes sparkling. “Your heart and head are one.”

Nadira then turned to Obi-Wan and, reaching up, kissed him on the lips. He blushed.

“Jedi Obi-Wan?” she said.

“Yes, your highness,” he replied gently.

She stood on tiptoe so she could whisper in his ear, but Aalea and Ishan heard her clearly.

“I am thinking Jedi Aalea likes you very much and one day you will receive a very nice present from her.”

Obi-Wan smiled down at Nadira.

“Is that so, your highness? Then I shall look forward to receiving it.”

He glanced over at Aalea and winked. Aalea’s heart thudded and the blood rushed through her head.

Nadira stepped back next to her husband. Ishan then reached over and took Aalea’s hand in his and kissed it.

“Mistress Ve‘Red, it was a pleasure to have met you, if only for such a brief time.”

“Thank you, Prince Ishan.”

Ishan turned to Obi-Wan and took his arm.

“Thank you so much, Master Kenobi. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, your highness. May the Force be with you both.”

As Aalea and Obi-Wan walked up the ramp of their ship, Nadira cried out to them to stop. They turned.

“Promise me you will come back and visit me when I have had my babies,” Nadira cried. “I am thinking I will be having very many of them. My husband is an incredibly excellent lover.”

Ishan blushed and grinned sheepishly.

Nadira then smiled up at Obi-Wan, her green eyes sparkling.

“You instructed him very well, Jedi-Obi-Wan.”

Aalea turned sharply and gave Obi-Wan a wide-eyed look.

“The things you told my husband to do to me on our nuptial night made my toes curl,” Nadira went on cheerfully. She then tilted her head and winked at Aalea. “I am thinking you are a very lucky woman, Jedi Aalea.”

Obi-Wan looked guiltily over at Aalea, then shrugged slightly, a small smile on his lips. Evidently Obi-Wan and Ishan had talked about more than just the Jedi Order. Aalea gazed at Obi-Wan for a long moment, then turned to Nadira.

“We promise to return, your highness,” she said. “Take care.”

She waved, turned and followed Obi-Wan into the ship, sealing the door behind her.

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

As Obi-Wan completed the pre-flight check, Aalea came into the cockpit and sat next to him in the co-pilot seat. She watched him silently for a few moments.

“Obi-Wan?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, Aalea?”

“We’re not really going back to Coruscant, are we?”

He stopped his pre-flight check and looked over at her.

“I sense that Cian is in great danger,” he said, his voice grave, his eyes somber. “Don‘t you?”

Aalea nodded, her eyes full upon his.

He took a deep breath.

“Are the coordinates for Jalat programmed into the nav computer?”

Aalea quickly accessed the computer.

“Yes they are.”

“What about fuel?”

“We have enough to get there, but not enough to get back to Coruscant.”

Obi-Wan nodded. He stared at her for a long moment.

“You understand, Aalea,” he finally said, “that if we do this, if we disobey a direct order from Master Yoda and the Council, it will most likely ruin your chances of ever being chosen by another master.”

“I know that.” She gazed deeply into his eyes. “And you may not be allowed to take the Trials. Ever.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He turned and stared out the cockpit window.

Aalea watched him for a moment, then leaned over and touched his hand.

“Come on,” she said softly. “What we are waiting for?”

Obi-Wan glanced at her, then nodded. His hands flew over the instrument panel as Aalea fed him the coordinates for Jalat. Once they received clearance to take off, the skipship tore through the Sylvonnan sky and out into space.

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

As Cian struggled towards consciousness she felt a slight ache in her head and a furriness in her mouth. She slowly opened her eyes. She was lying on a large bed in a circular room. Shadowy tapestries covered the walls. Black and red candles, which were scattered about the room, were the only source of light.

She sat up slowly. Where was she? She got up from the bed and stood, a bit shakily, as she looked around and tried to gather her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was sitting in Rukal’s office. They had been talking about the Council vote. Rukal had offered her some Jalatan tea and that aide of his, Tydre, had brought in a tray. He had poured her a cup and she had drank it. The next thing she knew she was here. The tea must have been drugged.

Cian walked quickly about the room, searching for a door. There was none that she could see, but she suspected whatever doors there were, they were most likely hidden behind secret panels. She shook her head. She should never have come to see Rukal alone. She should have insisted Qui-Gon accompany her, but Tydre had been so adamant he not come. Now she knew why.

Cian took a deep breath. Maybe they were holding her hostage in the hopes of wresting some sort of demands from the Council with her abduction. She swallowed and crossed her arms in front of her. She had to find a way out.

Just then Cian heard a sound. She turned around, searching through the shadowy room. She saw one of the curtains against the wall move. Her heart lurched in her chest. Cian ran to the opposite side of the room and tried to hide behind a curtain. Then she saw the other curtain billow out and a figure step quickly from behind it.

It was Qui-Gon! Cian ran over to him.

“Qui-Gon, how did you find me?”

“Cian,” he cried. He grabbed her arms. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, but how...?”

“No time. We have to get out of here.”

He took her hand and led her behind the curtain. Just then Cian heard a silky laugh. She turned around.

Rukal stood on the opposite side of the room. His dark orange eyes glared at her and Qui-Gon.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. “It’s not polite to leave without saying goodbye.”

Qui-Gon turned around and placed himself in front of Cian.

“We’re leaving, Rukal. Don’t try to stop us.”

“Oh, I don’t think you are going anywhere, Jedi,” Rukal said as he moved towards them.

Qui-Gon drew his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it.

Rukal laughed as he raised his hands.

Qui-Gon reached behind and pushed Cian away from him. She fell to the floor, then watched in horror as Rukal unleashed streams of Force lightning from his hands at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon blocked the lightning with his lightsaber, but a number of the tendrils got through and, as they touched him, they burned through his clothing and onto his flesh.

Cian screamed at Rukal to stop.

He only intensified his attack. Although Qui-Gon defended himself valiantly, he was no match for the relentless assault. Rukal’s face contorted with rage as he unleashed wave after wave of the deadly lightning upon the Jedi.

Cian screamed so hard she feared she had torn the muscles in her throat. Soon, Qui-Gon’s lightsaber lay limp in his hand as he was forced, first to his knees, then, writhing and twisting onto his side.

Cian pushed herself up and ran to Rukal. She tried to grab his arms, but he shoved her away with a tendril of the Force lightning.

Cian slammed back onto the floor. Pain lanced through her and it felt as if every nerve in her body was on fire. She watched in horror as Qui-Gon lay unmoving on the floor in front of her, his entire body wrapped in light and fire as Rukal continued his assault.

Then, with a final lash of the Force lightning, Rukal stopped his attack. Cian tried to run to Qui-Gon’s smoking body, but Rukal grabbed her by the arm. She struggled against him.

“Please, let me help me. I can heal him. Please, please!”

Rukal grabbed her other arm and pulled her close to him.

“You love him, don’t you?” he said, his mouth inches from hers, his eyes boring into hers.

Cian stared back at him. Her mouth moved, but the words froze in her throat.

“Say it,” Rukal hissed. He shook her roughly. “Say it!”

“Yes, I love him,” Cian wept. “Oh, by the Lady, I love him!”

“And because you love him, you would do anything to save him, yes?”

Cian nodded, her eyes wild.

“Even give yourself to the dark side?” Rukal whispered, his insane orange eyes locked onto hers.

Cian stared back at Rukal in horror. The blood drained from her face.

He shook her again, her hair flying about her ashen face.

“Swear that you will give yourself to the dark side and I will let you go to him.”

Tears welled in Cian’s eyes and spilled down her face.

“Swear it or he dies!” Rukal shouted.

Cian swallowed heavily. She gazed over at Qui-Gon.

“I swear,” she cried. “I swear by my love for him I will give myself to the dark side.”

Rukal released her and pushed her toward Qui-Gon.

“Then go and save him. If you can.”

Cian ran over to Qui-Gon and knelt next to him. She quickly assessed his condition. Her hands trembled. He was terribly burned. Cian’s only Force talent lay in her ability to heal and, although Qui-Gon had taught her some things over the years, how to channel and focus the Force, she wasn’t a Healer; she hadn’t been trained.

She leaned over and stroked his hair. _Oh, my love. Don’t leave me, please, don’t leave me_. She kissed him softly on the lips, her tears splashing upon his blistered face.

Taking a deep breath, Cian closed her eyes. She placed her trembling hands upon Qui-Gon’s chest and, reaching out with her feelings, drew upon the Force.

-----------

In a corner of the chamber, Rukal and Tydre watched as Cian knelt over empty air, her hands moving as if over a body.

“And she really thinks she sees him?” Tydre asked in wonder.

“Yes,” Rukal replied in a smug voice. “The dark side illusion is being fed not only by my power, but by hers. She is very strong with the Syad, which helps to make the illusion even more real to her. She really believes the Jedi is here, that he came to rescue her and that I have killed him.”

Tydre glanced over at Rukal.

“Killed him---?”

Then he stopped, for suddenly Cian let out a heart-wrenching scream that tore through the room. She knelt over the empty space before her, tears streaming down her face, her grief coming from somewhere deep inside Tydre feared she would injure herself.

“No, no, no!” she wailed, her dark red hair flying about her grief-stricken face. “No, Qui-Gon! No!”

“But, Master, I don’t understand. Why have you made her believe you killed him?”

Rukal glared at him.

“You can be so dense sometimes, Tydre. I couldn’t very well keep pretending he was here.”

“But if you made her swear to turn to the dark side on the condition...”

“On the condition that I let her _try_ to save him. Not on the condition that he live. Now leave us.”

Tydre looked at Rukal and flinched when he saw the expression on his master’s face. He had seen that look before on the nights when Rukal would order him to bring one of the female acolytes to his chamber. Tydre swallowed heavily. He looked back at the sobbing woman.

“Master, please, I do not think you should...”

“Are you questioning me, Tydre?” Rukal asked in a deceptively quiet voice.

Tydre’s heart lurched in his chest. He thought suddenly of Zatae, the acolyte whose only crime had been in questioning Rukal about the true nature of the dark side. As punishment, Rukal had dropped the stone altar on Zatae when he had levitated it during the dark mass.

“No, of course not, Master,” Tydre said quickly.

“Then do as I say. Leave. Now.”

“Yes, Master.”

Tydre turned and walked towards the door hidden in the wall. As he went through it, he looked back briefly and saw Rukal moving towards the sobbing woman who lay curled on the floor, crying the tears of a thousand years for a man who wasn’t even there.

Tydre shook his head and quickly closed the door behind him. As he walked swiftly down the corridor he could still hear Cian’s anguished cries of grief.

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

Part Twenty-Six

“I don’t care, First Minister Shiro,” General Neeshin shouted. “I am not pulling my men back from the search.”

Qui-Gon glanced over at the young Jalatan general. He, Neeshin and Shiro were in Shiro’s office. General Neeshin’s men had been combing not only the capital, but the surrounding provinces for Cian. Qui-Gon had accompanied them on their forays, hoping to find through the Force some evidence of where she was and what had happened to her, but he had sensed nothing, felt nothing, found nothing.

Now, some members of the Jalatan Council were demanding Neeshin stop his search. They were concerned that the resources of the military caste were being wasted.

“General Neeshin, you can not go against the dictates of the Council,” Shiro cried out.

Neeshin waved his hand angrily. “The dictates of the Council! Bah! The dictates of Chief Priest Rukal you mean. He’s the one who instructed his proxy on the Council to push for this measure. And where is he anyway?”

“Salu Rukal has been relaxing at his citadel,” Shiro said. “Since the Council decided to postpone the vote on the resolution to establish relations with the Republic he has been in Jholan province.”

Neeshin turned quickly to Qui-Gon.

“What about you, Master Jinn? Surely you don’t support this?”

Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe.

“General Neeshin, I am only here as an emissary. I can not interfere with the internal workings of your government. If it is the wish of the Council for you to cease your search for Cian, than that is what must be. However, with First Minister Shiro’s permission, I shall continue to look for her.

“Be assured, my friend, you have my permission.”

Qui-Gon nodded his thanks to Shiro.

“You can’t possibly hope to find her alone,” Neeshin fired back.

Qui-Gon gazed back at Neeshin, his blue gaze fierce.

“I _will_ find her, General Neeshin.”

Neeshin shook his head. Then, with a crisp angry salute, he turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

Shiro sighed as he rose from his desk. He went over to where Qui-Gon stood by the window. The two men stared out at the darkening sky

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

Tydre grimaced as he knelt next to Cian. She lay on a cot in one of the cells deep within the citadel. Tydre had wanted to take her someplace less bleak, but Rukal had ordered him to bring her here.

Tydre dipped a cloth into a bowl he had placed on the floor and soaked it in the medicinal solution. Turning, he gently applied it to the bruises and scratches on Cian’s face and body. Cian didn’t move. Her eyes were open, but she had not blinked nor made a sound since Tydre had brought her to the cell. It was as if only her body remained and whatever had animated her and made her a living being had fled.

As Tydre continued to nurse her, he remembered how Rukal had sent for him and angrily ordered him to remove Cian from his bedchamber. He had then gone off to attend to some private business.

Tydre had walked over to where Cian was lying on the floor. She was unclothed, her body pulled up into a fetal position, her dark red hair lying in disarray about her. Tydre had jerked one of the sheets off the bed and wrapped her in it. He was certain his master would berate him for it later, but he didn’t care. He was not going to carry her naked through the corridors and her gown was too torn for Tydre to clothe her in. It was apparent that Rukal had failed in his attempt to turn her to the dark side and, enraged, had taken his frustration and anger out on her.

Now, as Tydre bathed her body and tended to her injuries, he wondered for the first time what kind of man he had given himself in service to. Tydre did not consider himself a brave man or an intelligent one or even an ambitious one. He merely had a gift, an ability to sense the presence of the Syad about him. A gift Rukal had apparently detected when he had come to Tydre’s village and found him begging on the streets.

The Chief Priest had taken Tydre in, fed and clothed him and then promised to teach him the great secrets which would twist the world and its inhabitants to his will. And, for a young man who had been on his own since he was fourteen turns--hungry, alone, and reviled by his betters--such power had seemed the answer to all his prayers.

Yet, as much as Tydre had tried to adhere to the tenets of the dark side as taught by Rukal, deep inside him remained the boy he had been before the floodwaters swept away his home and his parents. Tydre wasn’t even sure why Rukal had, out of all his acolytes, chosen him to be his aide.

But now, as Tydre gazed upon the bruised and violated body of the woman who had come, trusting and alone, to meet with his master because he, Tydre, had bid her come, he felt something inside him he had not felt in a long time. He felt shame.

Tydre placed the cloth in the bowl. He reached over and picked up a gown he had found in one of the closed-off rooms of the citadel. It was old and somewhat worn, but it was better then the sheet she was wrapped her in. Tydre quickly dressed her in it. She did not move as he did so. She continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyes empty.

“Well, are you done?” a voice behind Tydre said irritably.

Tydre jumped and turned around.

Rukal stood in the doorway.

“Master, I think there’s something wrong with her. I think she may be dying.”

Rukal strode into the room. He leaned over and peered into Cian’s eyes. He then placed his fingers alongside her head and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and turned to Tydre.

“She is not dying. She is hiding. Taken her awareness someplace far within her mind. Someplace where she thinks she will be safe.” Rukal chuckled nastily.

“But, surely you’re not going to give her to your master? Not in this state?”

Rukal looked over at Tydre and glared.

“Why not? She may still prove useful to him. And trust me, Tydre, if she thinks she can stay hidden from my master once he has her within his power, she will learn she can not. She feigns death but when he has her, if she dares defy him as she did me, she will wish, no, she will beg for death.”

“But, and forgive my impertinence for asking, Master, was it necessary to hurt her in this way?” And he gestured towards the bruises on her face.

Rukal snarled. “She would not turn. She swore to give herself to the dark side if I let her save the Jedi. But she refused. She lied to me, Tydre.”

Tydre was afraid to point out that if Cian had lied, she had only answered a lie with a lie. The Jedi’s presence in the citadel had merely been an illusion.

“But, my master,” Tydre whispered. “And again, please forgive my impudence, but was it also necessary to....to rape her?”

Rukal’s eyes glittered and he slowly licked his long thin lips.

“She needed to be taught a lesson, Tydre. She needed to know I am master here.” He stared at Cian for a long moment, his pupils dilating. “A painful lesson for her, I fear, but a most delicious one for me. Now finish with her.”

Rukal turned and left the cell.

As Tydre looked back down at Cian, he wondered if Rukal had gone mad for he had not been so cruel when Tydre had first met him. However, ever since he had come under the influence of his mysterious and unknown master, he had become more brutal and vicious.

Tydre gazed at Cian for a long moment. She had said she was sorry about the death of his parents. No one had ever said that to him before. He reached out and gently stroked a lock of her dark red hair, then quickly drew his hand back, fearful Rukal might return and see him.

Then, as Tydre made to rise, a voice whispered in his mind; a soft, gentle voice that sounded remarkably like that of his long dead mother. _This is not right, Tydre. You can help her. You can save her_.

Tydre sighed deeply. He knelt, picked up the bowl and cloth and left the cell.

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

The day following his meeting with Neeshin and Shrio, Qui-Gon sat alone in his quarters in the Residence Hall. He had hardly slept since Cian had gone missing. And when he finally willed himself to sleep, all he did was dream of her.

Now he had just received a communiqué from Yoda informing him Obi-Wan and Aalea were overdue for their scheduled arrival back on Coruscant. Yoda had told Qui-Gon he suspected the two were on their way to Jalat. If they were, he had warned, the repercussions for their actions could be serious.

Qui-Gon sighed. He hoped Yoda was wrong. In his youth, Obi-Wan had been headstrong and reckless but, as time passed, his apprentice had become a much more cautious young man, prone to think through a situation then jump recklessly in. Qui-Gon hoped his padawan exercised the good judgment he had acquired over the years and stayed away from Jalat.

Qui-Gon stood and put on his robe. He knew it was hopeless, but he felt the need to go out again. Over the past few days, the sight of him striding through the streets of the capital as he searched for Cian had become a common one. And, as the days passed, many Jalatans had come up to him, having heard of Cian’s disappearance, and laid their hands on his arm, offering their condolences and sympathy. He had been greatly touched by their kindness.

Just as Qui-Gon was about to leave, the comlink on the desk beeped. He went over and activated it.

“Yes,” he said.

“Master Jinn.” It was Epena, Shiro’s aide. “Can you come to the First Minister’s office immediately?”

“Yes, of course. Is something wrong?”

“I think we may have found Mistress Nyal.”

Qui-Gon’s heart lurched in his chest.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned and hurried out the door.

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

As Qui-Gon entered Shiro’s office, not only were Shiro and Epena waiting for him, but a young Jalatan male he did not recognize.

Shiro walked over and clasped Qui-Gon’s hands.

“My friend, good. You are here.”

He walked Qui-Gon over to the young man.

“Master Jinn, this is Salu Tydre. He is Chief Priest Rukal’s aide.”

Tydre bowed deeply to Qui-Gon. When he rose, Qui-Gon saw fear swirling in the young man’s eyes. He kept glancing at the door as if he regretted having come and was desperately seeking a way out.

“Salu Tydre,” Qui-Gon said, inclining his head.

Shiro put a hand on the young man’s arm.

“Go ahead. Tell Master Jinn what you told me. He will not harm you.”

Tydre swallowed, his eyes darting from Shiro’s face to Qui-Gon’s.

“I know,” he began, then stopped and quickly cleared his throat. “I know where Mistress Nyal is.”

Qui-Gon forced himself to relax as a rush of adrenaline surged through him. He had discerned through the Force the manner in which Tydre had said Cian’s name; the intonation of his voice, the inflection of his words. Something terrible had happened to her.

“Go on,” Shiro gently urged Tydre. “Tell him.”

“She is at Salu Rukal’s citadel. In Jholan Province.”

Just as Tydre was about to say more, the door to Shiro’s office flew open. General Neeshin rushed in.

“I just heard,” he said as he strode over to Shiro and Qui-Gon. “Where is she?”

Shiro glanced disapprovingly over at Epena, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

Neeshin then saw Tydre. He grabbed him by the arms and shook him.

“Where is she, you son of a malik!”

Qui-Gon grabbed Neeshin and pulled him away from Tydre.

“That’s enough, General.”

Neeshin turned wide angry eyes on Qui-Gon.

“What’s the matter with you, Master Jinn? This thing knows where she is!

“He’s already told us. She’s at Rukal’s citadel.”

Neeshin’s face paled. “Rukal?” he whispered. He turned grim eyes back on Tydre. He was about to grab him again, but Qui-Gon stopped him.

He then looked down at Tydre. “What does Rukal want with her?”

Tydre looked fearfully up at the tall Jedi whose blue eyes seemed to pierce through to his soul. He clasped and unclasped his hands.

“My master tried to turn her to the dark side of what you call the Force.”

The Jedi’s expression did not change, but Tydre saw explosions of pain in his eyes. For long moments he just stared down at Tydre.

“What is wrong, Master Jinn?” Shiro asked when he saw the grim expression on Qui-Gon’s face.

“The dark side, First Minister,” Qui-Gon said tightly. “It would explain why I have not been able to sense Cian’s presence through the Force. If Rukal is a dark side user, then I fear your wife was right. He is a very dangerous man.”

Qui-Gon turned back to Tydre.

“There is more, is there not?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Master Jinn. When she would not turn it made my master very angry. He hurt her.”

Qui-Gon’s face twisted with pain but he urged Tydre to go on.

Tydre shook his head mournfully.

“She has gone away. In here.” He pointed to his head. “My master says she is hiding.” Tydre stopped and wrung his hands.

“And she also believes....” He took a deep breath.

“She also believes you are dead, Master Jinn,” he went on. “My master created an illusion which made her think you had come for her and was killed by him.”

Tydre somberly shook his head and looked down.

“She loves you very much,” he said softly. He lifted his head and looked up into Qui-Gon’s eyes.

“And, I am afraid to say, there is more, Master Jinn. My master, Rukal, he....he raped her.”

General Neeshin hissed, his hands balling into fists, his eyes burning.

Qui-Gon folded his arms tightly across his chest. He took a deep breath and called upon the Force as he struggled to control the agony which threatened to consume him, but it exploded behind his eyes, ripped through his chest and tore into his heart like some wild and merciless beast. He stood straight and unmoving but inside he was a howling, maddened thing. _Cian. Cian_.

“What does he intend to do with her?” Qui-Gon finally asked, his voice like chipped ice.

“He is giving her to his master.”

“What?” Neeshin cried as he rushed at Tydre. “His master? What are you talking about, thing? Who is his master?

“I do not know, Salu Neeshin,” Tydre said quickly, backing away from the rage in the general’s face. “No one knows. Not even the acolytes of the inner circle. All we know is that he is very powerful and everything my master has learned about the dark side he has learned from him.”

Neeshin turned towards Shiro and stood at attention.

“With your permission, First Minister, I’ll assemble my forces. We can be at Rukal’s citadel within the hour.”

“No, General Neeshin,” Shiro said. “You will do no such thing.”

“What?” Neeshin cried. “Are you deaf as well as blind, Shiro? I warned you about Rukal. Now look what has happened! An innocent woman has been abused and raped!”

“You will not send your military forces into Jholan Province, General Neeshin,” Shiro said firmly. “That is religious caste territory. Do you want to risk a civil war?”

“I can’t believe what you’re saying, Shiro. I thought you were her friend,” Neeshin cried, his eyes blazing.

“I _am_ her friend!” Shiro suddenly shouted, his kindly features twisted with rage. “Do you think I do not wish to have Rukal’s throat between my hands right now!”

He raised his hands and shook them at the general.

“It was I who invited her here, to our world, on a mission of peace and diplomacy,” Shiro went on in a strangled voice. He shook his white-haired head, his eyes dark with anguish. “And now, to know these vile and evil things have been done to her by a member of my own Council!”

Shiro quickly choked back a sob. He remained silent for a long moment, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to control his anger and grief. He then took a deep, shuddering breath.

“But we must also remember who and what we are, General,” he went on quietly, but firmly. “We have a responsibility to our people, to our world. We can not allow our personal feelings to interfere with our duty.”

Qui-Gon reached over and took Neeshin by the arm.

“The First Minister is right,” Qui-Gon said. “You must not risk civil war. Not even for her. Remember, she is an emissary from the Republic. She would not want to see your world plunged into war on her account.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Neeshin cried. “Are you just going to leave her there? Don’t you care for her?”

“Yes, General Neeshin, I do care for her,” Qui-Gon said softly. “And no, I’m not going to leave her there. But, if Rukal is a dark side user, you will not be able to stop him. I must face him. Alone.”

Neeshin glared back at Qui-Gon for a long moment, then let out an explosion of breath.

“How do you intend to get inside the citadel, Master Jinn?” he asked. “I’ve seen it. It’s heavily fortified. I don’t think even your vaunted Jedi powers can help you walk through walls.”

“I know a way,” Tydre said.

Neeshin turned and frowned at Tydre, but Qui-Gon moved past the general and took Tydre’s arm.

“Will you help me? Can you get me inside?”

Tydre glanced quickly between Qui-Gon, Neeshin and Shiro. Then he nodded.

“There’s an old passageway on the side of the citadel which faces the sea. It’s been abandoned for centuries. I found it one day while I was wandering through the citadel. But, I must warn you, not only are my master‘s acolytes there, he also has a small cadre of mercenaries.” He glanced quickly over at Neeshin. “They are part of his plan to build his own army.”

“They won’t be a problem,” Qui-Gon said.

Neeshin shook his head. “Now I know you are mad, Master Jinn. You’re going to march into Rukal’s citadel and face not only him, but his acolytes and mercenaries and you’re also going to trust this thing?” He gestured angrily at Tydre. “He’s Rukal’s creature. How do you know he’s not leading you into a trap?”

“I don’t know,” Qui-Gon said calmly.

Neeshin shook his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit!”

Neeshin then walked over and thrust his face close to Tydre’s.

“Tell me, thing! Why are you doing this? Why are you betraying your master?”

Tydre backed away from Neeshin, his eyes wide. Qui-Gon quickly pulled the general away from Tydre. He then gazed down at the young Jalatan, looked deep into his eyes and saw what Tydre had seen and what he had felt; Cian’s torment and his shame at having been the cause of it.

“I know why, General Neeshin,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

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

An hour later Qui-Gon, accompanied by Neeshin and Tydre, walked towards the landing field where a small shuttle piloted by one of Neeshin’s men waited to take him and Tydre to Rukal’s citadel.

As they neared the shuttle, Neeshin grabbed Qui-Gon’s arm.

“I still say this is madness. You can’t do this alone.”

“He won’t have to,” a voice called out from behind them.

Recognizing that voice, Qui-Gon turned quickly, both irritation and gladness warring within him as Obi-Wan walked towards him, accompanied by Aalea and Shiro.

Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe as they approached.

“Master,” Obi-Wan said. He and Aalea bowed.

“You should not be here,” Qui-Gon said as he gazed sternly down at them.

“We know, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“You have disobeyed a direct order from Master Yoda and the Council.”

“That is correct, Master.”

“And possibly ruined not only your future, but Aalea’s as well.”

Aalea moved next to Obi-Wan.

“We know that too, Master,” she said, her violet eyes gazing up into his.

Qui-Gon sighed. He wanted so much to be angry with them, but in his heart he could not. For he knew why they had come and risked their futures to do so. It was for her.

“They had just arrived, Master Jinn,” Shiro explained, “so I brought them as quickly as I could. I was told by Master Yoda that if they came to Jalat, I was to detain them both.”

Shiro turned towards Obi-Wan and Aalea and smiled at them.

“But I do not think I will be doing that.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head to Shiro. “Thank you, First Minister.”

Qui-Gon quickly introduced Obi-Wan and Aalea to Neeshin and Tydre. Since the shuttle could only carry four, he sent Obi-Wan over to the pilot to get a quick lesson on how to fly it.

Neeshin touched Qui-Gon on the arm, pulling him away from where Aalea was talking quietly with Shiro.

“Yes, General Neeshin?”

Neeshin gestured with his eyes over at Aalea.

“Surely you’re not taking her?”

“Why would I not?”

“She’s a woman. Do you want her to suffer the same fate as Mistress Nyal?”

Qui-Gon looked over at Aalea. For a moment he was tempted to order her to remain behind. But he knew he would not, for not only would he have kept her from helping the woman he knew she loved as dearly as any mother, he would also have called into question her ability to fulfill her duty as a Jedi.

“No, General Neeshin. I will not leave her behind. But I swear to you, I will die before I let what happened to Cian happen to her.”

Neeshin looked at Qui-Gon for a moment, then quickly nodded. The two of them walked back over to the shuttle. Obi-Wan leaned his head out of the cockpit’s window from where he sat in the pilot’s seat.

“I’ve got it, Master. We’re ready to go when you are.”

Qui-Gon turned to where Aalea was standing next to Shiro and gestured for her to get into the seat next to Obi-Wan.

“Good luck, Master Jinn,” the First Minister said as he clasped Qui-Gon’s arm.

“Thank you, First Minister.”

Qui-Gon then turned to Neeshin who glared at him for a long moment.

“I’m giving you four hours,” Neeshin growled. “If you’re not back by then, I don’t care what the Council says. I’m bringing my forces in.”

“Fair enough, General Neeshin.”

Qui-Gon and Tydre got into the back seat of the shuttle and Obi-Wan quickly took them aloft.

As Obi-Wan gained altitude, Qui-Gon leaned forward between him and Aalea.

“You both were very wrong to have disobeyed Yoda‘s orders.” He sighed. “However, I am glad you are here. You have been briefed? You know where we are going and what we will be facing?”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said as he took the shuttle in the direction the Jalatan pilot had shown him on the holomap. “First Minister Shiro told us everything.”

Aalea turned to Qui-Gon, her beautiful eyes full upon his.

“We are with you, Master.”

He nodded.

“Then let’s go get her,” he said quietly.

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

Rukal sat musing in his chambers, his long, thin fingers laced before him. He had just spoken with Lord Sidious who had informed him Lord Maul would be arriving that day to retrieve the woman. Then Sidious had inquired about her condition and Rukal, who had learned over time never to lie to his dark master, told him. If Rukal thought he had seen the true nature of Lord Sidious before, he learned at that moment he had not.

“You mad, perverted fool!” Sidious hissed from beneath his black hood. “I ordered you to deliver her to me, not harm her. What arrogant insanity made you think you could turn her to the dark side. Fool! I should order Lord Maul to remove your entrails and strangle you with them!”

“The woman resisted, my lord---,” Rukal began.

“Silence!”

Rukal licked his suddenly dry lips.

“Does my master still want her?” he asked contritely.

“Deliver her to Lord Maul. I will see what I can do with what you have left me. But pray, Rukal, pray very hard that when Lord Maul arrives, I will have chosen to forgive you for your insane incompetence.”

Now, as Rukal sat in his chamber, he wondered what he would do if Sidious ordered Maul to punish him. Should he try to resist?

Rukal titled his head. Over time, as he had learned more and more about the true nature of the Syad and the dark power which resided within it, Rukal’s sense of his own self-importance had swelled. He no longer saw himself merely as a man, but as a force of nature; as powerful and as potent as the elements of earth and sky. But, Rukal was also no fool and he knew he was not yet ready to challenge his dark master or his apprentice. Maybe someday, but not now.

So, instead, Rukal quickly conceived a plan he was certain would put him back in his master’s good graces. That plan had come about when Rukal had discovered Tydre was missing from the citadel. Rukal was not blind. He had seen the look in Tydre’s eyes when he had nursed the woman. The pity, the sympathy, the compassion.

Rukal grimaced. He supposed it was his fault for having taken Tydre in and put so much faith in him. However, although the boy was quite strong with the Syad, he was also his mother’s son. But then, Tydre was also Rukal’s son and he had hoped the boy would have been stronger because of that.

Tydre did not know Rukal was his father. Rukal and Tydre’s mother had had a secret affair when Rukal had been assigned as an acolyte at the temple in her village. After the death of her and her husband during the floods, Rukal had returned to the village and found Tydre begging on the streets. He had taken him in, hoping to train him as his heir apparent once Lord Sidious made him ruler of Jalat.

Now his sentimental fool of a son had most likely run off to tell the Jedi where the woman was. And once the Jedi knew, he would come. Rukal did not doubt that.

Rukal, therefore, was going to kill the Jedi when he came for the woman and give his head to Lord Sidious. Maybe that would help to assuage his master’s anger. He knew that Lord Sidious had ordered him not to confront the Jedi but---and Rukal mentally shrugged---he could always claim he acted in self-defense.

Then, after the Jedi was dead Rukal would find Tydre and kill him for his treachery. Rukal smiled slowly. He would take his time killing his son, however, for the boy needed to know before he died who was master here. Rukal‘s long orange eyes glittered in the darkness of his chamber.

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

Part Twenty-Six

“I don’t care, First Minister Shiro,” General Neeshin shouted. “I am not pulling my men back from the search.”

Qui-Gon glanced over at the young Jalatan general. He, Neeshin and Shiro were in Shiro’s office. General Neeshin’s men had been combing not only the capital, but the surrounding provinces for Cian. Qui-Gon had accompanied them on their forays, hoping to find through the Force some evidence of where she was and what had happened to her, but he had sensed nothing, felt nothing, found nothing.

Now, some members of the Jalatan Council were demanding Neeshin stop his search. They were concerned that the resources of the military caste were being wasted.

“General Neeshin, you can not go against the dictates of the Council,” Shiro cried out.

Neeshin waved his hand angrily. “The dictates of the Council! Bah! The dictates of Chief Priest Rukal you mean. He’s the one who instructed his proxy on the Council to push for this measure. And where is he anyway?”

“Salu Rukal has been relaxing at his citadel,” Shiro said. “Since the Council decided to postpone the vote on the resolution to establish relations with the Republic he has been in Jholan province.”

Neeshin turned quickly to Qui-Gon.

“What about you, Master Jinn? Surely you don’t support this?”

Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe.

“General Neeshin, I am only here as an emissary. I can not interfere with the internal workings of your government. If it is the wish of the Council for you to cease your search for Cian, than that is what must be. However, with First Minister Shiro’s permission, I shall continue to look for her.

“Be assured, my friend, you have my permission.”

Qui-Gon nodded his thanks to Shiro.

“You can’t possibly hope to find her alone,” Neeshin fired back.

Qui-Gon gazed back at Neeshin, his blue gaze fierce.

“I _will_ find her, General Neeshin.”

Neeshin shook his head. Then, with a crisp angry salute, he turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

Shiro sighed as he rose from his desk. He went over to where Qui-Gon stood by the window. The two men stared out at the darkening sky

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

Tydre grimaced as he knelt next to Cian. She lay on a cot in one of the cells deep within the citadel. Tydre had wanted to take her someplace less bleak, but Rukal had ordered him to bring her here.

Tydre dipped a cloth into a bowl he had placed on the floor and soaked it in the medicinal solution. Turning, he gently applied it to the bruises and scratches on Cian’s face and body. Cian didn’t move. Her eyes were open, but she had not blinked nor made a sound since Tydre had brought her to the cell. It was as if only her body remained and whatever had animated her and made her a living being had fled.

As Tydre continued to nurse her, he remembered how Rukal had sent for him and angrily ordered him to remove Cian from his bedchamber. He had then gone off to attend to some private business.

Tydre had walked over to where Cian was lying on the floor. She was unclothed, her body pulled up into a fetal position, her dark red hair lying in disarray about her. Tydre had jerked one of the sheets off the bed and wrapped her in it. He was certain his master would berate him for it later, but he didn’t care. He was not going to carry her naked through the corridors and her gown was too torn for Tydre to clothe her in. It was apparent that Rukal had failed in his attempt to turn her to the dark side and, enraged, had taken his frustration and anger out on her.

Now, as Tydre bathed her body and tended to her injuries, he wondered for the first time what kind of man he had given himself in service to. Tydre did not consider himself a brave man or an intelligent one or even an ambitious one. He merely had a gift, an ability to sense the presence of the Syad about him. A gift Rukal had apparently detected when he had come to Tydre’s village and found him begging on the streets.

The Chief Priest had taken Tydre in, fed and clothed him and then promised to teach him the great secrets which would twist the world and its inhabitants to his will. And, for a young man who had been on his own since he was fourteen turns--hungry, alone, and reviled by his betters--such power had seemed the answer to all his prayers.

Yet, as much as Tydre had tried to adhere to the tenets of the dark side as taught by Rukal, deep inside him remained the boy he had been before the floodwaters swept away his home and his parents. Tydre wasn’t even sure why Rukal had, out of all his acolytes, chosen him to be his aide.

But now, as Tydre gazed upon the bruised and violated body of the woman who had come, trusting and alone, to meet with his master because he, Tydre, had bid her come, he felt something inside him he had not felt in a long time. He felt shame.

Tydre placed the cloth in the bowl. He reached over and picked up a gown he had found in one of the closed-off rooms of the citadel. It was old and somewhat worn, but it was better then the sheet she was wrapped her in. Tydre quickly dressed her in it. She did not move as he did so. She continued to stare at the ceiling, her eyes empty.

“Well, are you done?” a voice behind Tydre said irritably.

Tydre jumped and turned around.

Rukal stood in the doorway.

“Master, I think there’s something wrong with her. I think she may be dying.”

Rukal strode into the room. He leaned over and peered into Cian’s eyes. He then placed his fingers alongside her head and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and turned to Tydre.

“She is not dying. She is hiding. Taken her awareness someplace far within her mind. Someplace where she thinks she will be safe.” Rukal chuckled nastily.

“But, surely you’re not going to give her to your master? Not in this state?”

Rukal looked over at Tydre and glared.

“Why not? She may still prove useful to him. And trust me, Tydre, if she thinks she can stay hidden from my master once he has her within his power, she will learn she can not. She feigns death but when he has her, if she dares defy him as she did me, she will wish, no, she will beg for death.”

“But, and forgive my impertinence for asking, Master, was it necessary to hurt her in this way?” And he gestured towards the bruises on her face.

Rukal snarled. “She would not turn. She swore to give herself to the dark side if I let her save the Jedi. But she refused. She lied to me, Tydre.”

Tydre was afraid to point out that if Cian had lied, she had only answered a lie with a lie. The Jedi’s presence in the citadel had merely been an illusion.

“But, my master,” Tydre whispered. “And again, please forgive my impudence, but was it also necessary to....to rape her?”

Rukal’s eyes glittered and he slowly licked his long thin lips.

“She needed to be taught a lesson, Tydre. She needed to know I am master here.” He stared at Cian for a long moment, his pupils dilating. “A painful lesson for her, I fear, but a most delicious one for me. Now finish with her.”

Rukal turned and left the cell.

As Tydre looked back down at Cian, he wondered if Rukal had gone mad for he had not been so cruel when Tydre had first met him. However, ever since he had come under the influence of his mysterious and unknown master, he had become more brutal and vicious.

Tydre gazed at Cian for a long moment. She had said she was sorry about the death of his parents. No one had ever said that to him before. He reached out and gently stroked a lock of her dark red hair, then quickly drew his hand back, fearful Rukal might return and see him.

Then, as Tydre made to rise, a voice whispered in his mind; a soft, gentle voice that sounded remarkably like that of his long dead mother. _This is not right, Tydre. You can help her. You can save her_.

Tydre sighed deeply. He knelt, picked up the bowl and cloth and left the cell.

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

The day following his meeting with Neeshin and Shrio, Qui-Gon sat alone in his quarters in the Residence Hall. He had hardly slept since Cian had gone missing. And when he finally willed himself to sleep, all he did was dream of her.

Now he had just received a communiqué from Yoda informing him Obi-Wan and Aalea were overdue for their scheduled arrival back on Coruscant. Yoda had told Qui-Gon he suspected the two were on their way to Jalat. If they were, he had warned, the repercussions for their actions could be serious.

Qui-Gon sighed. He hoped Yoda was wrong. In his youth, Obi-Wan had been headstrong and reckless but, as time passed, his apprentice had become a much more cautious young man, prone to think through a situation then jump recklessly in. Qui-Gon hoped his padawan exercised the good judgment he had acquired over the years and stayed away from Jalat.

Qui-Gon stood and put on his robe. He knew it was hopeless, but he felt the need to go out again. Over the past few days, the sight of him striding through the streets of the capital as he searched for Cian had become a common one. And, as the days passed, many Jalatans had come up to him, having heard of Cian’s disappearance, and laid their hands on his arm, offering their condolences and sympathy. He had been greatly touched by their kindness.

Just as Qui-Gon was about to leave, the comlink on the desk beeped. He went over and activated it.

“Yes,” he said.

“Master Jinn.” It was Epena, Shiro’s aide. “Can you come to the First Minister’s office immediately?”

“Yes, of course. Is something wrong?”

“I think we may have found Mistress Nyal.”

Qui-Gon’s heart lurched in his chest.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned and hurried out the door.

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

As Qui-Gon entered Shiro’s office, not only were Shiro and Epena waiting for him, but a young Jalatan male he did not recognize.

Shiro walked over and clasped Qui-Gon’s hands.

“My friend, good. You are here.”

He walked Qui-Gon over to the young man.

“Master Jinn, this is Salu Tydre. He is Chief Priest Rukal’s aide.”

Tydre bowed deeply to Qui-Gon. When he rose, Qui-Gon saw fear swirling in the young man’s eyes. He kept glancing at the door as if he regretted having come and was desperately seeking a way out.

“Salu Tydre,” Qui-Gon said, inclining his head.

Shiro put a hand on the young man’s arm.

“Go ahead. Tell Master Jinn what you told me. He will not harm you.”

Tydre swallowed, his eyes darting from Shiro’s face to Qui-Gon’s.

“I know,” he began, then stopped and quickly cleared his throat. “I know where Mistress Nyal is.”

Qui-Gon forced himself to relax as a rush of adrenaline surged through him. He had discerned through the Force the manner in which Tydre had said Cian’s name; the intonation of his voice, the inflection of his words. Something terrible had happened to her.

“Go on,” Shiro gently urged Tydre. “Tell him.”

“She is at Salu Rukal’s citadel. In Jholan Province.”

Just as Tydre was about to say more, the door to Shiro’s office flew open. General Neeshin rushed in.

“I just heard,” he said as he strode over to Shiro and Qui-Gon. “Where is she?”

Shiro glanced disapprovingly over at Epena, who merely shrugged his shoulders.

Neeshin then saw Tydre. He grabbed him by the arms and shook him.

“Where is she, you son of a malik!”

Qui-Gon grabbed Neeshin and pulled him away from Tydre.

“That’s enough, General.”

Neeshin turned wide angry eyes on Qui-Gon.

“What’s the matter with you, Master Jinn? This thing knows where she is!

“He’s already told us. She’s at Rukal’s citadel.”

Neeshin’s face paled. “Rukal?” he whispered. He turned grim eyes back on Tydre. He was about to grab him again, but Qui-Gon stopped him.

He then looked down at Tydre. “What does Rukal want with her?”

Tydre looked fearfully up at the tall Jedi whose blue eyes seemed to pierce through to his soul. He clasped and unclasped his hands.

“My master tried to turn her to the dark side of what you call the Force.”

The Jedi’s expression did not change, but Tydre saw explosions of pain in his eyes. For long moments he just stared down at Tydre.

“What is wrong, Master Jinn?” Shiro asked when he saw the grim expression on Qui-Gon’s face.

“The dark side, First Minister,” Qui-Gon said tightly. “It would explain why I have not been able to sense Cian’s presence through the Force. If Rukal is a dark side user, then I fear your wife was right. He is a very dangerous man.”

Qui-Gon turned back to Tydre.

“There is more, is there not?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, Master Jinn. When she would not turn it made my master very angry. He hurt her.”

Qui-Gon’s face twisted with pain but he urged Tydre to go on.

Tydre shook his head mournfully.

“She has gone away. In here.” He pointed to his head. “My master says she is hiding.” Tydre stopped and wrung his hands.

“And she also believes....” He took a deep breath.

“She also believes you are dead, Master Jinn,” he went on. “My master created an illusion which made her think you had come for her and was killed by him.”

Tydre somberly shook his head and looked down.

“She loves you very much,” he said softly. He lifted his head and looked up into Qui-Gon’s eyes.

“And, I am afraid to say, there is more, Master Jinn. My master, Rukal, he....he raped her.”

General Neeshin hissed, his hands balling into fists, his eyes burning.

Qui-Gon folded his arms tightly across his chest. He took a deep breath and called upon the Force as he struggled to control the agony which threatened to consume him, but it exploded behind his eyes, ripped through his chest and tore into his heart like some wild and merciless beast. He stood straight and unmoving but inside he was a howling, maddened thing. _Cian. Cian_.

“What does he intend to do with her?” Qui-Gon finally asked, his voice like chipped ice.

“He is giving her to his master.”

“What?” Neeshin cried as he rushed at Tydre. “His master? What are you talking about, thing? Who is his master?

“I do not know, Salu Neeshin,” Tydre said quickly, backing away from the rage in the general’s face. “No one knows. Not even the acolytes of the inner circle. All we know is that he is very powerful and everything my master has learned about the dark side he has learned from him.”

Neeshin turned towards Shiro and stood at attention.

“With your permission, First Minister, I’ll assemble my forces. We can be at Rukal’s citadel within the hour.”

“No, General Neeshin,” Shiro said. “You will do no such thing.”

“What?” Neeshin cried. “Are you deaf as well as blind, Shiro? I warned you about Rukal. Now look what has happened! An innocent woman has been abused and raped!”

“You will not send your military forces into Jholan Province, General Neeshin,” Shiro said firmly. “That is religious caste territory. Do you want to risk a civil war?”

“I can’t believe what you’re saying, Shiro. I thought you were her friend,” Neeshin cried, his eyes blazing.

“I _am_ her friend!” Shiro suddenly shouted, his kindly features twisted with rage. “Do you think I do not wish to have Rukal’s throat between my hands right now!”

He raised his hands and shook them at the general.

“It was I who invited her here, to our world, on a mission of peace and diplomacy,” Shiro went on in a strangled voice. He shook his white-haired head, his eyes dark with anguish. “And now, to know these vile and evil things have been done to her by a member of my own Council!”

Shiro quickly choked back a sob. He remained silent for a long moment, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to control his anger and grief. He then took a deep, shuddering breath.

“But we must also remember who and what we are, General,” he went on quietly, but firmly. “We have a responsibility to our people, to our world. We can not allow our personal feelings to interfere with our duty.”

Qui-Gon reached over and took Neeshin by the arm.

“The First Minister is right,” Qui-Gon said. “You must not risk civil war. Not even for her. Remember, she is an emissary from the Republic. She would not want to see your world plunged into war on her account.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this,” Neeshin cried. “Are you just going to leave her there? Don’t you care for her?”

“Yes, General Neeshin, I do care for her,” Qui-Gon said softly. “And no, I’m not going to leave her there. But, if Rukal is a dark side user, you will not be able to stop him. I must face him. Alone.”

Neeshin glared back at Qui-Gon for a long moment, then let out an explosion of breath.

“How do you intend to get inside the citadel, Master Jinn?” he asked. “I’ve seen it. It’s heavily fortified. I don’t think even your vaunted Jedi powers can help you walk through walls.”

“I know a way,” Tydre said.

Neeshin turned and frowned at Tydre, but Qui-Gon moved past the general and took Tydre’s arm.

“Will you help me? Can you get me inside?”

Tydre glanced quickly between Qui-Gon, Neeshin and Shiro. Then he nodded.

“There’s an old passageway on the side of the citadel which faces the sea. It’s been abandoned for centuries. I found it one day while I was wandering through the citadel. But, I must warn you, not only are my master‘s acolytes there, he also has a small cadre of mercenaries.” He glanced quickly over at Neeshin. “They are part of his plan to build his own army.”

“They won’t be a problem,” Qui-Gon said.

Neeshin shook his head. “Now I know you are mad, Master Jinn. You’re going to march into Rukal’s citadel and face not only him, but his acolytes and mercenaries and you’re also going to trust this thing?” He gestured angrily at Tydre. “He’s Rukal’s creature. How do you know he’s not leading you into a trap?”

“I don’t know,” Qui-Gon said calmly.

Neeshin shook his head. “I don’t like it. Not one bit!”

Neeshin then walked over and thrust his face close to Tydre’s.

“Tell me, thing! Why are you doing this? Why are you betraying your master?”

Tydre backed away from Neeshin, his eyes wide. Qui-Gon quickly pulled the general away from Tydre. He then gazed down at the young Jalatan, looked deep into his eyes and saw what Tydre had seen and what he had felt; Cian’s torment and his shame at having been the cause of it.

“I know why, General Neeshin,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

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

An hour later Qui-Gon, accompanied by Neeshin and Tydre, walked towards the landing field where a small shuttle piloted by one of Neeshin’s men waited to take him and Tydre to Rukal’s citadel.

As they neared the shuttle, Neeshin grabbed Qui-Gon’s arm.

“I still say this is madness. You can’t do this alone.”

“He won’t have to,” a voice called out from behind them.

Recognizing that voice, Qui-Gon turned quickly, both irritation and gladness warring within him as Obi-Wan walked towards him, accompanied by Aalea and Shiro.

Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe as they approached.

“Master,” Obi-Wan said. He and Aalea bowed.

“You should not be here,” Qui-Gon said as he gazed sternly down at them.

“We know, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“You have disobeyed a direct order from Master Yoda and the Council.”

“That is correct, Master.”

“And possibly ruined not only your future, but Aalea’s as well.”

Aalea moved next to Obi-Wan.

“We know that too, Master,” she said, her violet eyes gazing up into his.

Qui-Gon sighed. He wanted so much to be angry with them, but in his heart he could not. For he knew why they had come and risked their futures to do so. It was for her.

“They had just arrived, Master Jinn,” Shiro explained, “so I brought them as quickly as I could. I was told by Master Yoda that if they came to Jalat, I was to detain them both.”

Shiro turned towards Obi-Wan and Aalea and smiled at them.

“But I do not think I will be doing that.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head to Shiro. “Thank you, First Minister.”

Qui-Gon quickly introduced Obi-Wan and Aalea to Neeshin and Tydre. Since the shuttle could only carry four, he sent Obi-Wan over to the pilot to get a quick lesson on how to fly it.

Neeshin touched Qui-Gon on the arm, pulling him away from where Aalea was talking quietly with Shiro.

“Yes, General Neeshin?”

Neeshin gestured with his eyes over at Aalea.

“Surely you’re not taking her?”

“Why would I not?”

“She’s a woman. Do you want her to suffer the same fate as Mistress Nyal?”

Qui-Gon looked over at Aalea. For a moment he was tempted to order her to remain behind. But he knew he would not, for not only would he have kept her from helping the woman he knew she loved as dearly as any mother, he would also have called into question her ability to fulfill her duty as a Jedi.

“No, General Neeshin. I will not leave her behind. But I swear to you, I will die before I let what happened to Cian happen to her.”

Neeshin looked at Qui-Gon for a moment, then quickly nodded. The two of them walked back over to the shuttle. Obi-Wan leaned his head out of the cockpit’s window from where he sat in the pilot’s seat.

“I’ve got it, Master. We’re ready to go when you are.”

Qui-Gon turned to where Aalea was standing next to Shiro and gestured for her to get into the seat next to Obi-Wan.

“Good luck, Master Jinn,” the First Minister said as he clasped Qui-Gon’s arm.

“Thank you, First Minister.”

Qui-Gon then turned to Neeshin who glared at him for a long moment.

“I’m giving you four hours,” Neeshin growled. “If you’re not back by then, I don’t care what the Council says. I’m bringing my forces in.”

“Fair enough, General Neeshin.”

Qui-Gon and Tydre got into the back seat of the shuttle and Obi-Wan quickly took them aloft.

As Obi-Wan gained altitude, Qui-Gon leaned forward between him and Aalea.

“You both were very wrong to have disobeyed Yoda‘s orders.” He sighed. “However, I am glad you are here. You have been briefed? You know where we are going and what we will be facing?”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said as he took the shuttle in the direction the Jalatan pilot had shown him on the holomap. “First Minister Shiro told us everything.”

Aalea turned to Qui-Gon, her beautiful eyes full upon his.

“We are with you, Master.”

He nodded.

“Then let’s go get her,” he said quietly.

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

Rukal sat musing in his chambers, his long, thin fingers laced before him. He had just spoken with Lord Sidious who had informed him Lord Maul would be arriving that day to retrieve the woman. Then Sidious had inquired about her condition and Rukal, who had learned over time never to lie to his dark master, told him. If Rukal thought he had seen the true nature of Lord Sidious before, he learned at that moment he had not.

“You mad, perverted fool!” Sidious hissed from beneath his black hood. “I ordered you to deliver her to me, not harm her. What arrogant insanity made you think you could turn her to the dark side. Fool! I should order Lord Maul to remove your entrails and strangle you with them!”

“The woman resisted, my lord---,” Rukal began.

“Silence!”

Rukal licked his suddenly dry lips.

“Does my master still want her?” he asked contritely.

“Deliver her to Lord Maul. I will see what I can do with what you have left me. But pray, Rukal, pray very hard that when Lord Maul arrives, I will have chosen to forgive you for your insane incompetence.”

Now, as Rukal sat in his chamber, he wondered what he would do if Sidious ordered Maul to punish him. Should he try to resist?

Rukal titled his head. Over time, as he had learned more and more about the true nature of the Syad and the dark power which resided within it, Rukal’s sense of his own self-importance had swelled. He no longer saw himself merely as a man, but as a force of nature; as powerful and as potent as the elements of earth and sky. But, Rukal was also no fool and he knew he was not yet ready to challenge his dark master or his apprentice. Maybe someday, but not now.

So, instead, Rukal quickly conceived a plan he was certain would put him back in his master’s good graces. That plan had come about when Rukal had discovered Tydre was missing from the citadel. Rukal was not blind. He had seen the look in Tydre’s eyes when he had nursed the woman. The pity, the sympathy, the compassion.

Rukal grimaced. He supposed it was his fault for having taken Tydre in and put so much faith in him. However, although the boy was quite strong with the Syad, he was also his mother’s son. But then, Tydre was also Rukal’s son and he had hoped the boy would have been stronger because of that.

Tydre did not know Rukal was his father. Rukal and Tydre’s mother had had a secret affair when Rukal had been assigned as an acolyte at the temple in her village. After the death of her and her husband during the floods, Rukal had returned to the village and found Tydre begging on the streets. He had taken him in, hoping to train him as his heir apparent once Lord Sidious made him ruler of Jalat.

Now his sentimental fool of a son had most likely run off to tell the Jedi where the woman was. And once the Jedi knew, he would come. Rukal did not doubt that.

Rukal, therefore, was going to kill the Jedi when he came for the woman and give his head to Lord Sidious. Maybe that would help to assuage his master’s anger. He knew that Lord Sidious had ordered him not to confront the Jedi but---and Rukal mentally shrugged---he could always claim he acted in self-defense.

Then, after the Jedi was dead Rukal would find Tydre and kill him for his treachery. Rukal smiled slowly. He would take his time killing his son, however, for the boy needed to know before he died who was master here. Rukal‘s long orange eyes glittered in the darkness of his chamber.

Part Twenty-Seven

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

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan landed the shuttle near a grove just beyond the citadel. It was night and the Jalatan moon was hidden by thick clouds. The Jedi and Tydre quickly jumped out. Qui-Gon looked about him. He could hear the furtive movement of night creatures among the undergrowth as the wind sighed mournfully through the trees. Just off to his right, he could also hear and smell the sea and, for a moment, he was reminded of the night he and Cian had gone to Shiro’s villa and the way the moonlight had shone on her hair.

He turned to Tydre. “Which way?”

Tydre pointed to the right where Qui-Gon could see a small path.

“It leads down to the beach where the passageway is.”

Tydre started down the steep path, Qui-Gon, Aalea and Obi-Wan behind him.

The path led to a small strip of shoreline. Black waves frothed upon the silvered sand. Tydre then took them to a small cave which lay just under the towering cliffs. Glancing up, Qui-Gon could see the shadowed hulk of Rukal’s citadel as it loomed against the cloud-scudded sky.

_Hold on, Cian. We’re coming._

As Qui-Gon entered the cave he noted the walls had been smoothed out. As they walked deeper into it, it grew darker. Obi-Wan pulled a small glow rod from a pouch on his belt and turned it on. Their shadows lurched and shifted against the faceted walls. They continued on, their boots occasionally kicking small stones which clattered against the walls. Soon Tydre stopped before a large iron door which glowed greenly from the luminescent moss that covered it. He turned, his eyes wide.

“What a fool I am,” he cried. “The door can not be opened from this side.”

Qui-Gon went over to the door and saw Tydre was right.

“I will go into the citadel and open it for you from the inside,” Tydre said.

Qui-Gon shook his head. “You should remain with us. There‘s another way.”

He looked over at Obi-Wan and Aalea. They nodded and unclipped their lightsabers from their belts.

Qui-Gon took Tydre by the arm. “Stand back.”

Tydre moved to the side as Qui-Gon unclipped his lightsaber and ignited it. Aalea and Obi-Wan followed suit and the three carved an entrance in the door.

Stepping through the opening, they entered a tunnel.

“This tunnel lies beneath the lower levels where Mistress Nyal is being held,” Tydre said. “Come.”

Tydre led them down the tunnel to a damp stairway. They went swiftly up the stairs and entered a long corridor. Dim glowlamps were set at intervals along it. Qui-Gon raised his hand and motioned for the others to stop. He peered down the hallway and reached out with the Force. The hallway was empty. He gestured for the others to follow.

They ran down the hallway and stopped before another iron door. Tydre pulled it open and led them up another flight of stairs. They passed through a stone-arched entrance into another hallway along which were a number of heavy windowless doors.

Tydre pointed to where two mercenaries stood guard before one of the doors.

“Mistress Nyal is there,” he whispered.

Qui-Gon looked over at Obi-Wan and Aalea.

“Aalea, stay here with Tydre.”

She nodded. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan then raced towards the guards who, at the sight of the Jedi, pulled out their blasters and fired. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan easily deflected the shots.

Obi-Wan swung his lightsaber at one of the guards, singeing him on the arm. The guard dropped his blaster. Obi-Wan quickly powered down his lightsaber and used the hilt to knock the guard out. Qui-Gon took care of the other guard who slipped unconscious against the wall. Checking to make sure there were no more, Qui-Gon waved at Aalea and Tydre to join them. Tydre ran over and knelt next to one of the guards. He searched through his clothing and found the key to the cell. He quickly opened the door.

Qui-Gon ran in and his heart nearly stopped. Cian lay on a cot, her dark red hair a curtain about her still face. He went over to her and knelt. He touched her cheek. It was cold, but she was alive.

“Cian,” he whispered as he stroked her hair. She didn’t move. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling above her.

Aalea moved next to Qui-Gon.

“No, oh, no,” she cried. She knelt down, took Cian’s hand in hers and held it to her cheek, her eyes filling with tears.

Qui-Gon took a deep heavy breath, then turned to where Obi-Wan looked over with anxious eyes.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Take Cian to the shuttle. Aalea and Tydre go with him.”

“But, Master, where are you going?” Aalea asked.

Qui-Gon stood, his eyes grim.

“To Rukal.”

Obi-Wan moved next to Qui-Gon.

“Master, we have her. There’s no need for you to---”

“Do as I say, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said curtly.

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon for a long moment.

“Yes, Master,” he finally said. He ran over and carefully lifted Cian in his arms. As he turned towards the door, Qui-Gon reached out and stroked her face. He looked over at Obi-Wan.

“Get her out of here, Padawan,” he said softly.

“Don’t worry, Master. I will.”

He and Aalea ran out of the cell.

Tydre touched Qui-Gon‘s arm.

“Master Jinn, please, do not do this. Do not go to him.”

Qui-Gon looked down at Tydre.

“I will do what I must, Tydre. Go now. And thank you.”

Tydre stared at Qui-Gon, then bowed deeply and hurried after Obi-Wan and Aalea.

Qui-Gon stood in the bleak dank cell for a moment and stared at the stained cot upon which Cian had lain. Then, squaring his shoulders, he turned and went to where he knew Rukal waited for him.

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

Qui-Gon was not surprised he encountered no resistance as he walked through the citadel. He sensed that people watched him from corners and doorways as he strode through the halls, but no one stopped him. He knew Rukal wanted this confrontation as much as he.

Qui-Gon entered a large entrance hall. Glancing up, he saw a huge wooden door at the top of the stairway. Hen walked swiftly up the stairs and stood for a moment before the door. His lightsaber was in his hand, but unpowered.

He opened the door and entered a long room with a high round ceiling. Along the walls of the room hung various weapons of ancient design; axes, daggers, swords, sabers, and scimitars. They shimmered and glittered in the light of the hundreds of candles that illuminated the room.

Qui-Gon’s muscles tightened when he saw Rukal standing in the center of the room. The priest was dressed in a long black gown edged in red, his hands folded before him.

“Welcome, Master Jedi. It is an honor.”

Rukal bowed, his eyes glittering as he rose from the bow.

Qui-Gon said nothing as he stared back at Rukal.

Rukal tilted his head as he regarded Qui-Gon.

“My master has told me much about the Jedi,” he went on. “What is that line from your code? Ah, yes. There is no emotion, only peace. But that is a lie, is it not, for you are not a machine, Jedi. You are a man. A veritable cauldron of emotions; joy, pity, compassion, rage.”

Rukal moved closer to Qui-Gon, his gown whispering across the floor.

“And love,” he sighed. “Yes, let us not forget love. You do feel love don’t you, Jedi? Love for your fellow beings, love for the Republic and the Order which you serve, love for your friends.” Rukal paused as he looked at Qui-Gon with a crafty expression. “Love...for her.”

Qui-Gon swallowed but continued to stare coldly at Rukal.

“You want to kill me.” Rukal closed his eyes. “Yes, I can feel it,” he said softly.

Rukal then opened his eyes and looked back at Qui-Gon.

“However, to kill me would violate your code. The Jedi use the Force only for knowledge and defense, never for attack.” Rukal spread his arms. “Yet, here I stand, defenseless. You could easily strike me down with your Jedi weapon and no one would know.”

As Qui-Gon remained silent and unmoving, Rukal sadly shook his head.

“But you won’t, will you? That is why we will win in the end, Jedi,” Rukal went on. “You and others like you fear going beyond the boundaries of what you perceive as your moral center and, because of that weakness, the darkness will come and we will triumph.” Rukal smiled wickedly “And you, and all that you hold dear, will be swept away like dead leaves before a mighty wind.”

“Why?” Qui-Gon finally asked, his throat raw. “Why harm her?”

Rukal smiled at Qui-Gon‘s words.

“Why?” He shrugged. “Because I could. That is the lesson you Jedi refuse to learn; that the true nature of the Syad, or the Force as you call it, is the power to do what one wants, when one wants.”

Rukal balled his hand into a fist and shook it at Qui-Gon.

“Power, Jedi, power! The simplicity of pure, unadulterated power.”

“She was innocent.”

Rukal cackled. “Of course she was, but that was the pleasure, the delight. What enjoyment can there be in despoiling the corrupt?”

Qui-Gon’s grip tightened on his lightsaber. Rukal’s eyes shifted toward the movement and he smiled.

“Tell me, Jedi,” he said softly, “did you know she was a virgin?”

Qui-Gon flinched and a muscle in his jaw throbbed.

“Ah, I see you did not,” Rukal said smiling. “You assumed she had already given herself to another. What a pitiful fool you are, Jedi. Considering how much she loves you, I must presume she was saving herself for you.”

Rukal slowly shook his head.

“Quite sad, don’t you think, for such an otherwise remarkable woman to have such a foolish, girlish dream. But,” and Rukal shrugged and looked slyly over at Qui-Gon, “it is too late for you. I was her first.”

Qui-Gon swallowed heavily, a sharp pain stabbing him behind the eyes as a slow rage began to build inside him. His hands twisted about the hilt of his lightsaber.

He moved a step closer to Rukal, his face grim, his eyes like blue stones. He then activated his lightsaber. Rukal smiled and the light from the green blade echoed in his eyes.

“You will kill me now?”

“You’re coming with me, Rukal” Qui-Gon said tightly. “Back to the capital where you will face justice for your crime.”

Rukal threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, but I am not going anywhere! Whereas you, you are going to die! And when I have finished with you, I will retrieve the woman from where your friends have taken her and give her to my master. Oh, yes, I saw them leave, the two Jedi and that treacherous Tydre. But I wanted to face you first. Once I have deposed of you, I will then kill the young Jedi, your apprentice. His head will also please my master, I am sure.”

Rukal licked his lips as he moved closer to Qui-Gon.

“And as for the other one, the little Jedi with the beautiful eyes,” he whispered, “before I kill her and take her head, I will pleasure myself upon her young body. She is a virgin too, is she not?” He smiled. “I wonder, will it be as sweet with her as it was with Cian?”

Qui-Gon moved towards Rukal but, as he did, he felt the Force warning him. He twisted and ducked as one of the axes which had been hanging on the wall whistled towards his back. Qui-Gon swung his lightsaber at it and deflected it away from him.

He wheeled back to Rukal, but before he could reach him, Rukal raised his hands and quickly shaped a shimmering bubble of dark side energy about him. When Qui-Gon’s lightsaber touched it, the bubble sizzled, but did not break. Rukal laughed as Qui-Gon struck at it with his blade.

As Rukal preserved his dark side shield against Qui-Gon’s assault he, in turn, attacked Qui-Gon by flinging weapons at him from the wall. A dagger spun towards Qui-Gon’s left side. He lunged away from it and, as it passed, destroyed it with his lightsaber. Rukal laughed within his shield as he hurled even more weapons at Qui-Gon.

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

As Obi-Wan gently settled Cian into the back of the shuttle, a sound to his right made him freeze. Aalea, who was standing outside, ignited her lightsaber. Tydre, who had taken a blaster from one of the mercenaries, held it in front of him as he moved next to Aalea. General Neeshin stepped through the trees, a blaster in his hand. He looked over at them.

“General Neeshin, what are you doing here?” Aalea asked as she powered down her lightsaber.

“Shiro said I couldn’t bring my troops in. He didn’t say anything about me. My shuttle‘s back behind the grove.”

Neeshin walked over to them; then he saw Cian in the back of the shuttle. He slowly put his blaster into the holster at his hip. As he gazed down at her, he lifted his hand and gently touched her face. He flinched at the coldness of her skin, the emptiness in her eyes, the bruises on her face. Then, with a deep shuddering sigh, he drew his hand back. When he turned to the others his face was ashen.

“That bastard! That gods-cursed, thrice-damned bastard,” Neeshin hissed, his eyes blazing. “He’s dead. Do you hear me? Chief Priest Rukal is a walking dead man.” He then glanced quickly around. “Where’s Master Jinn?”

“He’s still inside the citadel,” Obi-Wan told him.

“Still inside? I don’t understand? If you have her, why is he...?” Realization dawned on Neeshin’s face.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said gravely. “I think he means to kill Rukal.”

Neeshin nodded brusquely. “Good, let’s go help.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “You don’t understand, General. The Force is our ally, but if a Jedi uses the Force to kill out of rage or anger he risks calling upon the dark side. My master is very powerful. If he should turn, he would be even more dangerous than Rukal.”

Neeshin shuddered. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going back.”

“I’m coming with you,” Neeshin said.

Before Obi-Wan could protest, Neeshin raised his hand to silence him.

“Did you neutralize all the mercenaries and acolytes in the citadel? No, I didn’t think so. So you’re going to need help.”

Obi-Wan quickly nodded. He pulled a survival kit from underneath the back of the shuttle and took out a blanket but, before he could put it around Cian, Tydre took it from him.

“I will do it, Master Kenobi,” he said softly. “I have been caring for her.”

Tydre gently wrapped the blanket about Cian‘s still form. As he did, Neeshin watched him with narrowed eyes. When the young Jalatan turned back, he saw Neeshin’s eyes on him. He blushed, then looked down.

“Can you pilot this shuttle?” Neeshin asked him roughly.

“Yes, Salu Neeshin.”

“Take Mistress Nyal and Mistress Ve’Red back to the capital.”

“What?” Aalea cried. “No, I’m coming with you!”

Neeshin shook his head. “You are not.” He looked over at Obi-Wan, his eyes hard. Aalea turned towards Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan, tell him,” she cried. “I won’t be left behind.”

Obi-Wan walked over to Aalea and took her hands.

“Aalea, please, go with Cian. Look after her. General Neeshin and I will bring Master Qui-Gon back.”

Aalea shook her head but, as she looked up into Obi-Wan’s eyes, she slowly lowered her head and nodded.

“Yes, master,” she said softly.

Obi-Wan reached over and gently stroked her cheek; then, cupping her chin, he lifted her head. Aalea looked up into his eyes, then she smiled. Obi-Wan smiled back at her, then he turned towards Neeshin.

“Ready, General?”

Neeshin nodded.

Just as Obi-Wan and Neeshin were about to go through the trees, Obi-Wan heard Aalea in his mind.

***Be careful, Obi-Wan.***

Obi-Wan stopped, astonished, and looked back at Aalea. The shields in her mind against their Force bond were completely down.

***I will, Aalea. And I’ll bring him back. I promise.***

She nodded, her violet eyes full as she gazed back at him. He gave her a small smile, then he and Neeshin turned and ran through the forest towards the citadel.

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

Qui-Gon hammered with his lightsaber at the shield surrounding Rukal. He also struggled to defend himself against the spinning and whirling weapons which Rukal hurled at him, none of which touched the priest within his dark side shield.

Some, however, had gotten through to Qui-Gon. He bled from both arms and there was a cut across his forehead. Some of the blood had dripped into his eye. As Qui-Gon battled Rukal, he knew his only hope lay in getting through to Rukal so, even as he struggled to ward off the weapons circling and wheeling towards him, he continued to beat at Rukal’s shield. Scarlet flashes of energy erupted from its surface as Qui-Gon sought a breach in it.

-----------

As Neeshin and Obi-Wan made their way through the citadel, Neeshin was impressed by the young Jedi’s fighting skills. However, he also noted Obi-Wan went out of his way to avoid killing anyone.

Neeshin, on the other hand, had no such qualms. He coolly jerked his dagger across the throat of one of the mercenaries who had attacked him. The man’s lifeless body slid to the floor. Neeshin stepped over it and followed the Jedi down the corridor.

Another mercenary jumped out of a side door and fired at Obi-Wan. He easily deflected the blast with his lightsaber, then Neeshin ran up and shot the mercenary in the head.

Obi-Wan continued down the corridor. Two of Rukal’s acolytes leapt at him from opposite ends of the hallway. Rolling, Obi-Wan dodged them, jumped up in the air and kicked them both sharply in the face. They crumpled soundlessly to the floor.

Neeshin ran next to Obi-Wan and looked down at the unconscious acolytes.

“Nice trick,” he said.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. Suddenly his eyes widened.

“No, master, don‘t!” he cried.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Rukal asked, shaken by the look of horror on the young Jedi’s face.

Obi-Wan didn’t answer. He turned and ran down the corridor, his robe flying out behind him. Neeshin followed.

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

Qui-Gon called upon the Force as he continued to strike at Rukal’s shield. He sensed the shield was weakening, but not enough for him to get through. He grimaced as sweat poured down his face. Rukal was using the dark side against him and, as the Jedi Master knew all too well, the lure and the seduction of the dark side was that it was often much stronger than the light.

Rukal grinned at him through his shield, his eyes crazed. As Qui-Gon continued to strike at it, his only thoughts were of Cian’s rape and torture at the hands of this mad man, his only emotion an overwhelming despair at his having failed to protect her and his only desire to destroy the thing that had harmed her.

Suddenly an image flashed in Qui-Gon’s mind; it was of Cian smiling up at him the night they had arrived at Shiro‘s villa, her lovely face glowing with delight, her beautiful dark gray eyes mirroring the stars which had shone above them. Then that image was replaced by the way she had looked in that bleak grim cell Rukal had put her in; her face bruised and battered, her eyes empty and lifeless.

Rage swelled within Qui-Gon and it swept him along on a colossal wave of anguish which was comprised of all the years he’d had to watch as the innocent suffered and the guilty went unpunished. With his grief and fury roiling within him like a storm-lashed sea, Qui-Gon gave himself up to the anger that seethed within him. With a strangled cry, the Jedi Master drew upon the dark side of the Force.

A torrent of power surged through Qui-Gon. His lightsaber was a blur as it ripped through Rukal’s dark side shield, cleanly severing the priest’s left arm.

Rukal screamed and fell to his side. He clutched the stump where his arm had been.

The weapons which had been flying about the room clattered to the floor.

“Do it! Do it!” Rukal shouted, as he stared up at Qui-Gon, spittle flying from his mouth.

Qui-Gon raised his lightsaber above his head.

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

Rukal huddled on the floor, pain arching through him. He looked up as the Jedi stood above him, his breath ragged, his eyes pools of blue lava. Rukal realized then that he had underestimated the strength of the Jedi and the depth of his love for the woman. The Jedi was going to kill him.

But, Rukal knew that if the Jedi killed out of anger, he would turn completely to the dark side and become an agent of evil. Perhaps, Rukal thought, as he waited for the death blow, though he had failed with the woman, he might still have a gift for Lord Sidious after all. A Dark Master of the Jedi.

“Do it! Do it!” he shouted.

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

Obi-Wan entered the room where he had sensed Qui-Gon was in trouble. The sight before him made his mouth go suddenly dry.

His master, his face contorted with rage, stood above Rukal, his lightsaber raised above his head and poised for the killing blow. Obi-Wan could feel the dark side energy swirling about the room. He ran over and grabbed Qui-Gon’s arm.

“Master!” he cried. “Don’t! Don’t do it!

Qui-Gon turned and looked down at Obi-Wan. When he saw who it was, the dark madness fled his eyes.

“Obi-Wan?” he said softly.

“Please, Master. Don’t. She would not want it.”

Qui-Gon shuddered, took a deep breath, then slowly lowered his lightsaber. He powered it off, then dropped heavily to his knees. Obi-Wan knelt next to him and put his hand on his arm.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon whispered. “What have I done?”

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

Neeshin ran in, his blaster in hand.

“Is he all right?” he asked Obi-Wan as he looked down at Qui-Gon.

“Yes, he’ll be all right now.” Obi-Wan jerked his chin to where the priest lay moaning on the floor. “Check on him.”

Neeshin holstered his blaster and walked over to Rukal. He gazed down as the priest glared up at him, his right hand clutching the stump of his severed left arm. Glancing over at Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, Neeshin saw the young Jedi was busy helping his master to his feet.

Neeshin turned back to Rukal. He knelt next to the priest and pulled his dagger from its sheath. He showed the blade to Rukal and was pleased when he saw froths of fear foaming in the man’s eyes. Neeshin stared at Rukal for a moment. Then, with a feral smile, he quickly thrust the blade into Rukal‘s heart.

“This is for her, you bastard,” Neeshin said softly.

The priest groaned, his eyes widening from the pain.

“No!” Obi-Wan shouted when he saw what Neeshin was doing. Neeshin held the knife in Rukal’s chest and twisted it. He then pulled it out and wiped it on the priest’s gown. With a satisfied grunt, the young general stood and gazed calmly over at Obi-Wan.

“He needed to be tried for his crimes,” Obi-Wan said. “Not summarily executed by you. Why did you do it?” ”

Neeshin looked over at Qui-Gon. The two exchanged a long look. Then Neeshin shrugged and put the knife back into its sheath. He gestured with his head towards Qui-Gon.

“Ask him. He knows why.” He walked out of the chamber.

Obi-Wan looked up at his master.

Qui-Gon’s face was set in stone, his blue eyes like ice as he looked over at Rukal’s body.

“Let’s get out of here,” he finally said. The two men turned and left the chamber.

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

From his vantage point on the ridge above the citadel, Darth Maul looked through his electrobinoculars as the two Jedi and the Jalatan soldier came out of the citadel. Maul had just landed on Jalat but, when he had received no answer from Rukal through the comlink, he’d decided to reconnoiter the area before making his presence known. He watched as the three made their way to a shuttle. The shuttle then took off and headed east. Maul clipped the electrobinoculars to his belt and made his way down the ridge. He entered the citadel.

Maul soon found the Jalatan priest. He walked over and looked down at him. His arm had been severed, apparently by a lightsaber. Maul could also see the priest was dead, stabbed through the heart but, just to be certain, Maul kicked him viciously in the side.

Rukal did not move. His eyes gazed sightlessly up at the ceiling. Maul grunted. Good riddance, he thought. He had never liked the arrogant priest. Maul turned around and took a deep breath. It was obvious the woman was gone and his master’s operation on Jalat compromised. Soon the Jedi and the Jalatan military would return to ferret out what Rukal had been up to and who he had been working with. Maul knew what was required of him. He left the chamber and moved swiftly through the citadel, killing any of the remaining mercenaries and acolytes. He then returned to his ship.

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

When Maul had finished placing the bombs about the citadel, he left. When he gauged he was safely enough out of range, he pressed the button on the remote controller. The citadel exploded. Maul waited until the dust and smoke had cleared to be sure nothing remained of it.

He then got into his ship and took off and, as he flew away from Jalat, he thought about the two Jedi he had seen coming out of the citadel; the tall one with the long graying hair and the younger one with the braid signifying he was still a padawan.

A master and his apprentice. Maul had itched to confront them, for he was eager to test his skills against the Jedi. However, as he took his ship into hyperspace, he recalled Lord Sidious’ words to him whenever Maul would press him on the matter.

_Patience, my young apprentice, patience. Soon we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi._

Maul smiled as the starlines streaked about him.

_Yes, soon, my Master. And then we will have our revenge._