Anakin's chubby fingers turned the projector around and around.  Obi-Wan had been teaching him to combat his fear. Do not let fear substitute thought for action, he remembered. Resolutely, he placed the
projector on the flat-topped nightstand and pressed the button. His mentor, fully garbed in his Jedi attire stood solemnly before him.

"If you are listening to this, Anakin, I trust you have arrived safely at Naboo."

"Safely, my butt," Anakin snorted.

"You should know that I deeply regret the words and actions that have led to this situation. With the time you have been allotted by your journey, I hope you are able to look back on our argument and see that the misunderstanding occurred as a result of too many words being spoken
too quickly at the same time.

"As I'm sure Queen Amidala has informed you, and I do hope you are doing honor to your position and hers by calling her Queen Amidala and not Padme--"

"Oops," Anakin muttered, unapologetically.

"--a bounty has been placed on you. Someone is paying a lot of money to have you kidnapped." The Jedi's eyes seemed to bore into him.

"I will not let that happen, Anakin. I have been investigating the matter, and I expect you to stay under the care of the Nubian guard until we figure
out what is going on. I will be on Naboo in a week's time. Then, we'll talk
about bringing you home. Until then, my young Padawan, keep yourself safe. May the Force be with you."

Anakin played the holo twice more, before one of the handmaidens came to get him for dinner.



Obi-Wan sat in the same booth as before, at precisely eight in the evening. He sat alone.



"Would you care for some more roast ghanak?" the Queen asked Anakin.

"Please, Your Highness," Anakin replied, formally. "Master Obi-Wan also makes a...version of this dish. I must compliment your chef, though. His recipe is excellent."

A shadow of a smile crossed Amidala's face. She'd received enough letters and holos rife with complaint of Obi-Wan's cooking to read between the lines. A specific reference to keth patties wafted through her
mind, and in seconds, she had dissolved into a fit of quite undignified giggles.  The handmaidens exchanged glances, wondering if the stress of ruling a planet had finally caught up with their darling ruler.



Obi-Wan slept fitfully. Ronyne had not shown up for the meeting he'd requested. Before plunging the knife into the bar, he had slipped a paper from his sleeve, stating only, "Tonight. Same time. Same place."

And she had ignored him. Nightmares plagued him; dreams of dark creatures taking Anakin, Obi-Wan trapped helpless by shadows. He came awake, his senses screaming danger. He jumped from his bed and instinctively ran to Anakin's room. The light came on, and there she
was, curled up on Anakin's bed, playing with the Podracer.

Obi-Wan felt the tension drain from him, and be replaced with another kind of anticipation. She had shown, after all. She had merely shown at the same time and place as the immediate previous meeting. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked pointedly at the toy in her
hand.

She sighed and sent the Podracer back to its place on Anakin's desk. She then spread her hands in a question.

"I have a proposition for you."

She leaned back on her elbows, her eyes traveling up and down his body in a way that almost caused him to blush, taking in his bare chest, loose breeches, and bare feet. She tilted her head to the side and twirled one finger around, indicating he should turn around.

He nearly found himself doing so, before catching himself. "Now who's being naughty?" he muttered, glaring at her.

She sighed elaborately.

"Ronyne."

The sound of her name made her sit up and stare at him intently.

"I want to make a bet."

"A bet." Her attention piqued, she sat forward on the bed, shifting her weight to her knees. She moved forward, cocking her head.

"A bet. If you win...I'll give you Anakin."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed immediately.

"If I win...you get the bounty removed."

She pointed to herself, staring at him in disbelief, then shaking her head, decisively.

"Find a way."

She looked away for a long moment. Finally, she turned back and nodded. Her eerie green eyes searched his face, looking for something
deeper.

"The cantina, tomorrow night, at eight. Same booth. We'll do it there."

She nodded. Her eyes never leaving his, she slid off the bed, leaving her cloak puddled behind her. She slunk up to him, reaching up to touch his face with one finger.

"If you lose?" she rasped.

Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore the sensation of the soft leather against his unshaven skin.

"I don't intend to lose," he replied, mirroring the gesture, running his finger up the soft material of the cowl that hid her features. Her eyes seemed to soften to him, and he opened his hand into a caress. What happened next, neither could describe.

Obi-Wan pulled her closer; Ronyne pulled away. He tried to hold onto her, and ended up with a handful of cowl; she twisted to the side, and jerked down. The cloth slipped easily from her head, and for a moment, neither really comprehended what had happened. Obi-Wan stared at the cloth in his hand. Ronyne stared at the floor. In an instant, the slow motion in which they seemed trapped broke, and his eyes were searching for her face, and her boot was in his throat. As he flew backward, he grabbed her ankle, throwing her into Anakin's chest of drawers. He was on his feet in seconds, she was slower. He grabbed for her, and captured her wrist. She pulled a small dagger, seemingly from nowhere. He slapped it away from her hand, and it clattered on the floor. Somehow, another appeared in her hand, and this time, he received a nick on the forearm before getting his thumb on the pressure point that forced her hand open.

She swung her foot at his ankle, knocking him off balance. She pulled her
hand loose and came up with another knife.

"Where are those things coming from?" Obi-Wan grated out as he swept his now-free hand backward and grabbed the lightsaber he had set down minutes ago. He slammed the metal handle into her head.

The force of Obi-Wan's blow sent Ronyne spinning to her hands and knees. He stood over her, lightsaber ignited.

"Pull another knife," he told her, "and you'll die, right here, right now."

She pulled her torso up, kneeling. Her toes pressed against the wood floor, as she stared straight ahead. 

With a wave of dizziness, Obi-Wan realized that he knew that pose. Qui-Gon had knelt in exactly the same way when he was trapped in the
hallway of lights with the Sith Lord. Obi-Wan had watched him kneel in
meditation, toes prepared to spring from the floor, head held straight and
high with pride. As he watched, her head dropped, her gaze finding the
floor. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her arms behind her, crossing her
hands at the wrist. The position of defeat. She was giving up.

Obi-Wan felt sick.

His lightsaber handle hit the floor wtih a loud and distinctive clatter.
Obi-Wan sank slowly to a crouch, studying the profile of the unmasked
mercenary.

"You're not scarred at all, are you?" he asked, amazed to see smooth, pale skin where he'd expected angry, red, bubbled burn scars. She tensed, the strain evident in the set of her shoulders and the tightness in her mouth.

He reached for her and was surprised when she did not flinch. With two fingers, tucked under her chin, Obi-Wan turned her head so he could see the other side of her face.

He congratulated himself on not reacting to the rope of scar tissue that slashed angrily down her face, from temple to chin, and down, into the
top of her tunic. It was straight, and thin, and white with age; a puffed crease sliding down her face. Obi-Wan reached out and traced the mark
gently with one fingertip. She did not move, and Obi-Wan suspected she
could not even feel his caress.

"That's a lightsaber scar," he said, quietly.

She slapped his hand away.

"I'm sorry. How far does it run?"

Her gloved hand hooked in the top of her tunic and pulled it down, showing him how the scar cut down her neck, and sliding her hand sideways to follow it across her throat, into her collarbone on the opposite
side, and stopping under her arm. Then, she let go of the collar, the material sliding up quickly to hide the worst of the scar. She held her hand
out expectantly, demanding her hood.

Obi-Wan ran the cloth through his hands, the material slipping easily over his fingers. He raised his hand to his mouth, dangling the cowl in front of her. "Tell me who did that to you, and you can have your hood back."

She glared at him, holding her hand closer.

"Not 'til you tell me." He twitched his hand, letting the soft cloth swing, gently.

Her mouth twisted into a painful grimace, and she broke eye contact for a long moment. Then, she looked straight back at him and rolled up on her feet.

"Windu," she growled, snatching the cloth from his suddenly slack grasp.

"But...but that means..."

She glared at him as she yanked her mask back on.

"That means you are Jalen-Ka's Padawan--"

He was talking to an empty room.



"You look prettier without all that stuff on your face," Anakin announced, when he was let back into Amidala's room.

"Thanks." Amidala grimaced as she unwound her hair from its elaborate style. "There...I think my handmaidens sit up at night and think up these hairstyles." She shook her hair free.

"Why can't you just look like that?"

"It's tradition, Anakin. Besides, I couldn't hide out as Padme without it." She grinned at Anakin. "And I wouldn't have Sabe to con into imitating me at boring functions...and I can wear boots under those big dresses..."



Obi-Wan sank down on Anakin's bed, noticing Ronyne's cloak pooled beside him. He picked it up absently, rubbing it between his fingers. It was soft, he noted, softer than anything he'd ever worn.

Jalen-Ka's Padawan. The Jedi turned Sith and his Padawan. At the time, it had been hotly debated whether the Padawan had turned Sith, or was just defending her Master when she was struck down. There had been
rumor that she had lived, since there was no body, but that had died out
with the next scandal. Obi-Wan had been at the Temple then, studying as
an initiate, and he'd heard the murmurings, but had been relatively shielded from the actual talk.

And she had just been in his home, kneeling on his floor.

Obi-Wan sensed a sweet, smoky smell, and realized he had her cloak bundled to his chest. It still smelled like the Cantina, he thought, lifting it to his face. The fabric crumpled softly in his hand, slipping over his bare torso. He wrinkled his nose, the heady scent making him dizzy. He threw the cloak to the ground and went outside, into the cool, night air, wondering if he was slowly losing his mind.



Mace Windu sat alone in meditation, events from fifteen years ago playing themselves out in his head. The transmission from the Rodian
government, warning the council of the possibility that Jalen-Ka, a most
respected and trusted Master, training his third Padawan, not because
there was no place for him on the Council, but because he loved to train the young Jedi, had gone to the Darkside. The heated debate and disbelief.

Finally, he and Yoda had left for Rodia to investigate the situation.  Jalen-
Ka, driven mad by the death of a former Padawan had attacked them; they had defended themselves. Jalen-Ka's current Padawan, still just a
girl, maybe not even 15, had charged into the room, intent on saving her
Master. It had only been one slash of his lightsaber, he remembered.
She was inexperienced. She had joined the fight on the offensive. She had left her side wide open. She had not blocked as he'd expected. The sound and stench of searing flesh as his lightsaber arced through her body was still etched in his mind. She fell to the ground, wounds gushing blood despite the cauterizing effect of the lightsaber. The betrayal, so evident in her eyes as she'd seen her attacker, had broken his heart. Then, Jalen-Ka had attacked with such an intense fury, they had barely managed to dispatch him. When he had returned to the fallen Padawan...she was gone. Her cloak and lightsaber remained on the floor, charred and forlorn. There was no body. She'd had no tendencies toward the Darkside. She was merely trying to protect her beloved Master. They had agreed that she had become one with the Force; her physical manifestation dissolving into that which had formed it. It was rare, though not unheard of. And he had hung onto that possibility, forcing it into a truth. Mace Windu looked up, tears pouring down his face. If he had indeed done what had to be done, why did his soul feel so tainted?



Obi-Wan turned the glass of ale around in his hands. He had not taken any of the beverage the glass contained. He would need to be at his most alert for Ronyne. If she showed. Frankly, he was surprised he was still alive, after seeing her face and realizing who she was. He looked up
from the glass and nearly jumped to see her sitting across from him.
She melted into the darkness of the booth, with only her glowing green eyes staring lasers into him.

"I believe this is yours," he said, picking up the black bundle of her cloak from the seat beside him and handing in across the table.

She nodded her thanks.

"Thank you for coming."

She spread her hands in a questioning manner.

"I behaved inappropriately last night. I wasn't sure you were going to come."

"I wasn't sure I was going to let you live."

Obi-Wan blinked at her. "Why did you?" His hand closed on his lightsaber, under the table. Was this just her prelude to an attack?

Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she leaned forward, over the table. "Your Padawan."

"You want him that bad." It was not a question

She shook her head. Then, her eyes twisted into what Obi-Wan was coming to recognize as a smile and she nodded at him.

"You knew that with my Padawan in danger, I'd do anything to keep him safe...including keeping your secret."

She nodded, again.

"So, let's get down to business." Obi-Wan brought a pack of cards from his robes and set them on the table. "Are you familiar with poker?"



"She cheats!" Anakin announced, glaring at Sabe.

"What?" Sabe answered, innocently. She spread her arms wide, looking around.

"You cheat! You have cards up your sleeves!"

"Says the boy with sleeves that hide his hands."

"I'm going to be a Jedi! I'm not allowed to cheat!"

"Sabe, Anakin," Sache started, quietly.

"How do we know you aren't using mind tricks?"

"'Cause I'm a rotten Jedi and I suck at them!"

"Both of you, calm down," Eirtae commanded. "Sabe, give it up. We all know you--" She reached across the table to add chips to the pot, accidently dumping two cards from her sleeve. "Whoops."

"And you say I cheat!" Sabe yelled, gleefully.

Amidala just grinned.



Obi-Wan split the deck and dealt the cards, keeping his eyes on Ronyne every second. She shrugged her cloak from her shoulders. He did the same.



"Deal again. This hand's screwed."

"Language, ladies!"

"Ladies? Where?"



For the first time, Obi-Wan could feel her presence, and he felt it
overwhelmingly. It seemed every move he made was somehow felt by her
and that every move she made caressed his own aura. They seemed to be meshed in a dance of wills; a game neither would concede. Cards
flashed and traded and moved about the table as if on automation. Obi-Wan began to feel dizzy with the intensity of the game. Ronyne's eyes, her hands, the cards, all swam before his face. Was she doing this to him? He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Let's slow this down, shall we?" He let his hand drift over the buttersoft leather of her glove.

She raised her hand to his, and their fingers interlocked, caressing.

She slid her fingertips lower, down his palm, around his wrist...and pulled a card from his voluminous sleeve. She flipped it around so he could see
which one she had pulled, and hit him on the nose with it. Shaking her
head, she dealt.



"Anakin, they're handmaidens. They all cheat," Amidala whispered in the boy's ear. "With them, it's not about learning to win, it's about learning not to lose too much."



"Ale?" Obi-Wan offered, helpfully, sliding his glass to her.

Ronyne gestured to her covered mouth and stared at him, witheringly.

"Take it off." Obi-Wan lifted a hand to her face, letting his fingers play with the edge of her cowl.

Her eyes showed her alarm, and she started to pull back.

But when Obi-Wan pulled his hand away, it was not her cowl between his fingers, but the Queen of Spades.

"And you say I cheat."



"Noooooo! I hate you all!" Rabe collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Sabe stared at her. "What's her problem?"

"Nerves," Eirtae said, calmly, chewing on an unlit cigar.

"Ei? Where did you get that?" Sache demanded.

"Ric Olie. What? I didn't light it."



Ronyne reached for Obi-Wan's ale.

"I thought you had issues with that."

She glared at him over the rim of the mug. When she set the empty glass down, her cowl was firmly in place.

"How'd you do that?"

Ronyne rolled her eyes and slouched behind her cards.



Amidala and Anakin had long since given up on trying to play with the increasingly ruthless handmaidens, and had resorted to gawking from
the sidelines.

"I'll see your five and raise you a ten," Sabe offered, tossing her chips into the pot.

"A ten? Are you trying to bluff me?"

"Bluff you? I can't bluff."

"You're the Queen's imposter. Your job's to bluff."

"Oh, well, when you put it that way. Call. Oh, look, full house. My pot. C'mere, baby."



Six shots and four hands later, Ronyne was still winning and Obi-Wan was still alcohol-free. He studied his cards, gauging his luck, as she built small structures with her cards and an unnaturally steady hand. He glanced, annoyed, at her playthings, and used the Force to knock them
over.

She scowled at him.

He felt somewhat childish and petty. But not too much.

"Raise you ten."

She yawned, stretching her arms over her head, and brought her hand down with a thirty-credit chip in it, which she tossed on the growing pile.

"Thirty? That's somewhat rich. What do you have over there?"

She gave him a blatantly seductive look.

"You're being naughty, again, aren't you? I suppose I'll have to see that thirty and raise you another twenty to get an answer, eh?"

She saw his twenty and threw the rest of her credit chips on the stack.

"All of it?" Obi-Wan stared at her, knowing she was forcing the final hand. What did she have? He couldn't afford to let her have the entire pot as it stood. Slowly, he pushed the remaining credit chips toward the middle. "I call."



Anakin was asleep on the floor. Amidala looked down at him.

"Poor little guy," she murmured. "Girls, I think we wore him out."

"You cheat!" Rabe screeched.



His hand hovered inches above the table.

Her hand hovered inches above the table.



Amidala brushed her hand through Anakin's unruly locks and wondered how close Obi-Wan was to discovering the truth of the matter.



The cards hit the table.



Anakin shot upright.

"Padme!" he gasped. "I had this horrible dream!"



Obi-Wan stared at the cards on the table.

"Two pair? You bet all that on two pair?" He stared at her assortment of eights and kings.

She shrugged eloquently, gesturing to his three tens. "You called my bluff."



"What was it, Ani?"

"It was...I don't remember, now." Anakin sat back in confusion.

"Well, it's all over, now," Amidala comforted. "It was just a dream."



"You owe me."

"It will be done."

She melted into the shadows leaving a pile of cards and a row of shot glasses behind. Obi-Wan sighed in relief and gathered the cards together. As he rose to leave, he saw a lone card glistening under the table. It was the King of Hearts.

Ten hours later, he was well on his way to Naboo. He paced the small hold of the transport, twirling his lightsaber through his fingers. He had no doubts that Queen Amidala would employ every means she had to keep Anakin safe. He just hoped that it would be enough.



"I had two of my best guards outside the boy's room," Captain Panaka reported to Amidala. "They said the entire night was quiet. No one approached Skywalker's room, and there was no noise from inside."

"Thank you, Captain." Amidala, once more in her elaborate headgear and facepaint, nodded regally. "I am quite confident in your security force. I am less confident in Anakin Skywalker's ability to stay in one place. Please make your guards aware of how...slippery he can be."

"I'll make sure they know, your Majesty," Panaka said, trying to hide a smile.

Just then the door to the throne room cracked open, and Anakin Skywalker's face peered in.

"Sorry," he said, catching sight of the Queen and Panaka. "I was looking for Padme."

"Padme will be along to look for you, shortly," Amidala told him, winking, when Panaka turned to look at him. "Where are your escorts?"

"My...oh." Anakin had the grace to flush. "They were um, well they were busy, and I kind of forgot to tell them--"

"There he is!"

Amidala and Panaka glanced at each other as a the two guards assigned to Anakin slid into the throne room and, upon spotting the Queen, dropped to one knee.

"Come on, you," the one on the right hissed at Anakin. "You can visit with the Queen later," he offered, not unkindly.

"Ok. Sorry 'bout running off." Anakin glanced back at Amidala and did a cheap imitation of a bow. "Thank you, your Highness." His chubby face broke out in a big grin as he ran from the room.

Amidala turned to Panaka and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Panaka sighed. "All right," he sighed. "Younger, faster, smarter.  Got it."



Ronyne slid into the pilot's seat of her transport. She sat for a minute, then picked up the bundled cloak Obi-Wan had returned to her, hugging it to her chest.

Jedi, on her planet. And she was helping him. What was she thinking? She leaned her head against the back of the seat, remembering. How many years ago had she last dealt with Jedi? Ten? Twelve? Less than that? She reached under her cowl, feeling the rippling scar cutting across her skin. His fingers had traced the same path. The nerve endings were dead, so she couldn't feel much, but...

She lifted the cloak to her face, expecting the sweet, smoky smell she was used to. The fabric crumpled softly in her hand, spilling over her lap. Abruptly, she wrinkled her nose and held the cloak away from her. It smelled all fresh...and clean...like...soap?

"Shit," she growled, tossing it in the back of the transport.



"So, have you decided what you want to do about going back with Obi-Wan?" Padme asked.

Anakin scuffed along the garden path beside her, watching the ground with great interest. He mumbled something unintelligible.

"I'm sorry. I think I missed that."

"I think he's going to be mad."

"I think he's going to be happy to see you safe."

"And then he's going to yell."

"He might. You must have given him an awful scare."

"I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can. But sometimes people who love you worry, anyway."

"I know. My mom always did." Anakin kicked a small rock out of the path.

"Are you missing your mother a lot, right now?"

"I'm missing her cooking." He looked up to make sure Padme had caught his joke. Then, his face turned serious. "Yes, and no. I always miss her. But I'm glad she doesn't know there are people after me.  She'd get upset."

"I can't say that I'd blame her. But you didn't say what you were going to do about finishing your training."

"I'm going back," Anakin said, softly. "If Obi-Wan will still let me.

I have to become a Jedi so I can go back and free my mom and Kitster and Wald and all the other slaves."

"Will you be ok with Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah." Anakin gave her a half-grin. "He's ok."



Obi-Wan Kenobi was climbing the walls. In fact, he was, practicing a Jedi exercise of using the Force for balance as he walked around the cargo hold's slick, metal walls. The hyperdrive had shorted out, and his pilot was trying to fix it. He just hoped Ronyne could stop the bounty.

And that Amidala's guards could keep Anakin safe. And that Anakin wouldn't do anything stupid. He blew out the breath he'd barely realized he was holding and jumped to the ceiling. He had a lot to worry about.



"I have to go get made up for dinner," Padme said, tugging on her loose ponytail.

"Ok...I should probably wash up. Obi-Wan would tell me that I'm filthy."

"You are." Padme grinned at him and ruffled his hair. "I'm glad you're going to be a Jedi, though. Qui-Gon would be very proud of you for sticking it out. Gotta go." She took off down the hall, leaving him in front of his door.



Obi-Wan was bouncing at the ramp, as the pilot settled the transport on a high-priority pad.

"Ok, kid," the pilot called back to him. "You're loose."

Obi-Wan skipped down the ramp and jogged a few steps across the landing pad before pulling up his hood and attempting to compose himself as a proper Jedi Knight.



"Don't move."

Amidala froze. The cold metal of something sharp was touching her neck, and she didn't like it. Her handmaidens had done her hair and were waiting to dress and make her up. She had spent only seconds to herself, and somehow, this person managed to take advantage of that brief time.

"Take this."

A blaster was shoved into her hand. Amidala looked at it, curiously.

"What am I to do with this?" she asked.

Without an answer, a shadow pushed past her, and through the secret passage in the mirror that Amidala had thought only she, Panaka, and the handmaidens knew. Amidala was glad she was still in her soft boots and loose pants. She hefted the blaster experimentally, comfortable with the feel of the weapon. She didn't know who she was with or where she was going, but she was glad she was armed.



"Hi." Anakin studied his two escorts. One was short, dark-haired, and wiry. The other was taller, blond, and thin. "Are you guys new?"

"Yeah," the blond one said. "The old guys couldn't keep up with you. We're going to take you to dinner."

"Cool," Anakin said, hoping they couldn't hear his stomach growling. "I'm starved."



Surely they were expecting him. Obi-Wan walked into the Naboo palace, wondering why no one had been sent to greet him. Entrance was no problem, considering his history with Naboo, but everyone seemed surprised to see him here. Had they not received his transmission? There
was something wrong, he was suddenly sure of it. The air seemed heavy
with something...something foul. Involuntarily, his mind reverberated with
the hiss of the Sith's lightsaber, and Qui-Gon's pained face flashed in his
mind. NO, he told himself, sternly. Now was not the time. Naboo may be
a trove of nightmares, but that's all they were, he reminded himself.

Nightmares. I'm talking to myself, he realized. I really must be losing my
mind.



"Guys, this isn't the way to the dining room."

"You haven't seen the secret passage yet?" the dark-haired one asked. "Queen Amidala thought you'd like to see the hiding places around here."

"No..." Anakin studied the men. Padme hadn't said anything about secret passages. Of course, maybe they were so rarely used, she just thought of it. "Are you guys sure you're guards?"

"Of course we're sure...why wouldn't we be?"

Anakin reached for the lightsaber that had not been on his belt since he first boarded Trank's ship, and found a blaster shoved under his chin.

"Oh. Maybe 'cause we're not."


"We didn't know you were coming," Sache explained, leading Obi-Wan toward the dining room.

"You mean you never got my transmission?"

"Transmission? No. I wonder how that happened?"

As Obi-Wan was about to speak, another handmaiden, the blond one, ran up to Sache and grabbed her arm.

"Sache..." she pulled her to the side, but Obi-Wan's sharp hearing picked up her words easily. "Have you seen Amidala? We fixed her hair, and now we can't find her."

"Can't find her?" Sache hissed. "What do you mean, Eirtae?  Where could she have gone?"

"I don't know. We're dressing up Sabe right now, and Panaka   knows ... he's checking the tunnels."

"Where's Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, interrupting their conversation.

"Anakin?" Sache said, blankly. "He should be on his way to dinner.

We have guards escorting him..."

"Guards that might now be looking for the Queen?"

Eirtae gasped. She muttered a most un-handmaiden-like word and hauled a blaster out of her robes, holding it pointed at the ceiling.

"C'mon, Sach," she muttered. "Let's go."

Obi-Wan drew his lightsaber and followed the swiftly moving handmaidens down the cavernous hall.

"In here." Eirtae led them into a room with a guard and a great many monitors, showing different parts of the palace. Her sharp eyes scanned the rows of screens, not finding what she sought.

"Pern," she said, to the guard. "Did you see where her Highness disappeared?"

"No, ma'am," the young guardsman said, shaking his head. I saw her go into the dressing room with all y'all, and that was the last I've seen of her."

"There are no cameras in the dressing quarters," Sache explained, quietly to Obi-Wan as Eirtae squinted at the cameras in exasperation.

"But those are the only places, besides a few high-priority suites. Most of
the private rooms are recorded, but not displayed.

"She went into the dressing room with us," Eirtae mused, "left us for her private bath...and never came back. She should still be in that area...or else she's on tape. If she was in the halls, she'd be caught on one of these cameras...she couldn't get to the non-displayed rooms without the
halls...damn."

"What about the secret passage behind the mirror?" Sache asked.

"We haven't used it in ages, but she might have gone in there for some
reason."

"Sache, you're a genius! Where does that come out?"

"The ballroom, I think. Pern..."

"Right on it, ma'am."

"The ballroom is closed when not in use, so the film is not on display," Sache whispered.

One of the screens winked out and reappeared. Immediately, Obi-wan saw his Padawan in danger.

"Get me there," he ordered.

"Let's go," Eirtae commanded, lifting her blaster again.


The shadowy figure pushed Amidala down the tunnel, until they found the wall. A booted foot slammed against the door, swinging it open, and pushing Amidala out.

The Queen's sharp eyes quickly took note of the scene, and she brought her blaster to bear on the guards.

"Anakin, are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, uh, yes, your Highness," he replied, glancing her way.

"Release the boy," she commanded, training her blaster on the guard who was not holding Anakin hostage.

"Let us go, or the boy has a new airway," the other man snarled, tugging Anakin in front of him. "Put the blaster down, or--" The man cried out in pain as he crumpled to the floor, the bolt of a carefully aimed blaster driven through his back. Anakin started to break away, toward Obi-Wan, but the partner was fast, drawing his own blaster on the boy, and backing away from Amidala and the pair of handmaidens standing with Obi-Wan. Eirtae's blaster was smoking, lightly, and she had it trained between the man's eyes. The false guard knew he was only meters from the kitchen, and pushed the blaster harder into Anakin's neck. Obi-Wan wanted to use the Force to hurl it far, far away, but was did not want to risk the man's trigger finger being as itchy as he suspected. He could tell the handmaidens and Amidala also wanted to fire, but would not, until Anakin was clear.

"You don't want to do this," he suggested, softly, waving his hand in front of the man's vision.

"I want out of here," he said, his trigger hand shaking.   Jedi mind tricks work only on the weak-minded, and at the moment, the man's mind was strong in fear and anger. Obi-Wan tried to use the Force to soothe him, to a negative effect.

"None of that Jedi stuff, hear?" The man's eyes darted around. "If I even think something like that's going on, the boy's dead, got it?"

"All right." Obi-Wan held up his hands. "No Jedi skills."

"Good..." The man was trying to keep them all in his sights. "Now I want--"

He never finished. He fell backward, dropping his blaster. Anakin ran for Obi-Wan, driving himself into the young Jedi's leg. Sache went to Amidala as Panaka and a contingent of guards came in through the kitchen.

"About time," Eirtae informed them. She had been circling the fallen man with her blaster wielded, but now she let it drop to her side.

"He's gone." Obi-Wan looked over at the false guard. An elegantly twisted, silver knife protruded from his neck.



The moment Obi-Wan had seen the knife, his first instinct was to find Ronyne, but Anakin's presence held him back. Although the boy had released his leg the moment he realized his captor was on the ground for
good, he stayed sheltered in Obi-Wan's shadow.

"There is nothing to fear, young Padawan," Obi-Wan said, firmly, his tone, if not his words, chastising Anakin, who should be wary as anyone of the dangers of fear.

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied, his voice hushed. He stepped up to stand next to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. Master? That was something he rarely heard.

"Master?" Anakin asked, hesitantly, as they stood, watching Panaka's men work and the handmaidens tend to their queen. Neither looked at the other.

"Yes, my Padawan?"

Comforted by these words, Anakin pressed forward. "I apologize for my haste and impet...for being impetuous. And I'm sorry you had to come all the way to Naboo to get me," he added. "But if it's ok with you, I'd...I'd like to go home with you and finish learning to be a Jedi."

The boy looked so pitiful and contrite, Obi-Wan had to hide a smile. Still, Anakin had learned an important lesson and had to recognize that. Besides, Obi-Wan wanted to milk this for all its worth.

"Being a Jedi is not something you can walk away from," he reminded Anakin. "It entails a great deal of commitment."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said. "I realize that, now."

"Are you dedicated to this path? It is a hard one."

"Yes, Master, I am."

"If you are not sure..." Obi-Wan started. "Anakin, even if you don't want to become a Jedi, I'll understand. I still want you to come home with me."

Anakin looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "No, Master. I want to become a Jedi. I am sure of it."

"All right, then." Obi-Wan graced Anakin with a slight smile.

"Either way, I'm glad you're coming home with me. We'll leave the day after tomorrow. Come on, now. We must pay our respects to the Queen."

He held out a hand, which Anakin took happily, and walked across the room. Dropping the boy's hand, Obi-Wan bowed to Amidala, and Anakin imitated him.

"You have a couple of very well-trained handmaidens, your Highness," Obi-Wan said, nodding toward Eirtae and Sache. "You are very lucky."

"That was all me," Captain Panaka cut in as he walked by. "Them handmaidens are handcrafted by yours truly to be the finest stealth fighting force in the galaxy." He offered Obi-Wan a broad wink as he went to oversee the body removal.

"I am very lucky," Queen Amidala admitted, with a small smile on her face. "I have very good people working for me. And very good friends."

"I thank you for granting Anakin amnesty here."

"Of course, Jedi Knight Kenobi. Anakin, and yourself, are always welcome in the palace as my guests. I only hope you will stay longer.  I
would hate for you to find every visit to my planet a nerve-wracking experience."

"Your hospitality has always been much appreciated, your Highness," Obi-Wan told her. "We can stay a bit longer, but I'm afraid I have business on Malastare that must be attended to. My transport will leave the day after tomorrow." He glanced down at the solemn little boy beside him, and smiled, slightly. "Anakin will be accompanying me."

"I'm so very glad to hear that." The Queen's face broke out into a wide smile. "But we're missing dinner. Sache, find me a robe. Padme's
eating with the Jedi, tonight."

"Anakin, I have a confession to make."

Anakin looked up from the controls of the transport ship. The pilot was asleep, after being assured that Obi-Wan and Anakin were in complete
control of the ship.

"Put it on autopilot for a moment and come here."

Doing as he was told, Anakin came to Obi-Wan's side. "Yes, Master?" he asked, remembering to hold his hands together in the appropriate Jedi fashion.

"Earlier this week, I informed you that there was no excuse for gambling."

"Yes, Master. It was contrary to the Jedi Code."

"Yes, well...it seems I've broken the Code."

"Master?" Anakin's eyes were wide and Obi-Wan could almost see the gears spinning in the boy's head.

"Yes...in order to get Ronyne to lift the bounty on your head...well, I made a bet with her."

"You made a bet, Master?" Anakin asked, eyes shining.

"Yes, Anakin. At the time it seemed the only way. I'm not saying I was particularly correct, and I may receive quite a reprimand for it, but I wanted to be the one to tell you."

"What was the bet? Master," Anakin added, hastily.

"I told you. If I won, which I did, she was to find a way to lift the bounty on your head."

"But what if you hadn't won?"

"I'd have to give you up to her."

Anakin gaped at him. "But...Obi-Wan, what if you'd lost?"

"Well," Obi-Wan answered, recklessly, "I suppose I'd be doing a lot of paperwork for the Jedi Council. They're so fussy about lost Padawans...have to document everything. Probably would have used up a few dozen pens, and killed several trees, without a doubt--"

"OBI-WAN!" Anakin shrieked. "What if you'd lost?"

"I didn't intend to lose."



Darth Sidious keyed his transmission screen and felt a flash of irritation when he saw a creature dressed in the same dark manner as himself.

"Where's the boy?" he asked, impatience coloring his tone.

The figure pushed back its hood to reveal a masked Ronyne. She shook her head.

"What do you mean, no? Did you call off the bounty?"

She nodded.

"Why?" Sidious was livid. "I'll have you killed for this!"

Ronyne rolled her eyes.

"Mock me, will you? You're head will be mounted on my wall!"

She flicked her hand as if clearing away the idle threat. "Wait," she rasped.

"Wait? Have you gone completely mad this time?"

Her hands spread wide, and she bowed, slightly.

"Wait..." Sidious contemplated her, thoughtfully. "I should wait, and let the seeds grow in the boy...let his anger grow..."

"Betrayal."

"Yes...yes...betrayal would be so much...sweeter...as you were betrayed, Ronyne...you have walked the edge between the lightness and the dark for so long...years...I have never known anyone with the strength to stay so balanced...you must be so tired of trying so hard...you must be so tired...you can't play both sides forever, Ronyne...come to me, my dear...you're almost here...just a simple step...come to the Dark Side with
me..."

The last image he received before the transmission died, was that of the intergalactic signal to engage himself in a most unholy, not to mention acrobatic, act.



Obi-Wan lay in his bed, feeling the light breeze tickle across his bare chest. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the usual scents of Anakin's tree, the oil/fuel combinatioin that seemed to linger about the house, and hgukth-lioth, which he had allowed Anakin to buy as a special treat, that
night in town. They'd shared it, making enough of a mess to warrant a quick dip in the spring behind their little place. He smelled it on the second breath. The faint, sickly sweet scent of smoke he associated with the Cantina.

He rose, silently, but quickly, taking his lightsaber as he crept toward Anakin's room. He pushed the door open, soundlessly.

Ronyne sat on Anakin's bed, smoothing the sleeping Padawan's bad haircut.

A thousand thoughts ran through Obi-Wan's head, most of them producing scenarios of deceit and betrayal.

But Ronyne made no offense. Instead, she brushed her gloved fingertips across Anakin's cheek, touched her forehead to his, and rose to face his master. She bowed, slightly, letting the sleeves of her robe fall over her hands. After a moment, Obi-Wan returned her gesture. When he straightened, she was gone.

Fin



Author's note: Ronyne's name was derived from the word Ronin, an
ancient Japanese term for a warrior without a master. The fairy tale from which she took her name is entirely of my own creation. I am considering expanding this story into a trilogy to explore more of Ronyne's past. If anyone is interested in sequels, please email me and let me know what you liked and did not like.