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Family Portrait
(Part 6)
Family Portrait
(Part 6)
Star Wars belongs to LFL.
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Chapter 13

Most of the crowd was still jeering, still spitting hate through their teeth, but as Obi-Wan made his way through them, he saw more and more drawing back, looks of solemn shame on their faces.

Good.  They should be ashamed.  They are right to be ashamed.

The thought came from anger, and Obi-Wan set it aside until he was able to cope with it more productively, but it was true.  Shame was called for in the case that one had done something shameful.

He held up his press chip as he went through, pulling out a datapad with a recording feature to look more believable.  By the time he got to the steps, he was certainly not the only person with those accessories.  He found the guard who had first led him to Shapoi's cell -- Terja Kritol -- and waved him over.  "What's happened here?"

"Shapoi was shot."

Obi-Wan swallowed his impatience.  "How did it come to be?"

"Oh.  We found him up in the woods, nosing around the mayor's house.  He tripped an alarm and we came to get him.  When we got back into town..."  Kritol waved vaguely at the crowd.  "They heard about it, I guess, on the comm-channels.  They're always listening in."

"But it was a guard who shot him."

Kritol shrugged.  "He's lucky he got all the way back into town.  Most of us would have killed him on sight.  First the king, now the mayor..."  He frowned.  "And now we've got to guard his body."

"What will you do with it?"

"Put it back in the cell, I guess."

Obi-Wan sighed.  "I have lived on Coruscant my whole life.  A Jedi is properly cremated.  He is no longer being held for trial.  You should contact the Council."

The answer to this was a loud sniff.

"Well, thank you for your time," he said.  "I need to interview witnesses."

"If you want to.  Don't think most of them are in the mood for being interviewed, though."

That was true, Obi-Wan supposed, but as he was not in a mood to conduct sham interviews, it was convenient.  He wandered among them, occasionally asking a question of the somber looking ones.  They usually looked at him with wide, wounded eyes, then remembered pressing engagements elsewhere.  The ones still shouting took no notice of him at all.

He reached the far edge of the mob and looked back over his shoulder.  Siri and Anakin were still standing where he'd left them.  From a distance, he liked Siri's expression less than he had up close.  She looked dazed and lost.  He'd left her to take care of Anakin, but now he hoped that Anakin would take care of her.  The boy was a natural caretaker when he was in what Obi-Wan thought of as his 'neutral' mood, the mood that he seemed to settle into when there was no particular stressor in his life.  But there was a definite stressor here, and he could only hope that the caretaker instinct would rise up more powerfully than the agitation.

You should go back to them.  There's nothing more to be done here.  The mission failed, and you should go back to Coruscant to --

A cascade of gentle energy poured across his shoulders and down his spine just before he heard the sound of someone weeping in the shadows to his right.

An alley here led between the courthouse and a municipal building -- the lowest levels of each; unlike the houses, the public buildings on Malkiri were fashioned as step pyramids -- and the narrow path didn't admit much of the afternoon sunshine.  Obi-Wan could see garbage bins and data chip recyclers for the local news agency, and the squat box of a public holo-comm station.  It was set up for an adult to sit down in, to keep movement to a minimum so the cheap equipment would send a more accurate representation, so it was about chest high to him.

The woman was sitting behind it.  He could see the edge of her skirt.

He walked as silently as he could, trying not to frighten her away, and then squatted down beside her, angling himself so that he would also seem to be in front of her.  "Are you all right, madam?" he asked.

She jumped, hitting her head on the comm-station box and then leaning forward to weep into her hands again.  Clearly, she wasn't all right.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The woman raised her head miserably.  Obi-Wan could see that she was in her late middle years, perhaps even at the beginning of her elder years.  Her hair was mostly gray, if still threaded with strands of black, and she had a face as sharp as that of a bird of prey.  He looked at him hopefully for a moment, then shook her head again and looked back down at her hands.

"It was very upsetting," Obi-Wan said carefully.  "But I'm sure we can get help for you --"

"My son," she murmured.

"What?"

"Zio.  My son.  They murdered my son."

"Madam Shapoi."

She nodded, then turned her face against the stone wall of the municipal building.  "You are the Jedi, aren't you?  He said you were here."

Technically, Obi-Wan knew, he should lie, keep up the pretense.  But Qui-Gon's voice in his mind was perfectly clear on this matter: The time for lies is over, and the truth will help this woman.

"Yes," he said.  "We were sent to monitor the trial.  We wanted to rescue him --"

Madam Shapoi held up her hand.  "No, no.  I am aware.  He did not wish to involve you."

"Madam..."

"I never knew him.  When he was taken from us -- when we gave him up; he wasn't taken, I shouldn't say that -- when we first lost him, I thought of him constantly.  I never stopped thinking about him, but I..."

"My partner found data chips."

"May I have them back?"

"Of course."

Rather than stopping the flow of tears, this promise was met with a wail.  "They were all I had, and now they shall be all I have forever."  She ran her hand viciously under her running nose.  "I had come to a point where I did not think of him at every meal, wondering what he might be eating, or how happy he might be, or how jealous I was of that other woman in the holos I saw.  Then he came here!  He came to find us!"  Another bout of sobs.  "He was a good man.  When he came back, when I saw him again, I realized that I had never closed up his room in my heart.  I missed him!  I missed him so very much..."

Obi-Wan had a sudden, paranoid certainty that Anakin was behind him, listening to this, steeling himself for another attempt to return to his own mother on Tatooine.  Worse, Obi-Wan found himself wondering if Shmi Skywalker was feeling this...or if the other parents did.  If his own did.  He hoped not.  He didn't know them, but he hoped that they had been happy and had not worried for him.

He moved slightly to look over his shoulder, saw nothing but the empty alley entrance, and chastised himself.  Anakin wasn't here; Obi-Wan had just internalized the boy's unspoken accusations, and declared himself guilty of them.

He put his hand on Madam Shapoi's shoulder.  "I know," he said.

"He came back to us," she whispered again.  "And Malkiri killed him.  This world killed my only son."

"What happened, Madam Shapoi?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and Obi-Wan was certain she wouldn't speak again, but she did.  "He was going to the mayor's home this morning.  He suspected...oh, it was complicated.  It was that --"

"I'll take you back to my partner and my Padawan.  You can tell all of us, and we will look after you.  Your son wished for you and your husband to be taken from this world."

"That would be a blessing."

"How did he come to be captured?"

"He went this morning, but he was distracted.  The boy -- your Padawan? -- was at the site.  He wanted to make sure that he was out of danger and by the time he went back it must have been too late.  The guards must have been there.  Pojul told him not to go.  Pojul said it had waited this long, it could wait another day.  But Zio insisted."

Obi-Wan tried giving her a smile.  "Your son was a very insistant man."

She smiled back, looking surprised that she could, then cried harder.  "Yes," she said.  "He was."

"Come with me.  We will find Siri and Anakin, then you can take us to your husband.  Then we will find a way out of this place."

"My son...what will happen to his...to..."

"When we get back to Coruscant, the Council will demand that his body be returned for proper rites.  I get the impression that the guards will not allow any desecration.  They may feel like it, but they are sane enough to know that they have made enough enemies already today."

**********

The fury was rising like steam, spilling into his blood and forcing itself into every cell of his body.  They absorbed it hungrily, as if a part of him had been starving for the rage.

He could feel like a vast reservoir of power just beyond his vision, reaching out to him, offering itself to him.  It was cold...but it also burned.  Come into your strength, it seemed to whisper.

The colors of Malkiri brightened, becoming as false as a poor-quality holo, with everything surrounded by a hazy glow.  These murderers, ignoramuses...stupid, filthy human Hutts...  They had dared lay hands on a Jedi of the Order, and they couldn't be allowed to --

A movement beside his shoulder cut cleanly through the haze.  He had been vaguely aware that Siri's fingers had been stiffening, but it had seemed inconsequential.

Until she reached for her lightsaber.

Anakin didn't let himself think.  He pulled himself away from the power that beckoned him, and threw his arms around Siri's waist, calling on his own strength to pin her arm against her side.  Her lightsaber hilt was between them, and if she turned it on, he'd be, in Tomik's words, completely smoked.  For a moment, she fought him, and he was certain she was going to win.  She was a full Jedi, and she was stronger than he was.  But she wasn't fighting him with her full strength, because she was also fighting herself.  "We have to go, Siri," he whispered.

"They killed a Jedi."

I know!  Do you think I don't know?

"The time to help him is past."

"You sound like Obi-Wan!"

"I'm trying to.  Come on, Siri.  Please.  Before I help you."

She pulled away a little and looked down at him.  Her eyes were stormy skies, but they cleared slowly.  "You shouldn't...you can't..."

"Well, neither can you, so just give me this."  He took the lightsaber hilt and tugged at it gently.  She let go of it.  "And let's get out of here.  Fast."

"Obi-Wan will..."

"He has his comm-link."

The colors were coming back into the world, the power grasping at him again.  He could feel the humans and Neimoidians of Malkiri around him, and he wanted to shove the power out at them, knock them onto their backs, burn them up with the fire inside of him.

"Please, Siri," he said.  "Let's move."

She nodded curtly and put her hand on his elbow, leading him toward the edge of the crowd.  He knew she was moving aimlessly, but to an observer, she would look like a concerned guardian taking her charge away from an explosive situation.  They passed the courthouse, and went by a dark alley.  Anakin could feel Obi-Wan there and he turned.  He saw only his Master's hunched back, but he felt...what?  Obi-Wan was thinking about him for some reason.

Siri pulled him past, now genuinely taking control.  Anakin was surprised to find himself relieved by this.  "He won't have to go back through the crowd," she said through the corner of her mouth.  "That's good."

Anakin wholeheartedly agreed.  "Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

"Back to the woods then."

"There's been enough trouble in the woods."

"Something's there.  I want Obi-Wan to see it.  Besides, where else are we going to go?"

"Home?"

Well, it was logical enough, and Anakin knew it would make more sense to be back there, in their safe place.  But something was going to happen.  Anakin felt it all around him.  And...

He didn't want it to happen at home.  He liked the house.  He wanted to continue liking it.

"The woods," he said again.

"Anakin, I really think --"

Anakin's comm-link beeped.  He picked it up.  "What is it?"

"I've found someone," Obi-Wan said.  "Meet us by the stream, where we waited for Siri earlier."

Siri frowned, but her eyes had regained some of their humor.  "He always takes your side."

"Don't I wish."

**********

Obi-Wan switched off the comm-link.  Madam Shapoi had gotten shakily to her feet and was straightening her clothes.  She'd stopped weeping, but her face had taken on a slack, numb look.  "My husband is in the woods," she'd said.  "We can speak there."

So he had called on Anakin.  It occurred to him that it would have been more proper to call on Siri, but he was more accustomed to working with his Padawan than to working with a partner.  In any case, they would be where they needed to be.

"Madam Shapoi --"

"Daha.  You may call me Daha.  My son called me Daha."

"Then perhaps I should not --"

"Please, Jedi.  Call me by my name."

"Very well.  Daha, then.  I've told Anakin to meet us near the waterfall, as it is a place he knows.  Is that close to where your husband is?"

"Yes, very close.  Zio left the boy near where we were hiding."

"Daha...Anakin did not mean to..."

"To what?"

"To cause harm.  He followed a path and investigated what he found there.  He never intended to cause harm to your son."

"Mm."  Daha crossed her arms over her chest.  "Tell me, Jedi, if you lost your boy because of someone else's carelessness, would you genuinely care whether or not that person meant harm?"

"Perhaps not if that person was knowingly careless, but Anakin had no way to know that this impulse could put someone in danger."

Daha shivered, and looked at the brick wall.  "Of course.  I understand that, in my mind.  But we must protect our children, mustn't we?  That's what we're here to do.  Don't you agree?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer.

"I thought I was doing the right thing.  They said his power would overwhelm him if he wasn't trained.  So I let him go."

"It was the right thing, Daha."

"Then why is my son dead?  Why did he die when I'd barely had a chance to know him?"

Her voice sounded so lost and young, despite the deep lines on her face, that Obi-Wan didn't have the heart to even try to argue with her or correct her.  "I'm so sorry."

She nodded.  "I know."

"But please, Madam...Anakin is just a boy, and he did not intend harm to your son.  Even if you must blame him in your mind, please spare him your anger.  Know he has not earned it."

"I..."  She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, struggling with herself for a moment.  "I know.  I understand.  I won't hurt your boy."

"Thank you."

"But I am not alone.  And we should move quickly, if we are to reach my husband before your companions do.  He will not have given the matter extensive thought."


Chapter 14

Anakin felt the presence of someone else in the woods, but he didn't think anything about it, except that it would necessitate running without much assistance from the Force.  Siri, running a few paces behind him, seemed to sense the same thing and come to the same conclusion.  Their feet seemed to fall heavily on the forest floor.

It was difficult running like this, and although he was in good physical shape, Anakin found himself starting to break a sweat, and -- worse -- to feel the strain in his lungs.  There was a maddening sense of abrasion in the passageways beneath his breastbone, and it distracted him more and more with every step.  He felt as though he were breathing spun glass.

He supposed that he'd sensed that he was getting closer to the other person, but he didn't really notice -- pay attention to it -- until he was grabbed roughly by the upper arms and swept up off the ground.

His first response was simple surprise, which was lucky for his assailant.  He had time to think What happened?, then he was looking down into a reddened human face, green eyes lit by mad rage, gray and black hair hanging in untidy clumps on the cheeks.  His lips were pulled back in a snarl, revealing yellowing teeth.

"Put him down!" he heard Siri yell, then he was being shaken like a pod with its engine leads cut.

The instinct that rose up in the wake of surprise didn't come from the Jedi Temple and its pristine training rooms.  It came from years of streetfighting in Mos Espa.  He arched his back sharply and pistoned his legs forward, catching the man's breastbone and shoving him away.  It broke his hold and Anakin fell a meter to the ground, landing hard on his backside and jarring his teeth.  His left hand twisted, hurting the wrist, and his right landed in a puddle of cold and muddy water.

What happened next couldn't have taken more than a second, and probably took less, but Anakin felt it as a series of slow and discrete events.  The forest became preternaturally silent and its colors surreal, then he felt himself folding inward, like a scarf forced down into a magician's fist, his power and his very identity seeming to become concentrated on a single point.

Then the fist he had tucked himself into tightened and rose up.

He pushed with the Force - but he didn't feel like he was pushing, more like something else was pushing through him - and the man flew backward toward a tree.

Time resumed its normal speed and Anakin saw that the man was almost literally flying, that he would certainly hit the tree hard, that it would...  "Stop!" he yelled foolishly.

Then Siri was between the man and the tree, breaking his flight and veering them both away.

Anakin got up and scrambled over to them.  "I'm sorry," he said, bending over the man, who was now prone on the ground, to check for injuries.  "I'm so sorry.  I'm sorry, you startled me jumping out like that, I --"

He stopped.  The man was looking up at him not with anger, hate, or even embarrassment, but with something approaching wordless awe.  "Zio said you were powerful, but I didn't know what he meant."

"Obviously," Siri said.  "Who are you?"

"Pojul Shapoi."  He glanced at Siri, then his eyes came back to Anakin in a way that was both uncomfortable and shamefully gratifying.  "Zio said he had to sneak up on you earlier -- hide himself -- because he sensed that you were so strong.  He was right, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Anakin said sharply, not liking how arrogant it sounded, but at the same time not able to say anything else without its being a lie.  "He was right.  But he could have tried talking to me instead of hitting me."

Pojul Shapoi said nothing.

"Anakin," Siri said in a low, warning voice.  "This is not the time to argue with Zio's father."

Shame covered Anakin like a sudden sandstorm.  Shapoi might not even know his son was dead yet, and now he'd have to hear it from someone who'd just bragged and yelled at him.

Whether or not Pojul had any sensitivity to the Force, Anakin didn't know.  He had not been trained to seek other sensitives yet.  But he had obviously caught the tone of Siri's voice, and the change in Anakin's demeanor.  His arms dropped to his sides, and his verging-on-elderly face became that of a child lost in the woods.  "What happened in town?" he asked, but his voice said that he already knew, that a part of him had known since his son had been taken away.

But Anakin was spared from saying it by the sound of approaching footsteps.  Anakin reached into the Force, sensed Obi-Wan, and sighed with relief.

You'll have to tell him what you did.  If you don't, Siri or Shapoi's father will.

"Kit!" he called from the top of the hill.  "Are you and Siri all right?"

"We're fine!" Siri called back.

A woman appeared at the top of the ridge behind Obi-Wan, about Pojul's age, and Anakin guessed that she was Shapoi's mother.  As she came down the hill, breathing hard from overexertion, he could see the careworn lines of her face, and the stoop of her shoulders, as though she'd walked under a heavy burden.

He liked her right away -- she reminded him of Mom, and he didn't pretend to himself that it was anything else -- and went up the slope to help her down.

She drew her arm away when he reached for it, turning her shoulder up against him like a wall.

Anakin didn't know what to say -- of course, she must think what her husband thought -- so he just stood beside her on the slope, blinking stupidly.

She looked at him with bright, steady eyes, which suddenly softened.  She reached out her hand and touched his face so gently that Anakin thought he might simply fall into her arms right now.  "I am sorry," she said.  "It has been difficult.  But you did not deserve that, and I am sorry."

"'s okay," Anakin managed.  "Are you all right, Madam Shapoi?"

"No.  Not all right."  She looked down the slope at her husband and held out her hand to him.  He came to her.  "Zio is dead," she said.  "He didn't fight, and they killed him."

Pojul's face twisted and he muttered, "I told him he should fight.  I told him, didn't I Daha?"

"Yes.  But you know he couldn't have."

Pojul fought it very obviously, but nodded.

Daha Shapoi led them to the stream, and checked up the hill quickly.  "We are too near them here.  We should move to the shed.  Come."  She stepped into the cold water, seeming to find rocks that were close to the surface without needing to look.  Pojul followed her, then Siri, then Obi-Wan.  Anakin went last, and looked down.  The stepping stones had been placed deliberately.  He could see them from here in the middle of the stream, but would not have been visible to anyone passing by casually.

The Shapois led them further down a path that, like the stones, was only evident while it was being followed.  It twisted twice, leading downstream and north, then a small clearing opened out.  A wooden shed was built under the shelter of a rock wall.  Daha and Pojul led them into it.

It was dimly lit and starkly furnished, but the scent of the wood changed and deepened with age after it was cut.  For a moment, Anakin set aside all his other questions to wonder why all the buildings on Malkiri weren't made of this.

"It's not fire safe," Daha explained, as though she heard him.  "We must be careful."

"Oh."

She smiled wearily.  "Zio asked when he came here.  Apparently, Coruscant lacks pleasant smells."

Pojul was pulling out crates to sit on, setting them around a large box in the center of the shed.  He gestured toward them.  "Please sit," he said.  "We have much to discuss."

**********

"What's really going on?" Siri asked, not taking her seat.  To another observer, she would have looked cold and aloof.  To Obi-Wan, she looked furious.  Anakin reached up and touched her wrist in a gesture that seemed too tentative to actually come from Anakin Skywalker.  Siri's fingertips patted Anakin's hand absently, and Obi-Wan watched her go through a relaxing routine, beginning in her shoulders.

Marvelous.  Siri is taking lessons in control from Anakin.  What has gone wrong here?

Daha and Pojul Shapoi simply watched her, wide-eyed.

"Your son made it clear that he didn't want this investigated too closely," Siri said.  "I want to know why.  We can bring justice for Zio, but not unless we know what really happened."

Pojul and Daha glanced at one another nervously.  They obviously shared something they had kept quiet for some time.  "Pojul," Daha said, "it's too late.  Zio was wrong.  He couldn't stop it."

Pojul frowned deeply and covered his eyes, then nodded.  He put his hands back on the table and looked at Siri.  "Please sit down," he said.  "We will have to begin at the beginning, and it is a long story with a terrible ending.  You should at least be comfortable for it."

Siri sat down, still looking as though she had misgivings, between Anakin and Daha.

Another look passed between Daha and Pojul, then Pojul spoke.  "We were born here, both of us," he said.  "We were raised with all the --"

"Lies," Daha interrupted.  "All the lies.  We once believed them."

"I suppose 'lies' is as good a word as any.  Though not all of them are precisely lies, are they?"

"Just points of view," Anakin whispered, and Obi-Wan felt a chill for no reason he could name.

Pojul nodded.  "Exactly.  And we both had many negative points of view."

Daha picked up the thread.  "Shortly before we were married, there had been talk of beginning a new colony, on some world further out in the Rim.  We were young then.  Adventurous."  She smiled fondly.  "We snuck away from our parents, married early, and set out on the ship.  There were people from several worlds there."

"I bet Malkiri just loved that," Siri muttered.

Daha just shrugged.  "Well, we don't travel much, I suppose."

"At any rate," Pojul said, "we never made it to the colony.  We were attacked by a crew of pirates."

"My mom got taken into slavery by pirates," Anakin piped in, to Obi-Wan's surprise.  "I hate them."

Obi-Wan started to say, You need to overcome your hatred, Anakin, but decided not to correct the boy in front of strangers.

"We're not fond of them ourselves," Daha said.  "And they seemed to have the same intention for us that your mother's pirates had for her.  Did you say you know your mother?"

Anakin nodded.  "I...  Yes.  I knew her."

"Anakin is an unusual case," Obi-Wan said.  "He only came to us a few years ago."

"Packs quite a punch," Pojul said with a half-hearted grin.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who was looking steadily at the table and refusing to raise his eyes.  "Yes," he said.  "He has a great deal of power.  What happened when the pirates came?"

"A team of Jedi rescued us.  I don't remember their names.  There was only one human in the group, a woman.  The point was, they treated us kindly and respectfully, and brought us back to our homes.  For their troubles, they were given the sort of hospitality you have seen already on Malkiri."

"Why is it like that?" Anakin asked.

"It has always been.  Malkiri was founded by people fleeing the great war between the Jedi and the fallen Jedi.  Sith, Zio called them.  There was acrimony from the beginning."  Pojul took Daha's hand and went on.  "When Zio was born, we weren't thinking of the Jedi, only about our beautiful son.  But there was an oddness to him. One day, Daha found him in his crib, holding one of his toys in the air far above his hands.  We didn't know what to do.  We called the Jedi to Malkiri.  They came.  They took Zio.  And ever since, Daha and I have been highly suspect."

"I would imagine," Obi-Wan said.  "What does this have to do with what happened when Zio came back?"

Another guarded look. Daha bit her lip.  "This is difficult."

Siri nodded.  "We understand.  But you must understand that the man who died today was not just your son, he was also a Jedi knight, and we also have an interest in bringing justice to him."

"Go on, Daha," Pojul said.  "I can't."

She nodded.  "We had become increasingly dissatisfied.  We had spoken out against the monarchy.  When they brought the Trade Federation here, we protested."

"It isn't that we have...opinions...about Neimoidians," Pojul cut in.  "Since the business with the Jedi, we have been careful not to make such snap judgments --"

"And we are not judging you," Siri said, impatience starting to creep into her voice.

"Of course.  I...Daha, let me tell it.  I have to.  This is on my head, in the end.  Zio knew it.  You should know it.  And these Jedi should know it, especially the boy who I unfairly attacked.  All of this is on my head."

"Pojul --"

"I will tell it."  Obstinately, Pojul fell silent for a moment, his eyes fluttering up and down the wooden wall, as though watching something that had been projected on it.  He sighed.  "It began with simply speaking out.  Not against the Neimoidians, but against the Federation, and against the king for inviting them.  I made enemies.  But to my surprise, the mayor was not among them.  I was invited to his home.  He was gracious."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Daha asked, but her eyes were moving rapidly and her fingers were clenched tightly on the table.  "The mayor only asked you to stop speaking."

Pojul covered his face with his hands, then looked up again.  "That is where it started.  But I refused.  We began to talk.  He seemed a reasonable enough man, though I disagreed with him.  He invited me back again to continue the argument, or so he said.  When I went back again, we ate together and spoke of other things.  I told him about Zio."  He made a deep keening sound in the back of his throat, an uncontrollable expression of grief that Obi-Wan wasn't even sure he was aware of.  When it subsided, he spoke again.  "I thought of him so often, thought of him, and how I hated this world that would never have accepted him.  And how I missed him and wanted him with me!  My son!"  He squeezed his eyes shut, and Obi-Wan could feel him willing his grief under control.

Would I be able to do that, if I lost Anakin?  Or he, if he lost his mother?  What power and danger is in this bond!

"The mayor -- I suppose I should use his name, shouldn't I?  After all of this, I can at least call him by his name.  Fual Harkae.  But his name doesn't matter, and he was not my friend."

"What happened, Sir?" Anakin asked with an unusual degree of respect, considering that the man had apparently attacked him when his back was turned.

"The strange thing is, I can't tell you.  Not because I don't wish to, but because I don't remember.  Harkae said that he knew people on Coruscant to whom I could speak about a hateful government.  Calls were made.  I remember a shadow.  A shadow only.  I don't know how long I listened each time, or even how many times there were.  But my anger kept growing.  It was the fault of the king and all the Malkir line.  I kept thinking that.  They carried the poison here in the first place, and it was their fault.  Harkae agreed with me."

Anakin's eyes widened.  "You killed the king?"

Pojul covered his face again, and nodded miserably.

Daha stood, shoving herself away from the table.  "And you let Zio go to prison for it?"

"No!  I --"

"He sat in that prison for weeks!  He died keeping your secret!  And you never told!"

"I didn't know!"

There was complete silence.

Siri broke it.  "What do you mean, you didn't know?"

"I knew where his lightsaber was, and I knew that it had lost a charge.  I knew that I had been out that morning, but...  Oh, Maker, this sounds terrible."

"You killed a man and his children," Daha said.  "Of course it sounds terrible."

"For weeks before Zio came to us, I had been having...blank spots.  Confusion.  I was losing things, and forgetting my way to places I had been many times."

Obi-Wan thought of the guard at the prison, after he and Zio had fed him too many conflicting mental suggestions.  The human brain could only take so much pushing.  And someone had been pushing Pojul Shapoi very hard.  "Madam Shapoi," he asked, "it never occurred to me to ask at the Temple.  How did Zio happen to find you?  Surely you must know that it is not a regular practice for us to return to our birth parents."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably.

"I...he said as much.  He said it was accidental."  Daha crossed her arms and shivered, trying to process everything that was going on.  Strangely, a smile flitted across her face.  "He said, 'It was an accident, but let's say an accident I was trying to have.  I knew I had come from Malkiri.  I was researching the world, and someone contacted me upon seeing my name in a list of database visitors.'  It seems someone asked him if happened to be the son of Pojul and Daha Shapoi, lovely people."  She pressed her fingers to the space between her eyebrows.  "He was curious.  That's all."

"Did he say who the message was from?"

Daha shook her head.  "He mentioned a name, but it was a common one.  I'd heard it before, but never known anyone who bore it.  I don't remember it, but I'd guess a search would turn up thousands, if not millions, anyway."

"So," Siri said to Pojul, "someone was fuelling your anger, and someone else drew Zio here to be framed.  And what happened on the day the king died?"

"I still don't know.  Zio and Daha went out to walk, as they did every day.  I started thinking about politics, as I once did.  Then there is a long blank.  I didn't even realize it was blank.  I assumed I'd been puttering about in my garden, or maybe taken a walk.  But after Zio escaped --"

"You found this out after he escaped?"

"Yes, Daha.  You know I wouldn't have let him stay in jail if I had known the truth!"

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do."

She appeared to think about it, then she sank down listlessly into her chair.  "Yes, I do."

Pojul went on.  "Zio had been giving the matter a great deal of thought.  He liked the coincidences less and less.  And he had noticed something about my behavior that seemed strange.  He...I can't explain what he did, but he asked me questions, one thing leading to another, until I was in the middle of the blank spot and remembering everything."

"It is a method known to Jedi healers," Obi-Wan said gently.  "Zio must have been trained in it."

"Well, it worked.  And I told him everything.  And he wanted to go to the mayor's residence, and find out who we had talked to.  I knew that the conversations at least took place once every month.  Tonight would be one.  Zio wanted to put listening devices on that comm array.  But when he got there, he saw your boy, and had to get him out of harm's way."

"And make sure he could plausibly deny knowing about unauthorized espionage," Siri muttered.  "Of course."

Pojul nodded.  "He had stolen his lightsaber from the courthouse when he escaped -- they never released that information; it would have caused a panic on Malkiri to know there was an armed Jedi free."

"There were four," Anakin said.

"He told me he turned down the setting.  He didn't want to hurt you, and I hope..."

"I've had worse."

"He brought you here.  I built this place when I was just a boy, as an escape from the drudgery of town life.  Daha and I came here when we were first courting, to get a feel for living rough."

"For the colony," Daha said.

"Yes."  Pojul tried to put his arm around her, but she wouldn't allow it.  "He left you in a clearing a few meters west of here.  You could see it from the door, I'm sure.  Somewhere you couldn't see the mayor's house, and no one there could see you."

"Okay."

It clearly wasn't okay, but Anakin was controlling himself.  In fact, he seemed to be exerting far more control than Obi-Wan thought was warranted by the situation.  Was he that angry?

"Once you were safe," Daha went on, "Zio came back here.  He was determined to go on.  Pojul said that the mayor's people would be back by then.  Zio said it was now or wait until next month, and he thought that things were deteriorating too rapidly to wait.  We argued.  Pojul told him to fight if he had to; Zio said that fighting would only make things worse before he had any evidence.  He went off."

"And got captured," Anakin almost whispered.  "Because he was late."

Both of the Shapois were too busy telling the story to themselves to hear Anakin, but Obi-Wan heard.  He put a hand on his Padawan's arm and felt the boy relax, just a little.

"We couldn't stand waiting, so we followed," Daha said.  "We saw the capture.  I followed him into town.  I told Pojul to wait here in the woods, in case he escaped."

"And that's how you found us," Pojul said.  "That's all there is to it.  I killed the king, and now I've got my son killed for it."

The story ended without fanfare, and the five of them sat in uncomfortable silence.  Again, Siri broke it, her voice cool and practical: "You need to get to Coruscant.  You'll stand trial, I'm sure, but there are matters in your testimony that the Jedi Council needs to hear firsthand."

"All transports off the planet are monitored by the Trade Federation," Pojul said dully.  "I don't know how we'll get away."

Anakin frowned deeply, obviously thinking closely about something.  "Madam Shapoi?"

"What is it?"

"Will you do something that might not sound like it makes sense?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  "What is this, Anakin?"

"I don't know yet."  He bit his lip.  "Do you know where Daj Orti's shop is?  Orti's Off-time?"

"The toy store?"

"Yes.  I think...Well, would Daj know you right away if you walked in?"

"I doubt it.  It's a children's store."

"Good."  He stood up and walked a few paces, his hands clasped absently behind his back.  He turned back to them.  "Go there.  Wait until it's empty, then tell Daj that Anakin Skywalker sent you."

"Ani!" Siri cut in.  "Have you -- "

"No.  But I think he knows.  He's said some stuff.  I think he knows who we are, or at least who I am, and he's been keeping it secret."

"What shall we say you sent us for?" Pojul asked.

"Nothing right away.  If he doesn't look like he knows the name, just say it was a mistake and leave and come back here as fast as you can.  If he does look like he knows it...tell him we need an 'alternate method of transportation.'  He'll know.  And he's right in with the Trade Federation.  He can get us past their inspection."

The Shapois looked to Obi-Wan for confirmation; they had apparently learned enough about masters and padawans to know they should do so.  He nodded.  "I will defer to Anakin on this.  But if you find yourselves having to return here because Orti doesn't recognize you...do so carefully."

They nodded.  Pojul again tried to put an arm around his wife, but she refused to allow it.

They left the shed and headed for town.

"Are you sure about this?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I trust Daj."

"And I trust you."

Anakin looked up at him, wide-eyed with surprise, which hurt.  "Master..."

"This was not your fault, Anakin.  Not in any way."

"May I have moment before we go to the mayor's, Master?  I just need to...meditate.  And maybe I ought to do it alone."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"All right.  Stay close, and don't be long.  I think we may need to leave this place very suddenly."

**********

Don't scream.

Anakin clenched his jaw tightly and crossed his arms tightly over his stomach, gripping the sides of his silk tunic so hard he was sure they would tear . The long dark gray coat he'd put on this morning -- this morning, when a Jedi knight named Zio Shapoi had still been breathing and thinking and talking to his parents -- snagged on the branches of bush.  He yanked it away fiercely and lost his balance, and went sprawling into the clearing where he'd awakened only two hours ago to find himself lost and disoriented.

He pulled himself to his knees and vomited into the underbrush.

When the wave passed, he felt woozy and empty.  He leaned backward against a nearby tree to steady himself.  The energy burn on the back of his neck throbbed dully.

He had killed twice before.  The first had been a blood carver intent on killing him.  He still didn't know what he'd done, exactly -- something horrible, he thought, because the blood carver's face had almost melted into itself.  But the point was, the blood carver had been an assassin, and had pushed him and threatened him until there was no other choice.  His second kill had been the pirate Krayn, in the course of a fair duel

(there was a blaster in his hand, he wasn't unarmed)

and anyway, no one would miss that slaving waste-of-oxygen.

He had come to terms with killing as part of his life, though he didn't enjoy it.  He'd read about people who got some kind of thrill out of it, a power rush, but Anakin didn't find it thrilling and he thought that the power factor was pretty low compared to other ways he felt the Force.  It made him sad to realize he was never going to be innocent of it again, but he didn't think he would do anything differently with Krayn at all, and with the blood carver, if it had gotten as far as it had, he didn't think there was anything else to do, short of dying himself.  However far he had been pushed, the ultimate decisions had been at least kind of in his control.

But Shapoi...

Today, someone was dead because of him -- a Jedi was dead -- and he'd had no control over it, and he would do anything, anything at all, to turn the clock back three hours and decide to go to Madam Kam's art class and do a new painting rather than follow Tomik Cral into the woods.

He tried to summon Obi-Wan's voice: It is not your fault.  Shapoi made his own choices.  You could not have known.

He knew that if he went back to the shed, Obi-Wan would say that and try to make him believe it, but even Obi-Wan couldn't make the other voice go, the one that said, You're supposed to be stronger than that.  You're supposed to be the Chosen One.  You should have foreseen it.  You should have felt Shapoi long before you did.  You should have, you could have...

He couldn't shake that other voice because it was right.  He hadn't been using his mind, or his Force-sensitivity, to their highest potential.  He hadn't been fully paying attention.  He had been careless and stupid, and now Zio Shapoi was dead.

Images of the afternoon came unbidden to his mind.  His careless decision to follow Tomik...flying above the trees...helping Brinje (and revealing himself in the process -- stupid!)...deciding to go on down the path...sensing a presence a moment too late...awakening...Shapoi kneeling beside the guard...the blaster being fired...Shapoi falling...and falling...and falling...

The images circled in his vision, faster and faster, until they became an undifferentiated blur.

Help me!  Please!

He tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn't.  The world around him had turned dark, the sky lit with alien fire.  He couldn't find the source of the voice that had called to him in agony.

Is anyone there?

His thought echoed over the landscape as though he'd shouted.  Shadows trembled; fires erupted from cracks in the rocky plain.  The ground in front of him began to bubble and boil, and he jumped backward away from it.  Something huge and dark emerged from the new chasm.

Anakin raised his lightsaber and swung at it; the weapon passed through it like smoke, and the figure split into two, each advancing on him.

Stop it!  Who are you?

The figures lunged again.  Anakin knew better than to swing at them, he knew what would happen if he did, but he couldn't stop.  It was instinct.  The blade cut across both shapes in a diagonal, and then there were four.

The world began to shake and spit fire from all its broken edges.  More shadows came up from beneath, surrounding Anakin on the top of a rapidly shrinking precipice.

Obi-Wan!  Help me!  Get me out of here!

His voice seemed small and far away, as though drowned by the shadows around him.  They came closer, taking some shape that he knew he didn't want to see, couldn't see.

And they were becoming solid.

(you can fight them now; death is part of life)

Anakin felt himself trembling inside, more even than the ground he was standing on, but he fought for control.

This was a vision.  However strange and powerful it was, it was only a vision.  He had to take action in it.  He had to defeat these shadows and come out on the other side of them.

He got to his feet, his lightsaber raised, and lunged at the first form advancing on him.  It stopped in shock as the blade hit home, this time doing what it was meant to do.

The figure clutched at its wound and stepped backwards.  The shadows slipped away like a cloak and Anakin saw, to his horror, that it was Siri Tachi.

(No!)

The figure behind her leaped forward and over her, raising a lightsaber at Anakin.  He blocked it by instinct, and the shadows departed to reveal Adi Gallia.

Stop it!  What are you doing?

Mace Windu, Ki-Adi Mundi, beautiful Depa Billaba, sweet old Bant...

Please, make it stop!

The last figure came at him.  He couldn't control his reaction at all, and the shadows fell before he even struck, but not soon enough to stop his lunge.

Obi-Wan!

**********

"Do you think he's all right?" Siri asked, standing on a chair to look out the high window after Anakin.  "He looks off-balance."

Obi-Wan stood in the doorway and watched his Padawan crash through the underbrush and out of sight, not at all his usual, graceful style.  "No.  He's not all right.  But I think he wishes to be left alone for the moment.  Not a very long moment, but perhaps we could use it to talk."

Siri nodded and climbed down from the chair.  "I almost attacked in the square today.  Anakin stopped me."

"What did he do to Pojul Shapoi?"

"He just gave him a bit of a shove.  I think it scared Anakin more than it scared Pojul, to tell the truth."

"Anakin has good reason to be frightened of his temper," Obi-Wan said.  "I'm actually rather glad you distracted him in the square."