The two Jedi knelt side-by-side in the center of the sitting room, facing the windows so that the sun fell fully on their faces, which were perfectly serene in their morning meditation. I leaned against the doorway and watched them, trying to decide whether to go in and start my day as quietly as I could, or wait until they finished. Even on their knees Obi-Wan was shorter than his Master, his young, smooth face a contrast to the wiser, bearded one at his side. The Padawan was shirtless, again, but Master Qui-Gon wore his undertunic and leggings, giving them both the appearance of having just gotten up themselves. Neither flinched a muscle, the only movement between them a very slow sense of their methodical breathing. They were beautiful, each in his own way, matched perfectly to one another. I felt crude and awkward being part of their bond, knowing even after all that had happened to us that I didn't belong. As I stood there, Qui-Gon suddenly took a deep breath and opened his eyes, waking smoothly from his trance. Obi-Wan followed after a moment, and they glanced at each other, sharing a silent confirmation that they had completed a necessary duty, before the Master's head turned to regard me. "Good morning," he said with a kind smile.

"I hope I'm not intruding," I said, my voice hoarse as it often was upon waking.

"Not at all. We were finished." Master Qui-Gon unfolded his long legs and rose easily, stretching. Obi-Wan matched him move for move, with the additional ruffling of his short hair. "Did you sleep well?"

"Sleep, yes. Wake, no. I feel like I have a hangover," I muttered.

Qui-Gon smirked. "You didn't over-indulge yourself last night, did you?"

"No. I behaved."

"Then it must be the planet's cycle. There are only twenty standard hours in the day, here."

I shook my head as he moved gracefully across the room toward me. "Now you tell me."

"You knew that," Obi-Wan reminded. "It was in the file we researched."

"I wasn't thinking of it last night, though. No more late nights, I think." I glanced back at Qui-Gon as he maneuvered around the chairs, pulling one out to sit. "How's your...your wound?"

Qui-Gon's hand instinctively brushed over his side as he gave me an appreciative smile. "It's healing well, thank you."

"Not giving you any trouble?" He shook his head, but I wasn't convinced. "Maybe I should take a look at it."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "It's fine," he assured, "there's really no need to concern yourself."

"Perhaps a look is in order, Master," Obi-Wan broke in, stepping over. "I can sense it still bothers you."

"It's nothing, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon gently insisted, "but if it will ease your mind..." He leaned forward in the chair and drew up his sand-colored undertunic, pulling it over his head. I had to clench my jaw to keep from reacting; I had no idea a man his age could be so fit, his muscles tight, his skin smooth. This was the first I had seen him completely without a shirt of any kind shrouding his powerful figure, and it took all my concentration not to fall over. He sat back in the chair, his arms at his sides, waiting for me to examine his wound.

I went to him and knelt at his right side, and he lifted his arm over my head so I could take a studious look at the half-healed slash along his ribs. The binding agent had done its job, closing the gash so that no external bandage was needed. It looked all right, but I touched the scarred welt gently anyway, and Qui-Gon flinched. "There's some bruising there," I noted. "Did you know that?"

"Where?" His fingers followed mine, and he frowned. Obi-Wan came over to see for himself, leaning down and peering over my shoulder. "Ah. There. I can take care of that, with help from the Force."

"It doesn't look too bad," I concluded. "But you're going to have a scar."

Qui-Gon chuckled a little. "I have many scars. One more will not make a difference."

Now I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, really?" I said, out of a need to make some sort of remark.

"Well, yes. Of course." He smiled down at me, his eyes warm, his expression ambiguous, the appearance of tenderness. Such a look completely flustered me, I had to get up and out of the way. He put the undertunic back on. "We may heal faster and more completely with the Force, but it still leaves scars. Small ones," he added with a wink.

I located another chair and sat down, facing him, while his apprentice disappeared into his room without saying why. "So, what are your plans for today? Do you have any?" I wondered.

"Yes. It's time for us to get to the things we came here to do," Qui-Gon answered. "After what happened on the patio yesterday, it's clear to me that we need to test the extent of your Force abilities. This is a first, you know. I know of no one who has received another person's midi-chlorians to augment their lack, so there is no way of telling what we will discover."

Obi-Wan returned, then, having just gone to put his tunics on. "Why is it you two can sense me, but no one else can't?" I pressed; that was something I had wondered long about since leaving Coruscant this second time. "If I have even a little presence in the Force, shouldn't anyone with the ability be able to sense me?"

"I don't understand it," the Master admitted. "You would think so, but for some reason, that's not the case." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, peering at me. "I will do my best to find answers. I only hope they satisfy everyone, including you." He momentarily shifted his gaze to Obi-Wan, who was standing patiently, listening, before settling his eyes back on me. "And, I plan to teach you some things that may be useful - simple exercises they teach young children at the Temple, perhaps some fighting techniques. I would not want you to be unprepared, in case you find yourself in another situation like the last."

"Sounds good," I nodded. "Anything you want, I'll do it."

Qui-Gon smiled coolly. "I'm so glad you're willing."

"Be careful," Obi-Wan warned with a bland look on his face. "I've had him for a Master for many years, you don't realize what you're getting into."

I waved a hand at him. "You worry too much, Obi-Wan."

"Then allow me to dress, and we'll get started," the Master said concludingly.

As much as I wanted to think I was prepared for the way my Force-sensing abilities would be tested, I was not. We moved from our quarters to the spacious main hall, where Master Qui-Gon paced while he fired questions and requests at me to concentrate, focus, feel. I stood in the light from the giant east-facing windows, eyeing the Master as he passed back and forth in front of me, doing my best to answer and obey. Obi-Wan stood behind me, silent, acting only when Qui-Gon told him to as a means of drawing out the Force's power. At first, the questions were easy, centered on generalizing my experiences so far: did I feel the Force passively? Actively? Anytime, or only when concentrating? Could I tell what Qui-Gon was thinking at a given moment? How about Obi-Wan? How strong were the impressions I received from either of them? Qui-Gon wondered if, in this moment, I could sense Obi-Wan behind me without seeing or hearing him, if the young apprentice's thoughts were clear to me or vague. But the longer this line of questioning went on, the harder it became to follow, because I didn't know how to answer him with my clumsy words. Though he would probably understand, how could I describe to him the experience of another person's emotions being almost visible to me? Then he started probing deeper, asking for focus and concentration, telling me to search his mind, his apprentice's mind, to tell him what I felt when doing so. These were difficult requests, not only to accomplish, but to describe, since I had never experienced anything like it before. What did he want me to say? How far into his head did he really want me to look? Without a Jedi's trained instinct toward using the Force, I was relying on my five senses instead to answer his questions, which had us both frustrated. "I don't understand," I complained at one point, as Qui-Gon folded his arms over his chest with a sigh. "I'm not used to this. What do you mean by 'sensing?' What am I supposed to sense? My mind doesn't work that way, I don't know how - you've been trained, I haven't."

"But you say you can feel when either one of us uses the Force around you," Qui-Gon noted. "What exactly is it you feel?"

"I don't know. It's like...something around me is moving, it stirs up...energy. Not like the wind, or anything, I don't feel it externally. It's more like it's...in my mind, going directly to my brain."

"Good." The Master paced away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "And when I attempt to see through you, with the Force?"

His eyes darted back to me, and in that instant I felt the peculiar energy around me, focusing on my mind. "I don't have words to describe it," I protested, "though you're doing it right now. This isn't natural to me, I have nothing in my experiences to compare it to."

Nodding, he looked away and resumed pacing. Obi-Wan stirred behind me. "We already know she can sense us, Master, and we can sense her. That's not in debate."

"But it's the extent to which her abilities lie that is," Qui-Gon quickly countered. "For instance, how deeply can we see into her? Can it be done without her conscious effort? Is it enough that we feel her presence, or can more come of it?" He returned to face me, looking calmly down at me. "You still wish for an explanation."

"Please?"

"Contrary to many popular legends, Jedi cannot read minds, not exactly. What we do is use the Force to give us an idea of the emotions you are feeling, in a sense looking through you. The Force differentiates even the most minor of inflections, down to the nuance between mortal fear and momentary apprehension or nervousness. The more complex the emotion, the more detailed the impression we receive in the Force. Those impressions can be interpreted, then, and with great detail, but we cannot just tell you what specific words crossed your mind in a given moment."

"Good, because I hate having to be on my guard around you all the time," I muttered. "I'm afraid to think anything, in case you're 'listening' or something."

Qui-Gon's mouth curved with a hint of a smile. "You needn't be afraid. We don't pick up thoughts passively, like a broad-band comm broadcast. We must be focused on you, or you must send us your impressions directly, allow us in. Not often can we simply 'overhear' a thought, unless it is strong enough or a powerful bond exists between us. But, if you wish, I can teach you to shield your thoughts." His eyes darkened, then, and the smile faded away. "It matters not if no one else can sense you in the Force, but if it will ease your mind to keep us from sensing you, I can help you."

It didn't take the Force to tell me he was disappointed, disconcerted. "Master Qui-Gon, it's not that," I tried to explain. "I come from a place where nobody can sense anybody, your thoughts are your own unless you share them with somebody. The only way someone can know what you're thinking is if you're not careful with your words or body language, or the expression on your face. I'm not used to having someone be able to read me without those kind of cues. I'm accustomed to my privacy in the same way you and Obi-Wan are accustomed to the Force."

He gazed hard at me for a moment, the energy of the Force dancing around me as he scrutinized my mindset, and then his expression softened. "Of course," he relented. "You're right. I will remember that. This bond is stranger to you than it is to either of us."

I shifted my glance from Master to Padawan and back again. "Is it really so strange?"

"Master Qui-Gon and I have shared a bond of partnership for many years," Obi-Wan spoke up, his voice soft and wistful. "All of a sudden, there is a third presence in that bond. Fainter, weaker, but still there, and it exerts a pull on us in the same manner that we have always exerted a pull on each other."

"See, that's what I wanted to know," I said forcefully, smiling again. "Was that so hard to tell me?"

Qui-Gon's smile also returned, and he unfolded his arms and let them drop to his sides. "I see you're not as easy to figure out as I once thought. I will have to be more careful in my examination. Answer me this, then." He started pacing again, one slow step at a time. "Without trying, without concentrating - what does it feel like to have us around? When you can't see or hear us? Do you sense our presences, individually? Can you tell where we are?"

I thought about it. "Sort of. Like, this morning...when I woke up, it was almost as if you two were in my room, but you weren't. It's not the same as just knowing you're nearby, of course I knew that - where else would you be?"

"We sensed you waking," Obi-Wan informed me.

"You were meditating," I modestly reminded him. I then shifted my glance to Qui-Gon. "Would it help me if I started meditating? You'd have to teach me how, though."

"Possibly," the Master replied, stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully. "If you wish to learn to use the Force beyond simple perception, then certainly." The thoughtful look deepened. "I wonder...has your ability grown beyond perception? Your thought did trigger the Force yesterday, with Obi-Wan, though you didn't do it on purpose."

"And, there is the healing," Obi-Wan reminded.

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, his expression becoming gravely serious. "Yes. The healing." He stopped pacing and stared hard at me, his blue-gray eyes focused on my face. I held his gaze, intimidating though it was. "I will have to test this," he decided at last. "Whether you can move objects, whether mind-tricks fail with you. But," he concluded, "we will save that for another day. I think we've had enough of this for now."

I couldn't begin to tell him how relieved I was. We had spent most of the morning in examination, and though I kept my temper, it was incredibly frustrating. I wanted to be able to answer his questions, to help him understand and thereby help myself, but I was not prepared for the nature of Jedi testing. We had time, though, there was no need to try and answer all the questions the first day of the retreat.

Most of the rest of the afternoon passed much more quietly. As we ate lunch we discussed further plans for the days to come. The Jedi spoke of exercises and sparring matches, of the Master evaluating his Padawan's progress, and then of some time relaxing, walking about the grounds or maybe even swimming. The idea certainly was appealing, as the days on Chad were warm, but no one mentioned the fact that we had no swimming apparel. Both Obi-Wan and I were intensely interested in seeing the haridi, in taking part in the celebration, and Qui-Gon had no protest. "If nothing else," he reasoned, more to himself, "it would be an opportunity for learning."

"Is that all?" I taunted, rolling my eyes. "It's a festival, we're supposed to have fun. Learning is what the retreat is for, isn't it?"

"All of life is a lesson to be learned, and not only for the Jedi," he wisely countered. "We can find worth in every facet of living, whether in danger, in meditation, or in the middle of a festival."

I perked up at that. "Sounds like you're up for a night of partying."

Qui-Gon smirked classically, his eyes twinkling. "Any Jedi who tells you the only place to learn anything is closed inside a quiet room is only half a Jedi."

The rest of our mealtime conversation centered mostly on inconsequential matters. After lunch I went to take a nap, both because I was tired and because I wanted to get out of their way so they could do what they needed without my intrusion, but I found it hard to sleep. My mind was too active, going over the morning's testing again. Qui-Gon had seemed rough in his inquisition, but only because he was focused, intent on answers, while I had no idea where to start. I was confused, not even sure what the actual questions were that needed answering. The Master probably knew, but he was keeping his intentions to himself. In the meantime, the questioning left me unclear on what he wanted, unsure I knew anything that could be of use to him. With these thoughts racing about my mind, I tossed and turned for a while, then gave up and got out of bed. I came into the sitting room to find Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan seated at the table near the windows, poking at their lightsabers, possibly working on them. I quietly made my way over and sat with them, content just to watch. Neither said a word, only glancing up and smiling to acknowledge my presence before going back to work. The elegant weapons rarely needed fixing, I knew enough of their inner workings to know the power cells lasted indefinitely and were easily recharged by simply being at rest. Nevertheless, the Jedi were fiddling with their sabers, tuning them, cleaning the handles to ensure that the grips were sure and the housing undamaged from recent use. I sat there and watched with longing, finally able to see these fabled weapons up close. Qui-Gon then glanced at me, and angled his left hand toward me, offering the lightsaber. "Would you like to see it?"

I stared at him, startled. "You'd let me hold it?"

His smile was pure. "You're interested in it. Of course, you may." His hand was out, the saber handle made available. I took it gently into my hands, not wanting to accidentally activate it, turning it over to see and feel its dimensions. It was heavy, I remembered that from the moments in the underground tunnel when I carried it while Qui-Gon stumbled along, but now I got to see it up close. Smooth metal joined a hard rubber-like casing to house the intricate workings of the weapon, with a single red button on the side for activation. It was long and thick, fitting perfectly after so many years of use into the large hands of the Jedi Master. I held it in both hands and still couldn't hope to control it, finding that my hands barely fit around it. Weighing its balance, I found it heavier toward the emitter end, which was polished mirror-smooth from the energy blade itself. Turning it over and over, looking, feeling, holding, I couldn't stop the grin that filled my face. "It's beautiful," I breathed, "more than I expected. You don't know how many people would love to be in my position right now. Holding a real lightsaber. Replicas just don't cut it."

"Replicas?" Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow curiously.

"Never mind," I said with some embarrassment. I turned in my seat in order to hold the saber out in front of me, in both hands, in a combat position, though I didn't dare get up and actually pose or play with it. I had seen it in the Master's hands, doing its work, and that was enough for me.

Qui-Gon smiled warmly at my reaction. "Turn it on."

I looked sharply at him, amazed. "Can I?"

He nodded. "Just make sure you're pointing it in the right direction. Remember, it's a weapon, not a toy."

I suppressed an excited squeal as I rose from the chair and held the lightsaber up, taking a few heart-pounding moments to ensure I had it pointed away from myself or him. Slowly, I lifted my thumb and pressed the activation button, having to press hard in order to get the secure mechanism to work. The familiar hum and whoosh made me jump as the green blade flashed outward from my hands, but after the initial shock, I settled down and held it at arm's length to admire it. The blade had no weight, but a slight field of some sort (I guessed magnetic) gave it a sense of pull similar to the weight of a solid blade. All the weight was in the handle itself, with its balance centered perfectly in my topmost hand, toward the emitter end. I gave it a couple swoops just to hear the change in tone of the emitter hum, feeling the way the weapon handle rested in my palms, the way the blade led the way, finding its own path. Qui-Gon chuckled a bit. "What are you afraid of?"

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You hold it so delicately. It's a weapon, it's used to rough treatment." He got up and stepped up behind me, going around to my right side and taking my wrist in his hand. I thought he wanted the saber back, but instead, he gently guided my hand's motion. The green blade traced graceful patterns in the air with his help, twirling, reversing, angling down and then up. "There, you see? Nothing to it." Master Qui-Gon looked over at the table, searching out the attention of his Padawan, who sat watching intently without comment. I had almost forgotten he was there. "Obi-Wan. Give her something to square off against."

"Are you sure about this, Master?" But Obi-Wan obeyed, stepping around the table to the clear space of the center of the room, igniting the blue blade of his saber and facing me. He did fiddle with the blade intensity adjustment first, presumably toning down the power. "I take no responsibility for this," he taunted.

"Relax, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon reassured. "She's not going to fight you. Just give her a chance to feel what it's like to wield a lightsaber."

Nodding, Obi-Wan's blue eyes shifted to me and locked on my face, my eyes, ensuring himself that I was paying attention. Lifting the blue saber between us, he encouraged me with a flick of his head to take a swing, but I hesitated. This was something I had always dreamed of doing, for real, but faced with the opportunity, I was ready to chicken out. Without a moment's pause Qui-Gon stepped up behind me again; this time, his arms came around me and his hands closed gently on my hands, completely covering them. I fought the urge to let go of the saber and melt into his arms - fortunately, the humming weapon in my grip proved incitement enough to keep my focus. A little smirk appeared on Obi-Wan's face, and his battle stance tensed in readiness. The Master guided my arms, but the swing was all mine - up and to my left, until the blue blade made contact with a crack of energy. I started at the sensation, the jolt in my hands, the force of two lightsabers resisting each other. It was a little more powerful than an ordinary impact, but only for a second. Emboldened, I started to bring the saber down for another swing - reversed, toward the floor - and Qui-Gon's arms made the same journey to safely guide all the way. Obi-Wan met that and every subsequent clumsy swing with perfect blocking, grinning as he started getting into it. I was getting into it, too, increasing my speed just a bit, letting Qui-Gon show me new angles to try. He moved with me, his upper body matched to mine, his arms encircling, pulling when I stepped back and leaning into me when I went forward. Obi-Wan threw in a quick attack, and Qui-Gon moved my arms to block it in time, to our collective left. Then, again, and again. It was nothing like the saber duels I had witnessed before - compared to those, our movements felt like extreme slow motion. I grew quickly accustomed to the peculiar feel of impact, the tingle of power given off by the blades and the lack of a solid weight. Captured by the moment, I concentrated on nothing but bringing the green blade in my hands up to block the blue one across from me. The hands holding mine released their light grip, and slid gradually along my arms, until Qui-Gon contented himself with the fact I would do myself no harm and backed away. Obi-Wan kept blocking, so I kept swinging. Without the Master's guidance my clumsiness magnified, but Obi-Wan was patient, letting me get my fill before deflecting the green saber away and swinging his own in an arc just over my head. I had had enough, so I let the blade zoom by, lowering Qui-Gon's and reaching for the switch to turn it off.

"You did well," Qui-Gon encouraged. "Very well, for someone who's never held a weapon before."

"Thanks," I said humbly as I handed the silvery handle back to him and watched him clip it to his belt. "That was...unreal. Thank you - both of you, very much."

"Our pleasure," Obi-Wan said gently, replacing his own saber.

"Your movements were quite natural," Qui-Gon continued. "You're sure you've never handled anything like it before?"

"Only replicas. Nothing like this, and I mean, nothing." I gave the Master a curious look as he stood there, smiling ambiguously. "It was you, though. Without your help, I was just an idiot with a lightsaber."

"Nonsense. The movements were yours." His eyebrows twitched as if trying to suppress a moment of mischief. "I did nothing. It was the Force which guided you."

I suddenly grasped what he meant, and my mouth went slack. "You're kidding."

"I most certainly am not." I still didn't believe him, but Qui-Gon said no more about it. He stepped back toward the table, idly tucking his hands into his robe sleeves, speaking over his shoulder. "Seeing how easily that came to you, I think it would be wise of me to teach you some basic weapons skills. I don't know about your home world, but in this galaxy, you will certainly need them at some point or another." He turned back, his blue-gray eyes alight with some secret that amused him. "And if you are to continue in our company, that point will likely come quite soon."

If you are to continue in our company... That brought up uncomfortable reminders, of the past mission together and the unforeseen future at the conclusion of this retreat. I didn't belong here, with these Jedi. It seemed that only Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were ignoring or disputing that fact at this point, for whatever reasons they had. I did not know either of them to be the sentimental type, or else I would have accused them of making a passing fancy their reason for keeping me around. But the truth of it was, the three of us were together on Chad, for an indefinite period of time, with no one in authority to interrupt or demand anything of us. That had to count for something.

*****

Jump to Interlude: Inklings by avatar

*****

By the time we passed through the marketplace and arrived in the central areas of Kalinda, the sun was beginning to set and the haridi was approaching its prime time. I couldn't help but compare it to a carnival or state fair back where I came from, the similarities were too striking - the smell of rich food in the air, music coming from numerous unspecified sources, laughter, shouting, and a number of bodies moving along the streets at mosey speed. It seemed there was a band on nearly every corner, and vendors of food and drink between them, with games scattered neatly among the rest of the chaos. So much light, color, sound, and scent, it was nearly sensory overload. The Jedi walked in front of me, alert and observant as usual, while I glanced at every vendor's booth and game stall passing on both sides of us, making note of which ones to come back and take a second look at later. We wanted to make a quick reconnaissance of the haridi's layout, noting where everything was in relation to each other, before getting ourselves swept up in the excitement. Additionally, I didn't want to get lost. I didn't have the ability to just let the Force guide me - not yet, anyway. My companions could likely find their way around without trouble, but they were mindful of me following them, and slowed their pace to allow for observing. Everywhere we went, the excitable inhabitants of Kalinda shouted greetings and came out to offer us something or another - invitations to private parties, baked goods fresh from the oven, something to drink. It was evidently something akin to sport for the Chadra-Fan to try to be the first to boast that they drank with a Jedi, but none succeeded, as we turned down their kind offers of alcohol and continued on. Above us, in the broad, sturdy branches of the gum trees, streamers, banners, and lanterns dangled freely, swaying gently in the light breeze. There was also some activity up there, but the foliage was thick enough to obscure it. I thought there might be aerial platforms, perhaps, balconies for overlooking the whole festival. As we neared the treeless center of Kalinda, what it was became clearer. "It looks like a sport," Qui-Gon observed, his gaze keen as he lifted his eyes into the trees. Directly above us, a rope-and-plank bridge connected two platforms, where some of the Chadra-Fan were agilely climbing. A pair of them came suddenly into view, racing each other across a precarious rope web strung between two trees. "See? There. Some sort of race."

I squinted to see where he was pointing. It was dark enough now that lanterns provided the only light, and there were almost none hanging around the array of contraptions lashed to the tree branches. Furry bodies were certainly at work up there, but it was hard to tell just what they were doing. "It looks like an...obstacle course," I guessed. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does." Qui-Gon turned his attention to Obi-Wan, who stood at his right side, also observing. "What do you think?"

"You're right," the Padawan said. "They're competing against each other. Except for this bunch above us, they seem to be spectators." He suddenly reeled forward, stumbling, and a loud burst of chatter behind him made me look sharply toward the ground. A young male Chadra-Fan had blundered into him, and now regaled him with a choice set of insults enhanced by whatever he was drinking. He waved a half-empty cup wildly around as he accused Obi-Wan of getting in his way, though the fault certainly was not Obi-Wan's. The apprentice recovered himself smoothly and bowed his head slightly. "Excuse me."

"You humans, big like trees," the Chadra-Fan snapped. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"

"Perhaps we were distracted," Qui-Gon interjected with a diplomatic half-smile, "our attention was on the activity above us."

The creature forgot its annoyance and grinned crazily. "Ah, you see the Race?" he realized. "Eh, I bet you never do nothing like that where you come from, Jedi. Only Chadra-Fan can run the Race."

"Actually, it's quite like a course in one of the training rooms at the Jedi Temple," Obi-Wan remarked casually. "I've run it many times."

"Oh, yeah?" the male challenged. "You fast, then?"

Obi-Wan couldn't help his immodest smile. "One of the faster ones, yes."

The Chadra-Fan hooted loudly. "Oh! So, you think you can beat the Chadra-Fan at the Race, eh? Did you hear that?" Much to our collective surprise, he turned to anyone in the immediate crowd who would listen. "The young Jedi thinks he can run the Race! He thinks he is fast! Faster than the Chadra-Fan, even!"

The Padawan's face sobered. "I said nothing like -"

"Who's this, now?" another crowd member wondered. A small circle was beginning to form around us, with furry faces full of curiosity and amusement. "Who thinks they faster?" A big, round-chested male thrust through the onlookers, the cup in his fist overflowing with the heady, alcoholic party drink that was being shared everywhere. He took one look at us and guffawed, slapping his knee. "Oh, the Jedi humans. Oh, they good, they very good. But the Race is not a trick. The Race is serious business."

Qui-Gon arched one eyebrow. "Serious, is it? I hear nothing but cheers and laughter."

"It is serious when you make a challenge, Jedi," the bigger male snorted, pointing one long finger up at him. "You could never run the Race. You too big. Grab the rings and your feet would touch the ground, and we all laugh at you! Ha!"

"Not him, Grish," the younger one shouted over the scattered laughter around us, "the little one. He say he's a fast Jedi, done stuff like this before in the Jedi temple."

"Oh ho?" Grish tottered over to Obi-Wan and squinted up at him, flaring his nostrils. Obi-Wan stood unmoving, unflinching, his hands clasped before him beneath the long sleeves of his brown robe. Grish chuckled menacingly. "Then I say we see this Jedi show us. I say he runs the Race! We'll show him what happens when you try to challenge the Chadra-Fan at their own game, eh?" The crowd roared enthusiastically. Obi-Wan flicked a startled glance at his Master, and the Force tingled with his alarm. Grish poked him in the leg. "What do you say, young cub? You run the Race against our best, see if the Jedi can boast after we send you tumbling to the ground!"

Obi-Wan fidgeted some, settling into a wide stance that indicated he would be unmoved. "I don't think it would be appropriate," he said calmly.

Grish laughed out loud again. "Ho! You coward?" The apprentice clenched his jaw, but said nothing. "You coward! All boast, no proof. Just like a Jedi. You walk away from a challenge, eh?"

"You can taunt me all you like," Obi-Wan said with restraint, "but I will not be drawn into a useless dare."

A number of Chadra-Fan called out at that, teasing, mocking, laughing. Annoying though they were, I understood Obi-Wan's reluctance to indulge the over-excited creatures. A mistake here, and who knows what repercussions it might have for the relationship between the Jedi order and Chad? I glanced at Qui-Gon to see what he thought of this development, but he stood without expression beside his Padawan, watching. The commotion had gotten the attention of the spectators on the balconies ringing the obstacle course area, and now shouts were coming from above us as well as around us. Grish raised his voice to address everyone. "I challenge this human to the Race, and he refuses like a coward. He's no Jedi, the Jedi are brave and good. I could take him! I could send him crashing to the ground in the blink of an eye."

Obi-Wan's eyes hunted out his Master's face, though he concealed his reaction to the infuriating taunts of the Chadra-Fan. "Master, what should I do?" he hissed.

"No harm can come of accepting the challenge," Qui-Gon said just as quietly. "Do you think you would fail?"

"It's not whether or not I fail..." His own words convicted Obi-Wan, and he straightened up with determination. "Whether I succeed or fail is of no consequence."

"Then go ahead, if you wish," Qui-Gon nodded.

The apprentice nodded back, and then fixed his gaze on the bragging male who stood in front of him, demanding an answer. "Very well. I accept your challenge."

Grish started. "You do?" He stared at Obi-Wan, then broke into a sly chuckle. "Ah. Very good. Very good! But alas, I am old. I cannot run the Race like I used to. Would you accept a clan-mate competing in my place, doing me honor?" Obi-Wan nodded once. Chatters started to come from the crowd, which the elder male heard and repeated aloud. "Yatah? Yes, I will have my wife's brother Yatah compete in my place. Yatah! Where is Yatah!"

The crowd repeated the name like a mantra, chanting until a lithe young male swung down on a rope from the platform above us, descending into our midst. "Yes, Grish, my clan-mate?"

"Would you take on this impertinent human in the Race? He took my challenge, but with my leg, you know..."

Yatah grinned savagely. I had a strong feeling the change in challengers had nothing to do with age or a bum leg at all. This Chadra-Fan was athletic and bristling with energy, he was likely a champion among them. "Yes, I take that challenge!" he burst out. "Jedi, eh? I have heard legends of your exploits. I will take great pleasure in disproving every one of them!"

The crowd surged against us, practically driving us toward the ladders that anyone could use to access the starting platform in the branches ten feet above us. Qui-Gon and I walked with Obi-Wan, giving him last minute advice. "Don't worry about winning," the Master encouraged, a strong hand on his apprentice's back, "just keep your focus. Rely on your instincts. If you win, good, but if you don't, at least they will know you're a worthy challenger. That's all they care about."

"Be careful," I added.

Obi-Wan glanced at me and smiled. "I will. Just don't think about me falling again."

I made a face at him, but let it pass. Qui-Gon's eyes traveled around us, taking in the atmosphere of the cheering crowd. "They seem intent on seeing a good show," he noted.

"Oh, don't worry, Master," Obi-Wan said darkly as he shrugged off his robe and handed it to me. "I'm sure it will be a good enough show, all right. At my expense."

"Douse the lights!" someone yelled, starting up another chant among the audience both on the ground and in the trees. The lanterns ringing the course flickered out one by one, leaving the region of the obstacle course as black as the night sky above the haridi.

I shot Obi-Wan a worried look. "They're going to make you do it in the dark!"

Qui-Gon's hand moved comfortingly onto my shoulder. "He will be fine," he assured. "Performing without being able to see is one of the first things a Jedi learns. The Force is all around us, it will lead him." Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, a look of grim confidence on his young face, and turned to follow the wiry Yatah up the ladder to the start. I watched him, trying not to fear for his safety. Qui-Gon was right, of course, but my instincts were not trained to accept that quite yet. Part of me feared that I might inadvertently trigger the Force again if I concentrated too hard, but after the fierce barrage of questions I had endured that morning, I understood that such a thing was not likely. At least, I hoped not.

Obi-Wan towered over his challenger, but it was clear his height was a disadvantage in this game. The obstacle course was designed and arranged for the Chadra-Fan, conforming to their requirements for height and spacing. It would be easy for the Jedi to misjudge distances and over-shoot obstacles rather than fall short, though either mistake would send him falling to the ground. The main obstacle of the course was the fact it was suspended in the constantly-moving branches of the trees, ten feet off the ground at the start and rising higher into the tree limbs after that. It wound through a large area of foliage, consisting of hand-ladders, rope webs, swings, and other equipment spaced between small wooden platforms. It appeared the object of the Race was to use the ropes and ladders to hop from platform to platform, racing against your opponent while trying not to get yourself killed in the meantime. The Chadra-Fan obviously figured that the dark would be yet another advantage for their champion, because of their infrared sense of sight, but Obi-Wan had the Force. From the ground we could hardly see them, there was just enough light splashing up from below that their silhouetted figures could be glimpsed standing on the starting platform, waiting for the signal. Obi-Wan stepped into the light for an instant, and I could see the intent, focused look on his face. He was all business now, ignoring the constant chatter of his trash-talking opponent. Yatah was the crowd favorite, but a few were beginning to root for the Jedi underdog, as I heard a squeaky "Obi!" shouted here and there. I suddenly became aware of a short presence right beside me, and a female voice muttering, "Oh, then it's true. I heard something was going on here. What happened?"

I glanced down at Shassa, who had found us in the middle of the audience. "Somebody challenged Obi-Wan," I explained. "What's this Race? We don't -"

"It is a race of skill," Shassa said. "The object is to be fastest, yes, but there is a bonus for the winner if he can knock his challenger out of the trees."

I groaned, but again felt Qui-Gon's reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Relax, Obi-Wan will be fine," he said gently without a doubt. "Shassa, do these Races often end that way?"

"Don't know. I refuse to watch them," the female grumbled. "Too many stories of deaths from great falls from the Race course. Your apprentice better be well-trained with your Force, Jedi Master. He will need it."

I glanced at Qui-Gon. His face was serious, but not grim, as he looked up into the trees and caught his Padawan's gaze. Obi-Wan was prepared, and nodded as if to acknowledge his Master's concern. Another of the furry creatures was on the platform with the two competitors, apparently explaining the layout of the course, holding a flag bunched in one hand. As we watched, he shouted something unintelligible and raised the flag over his head. Obi-Wan's eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, as I had seen him do when preparing to meditate or gather the Force for something powerful. Then the branches shifted in the wind, and shadows obscured him from my sight. The official let out a shout, dropped his hand and the flag rapidly, and two figures leaped into the air. The Race was underway.

It was so dark under the branches that I couldn't see what they were leaping toward, but both of them caught it, their bodies jerking with the sudden arrest of movement. The agile Yatah scurried across the handholds and reached the platform first, but Obi-Wan was right behind him, swinging his longer legs in front of him to make up the distance. They skittered across a web and flew through a suspended ladder, climbing higher into the trees and moving almost out of visual range. They were both mere black shapes bending the tree limbs as they raced through each set of obstacles, none of which I could see at all. The Chadra-Fan were impressed, they could see what was going on. They ooh'ed and ahh'ed in wonder, occasionally letting out a squeal as one or the other challenger missed a handhold or failed to estimate the distance from an obstacle to the nearest platform. Such close calls heightened the excitement among the audience standing on the ground on the balconies above. I was aware, then, that there was a good amount of wagering going on, and native coins were rapidly changing hands as the competitors overtook one another at alternate points. I stole occasional glances at Qui-Gon, who stood still, relaxed, his attention focused on his apprentice's progress through the course. He did not seem worried at all, but couldn't tear his eyes from the Race. "How's he doing?" I whispered.

"As far as I can tell, fine," the Master answered, still not looking down. A slight smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "But I cannot see in the dark." Then, he did turn his head toward me, an interested look on his face. "Here is a chance to test your abilities. Reach out to the Force. Focus on it, and use it to augment your attention. See if you can see Obi-Wan."

"Are you sure I won't knock him off again, by accident?"

"No. That won't be a problem." He returned to watching, so I did as he commanded, thinking hard and searching within my mind for a way to touch the power of the Force. It eluded me for a while, but then a tiny tremor of energy lit my mind, and I grabbed onto it until it strengthened and flowed outward from me. Closing my eyes, I imagined the course and the dark, rustling foliage, and started consciously looking for Obi-Wan in the middle of it. There he was, throwing himself into the air to catch a hanging rope and swing across to the next platform, his blue eyes intense as he also used the Force to give him extra sight, sweat beaded on his forehead. I was so happy to see him I cried out mentally, Come on, Obi-Wan! The next obstacle involved a rapid climb of about seven feet, and Yatah shimmied up quick as a thought, but Obi-Wan gathered himself and made it in one leap. They were at a dead heat, and the upcoming obstacles provided an easy chance for the Jedi to pull ahead, so Yatah swung across the apprentice's path on a rope and struck him with his feet, his action so quick that Obi-Wan barely had time to grab a sturdy hold before the blow impacted.

The audience gasped, and my eyes flew open. I lost my grasp of the Force, and was again stuck not being able to see. Shassa cried, "Oh no!"

"What is it?" I demanded of her, anxiously clutching the young Jedi's robe in my fists.

"Yatah is trying to knock Obi-Wan down. He is very good at that, he has strong feet and a good grip. I fear for the smooth hands of your apprentice, Jedi."

This time, Qui-Gon said nothing, staring intently into the trees. I knew he wouldn't dare use the Force to help his Padawan, it went against the basic rules of the Race as well as the nature of Master/Padawan trust. But he strained to see, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Shassa continued to describe what she could see for us. "Yatah cannot kick him down. Obi-Wan is too big. Oh! Now Obi-Wan is continuing ahead, he is not deterred. Good boy! The ropes are not hard for him. He - oh! Oh no! Yatah is going to -"

The combatants swung into view again, as a gust of wind moved the branches and let enough light up that I could see their vague outlines against the foliage. Obi-Wan's long, lean figure was about to land on a platform, but the small, furry bundle of energy behind him somersaulted into the air and landed hard on the Jedi's back. The momentum pitched Obi-Wan forward, and as a result his feet completely missed the platform. He lashed out and grabbed onto the edge of the wood planks with one hand, coming to a dangling rest while the crowd below squealed in terror and shrank back. Yatah used the momentary diversion to spurt ahead through the last obstacle - a set of very tiny swings hanging from the branches, spaced widely apart. Landing on one would cause it to swing vaguely in the direction of the next, but in a most unsteady, unpredictable manner. Whoever went first would send all the swings into an impossible swaying riot for his opponent behind. Obi-Wan was still hanging from the platform, so it looked like the Chadra-Fan would have no problem winning the race. But then, Obi-Wan snatched the edge of the platform with the other hand, swung his body back and forth a few times, and made a Force-augmented flip into the air, landing safely on the platform. Cheers encouraged him onward, so he took a running leap and grabbed the rope suspending the first swing. His weight caused it to swing drastically, past the second one, and he threw himself into a forward somersault, carrying himself all the way to the same hanging platform that Yatah had just reached. The two of them collided, both scrambling for a grip, but the Chadra-Fan lost his and tumbled off the swing. Obi-Wan's hand shot out and grabbed him by the shirt, catching him before he could fall to his death on the hard ground below. The tiny wooden square swung dizzyingly back and forth, but Obi-Wan calmed himself and held on both to the rope and to Yatah, waiting until the precise moment before leaping to the finish line, tucking himself into a ball to roll and catch the Chadra-Fan's weight in his midsection. The two of them tumbled in a heap on the ending platform, to the exultant cheers of the massive crowd watching intensely.

I screamed in triumph, glad more that no one had gotten killed than over anyone's win - because it was a tie. Qui-Gon beamed proudly, accepting congratulations from the Chadra-Fan around us as if he had something to do with it. We hurried over to the ladder as Obi-Wan climbed down, breathing hard and wet with sweat, but otherwise unharmed. He smiled tiredly as we came into view, and the lanterns blazed again, shedding light on the course and the wildly-reacting audience around it. "Well," he began, panting, "I tried."

"You were awesome," I encouraged, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him forcefully. Surprised, he instantly returned the embrace. It was extreme comfort to me to feel him in one piece, unharmed, and I backed off to look at him. "You saved that Chadra-Fan's life."

"Very well done, Padawan," Qui-Gon said warmly, setting a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan smiled gratefully at his praise. "You made quite an impression."

"Not intentionally, I assure you." He turned as Yatah reached the ground, waving off concerned questions from clan-mates and friends. Obi-Wan dropped to one knee to be on his level. "Are you all right?"

"Oh...fine, fine," Yatah said shakily. "Thank you, Jedi. I...thank you."

Obi-Wan held out a hand. "It's a draw, then."

The creature nodded and clasped the offered hand. "A draw. Very rare for the Race. You are good."

"As are you." But Yatah shrugged off his compliments and disappeared into the crowd, apparently not wanting to revisit his near-death experience by hearing it repeated constantly by his admirers. Obi-Wan rose and faced us, though a number of Chadra-Fan insisted on coming up to him and banging on his legs, loudly congratulating him on a good race and thanking him for saving Yatah. He nodded silently at each one, a weary smile on his face, his blue eyes sparkling. I held out his robe to him, but he declined to take it. "I just need to sit down and rest a moment," he requested, glancing down and brushing debris from his tunic. The run through the trees had dirtied his clothing and left dust clinging to his skin, the dripping sweat leaving clear trails through the dirt on his face.

Qui-Gon clapped a hand to his back and led him away, through the furry throng toward a food court of sorts. "Come, we'll get something to drink." He was obviously pleased with his apprentice's performance, though protective of him after such an ordeal. He formed a formidable barrier between Obi-Wan and any new-made fans who might want to press in close, while I walked on the young Jedi's other side, his robe bundled in my arms. By the time we waded through the crowd to the tables surrounding the food vendors, most of them had broken off and gone back to their usual partying, bouncing to the beat of music which had started somewhere in the area.

Obi-Wan collapsed onto a bench, and I sat with him while Master Qui-Gon went to get refreshment. "Are you okay?" I asked him. "That was some move."

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan assured, leaning back and breathing deeply, finally regaining control over himself. He held up his hands to examine the blisters and raw welts from the ropes. "I'll have to put something on those when we get back to the temple."

I gently touched his palm, smoothing the broken skin back into place. "I'll help you with that. Don't worry."

"Thank you." He smiled appreciatively, glancing timidly away as I brushed my hand over his once more. Qui-Gon returned, then, making us both glance up. "What did you get?"

"Fruit juice. It was the only non-intoxicating thing I could find." He handed us each a cup before taking a seat beside his apprentice, giving him a cautious once-over with keen gray eyes. "How are you?"

"Well, Master. My only injuries are blistered palms." Obi-Wan held them up as evidence. "That was...interesting. I don't plan on doing it again, though, no matter how many of these creatures call me a coward."

"I don't think they'll be calling you that, not anymore," Qui-Gon said wisely, with a proud smile. "You handled yourself well, Obi-Wan. You showed your opponent great respect, and made his welfare more important than the Race. I'm sure this is a story that will be told and retold at every haridi and every Race to come."

"You're famous," I chided him kindly.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Fame is not what I was looking for when I took the challenge. But if it's all right with you, I think I'll spend the rest of the evening just watching."

"We don't have to stay if you don't want to," Qui-Gon offered.

"No, I want to stay. Just...no more action. I want to stay out of trouble for the rest of the night."

The Master grinned, and patted him on the knee. "Very well. We will stay. But honestly, Obi-Wan, it's a mystery to me why it's you who's always getting himself into these situations. When I was a lad your age, I hardly had such problems."

A welcome change in subject, one that had me intrigued. "Maybe you just weren't the adventurous type?" I wondered.

Qui-Gon's eyes shifted to me, and peered keenly, as if trying to discover a motive behind such a daring question. "More likely, my Master never took retreats on planets where the natives could be so...encouraging of such behavior."

"Then it's you I should blame for this?" Obi-Wan teased, sipping his juice.

If my question was daring, that one was outright demanding of a response. Qui-Gon slid forward on the bench so he could see me around his Padawan. "Do you remember," he began, "when we were in the Star Map room, Obi-Wan mentioned the last place we had gone on retreat, a forest moon?" I nodded. Obi-Wan groaned. "I don't even remember what the infraction was, anymore. He got trussed up and hoisted feet-first into the trees, and no one would let him down despite his yelling. They had taken away his lightsaber, so he couldn't cut himself down. He was too incensed to stop and take the time to focus the Force. The natives, a primitive race, just taunted him for their pleasure..."

"Worse yet, Master Qui-Gon was standing under me," Obi-Wan interjected playfully, "with his hands on his hips, grinning up at me like he was delighting in seeing me squirming around helplessly."

The Master gave us both a sly smile. "I was."

I laughed at both of them, while they traded reminiscent grins and chuckles. "I don't believe you," I declared. "How could you let yourself get into that position?"

"He didn't have a choice," Qui-Gon explained. "It did appease the natives - they left us alone the rest of the retreat. Besides, it was good to see my normally cocksure apprentice in a position of no control."

"I could share stories about you, too, Master," Obi-Wan warned. "Loss of control is not confined to the apprentice, only."

"Oh please, yes, do tell," I begged, grinning when Qui-Gon turned toward me with a start. "I knew that somewhere behind that collected, serene Jedi Master look is a troublemaker at heart. You can't hide it."

He smiled ambiguously, and did not contest it. Instead, he changed the subject again. "Would you like to walk around, see more of the haridi? Perhaps we should get something to eat, as well."

"Yes, Master," his Padawan readily agreed, glancing at his dirt- and leaf-covered tunic before rising. "I'm going to have to have this washed, soon."

Qui-Gon held out a hand to me, pulling me to my feet as Obi-Wan started away. "Are you having a good time?" he wondered.

"Yes...are you?" I wondered right back.

"Yes - a very good time." He tossed his head vaguely in the direction of the music we could hear lilting through the streets. It sounded happy, lilting, reminding me of Celtic folk music, of all things, with flutes and drums. "I am interested in hearing these musicians. Do you like music?"

"Yes, very much. In fact, this sounds kind of like some music from my home - from one of the countries, anyway."

"Oh? You must tell me about it." The Master led the way, pausing only to make sure Obi-Wan was with us. I followed behind them, still carrying the apprentice's robe, watching as they traded good-natured comments like old friends rather than Master and Padawan. Something was very different between the three of us, different from when we were on Coruscant and even Rodia. I had become their good friend, close enough that Qui-Gon allowed himself to be more open with me than I had ever seen him. He always struck me as the kind of man who let very few people get close to him, I had said so even when he was still just a fictional character to me. For a while, he had kept me at arm's length, but now, I was accepted. Accordingly, he was showing me a side of him I always assumed was buried deep beneath a Jedi Master's need for control, dignity, and wisdom. Smiling to myself, I walked behind the Jedi with my heart swelling with delight. At this point, in this strange land, nothing could make me happier.

On to part 12

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