Author's note:  This story uses the Malastare series concept and characters,
but is darker than the average Malastare story.  Anyone familiar with "The
House That Obi-Wan Built" will have enough information to understand
the setting, though the story is more of a stand-alone.

House of Cards
 by Smitty
 

     "Hush, now, Ani, it's time for bed."
     "Please, Mom?  Just one more?"
     "All right, Ani...just one more.  This one is an old Corellian
legend."
     "Corellians look like humans, right?"
     "That's right...This story is about a great Corellian warrior.  Her
name was Ronyne, and she served her master well, and bravely.  One day,
her Master made a bad deal.  He would have lost quite a bit of money to
another family, so he ordered Ronyne to go kill the head of the rival
family.  Ronyne was a good warrior, but more than that, she was a good
person, and knew that it would be wrong to commit murder because her
Master did not want to pay a debt he had incurred.  She refused to carry
out her Master's bidding, and he became very angry.  He ordered her
killed.  The assassins came to her room late at night and attacked her as
she slept.  They wounded her, and though she awoke and managed to kill
the evil assassins, she could not save herself.  The Corellian gods were
watching and knew that she was strong in spirit and soul.  They allowed
her spirit to wander the galaxy, looking for a new family to protect.  Now,
she does her job from the shadows, never to be seen..."
 
 

     Obi-Wan Kenobi gave the gruel a half-hearted stir as he waited on
Anakin.  The boy woke before the sun and took off for parts unknown
every morning until breakfast.  It was a daily struggle to retrieve him for
meals and training.  Letting the spoon fall against the pot with a muted
clatter, he strode to the door, his irritation showing in the lengthening of
his strides.  He yanked the door open with slightly more force than
necessary.
     "Anakin!" he yelled, stepping outside.  He felt the boy's presence.
Satisfied that his message had been adequately conveyed, he turned to go
back inside when something caught his eye.  Something dark and cold
invaded the blood running through his veins as he stared at the wickedly
serrated dagger pinning a scrap of paper to the door.  He reached out with
the Force, pulling the dagger out of the door and to his side.  He unfolded
the paper cautiously.
     "Cantina.  8pm.  Alone."
     It was signed with a smear of blood.
 
 

     Anakin Skywalker could tell that his mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was
preoccupied.  For one thing, he was actually eating the gruel.  Anakin
wrinkled his nose.  Nasty stuff.  And even nastier today, since it had stuck
to the bottom of the pot and burnt.  The black, charred layer at the bottom
infused the rest of the meal with a bitter, smoky taste.  Obi-Wan didn't
seem to notice.  Anakin could almost see the gears working in his master's
head as Obi-Wan shoveled gruel into his mouth.  He sighed.  This could
mean one of two things.  One:  Obi-Wan was developing some new
training plan that would involve a lot of meditation and probably some
ridiculous-looking gymnastics that would result in more than a few bruises.
Two:  Obi-Wan had his mind on something else entirely, and Anakin was
going to be spending a lot of time in meditation while Obi-Wan ran around
doing whatever it was he felt needed to be done.  After careful
consideration, Anakin decided the second scenario was more plausible.
When Obi-Wan was obsessed with new training plans, he got this gleeful
look that filled Anakin with dread.
     "Um, 'scuse me, Master," he muttered, sliding from the chair.  "Got
chores to do."  He made a beeline for the exit, only to be stopped by his
master's magically restored attention.
     "Anakin."
     "Yeah?"
     Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at  him.
     "Yes, Master?"
     "I have some errands to do.  I want you to work on that patience
exercise I taught you yesterday."
     "All morning?"
     "No, Anakin.  Your line is, 'Yes, Master.  Your every wish is my
command.  I live only to serve you.'  Now, go meditate."
 
 

     Obi-Wan carefully transferred a scraping of the blood from the note
onto a slide and pushed it into the computer.  He studied the writing again,
as the computer performed its analysis.  The strokes were strong, harshly
presented against the white paper.  The letters were neat and legible; the
perfect formation of each letter like that of a talented schoolchild.  Like
that of a person hiding their true handwriting.  The computer beeped and
Obi-Wan shifted his attention to the readout.  An elevated amount of midi-
chlorians made him raise his eyebrow, until he arrived at the DNA analysis.
Wonderful.  The note had been written by a Force-sensitive bantha.  He
shut off the computer with a swipe of his hand and went to get his cloak.
 
 

     "I'm going to town--"
     "Can I come?"  The look of hope on Anakin's face almost made
Obi-Wan cave.  He forced his heart to harden.  After all, Anakin had to
learn discipline.
     "You may not.  Continue with your patience exercises and when
you truly feel you have achieved something, meditate on that."
     "Yes, Master.  Your every wish is my command.  I live only to
serve you," Anakin mimicked with a bit too much sneer for Obi-Wan's
taste.
     "Do not test me, Anakin.  You're not going to win."  Obi-Wan
paused, wondering if he had been too harsh.  "But at least you are
learning," he offered, with a grin.
     The look he received from Anakin was less than rewarding.
 
 

     "What has become of the boy?"
     "To which boy are you referring?"  Mace Windu's presence
commanded the small room in which he stood with Supreme Chancellor
Palpatine.
     "The child who helped save Naboo.  The one who is to be trained
as a Jedi."  Palpatine knew he was hitting a sore spot with Windu, and
decided to twist the knife.  "He seemed like such a charming little chap,
though he seemed a bit old to start on your way of life."
     Mace Windu's face did not change in any way.
     "He is being trained by Jedi Knight Kenobi."
     "Ah!  Yes, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  The one who killed the Queen's
mysterious attacker."  My apprentice, he thought darkly.  Who will be
avenged.
     "He was a Sith."
     "Ah, yes.  Of course.  Well, I was looking forward to having two
such heroic personalities pursuing the Jedi's duties to the Senate, but I have
not seen either since that little debacle on Gaclena."  He had known he was
treading on dangerous territory.  He was unsure of whether the true story
had come been fully divulged to the council, but the episode had filled him
with great hope.  The boy had been overcome with fear and anger.  He was
ripe for the influence of the Dark Side.  And so powerful.  So powerful.
     "Padawan Skywalker is being trained by Jedi Knight Kenobi."
     "I'm so glad to hear that.  I was worried about the lad during that
mission.  He seemed so lost and scared..."  Palpatine trailed off, calculating
on the Jedi Master's keen logic to fill in the blanks.  "I just wanted to make
sure he was doing all right.  Write him a bit of a note, perhaps."
     Mace Windu eyed the Supreme Chancellor.  Why all these
questions concerning Kenobi's Padawan?  Windu did not like this.  Nor did
he like Palpatine himself, and neither did  Master Yoda, he knew.
     "You may send it to the Council.  We will make sure he gets it."
     "Oh?  Through the Council?  Isn't that rather unusual?  Are his
whereabouts being kept a secret?"
     You slimy garduin, Mace Windu thought.  What are you getting at?
    "Padawan training is very serious," he said, aloud.  "It is essential that
Skywalker's training is not interrupted in any way.  He has a lot of catching
up to do."
     "Oh, I understand, completely," Palpatine assured him.  "An
excellent policy, I'm sure."
     Inside, he was fuming.
 
 

     Obi-Wan stepped into the Ale Barrel, the town tavern where he
sometimes took Anakin to eat, and let his eyes adjust to the low lighting.
The Ale Barrel was more of a town gathering place than a watering hole
for the local scum.  That one was down the street, and he did not take
Anakin there.  Technically, Anakin should not have been frequenting the
Ale Barrel either, but Obi-Wan had managed to convince Samke, the
bartender, that "Anakin was old enough."  Anakin loved the tavern.  He got
to run around and listen to the stories the old spacers had to tell.  He was a
great favorite around the men, who seemed to think Anakin's stories of
heroism and Podracing were all exaggeration by the boy's overactive
imagination.  Obi-Wan did all he could to encourage that view.
     Now, as he let the sunlight filter in behind him, the usually friendly
and ebullient spacers growled and entreated him to close the door.  He
ignored their pleas to make his point, then allowed the door to swing shut
behind him.  A brief scan of the room presented him with his target.  He
headed straight for the corner booth and the lone spacer shoving a mound
of yert eggs around his plate.
     Spath Kadnau was not yet fifty, but had spent more than 30 years in
space, first as a Republic pilot, then as a commercial transport and cargo
pilot, and on occasion, as Obi-Wan had often suspected, a smuggler.  The
stress of constant space travel, coupled with a diet of tavern food and ale
had aged the spacer considerably past his prime.  He had thinning hair and
was beginning to gather an extra layer of padding at the waist.  He was the
survivor of countless brawls, double-crosses, equipment malfunctions, and
tavern yert eggs.  He was a hard man, and right now, he was a hard man
with a hangover.
     "You're Spath Kadnau?"
     "Unh."  Spath blinked painfully up at the tall, young man staring
down at him.  He seemed familiar, but Spath was struggling to place him.
He blinked again, and suddenly the lights came on.  "Aw, yeah, you're
Anakin's old man."  Spath nodded, proud of himself, and then racked his
brain.  He knew there was a question he had always wanted to ask the man,
and now he couldn't scrape it up from the depths of his alcohol-sloshed
brain.
     "He admires you very much.  May I sit down?"
     "Sure.  Be comfy.  Not like I own the booth."  Spath grinned
widely at Obi-Wan, doing his best to be friendly.  He liked that Anakin kid.
     "Anakin tells me you are the most comprehensive source of legends
in the galaxy."
     Spath blinked at him and pushed his eggs aside.  He leaned back in
the booth, hangover replaced by the sharp curiosity that made him so good
at his job.  "If you mean I know every story there is to tell, then yeah, I got
the goods."  He studied Obi-Wan's odd clothing and youthful face.  No
way was this guy Anakin's father.  He was very nearly a kid himself.
     "I was served with a request for a meeting," the kid said, laying a
piece of paper on the table between them.  "It was accompanied by this."
Next to the paper, he lay a small, shining knife with a twisted, serrated
blade.
     Spath's face froze, his eyes locked on the evidence.
     "You recognize it?"
     "Kid, someone's playing a joke on you."
     "I don't think so."  Obi-Wan opened the note and showed him the
smear of blood.  "I heard a rumor once, of a bounty hunter who signed
notes like this, but I didn't pay attention at the time, and never listened to
the whole story."
     "That's all it is, kid, a rumor.  Don't you go listening to that sort of
thing."
     "I'm listening to nothing," Obi-Wan said, practically.  "But I am still
in possession of a cryptic note and a rather ugly piece of weaponry.  I think
that's all the evidence necessary to want a few answers."  Obi-Wan was
fully prepared to use his Jedi powers to coerce an answer from the man,
but never needed them.
     "Your rumor, kid, was about a bounty hunter named Ronyne."
     "Ronyne?"  Obi-Wan recognized the name.  "After the mythical
Corellian warrior who was killed by her master?  Her ghost was
condemned to roam the galaxy, looking for acceptance into another clan."
     "That's the idea.  Either way," Spath continued, sinking into his role
as a storyteller, "this particular psycho chick is a bounty hunter and
assassin.  She dresses all in black and melts into the shadows.  Word has it
that she got burnt up in a ship disaster way back whenever, and she's all
scarred and disfigured.  She keeps her face covered.  Don't cross this dame.
Bad news.  She's real big on knives, the nastier the better.  That little toy
she left you is just a party favor.  I heard 'bout guys who double-crossed
her and ended up in very little pieces in orbit 'round Alderaan.  She's a
myth, kid.  Every spacer and outlaw has heard of her.  She's a nightmare."
Suddenly, Spath sat up straighter, and became the hardened, cynical spacer
once more.  "A bad dream.  Nothing more.  I'm tellin' ya, someone's just
trying to scare you."
     "How did such a myth get so detailed, not to mention widely
believed, if it had no basis in reality?"
     "Aw, it had a basis, all right.  Some chick got it in her head she was
gonna be a bounty hunter and dress up in black robes or something.
Spread some rumors, everyone's afraid of her, she don't got nothing to
worry 'bout.  I think that was 'round ten years ago.  Girl's dead, now.
Heard she went down in a sabotage mission.  Got captured, didn't get out
in time."
     "So, she was real."
     "Naw.  The person was real.  Rest of it's bantha poodoo.  It's like
your little buddy's stories.  Believe me, kid, I've seen it all, and there ain't
no way your kid did half the stuff he claims he did."
     Obi-Wan knew otherwise, and made a mental note to remin Anakin
to watch his trap around the spacers.
     "Well, thank you very much for your help, Mr. Kadnau.  I
appreciate it."
     "Naw.  It was nuthin'."  In a flash, Spath remembered the question
he had wanted to ask.  "Hey, how'd you get Sparky up there to let the kid
in here?"
     Obi-Wan turned to look at Spath.  "He's old enough," he said, with
a seemingly careless wave of his hand.
     "Aw."  Spath turned back to his eggs.  "'Course he's old enough.
What a dumb question."
 
 

     Obi-Wan returned to the small cottage, brandishing a container of
kaadu kebobs and oirn noodles to make up for Anakin's morning of
patience.  He was not happy to realize that Anakin was not to be found.
So, he waited.  In fact, he waited well into the evening, until Anakin trotted
in the front door, as grubby as he had ever seen him.
     "Anakin!"  Obi-Wan surveyed his charge's greasy attire, mussed
hair and grimy fingers.  "Where have you been and what have you been
doing to get yourself in this state?"
     "Don't be mad--" Anakin started.
     "It's a bit late for that," Obi-Wan informed him.  "Have you no
respect for my authority?  Do you believe you can simply train yourself
when you feel like it?"
     "Aw, Obi-Wan..."
     "Do you?"
     "No, I was just bored..."
     "Anakin."
     "Aw, you weren't around, anyway!  If I can't train myself, why do
you keep leaving me alone?"
     "You are a ten-year-old boy.  I should hope that you are mature
enough to finish what needs to be done before...what did you do, anyway?"
     "Well...I sorta went down to the Podrace stadium 'cause I wanted
to check out the pods...there's a race the day after tomorrow, and I was
talking to one of the racers, and she let me help her out a little..."
     "Anakin!  Really.  Podracing?  What did I tell you about that?"
     "You said I couldn't race.  But then you said we could go see a race
sometimes."
     "But not at the expense of your training.  Besides, there was no
race today.  You had no business being there."
     "Why?  I don't understand.  Why can't I race?"
     "It's not proper, Anakin.  You are in training to become a Jedi
Knight.  You cannot participate in such an event--"
     "So?  Why not?"
     "For one thing, it's dangerous.  A Jedi never puts himself in danger
for the mere thrill.  Also, you have an unfair advantage.  You can use the
Force--"
     "I could use it before!  I did use it before!  I was the only human
fast enough--"
     "But you could not control it.  Now, you are trained in use of the
Force, and it is inappropriate for anyone associated with the Jedi to
participate in a contest in which they have an unfair advantage.  Not to
mention, Podracing is a haven for gamblers.  To be involved in such a--"
     "Qui-Gon gambled for me.  He bet the ship to Watto that I would
win--"
     Obi-Wan felt a sharp pain in his chest at the mention of his old
master's name, but he ruthlessly pushed it aside, reminding himself that
even as a Padawan, he often disagreed with his master's methods, no matter
how much he loved the man.
     "--and then he bet the pod against my freedom and Qui-Gon--"
     "Just because Qui-Gon did it does not make it right!"
     A deafening silence draped the room.  Too late, Obi-Wan realized
the angle Anakin had chosen to pursue.
     "Anakin, I did not mean that it was not right to--"
     "Shut up!  Shut up, Obi-Wan!"  The boy looked to be near tears,
but he was too angry to notice.
     "Anakin, please listen to what I am trying to say."
     "No way!  No!  Just stay away."
     Anakin ran to his room, leaving Obi-Wan alone to stare after him.
 
 

     He was late.  Sharp green eyes tracked Obi-Wan's passage through
the cantina.  He strode silently to the back, eyes catching every movement
made in the dark hovel.
     The booth in the corner seemed safe enough to the young Jedi, so
he settled himself on one side, resting a one booted foot on the seat next to
him.  He rested his elbow casually on his raised knee, dropping his hand
comfortably close to his lightsaber.  He sat alone, longer than he would
have expected, and was starting to think he had missed the meeting when a
figure detached from the shadows, slipping soundlessly into the seat across
from him.
     "You're late."  The voice had a gravelly tone that rivaled Yoda's.
     A careful evaluation of his companion warned Obi-Wan not to
argue the semantics of whom had been kept waiting.  A black cape, similar
to his own, in style, engulfed a small body, hiding it from even the most
prying of eyes.  Black cloth swathed her face beneath the cloak's hood, her
features hidden in a cowl, until she became a being black as the shadows, save
only piercing green eyes, which were now studying him shrewdly.
     "I'm here," he said instead.
     She regarded him, silently.
     "I figure you'll tell me why I'm here when you're good and ready,"
Obi-Wan responded, nonchalantly.  He reached out with the Force, trying
to determine her intentions, and was met with a void.  It was as if there was
no one sitting across from him.
     She stared at him, silently.
     "All right, then."  Obi-Wan was still trying to determine why he
could not sense her.  She should  have enough of an aura for several
people, but he was getting nothing.  He tried not to let that irritate him.  He
tried not to let her silence irritate him.  He reflected that he should be much
more patient after several months of dealing with Anakin, but he just
seemed to becoming shorter of temper all the time.
     She held her black-gloved hand a few inches above the table top.
     "Charades?  All right, then.  Low."
     She shook her head.
     "Short?"  Nod.  She pointed to him.  "Are you calling me short?"
    He knew perfectly well that was not her intention; he was trying to goad
her into speaking.  Her eyes narrowed as she shot him a withering look.
    "Very well.  A short me.  My kid?"
     "Your Padawan, Jedi."
     Obi-Wan's senses screamed danger at him.  No one was to know
that they were on Malastare or what they were doing.  The Council knew
of their location, and it would be pretty easy to guess that they were Jedi,
training on a few months of downtime, but her manner told of a source
more deadly than pure observation.
     "Anakin's in danger?"
     A nod.
     "Someone besides me wants to kill Anakin?"
     A shake.
     "They want him alive?  Why?"
     "Hell if I know," she mumbled.  "I just shoot people."
     "Why are you telling me, then?  Are you not interested because you
can't kill him?"
     "I like to let them know."  Her voice was starting to sound like it
was coming from further away.  Her face had all but disappeared in her
cloak.
     "So this is--"  Obi-Wan blinked.  She was gone.  He was quite sure
she had been sitting across from him just a moment ago.  There was
nowhere for her to go...was there?  He jumped up and felt along the wall
next to the booth.  Nothing but shadows.  He found a back door, along the
other side of the wall, and pushed outside.  She could not have gone
through this door.  She would have had to slip past him, for one thing, and
for another, the door stuck horribly.  He struggled outside, and surveyed
the lot.  A couple was leaning against a fence.  Obi-Wan was turning away
when he heard the man shout at him.  He turned, just in time to deflect a
blaster shot with his lightsaber.  He returned it, just a hairsbreadth away
from the man's hip, and walked back inside, turning off his lightsaber and
stowing it, before anyone else saw the weapon.  Where had she gone?
 
 

     Obi-Wan piloted the landspeeder back the little house on the town
outskirts, his mind mulling the duel problems of Anakin's anger and
Anakin's danger.  Why, he reflected, did all his problems center around the
boy?  Surely life was never this complicated before him.
     It was, he finally decided, just in different ways.  He no longer had
someone looking over his shoulder, coaching him and grading him on
everything he did.  He no longer had to argue the council's mandates with
Qui-Gon.  No, he countered himself.  I have to argue them with Anakin.  It
was beginning to dawn on him that Anakin was really just a very small,
rather helpless version of his former master.  No wonder being around the
boy caused such an ache in his heart.
     He was feeling much more contrite on the matter of Anakin, deeply
regretting his last statement, as well as his harsh attitude toward the boy's
upbringing.  There really was no reason he had to turn Podracing into an
evil.  He had thought that it would be best for the boy to forbid him from it,
no matter the momentary pain.  He now wondered if he was wrong.  After
all, he had chosen Malastare for its attractions, to include Podracing,
because Anakin would miss it.  There was no reason he could not build a
Pod and fly around for a bit, even if the Code mandated that he could not
participate in an actual race.
     He entered the house, and walked toward Anakin's room, hoping
the boy had calmed enough for a rational discussion.  He knocked on the
door, and waited long enough to determine that he would get no answer.
Was the boy still so upset, or had he simply cried himself to sleep?  The
hour was approaching 10, Obi-Wan mused, and opened the boy's door,
careful to be quiet, lest he wake his charge.  He need not have worried.
The bed was empty.
     "Anakin?"  Obi-Wan flicked on the light, scanning the rest of the
room in search of his Padawan.  The briefest thought that some mysterious,
ruthless bounty hunter, with no twisted desire to warn him, had already
kidnapped Anakin flashed through his conscious mind, making his search
more vigorous.  He tore through the training room, his own room, the
living room, and finally the kitchen, desperate to find the boy.  His aura
was imprinted throughout the house, but nowhere with the strength to
indicate his person.  A piece of paper lay on the table, decorated with a
hasty, childish scrawl.  Obi-Wan snatched it up, recognizing Anakin's
writing, read it, his heart breaking with the words.

     "I'm leaving.  I know Qui-Gon made you take me and you don't
want me, so don't worry about it.  I'll be fine.  Anakin."

     Obi-Wan sat down at the table, the room dimly lit by the living
room lamp.  He leaned his head in his hand and regretted the entire day.
 
 

     "Well, I think his wife died of a long and tragic disease," Liana said,
leaning her ample bosom on the bar.  "And he had to take care of the kid
and nurse her...and he's been in mourning since she died."
     "Nah.  Not him.  I think he's a bum who's hiding from something,
and the kid is some sort of disguise.  Maybe an orphan he picked up
somewhere."
     Spath Kadnau was torn from his admiration of the barmaids
speculating on possible histories for Anakin's handsome guardian by a tug
on his coat.  He looked down to find the charge of the conversation topic,
himself.
     "Ani.  Where's the old man?"
     "I dunno.  He told me he didn't want me, then took off."
     "What?"  Spath nudged Rocno off the chair next to him and picked
Anakin up, planting him firmly in the middle of the spinning circle.  Anakin
made a full rotation before grabbing the edge of the bar.  "He said what?"
     "Well..." Anakin screwed up his face.  "I've had enough of Obi-
Wan.  It's time to go out on my own."
     "Ani, you're what?  Eight?  Nine?"
     "I'm ten.  And I'm old enough."
     "Right, you're old enough.  Look, your old man has a lot on his
mind right now--"
     "But he told me I should have stayed a slave!"
     Before he knew it, all three of the barmaids had flocked to their end
of the bar.
     "Come on, kid," Spath pulled Anakin off the stool, stepped over
Rocno's happily drunk mass, and ushered him to a darker, quieter corner.
The barmaids looked disappointed.  "Now, tell me what's up."
     "I need to get to Naboo."
     "What's on Naboo?"
     Anakin thought fast.  Spath would never believe he was friends
with the Queen, so he would have to come up with something else.
     "My sister," he said, quickly.  "She'll take care of me."
     Spath looked doubtful.  "I don't know, kid," he said.  "I think you
should talk to whatsisface, first.  Obi-What?"
     "Obi-Wan.  And we already talked.  I'm going to Naboo."
     "You talked?  What?  He just comes out with, ya shoulda stayed a
slave, you say, ok, I'm goin' to Naboo, and he said, yeah, have fun?"
     Anakin shrugged and looked innocently at Spath.  "Sure."
 
 

     Obi-Wan came awake with a start.  He had dozed off, sitting there
at the kitchen table.  If Anakin has meant to run away, there was
undoubtedly one place he knew to go:  Barant.  The ships and spacers
would surely get him off planet.  And besides the ships and spacers was at
least one psychotic bounty hunter out for a profit.  A profit that would be
earned by delivering a certain wandering apprentice.  Obi-Wan cursed his
own stupidity as he raced for the landspeeder.
 
 

     Anakin strapped himself in carefully to the huge seat he was given
beside Trank, the pilot who had volunteered to take him to Macenek, an
interplanetary refueling station situated between Malastare and Naboo.
Spath had called in a favor to get Anakin on the ship, and warned him that
he would have to be careful when looking for someone to take him from
the R&R station to Naboo.  Not all spacers were as kind-hearted as
himself, Spath knew.  Anakin was less than concerned, though.  He was
finally going to see Padme again, and then he was going to start his trip
around the galaxy.  He was going to be the first to see every star system,
just as he'd promised Qui-Gon.
 
 

     Spath took a long draw from his mug.  His thoughts were with the
kid, but his body was still at the bar, and demanding ale.  He needed to
catch up to the rest of his companions, who were considerably drunker
than he.  At least, that was his intention, before he was forcibly hauled
away from his seat and pinned against the bar.
     "Where is he?"
     "Huh?"  Spath squinted at the brown-robed figure shoving the edge
of the bar into his back.  Or something, his muddled mind told him.  The
figure lifted its other hand and pushed back the hood to reveal Obi-Wan
Kenobi.
     "Anakin.  He ran away from home."
     "Ran away?  He told me--you're Obi-Wan, right?"
     "Obi-Wan Kenobi.  What did he tell you?"
     "He said you got in a fight, and he was going to Naboo to live with
his sister for a while.  I couldn't take him, but--"
     "He doesn't have a sister."
     "Hey, kid, I dunno what your deal is with him, but he told me his
sister would take care of him."
     "Amidala," Obi-Wan realized, oblivious to the fact that he'd spoken
aloud.
     "Amidala?  The queen's his sister?"
     "No."  Obi-Wan released the aging spacer, who reached behind him
and rubbed the pain out of his back.  "He's gone to Naboo."
     "If it helps any, I sent him off with a guy I can trust.  They're going
as far as Macenek, and then the kid's on his own.  I didn't like it, but he said
you were all good with it."
     Obi-Wan automatically chalked up misuse of Jedi mind tricks to
Anakin's growing list of crimes.
     "Can you take me there?"
     "Not this week.  I got a run tomorrow that'll keep me busy 'til
sometime middle of next week.  Even had trouble getting the kid as far as
Macenek."
     Obi-Wan nodded, thoughtfully.  He stalked from the tavern,
mentally preparing the transmission he knew he would have to send.
 
 

     "Your Highness, we've received a transmission from Malastare."
     "The Agricultural Minister concerning the shipping problems?"
     "No, Your Highness, this one is from the Jedi Knight Kenobi."
     "Obi-Wan Kenobi?"  Queen Amidala of the Naboo raised one
perfectly arched eyebrow.  "We owe him a great debt for his services and
sacrifices for our planet.  Show me the message."
     Panaka flicked a switch on the transmitter control, and Obi-Wan
Kenobi seemed to stand solemnly before her.  She actually had very little
contact with the Knight, though she felt she knew his fallen master well,
and had hoped to reach out to the Padawan after his death.  Obi-Wan
remained a mystery to her, though, and she knew very little of him, save
that he had taken young Anakin as his own Padawan.
 
    "Your Majesty,"

he began, his voice the calm, brusque tone of the quintessential Jedi.  He
sounded just like his master, Amidala realized, sadly.  He had quite a bit
more arrogance, and a bit of a humorous streak, she had thought, but the
words of the man before her echoed strangely of Qui-Gon.

     "I come before you, humbly in need of your assistance.  My
Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, is en route to the interplanetary refueling and
repair station, Macenek, in hopes of making his way to Naboo.  Since his
departure, I have been informed that a price has been placed on his head
and that he is in great danger of being abducted and turned over to an
unknown force, for reasons I have yet to discern.  I respectfully request
that he be met at Macenek and brought safely to Naboo where I will arrive
to collect him in a week's time.  My humblest gratitude."

     "Is that all?" Amidala asked.
     "Yes, Your Highness."
     "Very well.  Send a ship to Macenek.  I want Ric Olie as the pilot.
Anakin will recognize and trust him.  Send two members of the Royal
Guard for protection.  Prepare a room for the boy with above standard
security measures."  She smiled, slightly.  "Put some old parts in it for him
so he will not get bored.  Prepare for a transmission.  I wish to respond to
Jedi Kenobi myself."
 
 

     Obi-Wan leaned against Anakin's tree.  The bark was cool against
the back of his neck and he fought the urge to climb high in its branches.
The boy was halfway to Naboo, and he was waiting for him under a tree.
Obi-Wan sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  It was finally starting to
grow out and was turning into a most ridiculous mop.  He turned to go
back to the house when the movement of a shadow caught his eye.  He
moved silently to the window, knowing it would be the escape route of
choice.  The assorted debris he and Anakin had managed to strew about
the house made a stranger's escape nearly impossible from any other way,
especially in the dark.  He boosted himself to the sill and swung his legs
inside.  In one quick movement, he ignited his lightsaber and flipped the
switch that illuminated the room.  He found himself staring at the same
figure he had seen at the cantina.  She sat on Anakin's bed, one foot tucked
beneath her, playing with a model Podracer.  Obi-Wan stared at her.
     "Put that back!"
     She held up the model Podracer.  Her eyebrow arched, quizzically.
     "Yes, that.  It's Anakin's.  He's coming back for it."
     Both eyebrows raised, and a hand touched her mouth.  She reached
toward Anakin's desk.  The model seemed to leap from her hand and settle
on the desk, six inches from her fingertips.
     From Obi-Wan's vantage point, he could not tell if she tossed the
model back to its place or if it had moved from her hand by itself.
     Then, she settled back on the bed, leaning her weight on her elbows
and tilting her head at Obi-Wan.
     He couldn't tell if she was laughing at him, flirting with him, or
asking him a question.  He felt his frustration growing.
     "What are you doing here?"
     She tilted her head in the other direction, casting her gaze upward
and to the side, as if thinking about his question.
     "This is my home.  I'll ask you once to leave."  He stepped toward
the bed.
     She kicked him square in the jaw, shifting all her weight to her arms
as her legs jackknifed off the bed.  Obi-Wan's head snapped backwards,
causing him to stumble backward.  He immediately regained his bearings
and reignited his lightsaber, to see her curled innocently on Anakin's bed,
again.
     "Don't like to get close to anyone, huh?" Obi-Wan asked, rubbing
his chin.
     The corners of her eyes crinkled, winningly.
     "I don't think I like you very much."
     Her eyes widened and filled with tears.
     "My, but you're good at that.  You could give Anakin lessons."
     A modest shrug, a tilt of the head, and another eye crinkle.
     "You know, this has been a very frustrating few months, so if you
don't try to kill me or deliver whatever message you have, I'm going to
start trying to seduce you."
     She narrowed her eyes and shook one finger at him.
     "I know, I'm very naughty.  Now, why are you here?"
     She swept her hand around the room.
     "You're looking for Anakin."
     Nod.
     "He's not here.  I've sent him away to keep him safe."
     She raised an eyebrow, skeptically, it seemed.  She raised her hand,
in which a piece of white paper gleamed against the darkness.  The paper
had been crumpled and smoothed back out.
     "You aren't going to find him," Obi-Wan continued, dread creeping
over his features.  He suddenly recognized the paper.  Anakin's note.  "You
know."
     Nod.
     "Then why are you here?"
     She smiled.  "Keep him safe, I will."
     "You won't touch him."
     She held up her hands, palms facing him, and lifted her shoulders.
     "I don't believe you."
     Her eyes clouded with anger.  Before he even saw her, she was off
the bed, and her gloved hand had whipped across his cheek.  She was fast,
but he was faster.  His fingers looped around her wrist, pulling her to him.
He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pinning her other arm to her
side.  Her foot wrapped around his ankle, sending them both to the ground.
He pushed her over, and she let him...until the momentum took her to the
position of superiority.  He used the same trick against her, and they rolled
across the floor, until they bumped into the leg of Anakin's bed.  Obi-Wan
found that a small piece of one of Anakin's models had been left on the
floor and was now permanently imbedded in his shoulder.  And worse yet,
he was on the bottom.  He kicked his legs up, curling his lower body over
hers until he had flipped them all the way over.  Somehow, during the roll,
she had twisted her shoulder under his, so she was on her stomach, with
her hands pressed under her chest.  She pushed up and he wrapped his
arms around her shoulders, immobilizing her arms.  He was not expecting
the next move.
     Ronyne shifted her weight forward and off one knee, which she
promptly drew up and drove back in a mule kick.  Obi-Wan immediately
called on the Force to remove the pain from his throbbing groin, but his
attention had slipped and she had escaped his embrace.  He looked up to
see her sitting on Anakin's window sill.  She blew him a kiss, waved
goodbye, and dropped out of sight.
 
 

     Anakin Skywalker woke up with no memory of falling asleep.
     "Hey, Trank...Trank?"  He was also no longer buckled into the co-
pilot's seat of the transport.  "Trank, where am I?"  He was in a small
chamber with only one door and no windows.  He was cold.  "Where are
you?"  He tried the door, but found it locked.  "This is not good," he told
himself.  He could feel the ship landing--which was probably what had
woken him up.  "Trank!  I gotta get out so I can go to Naboo!"  No
answer.  Anakin reached for his lightsaber and found it missing.  He
wondered if it had fallen from his belt when Trank moved him after falling
asleep.  He hoped it was that innocent.  Concentrating hard, Anakin used
the Force to break apart the locking mechanism in the door.  He slipped
out, silently apologizing to Trank and hoping he wouldn't have to pay for
the door.  Obi-Wan had this annoying habit of finding ways for him to pay
for various things he destroyed.  Obi-Wan.  Anakin screwed up his face.
He was still mad at him.  How could he say that it wasn't right to free the
slaves?  How could it be wrong to free a slave?  Did he really think it was
wrong for Qui-Gon to free Anakin?  Maybe, Anakin's small rational voice
told him, Obi-Wan was still mad about Qui-Gon's attempt to take Anakin
as his Padawan.  After all, no matter what Qui-Gon had said after, Obi-
Wan had still been his Padawan when he announced his intentions.  Tabling
that topic for the time being, Anakin concentrated on working his way
through the ship's corridors to the cockpit.  He never made it.
     "A resourceful child."  Anakin turned a corner and came face to
face with half a dozen strangers carrying assorted weaponry.  He
swallowed hard and reached for the lightsaber that wasn't there.  Trank was
behind the men, not meeting Anakin's accusing gaze.  One of the men was
handing him a credit chit, and he shuffled off.  Anakin glanced around,
searching for an escape route.  Men were walking up behind him.  He was
about to be surrounded.  He thought of Obi-Wan's lessons in self-defense.
Too bad so many required a lightsaber.  Anakin kicked the nearest man in
the shins, and ducked between the legs of the man behind him, taking off
down the passageway.  He ran as fast as his short legs could take him, but
he knew it was not going to be fast enough.  He drew on the Force to give
him speed, and used it to summon any loose object he could identify,
blocking the men chasing him.  He was nearly back where he started, and
knew he had to find a new place to go.  Think, he told himself.  Where to
go?  The cockpit.  Of course.  He jumped on the first ladder he saw, trying
to use the Force to propel himself upward, but his concentration was not as
it should be, after so much exertion, and he was resigned to scramble up
the rungs on his own power.  He felt a hand grip his ankle, and then
everything went black again.
 
 

     The Jedi Council gathered slowly, on Mace Windu's request.  The
sun had not yet risen over the city of Coruscant.  When they had
assembled, Mace Windu nodded to Ki-Adi-Mundi, who activated the
transmission chit he had received a few short hours ago.  The flickering
image of Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared.  He began with the usual
honorifics, then began the explanation every person in the room had reason
to dread.
 
 "My Padawan, Anakin Skywalker, has had a price placed on him.
Whoever as dared such an act is keeping his identity well-hidden, but has
made it quite clear to the mercenary community that Anakin is to be
delivered alive.  I fear this may prove to be the more dangerous scenario.
     "I was warned of this threat by a female bounty hunter of
indeterminate age, with an affinity for sharp objects.  She claimed her
interest in warning me stemmed solely from the desire for a greater
challenge.
     "My interaction with this bounty hunter, who calls herself Ronyne,
as in the Corellian legend, has brought several disturbing facts to my
attention.  She seems to be trained in the ways of the Jedi.  I have
witnessed examples of Force-enhanced speed, movement of objects, and
most disturbing of all, I can get no sense of her.  It is almost as if she does
not exist at all.  And, Master Yoda, during one of her few verbal
communications, she...seemed to be mocking you.
     "Due to the danger to Padawan Skywalker's training, he has been
removed to a location that shall remain undisclosed, lest this transmission
be intercepted. I shall remain on Malastare to investigate this matter."

     Obi-Wan's image bowed slightly, flickered, and vanished.
     The Council exchanged concerned glances.
     "Troubling news, this is," Yoda rasped, leaning on his stick.
     "Jedi Knight Kenobi sent his Padawan to safety?" Eeth Koth
questioned.  "He did not allow the boy to learn and face his enemies?  Jedi
do not run and hide."
     "Skywalker may be dangerous," Mace Windu reminded his peers.
    "And whoever wants him, wants him alive.  Kenobi was right to hide him."
     "I don't like this, Master Windu," Depa Billaba said.  "It reeks of
the Dark Side.  We must determine the identity of the bounty's sponsor."
     "I agree," Windu nodded.  "And not only that...I want to know
about this bounty hunter.
 
 

     Obi-Wan Kenobi ran his hands through his still-shortish hair and sat
heavily on the dilapidated old couch Anakin had scrounged up somewhere.
He shifted to avoid a lump, but found another one in his new position.
Amazing how the couch could be eminently comfortable until his life went
up in flames.  Now, even his couch had turned on him.  He stood again,
and picked up the transmission device.  He turned it over in his hand and
finally pushed the button to watch the transmission from Naboo, again.
     Queen Amidala stood before him, resplendent in her court robes
and ceremonial facepaint.  Her hair was twisted into an elaborate style that
made her seem at least six inches taller than she really was.
     "Jedi Kenobi," she said, her voice set in its regal diction.  "We on
Naboo have long been in your debt.  Even without regard for my own
affection for Anakin, the Naboo would do whatever necessary to aid in
your situation.  My personal transport is on its way to Macenek, piloted by
the Captain of my Air and Space Corps.  Your Padawan will be kept safe.
I promise you that, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
     Obi-Wan sighed as the transmission ended.  He believed Amidala.
The Nubians would keep Anakin safe from harm.  Ric Olie, who piloted the
Queen's transport to Coruscant, through the Trade Federation blockade
and back, would find him.  And Spath was confident in his friend.  Anakin
would have no problem getting to Macenek.
 
 

     This can't be Macenek, Anakin thought, gloomily, staring into a
huge pit.  He had woken up in some sort of cave structure, his hands and
feet chained together.  He was now being held by a burly man on each side
of him, and dangled over a sort of chamber imbedded in the rocky ground.
     "Who are you, and what are you doing?" he called to the armored
man who was studying the controls of the device.  "Why are you doing this
to me?"
     "'Cause you're worth a bundle, boy," the man replied, distractedly.
     "Me?  I'm just a kid."
     "Yeah, well, I don't know what the man's going to do with you, my
job's just to deliver the goods."
     "So you're going to drop me into a pit?"
     "Why didn't I shackle your mouth?" the bounty hunter wondered,
annoyed.
     "What is this thing?"
     "I dunno...they use it for mining.  Freeze it in carbonite, send it off.
Figure it'll work for humans.  You're too slippery to risk keeping awake."
     Great.  Anakin swung himself between the two men, wondering
how he was getting out of this one.
     "Stop squirming, kid."
     Anakin used his limited power of the Force to make the guy believe
he was hanging perfectly still.  At just the right moment, he would make
the guy believe he wanted to let go, and bam, he was back on solid ground.
He swinging himself harder, bringing his feet high in front of him.  Now...
He hoped the Jedi mind trick would work without him waving his hand.
Maybe the waving of his whole body would do the trick.
     "You want to let me go," he announced, swinging hard.
     "Why would I do that?"
     Anakin's mind screamed in anger and frustration.  Calm, he
reminded himself.  Patience.
     "I am just a boy.  Let me go."
     At that exact moment, as he swung out again, a small knife came
flying from the darkness, catching one man in the shoulder, ripping his arm
away from Anakin's hand.  Anakin's momentum threw him toward the lip
of the pit, but he was pulled off balance by the other man's grip.  He hit the
edge and was scrambling not to slip down the side.  The other man had
fallen from the platform, and was now dangling from Anakin's arm.  Gravel
slipped under Anakin's boots as he pushed with both feet.  His arm burned
with the force of the man's weight, and he was almost positive it would fall
off when the man suddenly let go.  Anakin rolled  his way to safety, and
bumped against a set of booted legs.  A hand jerked him upward, and the
chains fell from his wrists and ankles.  Anakin glanced up to get a good
look at his savior, but the figure was already sinking into the shadows.
     "Run," it hissed in a gravelly whisper, snatching Anakin's hand and
dragging him into the darkness of the unknown rock formations.  Anakin
ran.
 
 

     He was dreaming about Bandomeer.  An ugly, little planet, where
he was very nearly doomed to spend his life as an AgriCorps engineer.
Where he offered to blow himself up to save the entire population of the
planet.  Where he earned his place as Qui-Gon Jinn's Padawan learner.  He
never dreamed about Bandomeer.
     And yet, here he was, scrambling up through the layers of loose
rock, through the dark tunnels.  He couldn't see.  He couldn't see a damn
thing.  Something rained down on his head.  His feet slipped from under
him.  He clawed at the air, praying for an exit.
     And he was out, and he was no longer on Bandomeer, he was back
on Malastare, but it was light, and he and Anakin were training.  They were
running.  Running hard.  Running fast.  He was easily outpacing Anakin.
His longer legs and excellent conditioning carried him easily past his
Padawan, and he knew he would need to work the boy harder.
     "Faster Anakin!  Run faster!  Faster!"  He'd nearly gotten carried
away that day, pushing the boy past his limits, yelling, not really at Anakin,
but at himself, for not running fast enough to reach the melting pit before
the shields reformed.  Not running fast enough to stay in the battle with the
mysterious Sith.  Not running fast enough to save Qui-Gon.
     He'd caught himself before any serious damage had occurred.  To
this day, Anakin believed it was no more than a tough workout.  Only Obi-
Wan knew how tenuous his control over the situation had been.
     "Faster Anakin!  Run faster!  Faster!"  This time, he felt no
wavering of control.  The boy had to run fast.  The boy had to run as fast
as his stubby little legs would carry him.  Faster.  He had to use the Force.
Obi-Wan could not end this training exercise.  And yet, he was secure in
his demands.  "RUN!  FASTER, ANI!  FASTER!"
 
 

     Anakin's small feet pounded the ground hard as he pressed to keep
up with the wraith in front of him.  How anyone could run that fast in a
cloak creating that much drag was beyond him.  The person was dressed all
in black, and Anakin suspected the figure underneath was female, simply
because of the small size and delicate limbs.  She ran without tiring, and
Anakin's mind was brought back to Obi-Wan.  He chided himself, knowing
he should be concentrating on the movement of his arms and legs in
synchronization, of making the ground move under him, but all he could
hear was Obi-Wan shouting at him.
     "Faster Anakin!  Run faster!  Faster!"  The phrase repeated itself
over and over in Anakin's mind, not letting him give his sore and tired body
a moment's quarter, pushing himself as hard as he could.  Even Obi-Wan
had calmed down eventually, but in Anakin's mind, he would not stop
shouting, and Anakin would not slow down.  He saw himself running next
to Obi-Wan, imagining himself racing him, running hard, ignoring the
distance, pretending there was no one after him, pretending it was only a
Master and a Padawan, trying hard to prove each other the better runner.
He stretched out his legs, drawing the Force to move his body faster, give
him strength, and remove his weariness.  This technique finally proved
successful, and Anakin managed to stay only a few steps behind his rescuer
until she wheeled to the left, whipping out a control and opening the door
to a small, private spacecraft, well-hidden amongst the leaves.
     "In," she hissed, pushing him through the door and throwing herself
in the pilot's seat.  Anakin scrambled into the co-pilot's place, a quick
glance at the instrument panel orienting him with the controls.  She toggled
the air-intake valve, ignited the engines, and adjusted the fuel intake.
Within seconds, the tiny craft was airborne and headed through the
polluted atmosphere of Bandomeer.
     "Hey, um, thanks for saving me, there," Anakin said, curious about
the figure next to him.  "My name's Anakin.  What's yours?"
     The hood turned toward him for a split second.  It was too dark to
see any part of her face, and Anakin wondered if there was really any
corporeal body inside the folds of black cloth.  He waited what seemed like
an eternity to hear the gravelly voice finally whisper, "Ronyne."
 
 

     Obi-Wan shot straight up.  The sheets were twisted around his legs,
and soaked with sweat.  He kicked them off, impatiently, and stood,
wearing only his breeches, in the tiny room.  He took several deep breaths,
gathering air into his lungs and rolling the tight muscles in his shoulders.
His pounding heart began to subside to its normal rhythm, and breathing
became easier.  He gathered the calm the Force provided around him like a
cool blanket.  The night was hot, but a soft breeze ruffled his hair and dried
the sweat on his face.  It brought the scents of Anakin's tree, from the
backyard, of the motor grease and oil that seemed to associate itself with
Anakin, and of...smoke?  Obi-Wan sniffed and lifted one of his robes,
pressing it to his face.  It smelled of the thick, cloying smoke that had
obscured his senses in the cantina.  But the smell was not coming from the
robes.  He dropped the garment, scooping up his lightsaber as he padded
hastily for Anakin's room.  He paused outside the door, listening, then
slammed the door open.  The room was empty.
 
 

     "Ronyne?  Are you the bounty hunter?"  Anakin's eyes widened to
resemble china blue versions of Obi-Wan's horrendous keth patties.  He
couldn't believe he had just gotten saved by a real, live bounty hunter.  Not
only that, but a real, live, legendary bounty hunter.  Her head moved
marginally in an affirmative nod.  "Wow!  That's so wizard!  Did you really
get burned up in a ship explosion?  How many guys have you killed?  Can I
see your knives?  How come you saved me?"
     His answer was a backhand across the head that stole his
consciousness.
 
 

     "Explain your statement."
     "Well, Your Highness," Ric Olie said, over the long-distance
transmission.  "If Anakin left this morning, and he was on a decent ship, the
latest he should have been here was an hour ago.  If that boy's on this
R&R, I'll eat my wings."
     "That won't be necessary, Captain Olie."  The Queen suppressed a
smile.  "Possibly his ship was detained.  Or he already found a ride to
Naboo.  He is a small boy, and small boys are excellent seekers of small
nooks and crannies."
     "I'll keep looking," Ric Olie conceded.  "I won't leave here 'til I
know where that kid got himself off to."
     "Very well."  Amidala ended the transmission and looked back at
her handmaidens, worriedly.  "How likely is it that Anakin has already been
detained by a bounty hunter?" she asked the room in general.
     "Do not fret, m'lady," Sache said, practically.  "Young Anakin is
training to be a Jedi.  They are a most resourceful people."
     "His Master certainly looks resourceful," Sabe said, smiling at her
Queen.  "It was certainly fun to watch his resources travel themselves
around the ship while we were on Tatooine."
     "Sabe!  For shame!  Making eyes at Jedi Kenobi!"  Amidala could
not help but to laugh with Sabe and her other handmaidens.  Eirtae
exchanged glances with Rabe.  At least the Queen was laughing.  What else
were handmaidens for?
 
 

     Anakin opened his eyes and sighed.  He was tired of waking up in
strange places with no memories of going to sleep.  This time he seemed to
be in a small metal cage.  He started to sit up and cracked his head on the
ceiling.  He kicked and encountered more metal.  He pushed to the side.
He looked up and saw that the part in front of him was grated.  He pushed,
and it gave a little, but not enough.  Then, he realized it was a door and
that the latch could easily be tripped from the inside.  He opened the door
and nearly fell out, before he realized he was in a top-row locker in some
sort of terminal.  He wriggled around until he could slide out and land
safely on two feet.  He sighed and looked around.  Where could he possibly
be, now?  He wandered through several more locker rooms, following
signs that advertised "Main Concourse" in several different languages, until
he came to a large area populated by grimy spacers, greasy restaurants, and
several small repair shops.  He quickly scanned the signs.
     "I'm on Macenek," he realized, wondering if his entire experience
on Bandomeer had just been a result of a truly nasty dream sequence.  He
started to wander toward one of the shops, intending to continue with his
plan to find a ride to Naboo.
     "Hey, kid."
     Anakin did not notice the man until he tapped him on the shoulder.
     "Kid, are you Anakin Skywalker?"
     Anakin looked at him in surprise.  "Yeah.  Who are you?"
     "My name's Mott Karden.  I'm a Nubian pilot.  Queen Amidala sent
me to bring you to Naboo."
     "She sent someone?"  Anakin could not believe his luck.  How had
Padme known he was coming?
     "Sure.  Your buddy sent her a transmission and she decided to give
you a lift."
     "Wizard.  Are we leaving, now?"
     "Sure thing.  I got some food on board.  You hungry?"
     "Starving."
     "Come on.  We're at docking bay 327."
     Anakin followed the uniformed pilot, his mind relaxing, his
thoughts possessed by jackleberry jam sandwiches and Padme.
 
    Look around.
 
    The voice echoed in Anakin's mind, surprising him.  Only Obi-Wan
had ever spoken in his head before.  And this was not Obi-Wan's voice.
This voice was sweet and low and feminine.  Still, he jerked his head up,
scanning the concourse of the R&R.  Conscious of the Naboo pilot beside
him, Anakin felt for the Force, and allowed his eyes to be drawn to a
nearby cantina.  He blinked and looked again.
     Ric Olie was sitting in a window booth, sipping something from a
mug.
     Anakin glanced up at the man who was swiftly ushering him to the
hanger bay.  If Ric Olie was here, this man must be an impostor.  For the
first time, Anakin could sense the deception emanating from him.  It was
something with which he was unfamiliar, and he had not automatically
picked up on this feeling.  He could almost hear Obi-Wan chiding him to
listen to his feelings, and mentally shut him up.  He didn't need to be
reminded of all his mistakes, he decided.  He used his limited control over
the Force to cloud the man's mind as he slipped away to the cantina.
     "Ric!"  Anakin trotted up to the older man.
     "Anakin!  Figured you'd come in here eventually if you were
looking for a ship."
     "So Padme, uh, Queen Amidala did send you?"
     "Yeah.  Kenobi called and asked us to give you a lift.  Thought
you'd get here a little sooner."
     "Ric..."  Anakin bit his lip.  "Ric, the guy who was supposed to
bring me here, he took me somewhere else, some mining place.  He was
going to freeze me in carbonite and take me to someone.  And just a few
minutes ago, some other guy came up and said he was a Naboo pilot and
he was supposed to pick me up."
     "No way, kid.  The Queen sent me, since you'd know me, even if I
missed you somehow."
     "Ric...What's going on?"
     "Someone's trying to have you kidnapped, Ani.  Obi-Wan found out
and he's trying to keep you safe until he can figure out who it is and why.  I
got a couple of Panaka's guys with me.  We're gonna get you back to
Naboo.  They ain't gonna get you, kid."
     Anakin nodded solemnly, and let Ric lead him out of the cantina.
As soon as they left the doors, two Naboo palace guards fell in step behind
them.  Anakin concentrated, as Obi-Wan taught him, staying mindful of his
surroundings.
     Ric Olie had flown the Queen's personal transport, a J-type 327
Nubian.  It gleamed slick and silver in its bay.  Anakin recognized that ship.
It was the first space ship he'd ever flown in.  He was suddenly hit with a
feeling of deja vu, as a cold feelings crept through him.  Space was so cold.
 
 

     "We need a list of every female initiate not to be taken as an
Padawan apprentice,"  Adi Gallia, proposed.
     "What if she was taken as a Padawan?" Ki-Adi-Mundi proposed.
     "Do we have any sort of time reference?" Mace Windu suggested.
     "Not really," Depa Billaba said.  "Jedi Kenobi said she was a
legendary bounty hunter.  It takes quite a bit of time to become legendary."
     "But she can't be that old, if she can still keep up with her
reputation," Yarael Poof pointed out.
     "Age matters not," Yoda reminded them.  "Older than any of you, I
am.  Weak, I am not."
     "What if she was never an initiate?" Eeth Koth suggested.  "What if
she was just a Force-sensitive who was overlooked?  Or maybe someone
else trained her."
     "Are you suggesting a Jedi knight who knew she was too old to
enter traditional training, or a Sith?" Mace Windu questioned.
     "Either."
     "A Sith," Yoda repeated, thoughtfully.
     "You believe she is the other?  The one who was not destroyed?"
     "No.  Sith, she is not.  Jalen-Ka's Padawan, you remember?"
     "She was destroyed," Mace Windu replied.
     "Destroyed?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not."
 
 

     Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on his lumpy couch, consulting his pad of
questions.  The Council had sent him a transmission, quizzing him on many
of the details of the bounty hunter, and of his investigation into the
kidnapping threat.  He had talked to countless spacers, bounty hunters,
mercenaries, and barmaids.  The barmaids turned out to be the most
talkative, but the least useful.  In short, he was making little to no progress.
And now, the Council had a list of queries, many of which barely made
sense to the young Jedi.
     Her race.  Her age.  A detailed critique of her skills, both with the
Force and without.  How old was the legend?  How many men was she to
have killed?  Any accent or strange inflection to her words?  Ability to
speak other languages?  Which ones?  Scars or distinguishing physical
characteristics?  Obi-Wan was starting to wish he had attempted to seduce
her.  He'd have a much better idea for the answers the Council sought.  He
sighed and laid the pad next to him on the couch.  The house was strangely
quiet without Anakin, and Obi-Wan wondered what his Padawan would
say about all this.  And then he knew.  All he had to do was ask her.
 
 

     Ric Olie nudged a sleeping Anakin.  "Wake up, kid.  We're there."
     "Wha--huh?"  Anakin blinked sleepy eyes.  At least I woke up in the
same place I went to sleep this time, he thought.
     "C'mon, the Queen's waiting for you."
     "She is?"  Anakin was suddenly wide awake, jumping to his feet.
He tried desperately to wipe his grimy tunic clean, but there was no way of
salvaging that particular piece of clothing.
     "Yeah, c'mon.  Let's go."  Ric clambored off the ship, followed the
the Royal guards, and Anakin.  "An' be respectful," he hissed over his
shoulder.
     Their small group came to a half in front of the ornately made-up
Queen, three handmaidens, and a contingent of Palace guards, including
Captain Panaka.
     "Welcome, Jedi Padawan Skywalker," the Queen said, her voice
hard with the royal inflections.
     "Thank you, Your Highness," Anakin replied, bowing.
     "I understand your safety has been threatened.  We will use any
means in our capacity to keep you safe, but we must request that you
cooperate.  Two guards will be stationed outside the door to your room.
You may roam anywhere in the palace, but we ask that you be escorted,
for your own protection.  Padme will show you to your room and help you
with anything you may require."  The Queen's face slipped into the faintest
hint of a smile as Anakin's eyes widened, and he looked at her more
closely, then scanned the array of handmaidens.  One of them winked at
him from behind her orange hood.
     "Yes, Ma'am!" he exclaimed, remembering a hasty bow before
taking off with Padme.
     The false Queen and her entire entourage turned, smiling, to watch
Anakin bounce out of the hanger with Padme.
 
 

     The floor was dusty and gritty and the air was thick with smoke
laced with spices outlawed on many worlds, including this one.  Though
few noticed when a cloaked figure opened the door, a path to the bar
melted into existance as the nightly rabble was quieted by an artificially
produced sense of awe and respect.  The figure made its way, smoothly
and austerely, to the center of the bar, where it turned, ascertaining that it
had the attention of the entire congregation.
     Only then, did the rough, brown hood fall back to reveal Obi-Wan
Kenobi.  He held up a twisted, wicked-looking dagger, and without
looking, thrust it into the wood of the bar.
     "Tell Ronyne I'm returning her knife."
 
 

     "Obi-Wan really sent you a transmission and wanted someone to
pick me up?" Anakin wanted to know.
     "Of course, Anakin.  He cares for you, very, very much."
     Anakin failed to reply, except for a sarcastic snort, if a snort can be
interpreted as sarcastic.
     "Anakin."
     Anakin shuffled and ducked his head under the intensity of Padme's
stare.
     "We're here."  She ushered him into the room, and sat down on the
bed.  "Come here and give me a hug."
     "Can I do that?  I mean, since you're a queen now, and all?"
     "I always was Queen, silly.  It just means that now I can order you
around."
     "Ok."  Anakin's smile could have lit up Coruscant as he hugged
Padme tightly.
     "I've missed you, Anakin," she said, holding him at arm's length.
"Thank you for the letters and the transmissions.  I've enjoyed them both."
     "Oh, that was Ob--"  Anakin trailed off.
     "That was Obi-Wan's idea?"
     Anakin nodded, grudgingly.
     "Ani, what happened?  I thought things were going ok...except for
the food thing."
     "Yeah, well..."
     "You can tell me if you want, but you don't have to."
     To his embarrassment, Anakin felt a major sniffle coming on.  "I
wanted to Podrace.  And Obi-Wan was busy all day and made me practice
this stupid patience exercise.  But I got bored, so I went to help one of my
friends with her Pod..."
     Padme's mouth quirked as she tried to repress a smile at the irony
of Anakin's predicament.
     "...and Obi-Wan flipped and started yelling at me.  We got in this
big fight about why he doesn't think I should Podrace and about gambling
and stuff, and he said I should have stayed a slave."
     Padme arched an eyebrow at Anakin.  "He just said that?  'Anakin, I
sure wish you were still a slave?'"
     Anakin traced a floorboard with his boot.  "Well...I don't think it
went exactly like that."  It hadn't, and he knew it.  And now, now that he
was safe, he was starting to wish that maybe he hadn't gotten in that fight
with Obi-Wan.
     "How did it go?"
     "Well, I was talking about Qui-Gon betting Watto...and betting me,
and he said that 'just 'cause Qui-Gon did it, didn't make it right.'"  He
managed to finish with a semi-repressed sniffle.
     "Oh, Ani."  Padme looked at him sadly.  "I'm going to explain some
things to you, and you may not like them, but I'm only going to tell you the
truth, all right?"
     Anakin hesitated a moment, then nodded, reluctantly.
     "Had Qui-Gon survived the battle with the Sith, he would have
been called before the Jedi Council and severely reprimanded.  If not
worse.  He took a very big gamble with some very big stakes, and he got
very lucky.  We got a wonderful gift from that gamble, you, Ani, but Qui-
Gon could just as easily have lost his bet, and then you would still be a
slave, Watto would own the Pod and my transport, and we would all still
be on Tatooine.  We would never have spoken to the Senate, and Naboo
would still be in the hands of the Trade Federation.  We were very lucky,
but the Jedi are not supposed to rely on luck.  They are supposed to be
logical and impartial.  Just because Obi-Wan does not agree with Master
Qui-Gon's methods, does not mean that he does not love the results.  I
know he did not want to stay on Tatooine.  He did not want Naboo to stay
in the hands of the Federation.  He did not want you to stay as a slave."
     Anakin answered her with a deep sigh.
     "I knoooow that," he said in that long-suffering tone that only
children who wish they did not have to grow up can manage.
     "But you don't like it."
     "Well..."  Anakin fidgeted on the bed.  "Why do you have to make
it sound so bad?"
     Padme smiled.  "I'm sorry, Anakin.  It's just the truth.  And we don't
always like the truth, but it happens, anyway."
     "I know."
     Padme was silent for a few moments, letting Anakin think.  "Can I
ask you something, Ani?"
     "Sure."
     "What did Obi-Wan call Qui-Gon when he was alive?"
     Anakin scrunched up his face, remembering.  "I think he just called
him Master.  Maybe Master Qui-Gon."
     "Mmm-hmm."  Padme waited for the parallel to dawn on Anakin.
She found herself waiting quite a while.  "And what do you call your
Master?"
     "You mean Obi-Wan?"
     Padme closed her eyes against Anakin's obtuseness.
     "Oh."
     She opened them again.
     "I don't call him Master, do I?"  He ducked his head as he thought
about that.  The other initiates had sneered at him, at his ignorance of Jedi
customs and respect.
     "I haven't heard you do so," Padme offered, tactfully.
     "Do you think that's like a big insult or something?"
     Padme shrugged gracefully.  "I don't know.  I'm not a Jedi.  You
might want to ask one when you see one."
     "Padme?"
     "Yes, Ani?"
     "Do you think if I said I was sorry...and really meant it, and started
calling him Master Obi-Wan, it would be ok if I went home?"
     "You'll have to ask him, Ani.  But for right now, you're going to
stay with us so my men can keep you safe."
     "Is Ob--Master Obi-Wan coming, or is he staying on Malastare?"
     "I don't know, Ani.  He sent this for you, though.  Maybe that will
help."  She handed him a holo-message projector she had tucked away in
the folds of her robe.  Good luck, Ani.  I hope you find what you are
looking for."  She gave him a quick peck on the forehead and rose to go.
She saw that Anakin's attention was already fixated on the projector, and
used his distraction to slip quietly out the door.
 
 

     "No, Master Yoda!  She can not be alive!"
     "Deceiving, appearances can be."
     "No, Yoda, I know.  I saw what happened."
     "A body, you saw not."
     "She became one with the Force.  We talked about that.  We felt it.
We found her cloak."
     "Perhaps wounded, she was."
     "No.  She could not have survived that cut on her own.  I killed
her!"
 
 

     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.
 
 

The End
 

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.