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Family Portrait
(Part 3)
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Chapter 8

After leaving Shapoi's cell, Obi-Wan's day had gone downhill.

He went to the house Shapoi's parents were reported as living in, only to find it deserted.  It was no wonder -- it had been defaced with many vile sayings, and many of the windows had been shattered.  It was under guard now, and there were workers around it -- "It's an eyesore in a decent neighborhood," one of the guards explained -- but no one seemed to have the slightest idea where the Shapois had gone, except for a vague notion that they had gone "underground."  Obi-Wan considered asking whether they meant it literally or figuratively, but decided that it would be too suspicious.  He would have to find another route to them.

Trying to reach the mayor was worse.  No one accepted the idea that he needed to be interviewed, and since all his lackeys were under video and audio surveillance, the mind trick was too risky.  He gave up after twenty minutes, and decided to go back to Siri and work out a new strategy.

It was early afternoon, and people were outside, taking time off for a midday meal.  Humans and Neimoidians were walking and laughing together, and everyone seemed relaxed and happy.  A few people waved to Obi-Wan as he passed cafes and public parks, and he waved back automatically, finding himself thinking, If they knew who I really was, they'd be cursing at me. Something told him the thought was supposed to make him angry, but in fact it merely made him puzzled and heartsick.  He could live without the affection of the people of Malkiri, but he was sorry to know they were shutting their minds up so tightly.

He missed his street the first time he reached it.  All the corners looked essentially the same, and he hadn't been paying proper attention to the street names.  Halfway down the block, he noticed he was headed downhill toward the stream, and turned back up.  The house, at least, was easy to spot.  It was the same style as the others, but it was the only green one on the street.  After a day of fruitless wandering, he had to admit that it looked comfortable and welcoming.  He could see the back of Siri's head through the kitchen window.  He hoped she had changed her clothes since this morning.

The door was unlocked, and responded to a light touch on its scanner.  "Siri?" he called.

"In the kitchen, Baklee," she said in a measured voice that told him she was not alone.  "We have a visitor.  One of Kit's teachers."

Obi-Wan froze.  A hundred things went through his mind.  What had Anakin done to send a teacher home on his first day?  Fighting, most likely.  His temper was going to be the death of him.  Or worse, he might have slipped in his cover, let on who he was.  That might have caused the other children to torment him, and if he hadn't fought back, he might be hurt.  Or maybe he was racing, or daring the other children into some dangerous sport.

"Baklee?"

"Yes, I'm coming."  He resigned himself to whatever it was, sighed, and went into the kitchen.

The teacher was a young Neimoidian woman who tried to stand up quickly when she saw him, but didn't look comfortable doing it.  He waved her down and she nodded her head gratefully.  Obi-Wan noticed that she was wearing a Core Worlds style dress and no headgear.  Interesting.

Siri was wearing a perfectly modest pink dress, to his relief, and she was frowning down at something she held in her hands.  She offered it up to him and he took it.

It was a small clay figurine, with a face on each side.  A female face on each side.  He looked at it more carefully.  On one side was a soft, plain face, middle-aged and careworn.  Obi-Wan had never seen that face, but he had a strong suspicion to whom it belonged.  The other was unquestionably Padmé Naberrie, Amidala of Naboo.  The likeness wasn't perfect, and the proportions were off, but the eyes and the sharp, pretty line of her nose had been sculpted with care that bordered on reverence.  "What is this?" he asked, not taking his eyes from it.

The teacher shifted in her chair.  "Your charge made this in my art class today," she said.  "I am Prila Kam, by the way."

"This is my husband, Baklee," Siri said.

Obi-Wan forced himself to look up.  "I'm pleased to meet you, Madam Kam.  I am interested in why you've come.  Has Kit been a difficult student?"

"Difficult?" Prila Kam asked, sounding astonished.  "No, of course not.  He was quiet and well-behaved, and obviously, quite talented.  If I had a class full of Kits, I would be a happy woman."

"I don't understand."

A cool hand rested on his wrist.  Siri was looking at him steadily.  "Madam Kam is concerned about the subject matter.  Apparently this wasn't the first figure Kit made.  She was just beginning to tell me about the other."

Prila nodded.  "Yes.  I watched him destroy the other figure.  It was of this style -- am I right to guess that these double figures are a cultural icon of some kind?"

"Sure," Siri said.  "An old tradition.  The Dark Side and the Light Side, though my brother seems not to have used it that way here."

"Hmmm.  I'm not sure.  The one reminds me a bit of the girl-queen who seduced the Chancellor."

Obi-Wan hoped fervently that Prila Kam would not share that viewpoint with Anakin.  "She does, a little," he said.  "But I think she's meant to be a girl he met a few years ago while I was on assignment in the Outer Rim.  That was close to the time he lost his mother, and I would guess he's conflated the two."

"Ah, I see.  The poor child."  She shook her head.  "But it is not this piece which disturbed me.  I think it beautiful work, and clearly fashioned with much love, and that is the most important thing.  It was the other that troubled me.  Now that I see you" -- she nodded in Obi-Wan's direction -- "I see where one of the faces was.  It was a rendering as lovely as these two.  He clearly thinks well of you."

"I'm glad to hear it.  Who did I have on the back of my skull?"

"That was why I came.  It was some sort of demon, horned, with sharp markings and harsh lines on its face.  I sketched as much of it as I could remember."  She pulled out a datapad, with a face Obi-Wan recognized instantly displayed on the small monitor.  "Are you familiar with the figure?  Is it a demon?"

"Yes.  A demon."  Obi-Wan glanced across the table at Siri, whose expression was unreadable.  She undoubtedly would have guessed who the figure was.  "If you're concerned about the identity Kit apparently sees between his guardian and a demon, I can only say that I share that concern."

"It occurred to me at first that he was perhaps unhappy at home, but this is clearly a loving family, and it makes my heart float to see how much you care.  But I was also...disturbed by the destruction of that first image.  Kit seemed to notice what he was doing quite suddenly, and he obliterated it.  It was beautiful work, however frightening, and he simply ground it out of existence."

Siri stood up and smiled tiredly at her.  "Yes, well.  Kit makes sudden decisions.  And isn't it the nature of wet clay to be constantly reformed?"

"I suppose..."

Obi-Wan took his cue from Siri and stood.  "Madam Kam, I thank you for taking an interest in Kit's welfare.  I'll talk to him later."

Madam Kam smiled and rose.  "Very good then.  I have an afternoon class to teach, so I should go back to the school.  You have a talented boy.  Give him clay and paint and wood.  It will make him happy.  And, with practice, wealthy."

Obi-Wan walked her to the door and watched her disappear down the street, then went back to the kitchen.  Siri was examining the figure again.  "Kind of her to come down here," she said.

"Yes."

"Do you think it does mean anything, Obi-Wan?"

He sat down.  "I'm not sure, Siri."

"All the doubles..."

Something tried to make a connection in Obi-Wan's mind, but he was tired, and it missed.  "He's undercover now, Siri.  He's dealing with having a new name and a new history.  I expect he's just thinking in twos now."

"That was the Sith lord, wasn't it?  On the first figure?"

"Yes."

"When did Anakin see him?"

"I'm not sure...I..."  Obi-Wan found himself troubled by the question, but then a memory answered it for him.  Of course.  "The Sith nearly ran Anakin down when he and Qui-Gon were running for the ship.  It would have been a brief look, but the circumstances were somewhat intense."

Siri nodded uncertainly.  "Someone will need to tell him that the Queen is not a hero here."

"Someone being me?"

"You said it, Wise Master."

"I suppose.  Do you think it meant anything that the Sith grew out of my head?"

"Probably that it's a diametric opposite to him."

"But his mother and Padmé --"

"I don't know."  She rubbed her head.  "Did you get anywhere today?"

"Nowhere with seeing the mayor.  Shapoi wants me to find his parents.  Seems they've deserted their home."

"Wonderful."

"And he's forbidden us to rescue him."

Siri's weariness left her, and her eyes flared.  "He's done what?"

"Forbidden it."

"I don't take orders from knights in jail," Siri said.  "I'll apologize back at the Temple when we get him there."

**********

Anakin's last class was chemistry, or at least a pre-cursor to it.  He was paired with the boy Brinje, who Tomik had been teasing last night.  They did a simple experiment that involved turning a local vegetable into a battery by hooking it up to wires.  It didn't strike Anakin as a particularly useful skill, though Brinje turned out to have a slightly odd sense of humor, which made it at least a little amusing.

After class, he went back up to the art classroom to get his work from the kiln, but it was already locked.  Madam Kam was inside at her desk typing notes into her datapad, but Anakin guessed that she didn't want to be disturbed.  He could pick the bust up tomorrow.  He thought Siri might like it.

He found Tomik's gang outside, lounging around beside the forcefield.  Tomik was on his scoot, and so were a few of the others.  Anakin got on his own and coasted over to join them.  He let the scoot rise a bit, and crouched on it to remain at eye level with the standing boys.

Tomik mimicked the posture.  "School burns," he said.  He started to circle the group.  Anakin took the hint, remembering the boys on Coruscant, and did the same, mirroring Tomik's actions.  Tomik folded his arms over his knees.  "I smoked out on that lit paper.  You're lucky you missed it."

"What was it?"

"It was this dumb book we read last month, about this girl on a space station.  Spends the whole time worrying about losing her job, but somehow or other, I'm supposed to figure out that she wants to lose it."  He rolled his eyes as if this were the most absurd thing he'd ever heard.  Anakin thought he knew the story -- it was another one in Obi-Wan's collection -- and had thought that much was pretty obvious.  Tomik shrugged.  "Anyway, we're going over to Daj's shop to pick up Lirc's scoot.  He blew the motor last week.  You coming?"

"Sure.  I like Daj."

"Yeah, he's okay for a Flat-Nose.  C'mon."  Tomik swung out of the arc and headed down the road, slow enough for the kids on foot to keep up.  Anakin stayed at the back, swooping back and forth, keeping his eyes open as they went through town.

The adults were all still at work, if they belonged there, so the streets weren't crowded.  There were women on porches, but almost no men.  In the neighborhood where Anakin lived, humans and Neimoidians seemed to treat each other as if there were no difference, but here in the old neighborhoods that they were passing through, the neighbors weren't spending any time together.  Humans visited with one another over porch rails, as did Neimoidians on the next block, but Anakin saw very little interaction.

There was also a lot of graffiti on the walls.  Most of it was initials and names, but there were also political statements, and more of the anti-Jedi rhetoric.  Anakin wanted to look at it closely, but that would look suspicious.  He did take note of the fact that some of it was old and faded.

Daj's store was at the edge of this nasty knot of buildings, and it was the only one with no markings.  It had obviously been repainted very recently.  The sign said "Orti's Off-Time," and there was a wavy concrete ramp climbing the slanted walls.  Tomik flew up it and did a back flip in midair, then swept down and through the door.  Anakin took the simpler route.

Daj was behind a counter, bent over something, and he stood up to wave to them.  "Eh, boys!  School's out already?"

"'Bout time," Tomik said.

"You'll be happy, I think."  Daj grinned and bent down to bring up a long oblong carton, a little more than half a meter long and perhaps two decimeters wide.  Anakin recognized it immediately.  It was the packaging his own scoot had come in.  "They came in this morning."

Tomik did another excited flip and exclaimed, "Soaked!  I get my allowance in a few days, and I'll be back."

"It will take that long to get them unpacked."

"I'll help," Anakin offered.

Daj looked up, noticing him for the first time.  "Ah, yes, Kit Tachi, who knows where they come broken.  I accept your offer, if your parents have no objections."

"Kit hasn't got parents," Tomik said.  "Just a sister and brother-in-law.  His folks are dry-ash."

Anakin didn't grab for Kit quite quick enough.  He glared at Tomik.

Daj recognized it and gently pulled him around the corner, to a place where many scoot cartons were stacked, then looked back at Tomik.  "You talk too much, Master Cral," he said.  "Someday I think you will talk too much to the wrong person."

When Anakin chanced a glance up, he saw Tomik smirking, and knew that if he didn't get this fixed, he'd end up with no one but Brinje to observe tomorrow.  He couldn't bring himself to say it was okay, but he manufactured rolled eyes and an elaborate shrug, thinking, I'm going to wipe that smile off your face and make you eat it.

The smirk faltered, and Tomik backed away a little.  Anakin wondered if his expression was what he meant it to be.

"Will your sister mind?" Daj asked, pretending nothing happened.  "The work would be quicker and more pleasant with an extra pair of hands."

"Siri's pretty easy about that kind of thing," Anakin told him, and picked up a stack of cartons.  "I'll get started."  He listened carefully to his voice and decided that it sounded normal -- smooth and unruffled.  (It had cracked a few times last year, but he'd learned that if he relaxed and let it be at the pitch it wanted to be rather than tightening up and fighting the change, it wouldn't embarrass him.)  He waved at the others, and took the cartons into a storage room behind the counter.  "See you school tomorrow, Tomik."

For awhile, he heard Daj doing business with them, but tuned it out, opening the cartons one at a time.  He could see why the servomotors were always out of alignment; the packing material had to be tight to avoid worse damage, and it put too much pressure on them.  He made the adjustment lazily, letting them go to float around his head as he finished them.

There were about six in the air when Daj came back.  "Don't mind Tomik Cral," he said.  "He lives with a mouthful of tacks.  He spits them by accident and means nothing by it."

"Like calling you a Flat-Nose?"

Daj smiled and scrunched his high forehead a few times.  "But for a Neimoidian, a flat nose is very handsome, don't you think?"  He tilted his head up to show off.  "A mark of good breeding and great appeal to the ladies."

Anakin smiled.  "That's not how he means it, though."

"How he means it and how I choose to hear it are two different things."  Daj bent down and started opening cartons himself.  "You're sure your sister and brother-in-law will not mind you being late?"

"I'm sure."

"I saw you speaking with your brother-in-law late last night, in your window.  I thought certainly he was your father."

Anakin tried not to react to the information that their meditation had been seen, or to frantically wonder if Daj had also seen his padawan braid.  "Why's that?"

"Oh, when you grew quiet, his posture to you was kindly.  You are lucky to have such a guardian."

"Yeah, Baklee's great."

"You always speak late at night like this?"

"Oh, no.  Just sometimes.  When we get to a new place."

"Mmmm."  Daj made the servomotor adjustment on two more scoots, then sighed.  "Kit, some new places are different from other new places.  Malkiri is a good world, but there are unkind things here.  It is well to be careful where you choose to talk."

Anakin's heart sped up, but he tried to keep his voice casual.  "What do you mean?"

"I have only been on Malkiri for year, Kit Tachi.  Before that, I lived on Coruscant."  Anakin froze.  "And I know what practice you are imitating."

Imitating.  Anakin grabbed the idea and worked it into the Kit persona.  "Yeah.  I like to play at it.  They look cool.  But don't worry, I noticed it's not a very good idea around here."

"That," Daj said, "is putting it mildly."

Use the opportunity.

Anakin swallowed.  "So, do you know why it's like this?  I mean, my sister doesn't much like 'em, and she makes me stop pretending sometimes, but this is all kind of weird."

"I do not know.  Malkiri is what it is."

They worked together in silence for an hour, getting all the new scoot unpacked and making the alteration, then Anakin got up and stretched.  "Well, I guess that's about it.  I better get home.  I bet Siri's got dinner on the table by now."

Daj smiled.  "I thank you for your help."  He reached into a pocket, and tossed a few credits in Anakin's direction.

Anakin caught them easily and dropped them into his jacket.  It was the first time he'd gotten straight wages for work.  "Thanks, Daj."

"I'm your friend, Kit Tachi.  And if you need help, or simply a new means of transportation, you come to me, right?"

"Sure."

"Now go home and eat the dinner your fine sister has made for you, and speak with your fine brother-in-law in any way you choose.  But not in the window."

Anakin nodded, and headed out into the fading afternoon.

**********

"It is his free afternoon," Siri said, stirring a sweetener into her tea.  "It probably didn't occur to him that he would lose that."

Obi-Wan frowned at her, but couldn't think of an argument.  The fact remained that they were on an unfamiliar planet -- one unfriendly to the Order to boot -- and Anakin was more than an hour late coming home.  The bust still sat on the table between them, the ghost of its predecessor still hovering around it.  He had suggested different meanings to himself.  Perhaps it was simply a question of the timing, with both the Sith Lord and he entering Anakin's life with Qui-Gon's death.  Perhaps it showed an ambivalence in his response to the Queen -- or to his mother -- to have the dichotomy represented there.  It might have been a question simply of conflicting masculine images -- the father vs. the monster, as the feminine figure was also conflicting images (the mother vs. whatever it was Anakin felt about the Queen).  It could have been about different kinds of power, or images of the time of his escape from slavery, or attachments to Qui-Gon, or simply the opposite halves of a duel.

Or Anakin might have just thought it looked rugged.

"You're worrying too much about it," Siri said.

"I don't see you putting it away either."

She smiled and shrugged.  "I'm just deeply offended that he didn't decide to sculpt me in his images of the feminine."

"Trust me, Siri, he notices that you're feminine.  In that thing you were wearing this morning, even I noticed that."

"Imagine."

"I don't suppose you packed anything less provocative."

"Sorry.  I didn't think about it."

Obi-Wan stood up from the table and went to the window over the sink, looking out over a depressingly empty street.  He could see into the other houses, where families were gathered around tables.  Many seemed to be talking comfortably with one another, and he wondered how in the world they kept thinking of new and interesting things to say, with no missions and no lessons to learn.  "Where is he?"

"You worry about him so much.  Why?"

"Because he is my responsibility."  She said nothing.  "Aren't you going to tell me I should trust him?  Give him more freedom?  Or perhaps put a bell around his neck?"

"He's your Padawan, Obi-Wan.  I'm just interested in why you do what you do.  I want to learn from you."

But I don't know what I'm doing!

Obi-Wan just looked down at his hands, then back out the window.  A smooth motion at the corner caught his eye, and he relaxed as Anakin's face came into view under a street lamp.  He was riding the scoot, lazily letting his feet push it through a few tricks.  His expression was thoughtful and quiet.  He looked up and saw Obi-Wan, and waved so casually that Obi-Wan knew he didn't even suspect he'd caused worry.

Well, it was his free afternoon.

Obi-Wan went out to the entrance hall to wait for him.  The door slid to one side, and Anakin floated in, lowering himself to kick off the scoot.  He was definitely starting to look comfortable on it.

"Where have you been?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin looked up, surprised.  "I was at Daj Orti's.  I made a few credits.  I hope that's okay.  I mean, it's not like a lot or anything."

"Well, it's not precisely forbidden, but I would not advise asking Master Windu's opinion."

Anakin grinned brightly.  "Never even occurred to me."  He slid the scoot into his jacket pocket with an easy movement that made it look like he'd been doing this for years, and started toward the kitchen.  "I'll give it back to the Temple when we get back.  It's only a little bit of what I spent on all this stuff.  It's not like I was going to ke--"  He stopped, and Obi-Wan almost ran into him.  "How did that get here?" he asked.

"Your art teacher came by," Siri said.

Anakin picked up the bust.  "What for?"  He sounded honestly confused.  "I went to get it after school.  I was going to give it to you.  I thought you might like it."

"The image concerned her," Obi-Wan told him, slipping around him to sit down at the table.  "As did the one you destroyed before it.  I must admit to some concern as well."

Siri raised an eyebrow, and Obi-Wan waited for her to say, Some concern?  Don't you mean plain, unhealthy, irrational obsession? But she didn't say it.  Instead she looked at Anakin.  "It's very pretty, and if you still want to give it to me, I'd be honored to have it."

Anakin brightened immediately and nodded.  "Sure.  Thanks."

Siri laughed.  "When you give me a gift, I think it's traditional for me to be the one to say thank you."

Anakin just shrugged and reached for a piece of fruit, still smiling.  Obi-Wan knew that he preferred giving gifts to just about any other activity, and he would now seek the bust in Siri's quarters every time he visited.

"I suppose it's pointless to ask what it means," Obi-Wan said.

"Probably."

"You aren't angry with me for something?"

Anakin's brows drew together in an expression of sheer bafflement.  "No.  Why?"

"No reason, I suppose.  We should get dinner."

They worked together on the meal, chopping vegetables and adding some local spices that Siri had found, and sharing the day's various frustrations.  For all Anakin's protestations, Obi-Wan thought he sensed at least some liking for school; it had at least given him a passion to re-read several books, and he was openly enthusiastic about his art class, strange busts aside.  Siri had visited several of the neighbor women, but come away with nothing but recipes and a sour taste in her mouth from the bile they were blithely repeating.  For Obi-Wan's own part, he told Anakin about Shapoi -- to his chagrin, Anakin agreed with Siri's reasoning -- and told them both about his failure to connect with the mayor.  At one point, Obi-Wan stepped out to check the heat settings on the household computer, and when he looked into the well-lit kitchen to see Anakin and Siri talking to one another and working together, he realized that anyone looking in would see nothing unusual about this house, nothing that made it seem different from every other house on the block.

He had a strange urge to go back in and throw his arms around both of them, and it surprised him.  He had never desired any family outside the Order, and he didn't really desire one now, but perhaps there was some old biological urge, a wild gene as yet unconquered in the human race, which made such a configuration attractive, made a man want to be a part of it.

Siri flicked a bit of flour at Anakin, and he took a swipe at her with a leafy green vegetable.  She started to pick up a second one to meet the challenge, then changed her mind and leaned forward to kiss his head instead.  He made a face.

After dinner, they talked more seriously.  Anakin told them both that Daj Orti had seen them meditating last night, and, more importantly, that Daj had come from Coruscant.

"What is your sense of him?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin considered the question, then shook his head.  "I'm not sure.  He's not telling the truth about something.  But I...Well, I like him.  He feels okay to me."

"You're certain?"

"No.  But can I go back tomorrow?"

"If you'd like to.  If he does know something, it would be well to keep him in our sights."

"Great.  I like his shop.  It's lots cleaner than Watto's."

Then Siri asked about Watto's shop, and Anakin was off and running, telling stories of Tatooine as they cleaned up the kitchen.  Siri caught Obi-Wan's eye during part of this, and she just shook her head.  He smiled at her and rolled his eyes.  Obi-Wan sometimes wondered if Anakin enjoyed Jedi company simply because the customary quiet of the Order provided him with space to talk into.

Siri excused herself to meditate, taking the bust with her, and Anakin finished putting dishes away.  Obi-Wan settled in at the table to read the daily news, having decided in some vague way that, posing as a journalist, he ought to keep himself informed through traditional newspipes.

Anakin shut the last drawer and sat down across from him.  "Sorry if you worried about me getting back late.  I didn't think about it."

"I neglected to tell you to curtail your free afternoon."  Obi-Wan put down the scanner he'd been reading from.  "Anakin, your art teacher says you have talent.  Would you like me to see that you get paints and clay and so on?"

"How come?  Would it make me a better Jedi?"

"I think it would be inconsequential.  She merely thought it would please you."

"Oh."

"Would it?"

"What would I have to trade for it?"

"Trade?  Oh.  I see.  Yes, timewise...I suppose you would have to choose."

He considered it.  "I like the stuff I'm doing better.  But can I keep doing that while I'm here?"

"Of course."  There was unusual silence for a moment, then Obi-Wan sighed.  "Anakin, do you feel I am robbing you of things you enjoy?"

The answer was immediate: "No."

"I only ask because your teacher --"

"You're my teacher, Master."  His voice was firm on this, almost scolding, which was odd, given the sentiment he was expressing.  He stood up and headed out of the room.  In the door, he paused and turned around.  "It was opposites," he said.  "You and the other one.  That's all."  He disappeared into the shadows.

**********

Anakin set up a changing screen to meditate behind, but it was stark and white, and there was something disturbing in its sterility, so he hastily shoved it to one side and turned off all of his lights.  He crossed his legs and rested his arms on his knees, as he'd been taught, but without Obi-Wan to guide him, no sense of peace and tranquility came.

It wasn't unpleasant; the interlude was quiet and it did help him focus his thoughts, for all the good it did.  He didn't have enough facts to come to a conclusion about Daj Orti, and, try as he might, he couldn't find much worth understanding about Tomik Cral.  After five minutes of this, he got up and wandered to the window.  Daj's house was dark, but he could be down there, watching for signs of his new friend.

Am I really Daj Orti's friend?

Anakin frowned.  He couldn't escape the fact that he felt comfortable with Daj, sensed deception, but no malice.  But what kind of deception held no malice?  It didn't make sense.

Well, there was Padmé.  She lied, and meant you no harm.

He shoved that thought away with a force that surprised him.  He'd thought he was over his brief moment of betrayal even before he'd gotten up from his knees in the swamp.  But sometimes, it came back.  And always with the word "lie" attached to it, and it hadn't been a lie.  More like a game.  A game like he was playing right now, come to think of it.  Not a lie.

Was Daj playing a game like that?

"Anakin?"

He didn't turn around to see Siri.  "What?"

"Why are you awake in a dark room?"

"I like it like this," he said.  "There's moonlight."  He turned around.  Siri was in her nightgown again, but she'd borrowed a knit tunic from Obi-Wan.  It hung loosely over her narrow shoulders, slipping a little bit on the right and skimming over her shape.  It came to the middle of her thighs, and the thin silk clung to her legs underneath it.  She was trying to cover up, but it had the bizarre effect of making Anakin think about what she was hiding.

She seemed to sense this, and crossed her arms, then stepped into a deep shadow.  Anakin could see the light from the hallway around her, an aura, but it was non-threatening, and it didn't create any strange thoughts.  "I thought you might have finished meditating."

"I only started a few minutes ago."

"I know you, Anakin."

He smiled.  "I guess."

"Obi-Wan says that there is a volunteer clean-up crew at Shapoi's parents' home.  I'm going to join it tomorrow."

"That's a good idea."

"What should I look for?  What sorts of tokens?"

Anakin started to protest that he didn't know, but of course he did.  That was why Yoda had sent him on the mission.  To help Obi-Wan and Siri look like a family, yes...but also to try and understand a family.  "Did he know his parents in the Temple at all?"

"No.  They never met."

"Do parents ever get anything?"

"On rare occasions.  If, for instance, a child shows a sign of illness, the medics might consult a family's medical records."

"But no school stuff, no reports or anything?"

"No.  Why?  Would those be kept?"

A sudden, painful image came, of Mom in his room on Tatooine, collecting up his things, sitting among them.  Probably it was wrong.  Mom didn't have time to wallow.  But...  "Mom would keep everything, if she had anything."

"Oh."

Anakin pulled the image of his mother back into his mind.  He'd been sent here because he was supposed to understand a little bit.  He had to look.  He had to examine.  It came in a fuzzy way.  What would Mom be doing?

She is in a dusty room, maybe in their hovel, or maybe Watto has moved her to another one; it doesn't look familiar, but it is very foggy to him.  It may not even be a real place, and it certainly is not a vision of something happening.  It is only of what might happen.

He imagines communication devices -- a comm-link, a holoproj, a two-way holo-comm.  The comm-link is silent.  There is no one to call.  Qui-Gon perhaps would have spoken to her, but Qui-Gon is gone; she will have heard that on...

He makes her reach for the holoproj, which projects images of the celebration on Naboo.  She searches for his face, finds it.

Records.

Watches it again.

Smiles.

"Who was Shapoi's Master?  Did he ever go on a mission that people would have heard of here?"

"Possibly.  I'll see what there is in his mission history."

"Look for that.  I bet a lot of the parents watch for their children.  I would, if I were them.  They probably kept stuff.  What are you looking for it for?"

"I want to know the extent of their connection."

"Are you thinking he really did it?"

"No.  But I want all the information."

"A solid plan," Obi-Wan said, coming up behind her.  "If not one with a well-defined objective."

"Undercover work rarely has well-defined objectives, Obi-Wan.  Much of the time, it is simply a matter of learning what there is to see.  And at any rate, Shapoi asked for his parents to be rescued, and I consider that a fair request.  We'll need to find them, and for that, I will need to learn something about them."

Obi-Wan just nodded.  "Yes.  I see your point.  Siri, I would like to speak with my Padawan."

It was a request that no Jedi knight would refuse.  Siri nodded curtly and left.

Anakin stood as still as he could, wondering what Obi-Wan was upset with him for, but Obi-Wan just shook his head.  "Have you meditated?"

"No.  Not really.  I started to."

"Then I'll meditate with you, if you don't object, in a few minutes."

"Sure.  It's easier when you're with me."

"Which is why I really should have you learn to do it yourself, but I rather enjoy it, so I'm afraid I've been lax."  He gave Anakin a rare, self-deprecating smile.  "There are times I almost understand you, Padawan."

Anakin laughed.  "Same here."

Obi-Wan's expression turned awkward.  "Anakin, I saw last night that you were talking to several girls..."

"I like girls."

"I've noticed.  But the, er, flirtation, is...somewhat inappropriate for your station."

Anakin tried to remember flirting with the girls last night, but drew a blank.  "I don't understand," he said.  "They were flirting with me a little, but I was just being nice."

"Anakin, let me put this plainly.  As far as they are concerned, or any other girls at school to whom you are inclined to be nice -- and in this they will be quite correct -- Kit Tachi has a very strict guardian who deems him too young to engage in that sort of play."

Not knowing how to respond to being told to stop doing something that he wasn't doing, Anakin just said, "Sure."

"Very well, then.  Shall we meditate?"

Anakin nodded, and they sat in peaceful silence for thirty minutes.  After it, Anakin slept fitfully, dreaming of doubled figures, Queens and lies, and the monster who stalked him across the fiery plain of his mind.  He remembered almost none of this when he awoke.