Category: First-Time, Point of View: Obi-Wan, Romance, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Summary: There are more riddles on Enteknis than the three
given to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.
Feedback: please, as detailed as you like. Flames will be
laughed at. All else will be savored.
Disclaimer: All hail Almighty Lucas, who created this wonderful
universe wherein we sport. We who write fanfic in it salute
him, and pay him much money for merchandise, probably more than
we'd spend otherwise, so he shouldn't sue, please. Enteknis and
its inhabitants are mine.
Notes: This started as a doodle on my lunch break and promptly
became a lot more complicated. Many thanks to Kitty for
encouragement and beta-reading. See also the notes in 4/3.
(telepathy)
I have learned to treasure silence. Learn to quiet your mind,
Master Qui-Gon says, and you can hear the Force speaking to
you. Silent be, Master Yoda says more prosaically, and hear you
will those things to which you have forgotten to listen.
We had been silent for five days together, my Master and I. No
room for stretching or sparring, so we sat and waited. Beyond
our bubble of quiet I could hear the soft thrum of the
hyperdrive engines and the occasional whispers of the crew.
They were intimidated by ferrying Jedi, perhaps -- or, more
likely, by the same silence I found comforting. But I was too
long past the need to fill the quiet with babbling to begin
speaking now, and Master Qui-Gon has never been the sort to
speak more than needed.
We sat together in the rear section of the spacecraft, he in a
chair, I at his feet -- not out of deference so much as
necessity, there being only one chair. I had my eyes closed,
trying to focus on what my other senses told me.
The engine, the voices, the faint rustle of clothing and
movement; all these I had already marked. Attention to the
moment gives knowledge, so the Masters taught. What else? I
strained my hearing, trying to pick up what I was missing.
(Not outward,) my Master gently corrected me. (A Jedi must be
aware of himself as well as his surroundings.) As if I were
still a boy, he reached down and took my hand, placing it on my
own chest and covering it with his hand. (Heartbeat, breathing,
even the movement of your muscles.)
I nodded, opening my eyes, and smiled at myself. Each time I
thought I had grown in my awareness of the Force, my Master
would remind me how much I had still to learn. (Not only mine,
Master,) I thought back, and reached up with my other hand to
place it against his chest, feeling the familiar rush of heat
at the solid feel of him, reveling in it for that moment. (Also
your breathing, and through my hand your heartbeat.)
Qui-Gon said nothing, but only looked at me for a long moment.
His heart sped up beneath my palm, and for a moment I thought
-- but then his hand dropped away, and he leaned back in the
chair, breaking physical connection and moment both. I accepted
it, taking a deep breath and letting it out, allowing hope and
disappointment both to fade into the Force. Now was not the
time, obviously. No matter. I could wait.
"They've cut in the sublight engines," Qui-Gon said aloud,
rising to his feet, and looking down at me. "We approach
Enteknis."
"Yes, Master," I said, rising to my feet as well and going to
the cabinet that held our robes.
"We must be careful."
I stopped and turned to look at him. "Yes, Master?" He could
not be referring to what had just almost happened. Qui-Gon
would not react so hastily. So I'd thought, at least.
He waved me on toward the cabinets. "The Enteknai asked for a
Jedi, but gave no reason."
"Then why did the Council send us?" I said, opening the cabinet
and taking out our robes.
My Master shrugged easily. "For their own reasons, Obi-Wan."
That meant either he did not ask or wouldn't tell me. I allowed
myself a dramatic sigh as I handed Qui-Gon his robe, and
grinned at his reproving glare and silent (Padawan!) Then the
ship shuddered. We had landed. Time to pull up my hood and
concentrate on the mission.
Three Enteknai waited for us on the landing platform --
humanoid in form, though whether male or female I couldn't
tell. Their bodies were hidden in colorful flowing, shapeless
robes; their faces by featureless smooth masks. My Master and I
bowed to them in greeting, and they to us. Then one stepped
forward and gestured as if to say, follow me, before turning
and walking away from the landing pad. Qui-Gon followed
immediately. I glanced at the other two Enteknai, who came
around behind me and stood waiting, then followed also.
We walked along a narrow stone pathway, only wide enough for a
single person. On either side of the path loomed trees to match
the forests of Yavin, trees widely enough spaced to allow us to
see quite a way into the forest. Birds called above me, and I
began to relax. Though I walked on an alien world, the flow of
the Force remained the same. Besides, I could sense no deceit
in our companions, no glee as if they were leading us into a
trap. Only a calm to rival that of my Master.
Except my Master did not feel calm. Something had disturbed the
placid sea of Qui-Gon Jinn, and was still disturbing it. That
moment just before we landed? It had only been an exercise,
like hundreds of others we had done before. Perhaps he was
concerned about the mission, though that was unlike him.
I had not puzzled out an answer to my satisfaction when we
stepped into a Great Hall built of blocky stone, unornamented,
unadorned. On a square dais near the center of the room sat a
woman dressed in deep blue robes similar to those worn by our
escort and the other Enteknai who filled the room. She alone
did not wear a mask. Her hair was white, plaited in many braids
tied off with vivid ribbons, but her face was unlined and
youthful. I could tell nothing else about her; sense nothing
through the Force, not even the supernatural calm of her
subjects. I tightened my clasped hands, itching for my
lightsaber, within my sleeves, and restrained the impulse to
remind Qui-Gon to be careful.
Our escorts had faded into the crowd. Master Qui-Gon stepped
forward, putting back his hood. "Our greetings, your majesty,"
he said. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master. This --" a gesture
indicated me, and I took my cue to step forward and draw back
my hood as well, "-- is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"A master and an apprentice," the queen said. She spoke in
almost a monotone, voice sure but cold -- metallic, reminding
me of a droid's voice. "Excellent. We had not expected so
speedy a response to our request."
Qui-Gon merely bowed, then folded his hands inside his robe,
waiting. I reached out through our bond, intended to whisper
something into my Master's mind, but the words were driven out
of my head by recognizable feelings of impatience emanating
from him. Impatient? Master Qui-Gon? It seemed, at best, unlike
my Master.
Belatedly I looked back at the queen -- assuming that
was who she was -- only to find her studying us both
with dark, inscrutable eyes. At last she leaned back in her
throne. "You have been --" a moment's hesitation, as if
choosing the right word, " -- asked...here to be tested."
Tested? I bit my tongue and swallowed back my startled
exclamation, automatically releasing my indignation to the
Force. Qui-Gon, more controlled, merely raised his eyebrows.
"Your majesty?"
"We know your kind only through tale and rumor," she said,
voice still clear and impersonal. "We have heard the Jedi are
great warriors, and that we will not dispute, for we have seen
your movements, how you carry yourselves, and the weapons at
your sides --"
They had seen them? We'd not taken off our outer robes
since we arrived. My palm itched again to check my 'saber, and
I clasped my hands more tightly under cover of my sleeves.
(Gently, Padawan,) Qui-Gon murmured through our bond. I didn't
need the reminder, and sent back a pulse of (Yes,
Master.)
"-- and all support the rumor," the queen continued, without
notice of our by-play. "But we have further heard that the Jedi
are wise, with knowledge not only of the mind but of the
heart."
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. I re-centered
myself, and paid closer attention.
"We prize wise ones," the queen said, drawing herself up as if
proud of the fact. "But this we will not trust rumor to prove,
nor simple observation. Nor may we leave it to chance. This we
must test."
My Master cleared his throat. I could still sense the same
faint roiling undertone of unease through our bond, but none of
the confusion the words created in me. "Your majesty--" he
began.
"You may return home, if you wish," the queen interrupted,
voice more beautifully metallic than ever in contrast to my
Master's richer tones. "To stay is only to answer three
riddles. Nothing is forfeit if you fail. It is your choice."
"What do we gain if we win?" I asked, stepping up equal to
Qui-Gon. Confusion and pride battled within me, despite my
efforts to remain calm. 'If you fail'? 'Return home'? Surely
the Jedi did not need to prove themselves again, planet by
planet!
(Patience, Padawan.) Qui-Gon's voice was gentle in my mind. (I
sense something more here than a mere riddle-challenge.)
(I sense nothing,) I grumbled back. But the emotion began to
fade away.
"You gain the answers to the riddles," the queen said, smiling
as she rose to her feet. She loomed over both of us, something
I couldn't entirely ascribe to the dais: she was simply tall,
taller than I was, nearly as tall as Qui-Gon.
I opened my mouth to object, but Qui-Gon stopped me with a
glance. "So what are your riddles?" he asked the queen.
The queen's smile widened, and my heart sank. I had a bad
feeling about this. "They are three," she said, her voice
ringing through the room. I could sense the intense focus of
the rest of the people, on us and on the words the queen was
about to say, a silent pressure forcing my attention on her
majesty.
"The first," the queen said, "is -- to know evil." I waited for
the rest of the phrase, but she only paused a moment and then
went on. "The second is -- to know good." Another calculated
pause. "The third is -- to know your place."
She stepped forward, off the dais, and glanced around. Three of
the masked people -- the same ones as before, different, I
couldn't be sure -- emerged from the crowd and came to stand
beside her. "Your Companions will escort you to your lodging,"
the queen said, waving them forward. "We shall await your
answer."
Dismissed, clear as you like. My Master and I bowed slightly,
turned, and followed our escorts out of the Hall by the same
door we had entered. They led us off to the right, along a
slightly wider stone path that mazed its way in and out of the
trees, and finally to a building in the same style as the Great
Hall we'd just left. It would certainly be a good place for
thinking: we would be completely isolated here, not another
building for ten minute's walk.
The Companions stopped at the door, and one gestured toward it
as if to tell us to enter. My Master did so without hesitation
and I followed more slowly, stopping in the front room to stare
around, while Master Qui-Gon blithely headed inward to explore.
After a moment, I turned back to our escort -- but they had
not, after all, followed us in. I went to the door, opened it,
and looked out. No sign of the three Enteknai.
I closed the door again behind me, frowning, and as if on cue
my Master appeared in an inner doorway. "We seem to have been
well provided for, young Padawan," he said cheerfully. "The
kitchen is fully stocked, and the bedroom has enough blankets
for both of us."
I hesitated for a moment, then burst out, "Master, how can you
--" Be so calm, I thought, but bit it off. That was the wrong
phrase, the wrong question entirely. Qui-Gon was not truly
calm: even now, first meeting over with, I could still sense
the disturbance within him, but he hadn't mentioned it and it
was not my place to demand he explain himself. Besides, I
wasn't certain I wanted to know. The mission had to come first
-- and on that level, my Master was calm, his confusion
and fear released to the Force, allowing serenity to rule. I
needed to do the same. I stopped, took a deep breath, and tried
to center again before going on. "The riddles as phrased are
impossible, Master. I sense something very wrong here."
"A certain amount of deception, yes," the Master said calmly,
turning and leading the way to the kitchen. "But not, I think,
any more than can be accounted for by pride. The riddles are
true: it's the Enteknai's reasons for them that we must
consider."
"As well as the riddles themselves," I said with a bit of
annoyance as I looked around the kitchen. Nothing I couldn't
handle, I saw with some relief. The table was at a height
better suited for someone of Master Qui-Gon's size, or the
queen's, but I had half-feared to find them down at Master
Yoda's level.
"The answers will come in time," my Master said, and I looked
up in time to catch the hint of a smile at my grimacing. He put
his hand on my shoulder. "Be patient, young Padawan, and trust
the Force."
The easy touch and the familiar words soothed me, more than was
probably wise. I grinned over at my Master. "Yes, Master. In
the meantime, I shall be mindful of noonmeal. What sort of food
did you find here?"
After noonmeal, without prompting we both retreated into one of
the front rooms to seat ourselves and meditate. Not a shared
meditation this time, not like on the ship: such was rare, and
might distract from the mission. A childish part of me wanted
to pout and whine and demand back that unity of mind and heart.
I dismissed it. Later. Such desires need to be considered: this
was not the first time I had recognized within myself a
yearning hunger for more of my Master, more of his time,
his love, his self. Such burning hunger was of the Dark Side,
and damn distracting besides. Control and meditation kept the
flame at lower heat. For now, I needed to concentrate on the
riddles.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Allow the steady rhythm of breathing,
the beating of your heart, the movements and life in your own
body and all around you to fill your mind. Calm returned to me,
and I turned my attention to the riddles we had been set. I
didn't expect to solve them now, on my own -- but my Master
would expect me to have thought about them. There is no
ignorance; there is knowledge, I told myself. Breathe deeply
and consider the riddles.
(I opened my eyes for a moment and considered my Master
instead. The wailing, demanding child was silenced, and I might
enjoy Master Qui-Gon's beauty with a clear mind. Beyond that
simple enjoyment, of his form, his voice, his mind -- beyond
that lay a tangled morass of emotion. My policy of ignoring it
was working less and less well. Later, I promised myself again.
I would consider that later, before it could grow and spill
over into a mission. For now the riddles.)
To know evil.
To know good.
To know your place.
They seemed less like riddles than like philosophical precepts.
I could vaguely recall a Telessin myth I'd heard, which claimed
the first and greatest mistake the first man had made was to
seek to learn the difference between good and evil. Now
the Enteknai set the question as a riddle. How times changed.
My mind was wandering from the subject, and I pulled it back.
The riddles. How did one know evil, or know good? A Jedi
could sense many things through the Force, but not really that.
We learned relativism in the creche. There was only the Force,
the Darkness and the Light. The distinction there was
clear enough, but my Master and I could scarcely go hunting for
a Dark Side user to give to the queen: here, your majesty, is
evil incarnate! Nor did I think my Master would approve of any
kind of display of the Dark Side for the queen. Besides, I did
not believe the queen sought a demonstration. Riddles placed in
words were to be answered in words, were they not? And the idea
of the Force, Dark Side or Light, did not begin to address the
third riddle, the question of knowing one's place.
I was going around in circles, thoughts moving too quickly, and
accomplishing nothing. Something tingled at the back of my
mind, the answer, perhaps. But Master Qui-Gon had taught me
that if I tried to pursue that tingle, it would only slip away.
I would have to wait, and the Force would speak more clearly.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Allow the heart to beat more quickly,
the body to rouse itself from meditation. I opened my eyes
again, rose to my feet, and stretched, hearing my bones pop.
My Master remained seated, his legs folded and his eyes closed.
For a brief moment I considered continuing my own meditation,
following his example. But I was restless. Any attempt to
settle down would be useless in this mood. I could explore this
place we'd been given, and return when I sensed him rousing.
My first impression, of great age, proved to be only partially
accurate. The main parts of the building -- the entry hall and
the rooms directly connected with it -- were indeed old. My
feet tread quietly on the cold stone, the sound of my footsteps
swallowed by the cavernous angles of the ceiling above. The
newer rooms lacked that subtle weight to the air. The kitchen
held only a cozy feel, as did the nearly modern bathing
facilities. And in a third room -- one of the original, the one
where I had just left my master meditating -- someone had
rendered the entire side wall transparent, a window out into
the inscrutable green of trees and brush.
I wandered from room to room -- nothing so coherent as
exploring, merely unfocused restlessness. The Enteknai had
given us princely accommodations -- better than we'd often had.
They were generous, for all their riddles, and despite being so
insular. I'd noticed all the food in the kitchen was apparently
native product, and a glance through the books in the library
proved them all to be in a language I didn't recognized,
presumably Enteknai. I made a mental note to ask Qui-Gon about
it.
After a little while, the restlessness -- pacing around from
room to room, observing the stillness of my Master, and still
those riddles worrying at the back of my mind -- began to make
me irritable. I betook myself into what I had called the
library because of the full shelves that lined the walls, and
drew my 'saber. I considered it for a moment, its soft humming
filling the room, and then extinguished it again and put it
aside. I didn't trust my focus in my current state of mind. The
katas of the empty hand would be safer, and hopefully allow me
the letting go I'd been finding so difficult.
The familiar rhythms took hold, flowing from one into the next.
My mind began to clear at last, and as I finished the set, I
paused, considering whether to ignite my saber and continue on.
A ripple in the Force, just enough to get my attention,
dissuaded me, and I turned to the doorway to the front hall to
see my Master watching me.
"Padawan." I couldn't read the tone of his voice: some sort of
warning.
"Yes, Master?" I looked beyond him, and saw one of our masked
escort in the hall.
"We are summoned to evening meal, it seems," my Master said
easily to me, and glanced at the Entekne. "Has my Padawan time
to change?"
The masked figure bowed, and gestured toward the sleeping
chamber. As well that he did: my exertion in the humid air had
left me sweaty, my clothing clinging to me. I was also duly
grateful I wouldn't have to have dinner with a queen while
still in my traveling clothes.
It was the work of a few moments to retreat to the other room
and change. I hesitated a moment, then clipped my lightsaber
onto my belt before pulling on the over-robe. I left the hood
down. I emerged to find my Master and the Entekne waiting in
silence.
(Not very talkative, are they?) I thought into our bond.
Master Qui-Gon's expression did not change, but through the
bond I sensed a complicated mixture of reproval and amusement.
Then we both folded our hands into our sleeves and followed the
masked figure back out and into the twilight.
We did not return to the same hall that we had seen before, but
rather turned off the main path earlier, following a way that
seemed little more than a break in the ground cover. I kept my
eyes on the ground, and controlled my breathing. I was nervous
-- not because of anything I sensed through the Force, only
because I wasn't certain what to expect.
(Let go of your worry, Obi-Wan,) my Master sent, surprising me
-- I hadn't thought I was broadcasting. (The Force will guide
our actions.)
I sighed inaudibly, and raised my eyes so I could see my Master
ahead of me, following our guide as surely as if he knew the
path. I sighed again, releasing the familiar envy and lust to
the Force, and hurried my steps somewhat to catch up with him.
The room into which we stepped struck me as eerie. Dozens of
Enteknai, all wearing the silvery, full-face featureless masks
we saw earlier, were seated along long tables with no plates or
utensils or indeed food. Some few of them had discarded the
loose robes in favor of skintight garb in even more gaudy
colors, but I still could not tell if they were male or female
-- their bodies had the smooth lines of a child. The room was
lit from no obvious source, casting the whole scene in light
only little brighter than the dusk outside.
One table was set apart, at the far side of the room, crosswise
to the rest of the tables. At it was seated the queen. When she
saw us crossing the room, she rose to her feet. "Jedi," she
said. "You will honor me with your guesting."
Qui-Gon bowed, as did I. Our escort guided us up to the high
table, then vanished: I looked around, but could not see
whether it sat down at one of the other tables or merely left
the room by some nearby door.
My Master and I sat on either side of the queen, and then the
meal began -- faceless servitors, bringing various meats and
dishes on trays to our table. Qui-Gon and I exchanged looks,
and I took the trays, reaching out with the Force each time to
confirm we would not be poisoned in the eating. My Master only
watched me, and did not offer to take the chore. He wanted me
to have the practice, I told myself, but it did rankle a bit.
There was no talk at all. My Master said nothing, and I could
think of nothing to say, while the queen occupied herself
solely with eating. The people at the lower tables were equally
silent, but every time I looked down at them, they were either
gazing fixedly down at their hands, or staring up at the high
table. I could sense no hunger, nor envy of our food, not even
curiosity. All they did was stare.
(What is going on?)
(Patience, young Padawan.)
When the seemingly endless meal was over, the silence shifted
-- a waiting, an expectancy. I looked over at the queen, but
she had sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. My Master
looked thoughtful as he glanced around. Then a noise behind me
made me turn.
One of the masked Enteknai had come up behind me, and was
staring at me, head to one side. Its robes swung as if
it was shifting its weight back and forth between its feet.
Then it abruptly reached up, to hair I had not seen or noticed
or something before now, and began braiding a slender
plait. It only took a moment to recognize the beginnings of a
Padawan braid.
I was on my feet without knowing how I got there. I looked back
over my shoulder, beginning to half wonder, half hope this was
all some sort of vision or hallucination. But my Master's eyes
were wide and his face tight with some barely controlled
emotion, and the queen abruptly opened her eyes and
looked beyond me. In her eyes flashed silver metal like
the masks, and her white braids stirred as if caught in a wind
I couldn't feel, or as if they were living. I turned back and
the Entekne was gone, without a sound to mark it.
The queen rose to her feet. "Until the morrow, Jedi," she said,
and turned on her heel to glide out of the room. The effect was
of vanishing between one breath and the next: I absently
wondered where the hidden doors were as Qui-Gon and I stood in
belated courtesy.
I half-expected the rest of the court to be gone, too, when we
turned back around, but instead we found them standing courtesy
on us, and our escort waiting at the far door. I glanced over
at my Master, and saw his shoulders rise and fall in a silent
sigh of his own before he turned and headed around the table.
As I did the same, I reached out for him through the Force. The
confusion from earlier had returned, stronger than before, but
above that was calm reassurance, and a quiet (Not now.) I
quieted myself, and followed in silence back to our lodgings.
I half expected something as soon as our masked escort had
vanished back into the shadows beyond our door -- a discussion
of what happened, a wise lesson extracted from the chaos of my
fear and bewilderment, at worst a scolding for the terror I
felt even now as a cold draft around the edges of my mind. But
Master Qui-Gon said nothing. Instead, he hesitated a moment in
the front hallway, then headed directly back to the sleeping
chamber. I reluctantly followed: I was not particularly tired
yet, despite my exercise earlier, but neither was I in any mood
to remain alone.
He sat on the bed and watched me as I paced back and forth. At
last I gave up and began to strip down for sleeping. I tossed
my tunic on the chair and looked up to find my Master giving me
a sharp look. Doubtless he could sense my mood through our
bond. But he said nothing, neither aloud nor in my mind, and
when I reached out in the Force I could only sense a
overwhelming weariness.
I stopped and frowned over at him. We'd not been that active
today: what could have tired him out so? I opened my mouth to
ask, and then changed my mind. I would not press him, not with
my own focus and mood so uncertain. Tomorrow we would have
time, I assured myself, and I laid down on the large bed beside
my Master, intending to meditate before I fell asleep.
No matter how I composed myself, regulated my breathing, or
attempted to focus my mind, it would not settle. I was too well
disciplined to toss and turn, but the impulse to do so tugged
strongly at me. At last I did what I should have done at first:
I allowed my mind to choose its own path.
I saw again the Entekne at dinner. The polished surface of its
mask flattened in my imagination, as it reached up and began to
plait its hair in imitation of mine, so that I could see my
startled expression reflected in this new-made mirror. A
moment's pause, while it finished, or abandoned, the slender
braid, and then it stepped back and its mirror-features changed
again, becoming that which they reflected, until I saw my
double standing there. Even its robes had darkened to the
browns of my Jedi clothing. It smiled at me, a flash of white
teeth, then turned and strode from the hall. I knew, somehow,
that he went to our ship, that he would take my place. I tried
to reach for the Force, and found only that suffocating calm. I
turned back to appeal to my Master, but he was gone, with the
not-me, and the queen sat in her chair, white hair/snakes
writhing, and laughed, the sound echoing, echoing, dark
coldness rising to fill the room...
"Obi-Wan!"
I pulled myself out of the dream with a sharp jerk, and opened
my eyes to find my Master leaning over me, shaking my by the
shoulder, eyes worried. "Obi-Wan," he repeated, letting go of
my shoulder. "You were --"
"Dreaming, yes, Master," I said, pushing myself up to sitting
position and reaching for my shaken control. The flame in the
lamp leapt, and I jumped like a startled goat, blinking the
sleep from my eyes. "I...had not realized I'd fallen asleep."
What did that show of my control?
"It's been a long day," Master Qui-Gon said, squeezing my
shoulder. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through me, and I
looked up at him. If he'd felt my reaction, he gave no sign of
it; his hand remained on my shoulder, beginning to massage
tense muscles.
"I'd no intention of making it a longer night," I said,
allowing myself to relax into my Master's direction as he sat
up and gently tugged me around to face away from him, his big
hands heavy on the knotted muscles of my back. "I apologize,
Master."
"Not even the Jedi can govern their dreams, Obi-Wan," he
assured me dryly, and we were silent.
The silence, and the warmth of my Master's hands on my back,
lulled me into a half-doze. Live in the moment: he'd told me
that more often than I could count. For that moment I did, not
thinking of anything more than warmth, light, safety, the
presence of the one I loved, and the Force around and within us
both.
Then a cold wind blew through my mind -- from without, from
within, I couldn't tell -- and once again in my mind's eye I
saw the Entekne wearing my face, taking my place,
reaping the rewards I had earned: my knowledge of the
Force, my knighthood, my Master. I straightened convulsively,
away from Qui-Gon's massaging (caressing?) hands, shivering in
that non-physical chill.
At last I turned to face Master Qui-Gon. His hands rested on
the blankets, nearly vibrating with tension I needed no bond to
sense, and his expression carefully blank, only his eyes
betraying a surprised wariness of my behavior. We stared at
each other for a few moments, while I searched for the words to
explain myself, and -- not for the first time on this mission
-- found none.
"We should go to sleep," I said at last. "There's things to be
done tomorrow."
"Rest, then," said my Master. "I'll tend to the lamp."
"Master?"
"Rest, Obi-Wan." He reached out as if to push me down on
the bed, but hesitated before actually touching me. I lay down
without the prompting, and turned on my side to face away from
both the light and my Master, still in my bones feeling that
dreadful cold.
Evil. Darkness. The Entekne that had worn my face.
But was it the Enteknai -- or myself?
I closed my eyes, but did not sleep.
I have rarely passed a more miserable time than the following
day.
My Master refused to discuss the riddles we had been set. "The
Force will guide us, Obi-Wan."
"It might guide us better if we had more choices, Master."
"Do not close your mind with pre-conceptions, young Padawan."
"It's not pre-conceptions, Master, it's simple practicality!"
Qui-Gon merely took another bite of his breakfast and pretended
that prevented him from answering me.
Likewise, he shook his head to my suggestion of more active
training. "You didn't sleep last night," he reminded me, as if
I had forgotten. "I will not risk your safety with
lightsabers."
"If I sit and meditate, I may fall asleep!"
"That might be as well."
I could not dispute him about sparring -- my focus was entirely
off. The combination of the nightmare and my sleepless night
had left me in a mood I could not seem to shake and which
resisted all my attempts to release it to the Force, a mood
edged with the nightmare vision's frozen terror. Fear is the
path to the Dark Side, so Master Yoda is fond of warning. But
the remembered warning did not help dismiss the fear.
It threw me off balance. A Jedi's life is simple: see a problem
and seek the solution. Rare -- or at least rarely talked about
-- are the occasions where you are the problem. Release
it to the Force, I told myself: there is no emotion, there is
peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no control, there is Darkness, at this rate, I
thought irritably. But I refused the cold that wouldn't leave
me. There had to be another explanation. I would not allow it
to be otherwise.
In the meantime...I would stay with my Master.
He caught me staring a dozen times through the day. For the
most part he only smiled, or raised his eyebrows in silent
question, then returned to his meditation or his reading when I
shook my head: no, I wanted nothing, only to be silent company
for a while. When my own restlessness grew too great, I would
pace around, but always I returned. The silent storm on his sea
had only grown, and his company was no longer as peaceful as it
once had been -- but, for the moment, perfect calm reminded me
too much of our hosts. I preferred this sign that my Master was
not always a perfect Jedi, even by his own lights.
A bittersweet pleasure, this. It gave me quiet hope, a warmth
that held even against the chill of my mood otherwise. I had
become madly infatuated with Master Qui-Gon Jinn before I had
been his Padawan a week, and rather than attempt to release the
emotion to the Force, or allowing it to interfere with my
training, I chose to sublimate it. Either it would die a
natural death from neglect, or it would grow into something
real, something that could stand the test of time and reality
until I became a Jedi Knight and we no longer trod the
treacherous ground of Padawan and Master. Until recently, it
had worked well.
Even such relatively pleasant thoughts as these could only
create cracks in the ice. As the day wore on, I clung to my
Master's presence as if I were a child again, and dreaded the
evening, when we would have to return to the hall, and to the
Enteknai. They would summon us again. It was inevitable.
Our escort did not knock when it arrived that evening. Master
Qui-Gon was frowning over one of the readers in the library,
and I was sprawled in a chair turning my lightsaber around in
my hands and determinedly thinking of nothing, when a faint
ripple in the Force made me look up. An Entekne stood in the
doorway, hands folded into its sleeves, watching us from
behind that damnable mask. All the cold terror, the nightmare
images I had spent the day trying to dismiss, returned.
"Time for the evening meal, Master," I said, surprised at how
calm my voice sounded.
"Mmm." Master Qui-Gon put down his reader, glanced around, and
then scooped up his robe, tossing me mine from where it had
been on the chair next to his. I caught it and swept him a bow,
smiling. He only raised his eyebrows. "Put on the robe,
Padawan."
The moment's laughter vanished as we followed our guide out the
door. I felt as if I were in free-fall -- what would happen at
the dinner? What if I saw that same Entekne again? If the
mirroring did occur again, could I be certain I would
not panic, or worse, strike out?
There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. Cold comfort that
night. I could ask the questions of myself, but didn't dare
seek the answers, much less tell either questions or answers to
my Master as I should. I kept my eyes on the ground, and sought
the inner peace which would allow me to reach out for my
Master's mind.
The night echoed exactly the one before. Once again we passed
through silent Enteknai seated at empty tables; once more we
ate without speaking, served by silent, faceless, identical
servitors. I stared down at the sweet that ended the meal with
a feeling of sick dread congealing in me. If I looked up, I
would see it. If I didn't look up, then perhaps --
(Padawan.)
I pushed away the bowl of sweet, and looked over at Qui-Gon.
But he gave no sign of wishing to speak to me: he, too, had his
attention focused on his bowl, slowly eating the sweet.
Quicksilver cold froze me, and slowly, slowly I turned my head
to the other side.
The Entekne standing there did not look the same -- too
tall, though I could not swear to it, and long hair falling
loose to just beyond its shoulders. It tilted its head to one
side for a moment, bird-like, then drew itself up to full
height and reached up, pulling part of the hair back into a
simple ponytail.
Qui-Gon.
(Qui-Gon!)
I looked back, believing for a moment that my Master had
vanished and been replaced by this -- this thing. But
Qui-Gon looked up, startled at my mental shout, and frowned at
me; the queen sat forward with a sharp glare, braids swinging
with her movement -- and when I turned back once more, the
Entekne wearing my Master's form was gone.
"I know what I saw, Master!"
"What we see is shaped by our perceptions, Obi-Wan. You are
accustomed to my wearing my hair in this style, so you
associated it with me." As if to accentuate his words, Master
Qui-Gon reached up in eerie mirror to the Entekne, and untied
his hair. It fell loose around his shoulders, silver and dark
gold, so soft to the touch -- no. Was he trying
to distract me? It wouldn't work, I vowed.
"It's more than that, Master. Have you been able to sense
anything from them, except a monumental calm the likes
of which Master Yoda would envy? Have you been able to sense
anything at all from the queen? There's something more here,
something they are not telling us!"
I'd waited until our escort -- guide, jailer perhaps -- had
gone before I'd attempted to tell Qui-Gon what I had seen. He
had heard me out, then shaken his head and denied it. Now it
was all I could do to hold on to my temper.
"The answers will come to us in time," Master Qui-Gon repeated,
the level sound of his voice salt in the raw places of my mind.
"Be patient, Obi-Wan."
"I'm not sure we have time," I said, throwing my outer
robe haphazardly across the room. It landed on the bed-covers,
then slid off to puddle on the floor.
Behind me, Qui-Gon sighed. "I sense no such pressure," he said,
crossing to pick up my robe. "Are you certain of your focus,
Padawan?"
"I am certain, Master," I said, the words taking a not entirely
intentional sarcastic twist in my mouth. "They've asked us to
dinner twice now, and I don't think it's merely a matter of
hospitality." I folded my arms over my chest, feeling a
tightness there as I watched him move, as if something were
about to break. "On the third night they will ask for answers,
answers which we do not have."
My Master looked down at the robe in his hands, then laid it
more carefully across the bed. "You lack faith, young Padawan,"
he said. He did not look up, but his voice was frighteningly
steady. "You must trust the Force."
"How can I trust the Force to provide answers to questions
which have none!" The cold rose up within me, choking
off my words. I shivered and tried to calm myself. My Master
was not the enemy; why was I so angry? Why had the
Entekne taken his form tonight? What sort of warning had
that been? "There's too much we do not know," I said aloud,
regaining some measure of control.
"Perhaps we don't need to know everything, Obi-Wan," Master
Qui-Gon said, turning back to face me and folding his arms over
his chest.
"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge," I muttered,
feeling frustration surge again.
"We will know what we need to know," my Master said,
raising his eyebrows at me. "You must be patient, Padawan. I
think we have nothing to fear."
"For how long?" I could hear the rising temper in my own voice,
irrational, out of control, no matter how much I slowed my
breathing. The pressure rose in my chest; I hugged my arms more
tightly around me. "Until we give them the answers -- and then
what? Master, you didn't see the Enteknai!"
"I did not see them as you did, no." He remained still there by
the bed. I could almost see the cold gulf between us spreading,
a visible thing. Why couldn't he see it? The Enteknai, it must
be. "But I sense no danger."
"There is nothing to sense -- they've closed themselves
off, from the Force itself perhaps." I shivered again. "There's
nothing on this blasted planet except shapeshifters and
cold!" I reached out in a temper, grabbing for my robe,
so cold --
Qui-Gon's "Obi-Wan!" stopped me short, but not as much
as the pained bewilderment in his eyes -- or the cold, the
terrible chill I'd just felt as I'd reached out with the Force.
Light and Darkness. It was summer here, and humid. Why was I so
cold?
What had I nearly done? How could I have let myself go this
far? I was supposed to be a Jedi, trained to recognize the Dark
Side when I saw it. And instead...I'd entirely missed the
gaping maw about to close on me, the yawning emptiness that had
pressed at my heart. Just a little more, just a very little
more....I was abruptly very conscious of the lightsaber hanging
by my side, too easy to hand.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice, carrying no fear, only concern. "By
the Force, Obi-Wan!"
I began shaking, and turned to my Master. His eyes were dark
and concerned as he tentatively crossed the room and reached
out toward me.
Two steps and I was in his arms, clinging tight -- not like a
child, but as a man tried nearly too far. He held me as
tightly. For the moment we were Jedi second. First we were
teacher and student...friends more equal than I had realized.
The pressure in my middle eased, then slipped away without my
hardly noticing it.
"You cannot blame yourself, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said at last, and
through the bond I could feel only understanding.
"It was my own fault, Master," I objected, stepping back a pace
but not breaking the embrace. "I should have been able to let
go my fear and anger."
"I should have seen how close you were to the Dark Side," he
said, shaking his head. "Instead, I remained wrapped up in my
own concerns until nearly too late."
I opened my mouth to protest: he'd been preoccupied with the
mission, nothing of which to be ashamed. Then I remembered, and
shut my mouth again. The underlying unease I had noticed, and
dismissed, more than once. "What concerns?"
Qui-Gon looked up sharply, but his gaze softened almost
immediately. "On the way here, on the ship, both of us
were...closer than is our wont."
My hands tightened on his arms as I remembered -- listening to
his heartbeat, the enjoyment I'd taken in touching him. I
opened my mouth to say something, apologize for making him
uncomfortable, then shut it again when Qui-Gon continued.
"It is common for a padawan to become infatuated with his
Master."
"It is not infatuation," I murmured, daring to reach out
and lay one hand on his shoulder, as he'd so often touched me.
The tangled coil of emotion within me seemed to unwind with
that touch: I'd been right, it had grown and changed
without my notice.
Qui-Gon raised his hand to rest atop mine, a reassuring
gesture. I wasn't certain whether it was intended to comfort me
or himself: I could still feel confusion through the bond, a
struggle for words.
"It is likewise common for a Master to become attached to his
Padawan," he said at last. "I had assumed it was nothing more
than that. Then -- on the ship, I sense in you a man's lust, a
man's attachment, not a boy's."
I hardly dared move or breathe. Why hadn't I seen this
coming?
"I thought to say something, but the mirror of your
thoughts made me look at mine." Another long pause and then,
with extraordinary gentleness, he tugged me toward him. "It is
not an easy path, for a Master and Padawan to walk."
"I know," I said, stepping forward of my own accord and raising
my face. "I know." I raised my hands to grasp his head and
tangle my fingers in the coarse silk of his hair, so I could
tug him down where I could reach him. He was too tall, I
thought in mild exasperation -- and then he bent.
Our first kiss was remarkably chaste, all things considered, no
more than the light brush of lip against lip, mind against
mind. He raised his head and we looked at each other for a
moment. I suspect I was grinning, since he smiled just a
little, and then bent again.
This kiss was not chaste. It was wet and messy and entirely
un-Jedi-like, tongues in each other's mouths, minds an
incoherent revelation of heat and hardness as we devoured each
other. He tasted of spice and sweetness, of warmth and musk.
But I drew back, breathing hard, and after a second's
hesitation, he did as well.
(Slowly,) I thought into our bond. (My control is not --)
(Mine as well, young Padawan.) Qui-Gon's mental 'voice' was
dry. (We must take this slowly indeed.) The words carried
wistful overtones; not merely the overpowering physical
attraction, but --
Love.
Qui-Gon loved me.
Of course he did. I was an idiot twice over for not noticing
before, and so was he. I nearly laughed aloud with sheer
relief.
"This is not a matter for amusement, young Padawan,"
Qui-Gon informed me, though the corner of his own mouth quirked
up, and I could sense in him as well the giddy relief of an
unseen burden, put aside.
"Of course not, Master," I said, unable to stop a smile.
Qui-Gon shook his head, a reluctant smile of his own on his
face. "Come, Obi-Wan. The night has been long enough - and we
both need our sleep." He bent and picked up my robe -- on the
floor yet again - and dropped it neatly over the back of a
chair, before easily allowing his own to fall from his
shoulders, catching it and draping it likewise. A telltale
sidelong glance proved he was very aware of my watching him.
"Tease," I said, removing my lightsaber from my belt and laying
it on the bedside table before lying down myself, toeing off my
boots.
"Sleep, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon reprovingly, but he also
smiled as he moved around the end of the bed and lay down
beside me. I could feel the warmth of his body, almost
too warm, in the night's fading summer heat. But it was
a wonderful change from soul-freezing chill, so I was
disinclined to object.
I woke alone, drifting awake on a haze of contentment. A test
of the bond elicited the information that Master Qui-Gon was in
the kitchen, preparing noon-meal and waiting for me to wake up.
My hazy attempt at an apology was brushed off. (You needed the
sleep,) he said. (I needed the time to think.)
I caught the echoes in that thought and winced. A mere
'I'm sorry' wouldn't begin to cover last night...well,
that part of last night.
(You cannot take all the blame, Padawan,) Qui-gon reassured me.
(In my preoccupation, I dismissed your fear.)
I rolled to my feet and stretched, before moving to the door
through to the kitchen from the bedroom. "And I should not have
focused on that fear, I know," I said aloud, leaning against
the door-lintel and watching Qui-Gon busy himself. "The Council
would be ashamed of us both."
Qui-Gon paused and gave me a gently reproving look. "The
Council has faced Darkness before, Obi-Wan."
I smiled, and pushed away from the doorway, leaning over the
counter to snitch a bit of food. "Yes, Master. But nightmares
aside, that doesn't explain what the Enteknai were
doing."
"I believe they were trying to offer us a hint."
"A hint?"
Qui-Gon picked up two full plates and turned to face me. "I
think so, yes. I spent the morning in the library --" He was
leading the way to the meditation room. I followed. "-- and
found some histories, which I ran through the translator."
"A hint," I repeated, trying to make sense of it. If
that image had not been meant to give me nightmares --
"Then...to know evil --"
"--is to look within yourself," Qui-Gon said soberly,
gracefully seating himself with his plate, and handing me mine.
"Though I doubt they intended to single you out, Obi-Wan. We
have both tread far too close to the Dark Side."
I nodded slowly, controlling a shiver and allowing the shadow
of my terror to flow over and through me, back into the Force.
We had both been afraid; I of my nightmare images, he of more
real but no less paralyzing what-if possibilities -- and fear,
as Master Yoda was so fond of saying, was the path to
the Dark Side. But we were both moving beyond those fears --
with help. "And to know good is to look within others."
Qui-Gon's form, last night.
"Yes," Qui-Gon said, his eyes soft as he looked at me over his
plate. "Which leads us to the final answer."
I raised my eyebrows and him, my mouth full. (We've only been
here two days, Master. There's been no clue for the third
riddle, not that I recognized.)
"The answer is all around us, Obi-Wan, in the calm that so
irritated you -- not to mention in the histories I referred
to." Qui-Gon's smile was rueful.
"Do you mean to say these were traditional riddles?" I
asked in rueful exasperation of my own.
"For them, perhaps," Qui-Gon said, a faint reproof in his voice
and through the bond, enough to make me duck my head in
acknowledgment. "According to their records, the Enteknai were
once a human colony who came out here in search of isolation."
"They certainly found it," I murmured, remembering the
unusually long hyperspace journey here.
"They had reason," Qui-Gon said, putting aside his empty plate.
"They sought to become one mind -- one heart -- one being."
"No individuality allowed," I remarked. "Only the tasks given
creating a difference between one and another. That explains a
great deal." The masks, the robes, the silence... "No wonder
they wanted easy solutions to questions like that."
"Perhaps," Master Qui-Gon said, frowning at the thought. I
caught a flicker of confusion that anyone would do such a
thing, rapidly released. "The solution may not have been so
easy: I believe they only just accomplished the union."
"All of them?" I tried to imagine such a thing -- an entire
people, sharing all their thoughts, all their emotions, as they
would have to in order to create a single group-mind. It made
me dizzy. I had a hard enough time before the Council, knowing
myself exposed to all the Masters there. An entire planet? Not
holding anything back? "I see your point , Master. To them, to
know your place is to give your all in whatever circumstance
you find yourself."
"Precisely."
The air eased. The answers felt right -- the answers to
the questions, at least. But if they were right, and
these people had achieved a one-ness with themselves and the
Force any Jedi would envy -- "Master?"
"Yes, Padawan?" Qui-Gon picked up his empty plate and rose to
his feet.
I chewed my last forkful. (Why ask us the riddles in the first
place? Why test the Jedi?)
He gave me a serene smile. "Why, I imagine they will tell us
when we give them the answers."
"Yes, Master."
"And in the meantime, we both need practice sparring."
"Yes, Master." I suppressed a grin as I rose to take my plate
to the kitchen and rinse it, allowing myself the shiver of
delicious awareness as I passed Qui-Gon in the doorway.
(Concentrate, Obi-Wan.) The reminder rippled with amusement,
taking away its sting.
(I am, Master.) I ducked into the sleeping room, where I'd left
my lightsaber.
(On the here and now, Padawan.) The feel through the bond was
dryer, though still warm with love. (Not on what might --
shall be.)
(Yes, Master.) I returned to the meditation room, and bowed to
Master Qui-Gon. I was ready -- more focused than I'd been since
before the mission.
Together we ignited our 'sabers, and began.
That afternoon was glorious. Master Qui-Gon seemed infinitely
amused at my good mood. "There is still the Council to face, my
Padawan," he reminded me.
'When has fear of the Council ever made you change your mind,
Master, or me mine?" I tossed him a local fruit, and bit into
the one I'd kept for myself. Juicy and sweet as an Alderaan
pomerin -- perfect. I met Qui-Gon's eyes and bent my head to
lick the juice from my hand.
"Padawan." His voice had deepened into a low rumble.
"Master?" I took another bite to hide my smile.
He must have sensed it regardless, for he put aside his uneaten
fruit and leaned back against the table by which he stood,
folding his arms across his chest and looking at me, not
as a master looks at a student, but as a man looks at a lover,
or a potential lover. For a moment I felt exposed, even
vulnerable, before that gaze. I took another bite, and rose to
my feet to stretch. This was Qui-Gon. He could look as he
liked.
"There is only an hour or two lacking until night-meal,"
Qui-Gon said, and I stopped short. The glitter in his eyes, and
the vibrating tension along our bond, told me not to push him
any farther, as much as his earthen-dark voice did. "I would
prefer to allow this to take its time -- not rush it into an
hour's space."
Protective as always -- over-protective in this instance. "I
had not intended to rush things, Master," I said, and took the
last bite of my fruit with as innocent an air as I could
manage, feeling the juice drip down my wrist.
"Padawan." The word came out in a growl, and I heard Qui-Gon's
voice in my mind. (This is not a matter for teasing,
Obi-Wan.) Under the words lay a hint of the empty chill with
which I'd become all too familiar, not anger but fear -- all
the fears that he had fought these past days, was still
fighting to let go.
"I'm sorry, Master." Not for the teasing, but for my own
carelessness. I'd been blinded by my own glance into Darkness;
just because he hadn't been as spectacular about it as I had
been didn't mean his battles with himself were any less strong.
I couldn't find any adequate words, and instead poured into our
bond my sorrow, my repentance, and equally strong my belief in
him and in this newfound thing between us. I crossed the room
to stand in front of him, reaching out with my clean hand to
cup his face. "So," I said at last aloud. "Slowly."
Qui-Gon eyed me with wariness not entirely in jest. "Slowly."
"Slowly can be interesting."
He turned his head to kiss my hand, eyes smiling. "You are a
tease, Obi-Wan."
I thought of several things I could say to that. But instead I
leaned forward and replaced my hand with my mouth. We had an
hour, after all.
The formal dinner lasted for far less time that evening -- or,
more likely, my perception had changed. Without nerves or
nightmares clouding my eyes, I could see differences in our
hosts and servitors: a centimeter's difference in height, a
style of fold in a robe, a turn of motion, all served to mark
individuals, after all. Despite the masks, and the universal
calm, they were no longer a faceless monolith.
The meal ended, and an expectant hush fell as the queen turned
to Qui-Gon, eyes wide and waiting. He exchanged a glance with
me --
(They've a sense of drama, Master, that's for certain.)
(A sense of timing, at least.)
-- and then repeated, first the riddles, then the answers we
had discovered. I breathed deeply, centering myself as I
listened. What now? Explanation? We could hope so.
"The tales spoke aright," said the queen, her voice betraying
no emotion good or bad. "The Jedi are indeed wise."
"Thank you, your majesty."
She sat back in her chair, looking over at me. "We apologize
for any distress we may have caused, Padawan Kenobi." She
looked back at Master Qui-Gon. "When first our people became
one and emerged from our seclusion, we began to think wisdom
had left the galaxy. The only ones who came were those who
sought to take all we had for themselves."
(Pirates?)
(Politicians, more likely.) Qui-Gon's mental voice was rueful.
"But the Jedi have proven themselves able to understand," the
queen went on. "We ask this of your order -- to be our buffer.
The Jedi may come, or those for whom the Jedi pledge that they
have the wisdom of the Three Questions."
"I will ask the Council," Qui-Gon said smoothly. 'But I believe
they will agree to your request."
(Prudence, Master?)
(We tread close enough to the edge already, my Padawan. I will
not push too far now, and have you taken from me.)
The rest was mere formality. We were seen off the following
morning by three Enteknai, though I still couldn't tell if they
were the same three. I watched the planet recede from the
viewport with a certain amount of relief. Even with all
explanations and understanding, I'd still prefer not to visit
Enteknis again.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master," I said, turning back away from the viewport.
"We're about to jump into hyperspace. You need to strap
yourself in."
Five days in hyperspace to Coruscant. Five days before Master
Qui-Gon had to face his fears in truth as I'd faced
mine. In the meantime -- we would take it slowly.
Five days of silence, of mind-to-mind, this time knowing what
to listen for.
This would be fun.
I have learned to treasure silence.
-finis-
feedback, please? thia@dreams-unlimited.com
(hr)
If-you-enjoyed-this-story reading: 'My Anakin' (and 'My
Obi-Wan') by Laura JV, with their gorgeous portrayal of the
'perfect love and perfect trust' that appeals to me about this
pairing.
'Snake Oil,' by Martha, a gen Sentinel story that's likewise
kinda about perfect love and perfect trust, and an incredibly
well-written not-for-nighttime spookfest as well.
And just for the heck of it, I'm going to thank analise for 'A
matter of control,' the very first Q/O story I read and the one
that sold me on the slash, and Ruth for writing the very first
slash fanfic I read, period, and thus setting my feet on
the path of infamy (g).
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