Severance

Rating: NC-17
Category: AU (*that* scene does happen but not with quite the same outcome as the movie); Dark Fantasy/Gothic Romance/Celtic Saga
Pairing: Q/f ; O/f
Time frame: Leading up to, concurrent with and following on from The Phantom Menace.
Spoilers: To The Phantom Menace obviously (as if it really matters anymore). Also some minor ones to The Tales of the Jedi comic books/graphic novels.
Disclaimer: The Star Wars characters and universe are owned by George Lucas/Lucasfilm Ltd. With all due respect to Lucas, this reworking of the characters is for my own amusement only and I make no profit from it. Other characters are copyright me, as is the selection and order of the words used herein.
Feedback: A few comments now and again *would* keep me happy. Just so I know someone out there is reading this. Archive: On QJEB and JediPrudes. It'll also be updated as and when I have the time on http://www.centimes.demon.co.uk/Cloister/flightsoffancy.html.
Series: This story is a sequel to Dreams Made Flesh which can found in the QJEB archive and in the Cloister (url as above).
Story so far: [Spoilers to Dreams Made Flesh.] Ten years ago Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn was sent to a world in the old Sith Empire. There he encountered Caer Ibhormheith, one of the Baobhan-sith, who had been haunting his dreams for 25 years. Accepting her claims that his destiny was tied to hers, he returned to Coruscant with her, but other darker forces were after them both. Despite Qui-Gon marrying her to give her rights of citizenship, Iva was ensnared in Senator Palpatine's machinations to gain Sith powers and turn Qui-Gon to the dark side. She and Qui-Gon, with the help of Obi-Wan and Plo Koon, thwarted Palpatine on that occasion, but the Senator remained free to continue his plans.

- 0 -
Between the Known and Completed Past and the Unguessable Future Which Had Not Yet Begun.

A mirror of black crystal. The smoky vista of a night sky. A pale bird, silent and insubstantial.

No. Etain concentrated. Plunged deeper into the visions the mirror revealed to her. The image wavered. Reformed. A ship, of sleek angles. An arrowhead penetrating the dark depths of space. A horned demon. A man of influence and high standing. Desecration. Death. Destruction.

She saw herself, a ghostly reflection behind the images of portent, dark hair streaked with grey, bright blue eyes, pale skin now lined with age as well as the markings of her calling. When had that happened, she wondered? When exactly had she become so old? It still surprised her, even though she knew full well that the position of matriarch brought with it the burden of extreme age.

Etain was tired. Too tired for this. She was weighed down with unwelcome visions and the spectre of futures not yet born. She had taken on the weight of leadership only a handful of years before and already she had witnessed the turmoil that now beset the Taleach people. But it was what was to come which both handicapped her and offered to unchain her. She looked away from her mirror. Glanced around the room. As rooms go, it was ornate, grand, marble-lined; crystalline structures glowed in the candlelight. But it was not hers. It did not feel like hers. She felt that she was merely inhabiting these halls for a short time. A temporary custodian only.

Change was coming soon and the Cloister here on Cair-deach Sithien would no longer, could no longer, be the home of the Baobhan-sith sisterhood. Her tiredness, she felt sure, would leave her once the future overtook them all.

There was little time now. All the work, all the preparation, the blood rite, the breeding programme, the destiny, hinged on this moment.

She looked back to the mirror. The images had not changed. They cycled again.

Her thoughts were drawn to the fate of Caer Ibhormheith. Etain trusted the woman who held the destiny in her hands, she had to. But she didn't know, had never sought to find out, what had become of her most precious daughter out there amongst the far suns. On whose shoulders the weight of time future pressed. Whether Ibhormheith lived or not, whether she kept the heart of the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn or not, Etain did not know. Had not, until now, wished to know.

But soon she would have to know. With this vision, it was unavoidable. The time had come to look outwards, to seek Ibhormheith and set a chain of events in motion which might overwhelm them all. The signs were there. The signs were there in the mirror. The omens Etain had dreaded so long were attendant. Clear to see for anyone with an eye for it, but part of her resisted seeing it. Did not want to believe it. She closed her eyes to the apparitions in her reflecting glass. Raised up a prayer to the Goddess.

"I am maiden, mother, matriarch. I stand under the burgeoning crescent. I walk in the light of fullness. I sleep beneath the diminishing circle. I am the dark. I am destruction. I am reborn." She opened her eyes. The mirror showed to her the same patterns as it had before. She had to share this with another. She needed the reassurance of confirmation. Only then could she act.

As if on call, another entered her rooms. Cuimhne, she recognised. The woman had been on Tir-nam-bean for many years but her brightness of spirit and comely looks had not, it seemed, been diminished by her sojourn on the necropolis planet. Her green eyes shone with excitement, eagerness and the shadow of fear.

Etain threw a heavily embroidered silver cloth over the frame of the mirror, blocking out the visions of doom that unfurled there. If Cuimhne came to her now, in person, the portents must be true.

"Honoured Matriarch." The younger woman showed due deference to the head of her sisterhood. Her red-gold hair fell forward across her shoulders as she bowed her head.

The older woman held up her hand. "Give me a moment." Etain stood, her head bowed, her arms crossed across her chest as if to ward off the danger of insecurity, breathing deeply. Cuimhne waited. Etain felt sorrow for her. It had been this woman's lot for fourteen years now to observe and maintain the barrier of spells surrounding Tir-nam-bean. It had been a long wait. Etain knew that Cuimhne, like herself, did not welcome what she now saw. Finally, composed, she looked up. "Sister?"

"I have seen it. A tangle in the threads around the tombs. They are disturbed. I felt a presence too."

"Show me." Etain motioned towards the circle marked on the floor by a white cord.

Both took their place within its circumference. Cuimhne gestured, open palmed, amulets adorning hands from wrist to finger. Her lilting voice music filled the room as her fingers wove the unseen molecules of the air into interlocking strands. Patterns filled the space between the women. Colours flourished. The flash of quicksilver, the soft glow of lilac and lime, a splash of rose red that faded into gold, all marred by the black void of evil that grew in its centre.

Etain sighed.

Cuimhne dropped her hands to her side. The images faded in a swirl of light. "Perhaps I am wrong, honoured matriarch. Perhaps I do not see clearly. Perhaps I misread the signs."

"No." Etain wondered how she could reassure her associate. But there was no reassurance to be found here. "All of fate - love, hate, birth, lust, life, despair, ggrowth, death, even the end of all we seek to protect - are woven into the tapestry. It cannot be denied."

"No." There was a lament in Cuimhne's echo of her words that made Etain wish she were someone else. Somewhere else. Unencumbered by the knowledge of what was to be. She measured her words cautiously.

"We expected it. The end of all things, the beginning of truth. The evidence is plain." She moved back to the mirror, threw back the cloth. "Come see."

Cuimhne approached the black looking-glass that was the source of Etain's study. The very air was singing with the images it showed. A discordant hum that stung the ears and froze the soul. Cuimhne stood, still and silent, beside Etain. The pictures were unambiguous. A great evil. An ambitious man. A breached tomb. A stolen trinket.

Cuimhne ventured a question. "Is this yet to come?"

"No, it has already passed." Etain looked away. "Many times. And it will play over again."

"But how could this be?" Cuimhne was bewildered. She herself had watched diligently for many years. None had ventured to Tir-nam-bean, to enter the tombs, to steal the treasure. "Why did no one see this man coming and going? How did he hide himself from us?"

Etain shook her head. "I do not know. Some magic which is beyond us perhaps? But it does not matter now. The how of it is of no import. It is a sign only."

"A sign of what?"

Etain only stepped away from the mirror. Eager to be away from its foreboding reflection. "Cuimhne?" Her back was to the other. "Did you know Caer Ibhormheith?"

"No, honoured matriarch. I never met the bellatrix."

Etain smiled at that. "Well, it is perhaps time to find out if she can truly lay claim to that title." She turned back to look at Cuimhne, studying her face carefully for signs of hesitation. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what, matriarch?"

"It is imminent, Cuimhne. Time present is drawing to a close. Prepare yourself. The Stellar Sweeper is ready to leave. You will accompany me to Coruscant."

- 1 -
The Past Is Now Part Of My Future, the Present Is Well Out Of Hand.

Qui-Gon Jinn woke shortly before the sunrise, as was his habit. But on this morning he broke his routine of rising immediately and falling naturally into a series of moving meditation exercises. On this morning, he had good reason to stay right where he was. He simply rolled over to curl himself around the warmth of his beloved Iva.

He wished there had been more days that had begun like this, but he was grateful enough for the random and occasional pleasure that such a leisurely waking afforded him. They hadn't always had as much time together over the ten years they had been together as either of them would have liked, but their intimate meetings had always been crammed to overflowing and any more time together might have driven their passion to extinction long ago. He snuggled closer to her, buried his face in her hair. It smelt of the sea that was just beyond the chalet where they slept and the sharp fragrance of some herb she had plucked from its stem.

Wherever she went, whatever planet, civilised or unexplored, she found herself on, she invariably disappeared into the wilderness or fields relentlessly searching, relentlessly recording the leaves and roots and barks she found. Always at night. Not always alone. He remembered many ardent nights when they had finally laid down together under the strange constellations of serene alien skies with her plants forgotten for the moment. She pressed her samples between the pages of ancient printed books when she could find them. Between blocks of absorbent plastoid when she couldn't. She experimented and catalogued, writing up each plant's medicinal or magical potential in a black-bound book in tiny lettering made with a quill and a bottle of ink she always carried. Each page she inscribed with strange sigils and other markings. She refused all attempts to persuade her to use a datapad. He had given up long ago and accepted it, one of her several eccentricities, but others invariably took it upon themselves to try and educate her. She would have none of it and always smiled to herself. Or to him. They made a mistake, those others, when they thought her a savage with her tangled hair and her tattoos. She knew perfectly well how to use a datapad, she simply chose not to do so. He found it endearing. Just another thing about her amongst a hundred others that made his heart pound with love.

In her sleep, Iva shifted backwards and pressed against him. Qui-Gon tightened his hold on, pulling her as close as he could without squeezing the breath from her. He opened his eyes to drink in the sight of her. He looked at her as he had looked at her over the years, with longing. He had never really become used to her, she always amazed him. He knew her so intimately, was familiar with every part of her, mind and body, but she was still a mystery to him. Still, after all this time, it never failed to amaze him that he was with her. Knowing she was on the verge of waking, he stroked her breast. He felt the change in her breathing that signalled the beginnings of awareness and pleasure, feeling her nipple rouse first.

It hadn't all been plain sailing. At times she could be infuriating and she tried his Jedi calm. She was stubborn and immovable in arguments, emotional to the point of desperation and her temper could flare violently. But when they were apart he always missed her desperately. At those times when they hadn't been together he would often discover tokens or notes from her in his pack or clothing. Written in words he could barely decipher, despite the gift of her language. Or etched with symbols which reassured his spirit and disturbed his rational mind. He always seemed to have a small collection of them somewhere about his person. But the one thing he treasured most when they were apart, that always linked their hearts despite the distances between them, was the thing he could never lose, that could never be taken from him. The tattoo that had been embossed onto the skin of his wrist when he had undergone the blood rite with her in the Cloister on Cair-deach Sithien the day after their first meeting. It was the indelible proof of their union, of their love. Of the dreams that had plagued him prior and the lusts that had beset him after.

She slipped her hand backwards between his legs and cupped him there, he felt his heaviness swell and take the form of incipient pleasure at her touch. He rolled her over and she wrapped her arms about his neck.

She murmured quietly. "An tu a th'ann, Qui-Gon?"

"Is it you?" he recognised, her tongue was intricate but he understood her well enough. She had gifted him with a knowledge greater than the opportunity for the simple exchange of intimacies. Mastery of a language known only to the two of them had proved advantageous in the exchange of secrets and the gaining of the upperhand in difficult encounters. He had taught her to sense danger and she had learnt well, but there had been times when a coded warning or instruction had been invaluable, had meant the difference between safety and jeopardy.

"Who else would it be, aingeal?" He used her own words as endearments. They sounded so much more tender than his own.

She pushed him back and sat astride his stomach. "I am not an angel." She threw back her head and bared her teeth.

He wrestled her off of him and onto her back. He leant over her, dominating her. "No, you are a fallen angel," he chastised and held her arms above her head, pinning her by the wrists.

She laughed.

"Do you find it funny?" he teasingly taunted, keeping his face serious. "Do you need to be punished?" He bent his head down and licked her neck, running his tongue over the soft flesh of her throat. "It can be arranged."

She arched upwards pressing herself against him. "Don't you have to go and mediate?"

"It's Obi-Wan who is here to meditate. I am on holiday."

She twisted her body underneath his, tormenting him to full arousal. "Jedi don't get holidays."

"Jedi don't have fallen angels tempting them in the mornings." He kissed her so she could no longer tease him with her words. She returned his kiss deeply, teasing him with her body.

He released her hands and they found their way to his shoulders, nails worrying at his skin, down his back, to grasp his buttocks. He lifted his body away from hers, his own hands gliding over the curve of her ribs and stomach. Probing deeper. Deeper into the wet, open softness between her thighs. She offered no resistance to his tautness as he entered her, but as he pushed deeper into her she squeezed her legs hard about him and forced his thrusts to her pace. Slow at first, increasingly urgent. Her hands worked a spell over him. With featherweight touches she drew deliciously erotic patterns on his body, awakening every nerve to the deep sensuality of her magic. His cries grew deeper as he fought to prolong every moment. He gripped her firmly and pulled her up towards him, her head thrown back, his lips and teeth making contact with her neck.

She gasped. "Bite harder... oh... take more of me, Qui-Gon... oh... take everything." He did as she commanded. He needed no urging. His body plunged on into the delirium of indulgence, tearing away the chains that restrained his animal passion. His heart was wild and his breath was quick. His delectation came as her entreaties reached a crescendo, his final thrusts forceful and extreme as his desire erupted inside her.

She dropped back as if in a swoon, a moan escaping her lips. He was careful not to fall spent on top of her, fearful already that he had hurt her in his abandon.

But she laughed. "You have cured me, Qui-Gon. I am no longer fallen."

"On the contrary, you will always be fallen," he countered as he rolled her onto her front and spanked her playfully.

"Ow." She rolled back and made to flick his nipple but he caught her fingers before they could make contact. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her nose nuzzling the hollow between his collarbones.

They had almost sunk back into sleep when he spoke. "Did you dream last night?"

"No. Did you?"

"I dreamed I was in a hall of light - a great space, a cathedral of echoes. I couldn't hear anything. There was a dome of stained glass, the floor, the walls were dappled - everything was coloured by it, peacock, emerald, amber. And the air was..." He couldn't say. "There was a doorway of..."

"Yes?"

"The air was..." He grasped for a word which would describe what he had seen, had felt. "Then I could hear again." But what was it that he had heard? The dream memory was blurred.

"The air was incarnate with the glory of summer and every corner filled with the voices of a thousand souls. And the doorway was a waterfall of starlight."

Her words triggered the reawakening of his memory. "Yes." He remembered more. "And there was a smell..." It was almost a question, he couldn't place the aroma.

"Of staif," she finished.

Staif? It took him a moment to make the association. The blackthorn, the tree of the dark crone, winter-flowering, symbolic of the world of shadows. "Do you know the place?" he asked.

"I have never been there."

"But you know where it is?"

She shivered, a slight movement. "It is described in even the most ancient of shadow books."

"Was it a premonition? You were not there."

He felt her deep lingering intake of breath, as though she were steeling herself for bad news.

"Where is this place?" In his dream, it had thrilled him, warmed him. But now... now, it chilled him.

"It is a gate. To the life beyond this one. To the summer lands. The death plane." She extricated herself from the circle of his arms. Knelt up on the bed next to him. Held her hands in front of her, in a gesture of supplication. Or display. "There is sand, only sand," she said. It spilled through her fingers and trickled in a silver stream onto the sheets. There was no sand out there on the shore, only rocks and pebbles. "The dusts of time are running out for us."

He had long known the moment would come. It did not disturb him. He sat up next to her, faced her.

Iva's invocation continued. Her eyes now were half-closed. A sign she saw beyond this world. "Sleep is a land where there is no logic and no resolution. Dreams are but grains of time." As she spoke she poured the sand into his cupped hand. "When you wake they trickle through your fingers. You cannot hold on to all of them when you emerge into the day."

"But what I dreamed?" His question, he felt, was like an inquiry to an oracle. "It means death." It was no question at all.

"The death that awaits you carries the destiny with it, it carries you on into the future." Her eyes shot open. This was his Iva speaking, not the seer that she could become. She took his hands, he felt the grains of sand, rough between her fingers. "Qui-Gon, it does not mean what you think it means." She seemed excited, breathless.

"Tell me."

"Yes." She slipped off the bed, pulling him after her, grabbing a shawl to wrap around her nakedness. "But by the sea."

Qui-Gon picked up his robe.

They left the refuge of the small building where they had passed the night and walked down to the seaweed strewn rocky shoreline under the misty rays of the rising sun.

- 2 -
One More Nightmare Calling Across the Farthest Fields.

The moment Palpatine crossed the threshold of his apartments, he began to rub maliciously at his eye. He had been in Senate meetings all day and he had sworn never, never to display his weakness in front of others. Alone at last, he gave in to habit and worked the eyelid back and forth over the cornea in an effort to bring warmth to the offending organ. But in vain. He knew it would be a wasted effort and it would bring no relief, not even for a few short blessed instants. It had become a futile mannerism over ten long years. More than a decade of constant reminders of his failure. Of the mental anguish from dwelling on what might have been had he only managed to turn Qui-Gon Jinn towards the darkness rather than propelling him into exacting this revenge.

Palpatine continued to massage the orb of his eye violently as he entered his private salon, even though pain now began to overlay the icy chill that pierced his skull. Maul smirked at him odiously from the Senator's favourite chair. With his virulent tattoos and corrupt teeth, with the diadem of horns that marked him as a Zabrak, Maul would never manage a charming smile. "Can I get you something for that, Senator?" he asked, rather more satisfaction at seeing Palpatine's suffering than compassion for his affliction in the nuance of his voice. "More anaesthetic perhaps. Or some opiate."

"No. You're not my nursemaid, Maul. Stop behaving like one around me. I don't need you fussing over me." The Senator moved closer and kicked the arrogant youth's heavily booted feet off the footstool. They left dusty smears on the thick pile of the fabric. "And get out of my chair." Palpatine spat the words out as a final scolding.

The jagged patterns of the margins between red and black on Maul's face twisted as he sneered. But he pushed himself up onto his feet deliberately slowly before swirling his cloak in a gesture of disdain as he stalked to the door.

"My Master has everything ready for your next trip, Senator," he hissed back over his shoulder.

"Wait, Maul." Palpatine rubbed at his eye again. "It's worse today, that's all. Stay."

Maul returned to a seat, a less comfortably appointed one, as Palpatine sagged into his own chair. The Senator resisted the yearning to worry at his eye again. "Damn that Jinn."

"Shall I kill him for you, Senator?"

Palpatine laughed. "No, Maul. Not everything has to come down to killing, you know. There are more delicious punishments to savour. That maverick Jedi deserves to be made to suffer for a long time. As he's made me suffer."

The Senator let his head loll back against the cushions. It wasn't just his eye that troubled him. His practice of Sith alchemy was taking its toll elsewhere. As had already happened to the Senator's clone-parent and Maul's Master, the Dark Lord Sidious as he called himself now, Palpatine's own body was decaying, ageing more rapidly than it should. More rapidly than he liked. It was another thing he held against Jinn. He'd caught only a glimpse of the Jedi Master a year or so back, but had seen enough to hate him all the more. Palpatine had been shocked that the man had hardly changed. Jinn had ten years on him, but Palpatine was not too vainglorious to realise that it now looked the other way about. Well, that could change. The face could be so easily marred. Just look at what Sidious had had done to Maul, the disfigurement of indelible tattoos. Just think what could be done with a knife. Or a flame. The thought delighted Palpatine, set a fire alight in his belly. What would the witch think of her paramour then, eh? She might not be so eager to go trailing after him on forsaken planets at the extreme spirals of the galaxy then.

Palpatine recalled the harridan that he had seen Iva become all that time ago. The image of her still aroused him. Maybe he could call her back to him finally and he could become one with that delicious evil creature. All his attempts to find out what sort of creature it was that the witch hid inside herself, what she was, had proven futile. Even the books from Cair-deil Talamh were useless, mere fairytales for bloodthirsty children. A fairytale demon she may be, but it didn't bring him any closer to her secret. What he wanted from the tombs were amulets like hers, he believed them to be the key. But so far all his searches had come up empty. Ah, but these were idle speculations, nothing more, he thought. Sidious, his mentor and the impetus behind his ambitious rise in the Senate, would never allow him such indulgences. Would never allow him to use the Sith artefacts to pleasure himself. So Palpatine put aside his maudlin thoughts and his dreams of violent revenge and rallied himself. "Won't you take a drink, Maul."

"You stay there, Senator," Maul announced, getting to his feet. "I'll get them."

Sometimes the Zabrak could be oddly solicitous, Palpatine thought. So unlike a trained thug, his personality out of synch with the assassin he was raised to be.

Having handed Palpatine a glass of sweet wine, Maul threw back his drink in one swallow and was already on his way to fetch another.

"Take the bottle, Maul," Palpatine offered, suddenly generous. Perhaps he is not so mindful after all, Palpatine realised wryly, as he savoured his own drink slowly. "So Sidious wants me to take another trip to Korriban, does he Maul?" Palpatine swirled the thick liquid in his glass. "So soon. It is getting a little difficult to excuse myself from Senate debates, let alone my committee duties. Has he forgotten that I'm sectorial representative for thirty-six provincial worlds?"

"Shall I tell my Master you do not wish to go?"

"No, damn it." Maul would like that, wouldn't he? Much as Palpatine saw himself and Sidious as equal partners in their venture, Sidious could still, though increasingly less often, dominate in their mind games. And they each still had need of the other to supply the power or the status each lacked. Together only, they formed a whole, although secretly Palpatine now wished for the symbiosis to end. He skewered Maul with a steely blue gaze. "The Corporate Policy League will cover it. My friends in the Power Ministry will supply the contract and I will, of course, have to oversee the launch of the next mission."

Maul swung one leg over the arm of the chair. "My Master believes the hags are on to us."

"The Baobhan-sith? What of it?"

"He predicts they will enlist the aid of the Jedi."

"The Jedi will never agree to it."

"Jinn might."

The Zabrak was correct. Palpatine nodded. "True, Maul. Very true."

"Let me go with you. I am ready for action against the Jedi."

"Not yet Maul, we do not want to risk revealing you to the Jedi yet. And you know that the Sith worlds will disrupt your access to the Force. You know that they could kill you." Palpatine recognised the recklessness in Maul's eyes, the arrogance of youth, the belief that nothing could harm him. It could yet prove to be a failing. He must be dissuaded from that belief. And soon. "My auxiliaries on the Sith worlds will suffice for the time being."

Maul poured himself a final drink, the bottle almost drained. Sidious' ward might be young and strong and sensitive in the Force, Palpatine thought, but he did not have the key to the conquering of the Sith worlds in his bloodstream. "Only I have that."

"What?" Maul looked up, momentarily distracted from his imbibing.

Palpatine realised he had spoken aloud. He was getting lax in his old-age. And he was barely fifty. "I was thinking about my enhancements."

"Oh." Maul was obviously not interested. He stood up to leave. "I have to get back to my Master."

Palpatine was glad he was about to go. "You know your way out," he said by way of goodbye. He was glad to be left alone.

With the Zabrak gone, his thoughts turned to Sidious. Maul was the man's Sith Apprentice, but Palpatine knew that he himself was the one who would inherit the mantle of Sith Lord when Sidious was gone. And it was due to happen soon. You just had to look at the man to see his body barely held together. Even ten years back when Palpatine had first faced his true father, you could see the decay.

Palpatine had lost one brother back then, but he had gained another. What did it matter if he were the clone of Sidious? It made the Sith lord his parent no more and no less than it made him his twin. As a perfect, no - an improved, facsimile of the Dark Lord, he, with his biosiliconium-enhanced cells, was the superior of the two by far. It was only a matter of time before he, Palpatine, took up the reigns of power and ruled the Galaxy. His rise in the Senate had been slow, the better not to draw attention to himself. But now the pieces were almost in position for his final onslaught. And for the commensurate fall of the idealistic Valorum. Once in position, he could get Sidious out of the way, and then he would take his place as Dark Lord of the Sith. Maul, well, if Maul didn't like it, he could be dispensed with. His alien features still seeped through the obliterating markings anyway. And all alien life was marked for extermination.

A renewed stab of pain tormented him. Palpatine despaired again of ever achieving perfect relaxation. His sight was cloudy just thinking about his future plans. Visions he did not wish to see were crowding into his brain. He had seen so much, too much, through his contaminated eye. The deaths and miseries of those he pushed aside in his rise to power assailed him whenever he let his guard down. He took no life by his own hand, he had others to do that for him, but still he saw the screams and laments of all those he had harmed. He employed others to blackmail and defame for him, but still he saw the ruined lives he left in his wake. He cursed the witch and the Jedi, but he swore their sorcery would not sway him from his course.

For he had also seen the nexus, the moment that had been waiting for him. It was drawing near. He smiled as he coaxed the last dregs from his glass. The investment of his knowledge had been growing daily, his dark force powers escalating with the passing years. Yes, the clone was superior to the original now, and the father had no inkling of what the offspring was capable of. And oh, he was capable of so very, very much. Now it was all - the Senate, the Republic, Korriban, the Sith power - all within his reach. No one, not Sidious, not the ambitious young Maul, not the woman from Khar Delba, not even Jinn, who back then had managed to maim his vision so easily, could stop him now.

The finds from the last Korriban excavation had pleased Sidious, but his own private finds were by far the more valuable. It had been hard getting them past Sidious' force-honed senses, but it had been even harder going - hampered by the darkness of the tombs and the subterfuge and the speed at which he had to work - to avoid detection by the ever vigilant Baobhan-sith. Well, those repulsive women could be dispensed with as well. It was only a matter of time. Slowly but surely he had been wiping out the pockets of Taleach civilisation in the old Sith Empire. The weakest, most remotest, communities had gone first. Many were ravaged already, razed to the ground, their inhabitants slaughtered, abandoned by the few left alive. Aware only that clan had moved against clan. Others had been shipped off-world en masse, the people offered promises of a better life elsewhere, vanished in the night, leaving only ghost towns in their wake. The Baobhan-sith tried their utmost to bring peace, to calm the panic, but, like the Jedi Order, their numbers were falling and their influence waning. And cut off from the Republic, strictly quarantined by order of the Senate on the urgings of the Jedi Council, there was no outside help for them.

Palpatine calmed himself finally, his thoughts soothing him. It was a rehearsal for what was to come, for the overthrow of the Republic, for the purge of the Jedi, for the oppression of the non-human races.

- 3 -
Should I stand amid the breakers? Or should I lie with death my bride?

The clouds hung immobile in the still air as the sun rose, a glowing citrine orb which flashed like glass, which wove a path of fire across the waveless ocean, which tinged the weeds clinging to the pockets of moisture in the rocky shore with golden streaks.

Qui-Gon and Iva sat, close together, comfortably entwined, on a smooth outcrop of rock. Qui-Gon had spread his robe over the stone to afford them a little comfort. The sunlight edged his shoulders, outlining the definition of the muscles in his arm as he leant on it to support them both. Iva dipped her toes into a pool nestled amongst the rocks, disturbing the water and sending ripples across its glassy surface. The air was pleasantly warm, but even in the weak light of early morning, and even in the shade that Qui-Gon's body offered, Iva kept her shawl wrapped about her head and body, warding off the sun's rays. The fabric was a deep orange, almost red. Not a colour she was ordinarily wont to wear, green and grey her usual choices, but it suited her perfectly and Qui-Gon had not been able to resist acquiring it for her. One of the few luxuries he had been able to give her, and one she treasured. He thought she looked so radiant, as radiant as the sun, as he waited for her to speak.

He watched the waves tumble gently onto the pebble beach where they dissolved into bubbling fans of foam. He was long used to curbing his curiosity and did not prompt an explanation out of Iva. They had not spoken frequently of the destiny or of death, it didn't weigh on him and it didn't seem to worry her - so much so that he had begun to doubt the veracity of it all. He even wondered whether her concept of death was the same as his. He knew she would share what she could of the visions, of the future, when she was ready. Until then, he was content to have her lean against him softly, content to hold her close.

The green-grey waters were tranquil, the colour deepening along the horizon where they were no longer sprinkled with the reflected metal of the recently risen sun. It glinted instead now on the jade and gold amulet at Iva's throat. The sky lightened to a rich azure blue.

A cry from a sea bird in flight seemed to rouse Iva, to call her back from her thoughts, and she shifted around to face Qui-Gon. She took his hand and traced a familiar pattern on the palm with her fingertip, a star, five points, a circle. "The elements of the physical world. Spirit," she said as she completed it. "And the human form."

That much he understood, he knew the connections well. They had both long ago accepted that the Force and the energies of the universe Iva saw embodied in the Goddess and the Lord of the Wild Hunt were one and the same. It was their divergent concepts of an afterlife that still separated their beliefs. He sensed her mood growing edgy as she contemplated her explanation. He, and she, could only really know how the destiny would unfold once it was complete. They had long ago reached an unspoken agreement that speculation was a tangled web that neither cared to weave. A conflict they had both avoided. And now, now it had to be faced.

"Open the box," he told her. "Let the secrets out. If death is in the air, then the time for silence is over."

She traced the outline of another shape. A tri-lobed leaf. The lines interconnected, cyclical, infinitely repeating. "This world and the next are joined, can never be severed. It's all one journey, birth, death, rebirth."

"I know. I will die but my spirit will live on."

"In the Force?" Sarcasm, and petulance, gnawed at the edge of her voice. As it had many times before.

"Yes, in the Force." He didn't want to go over the same ground again, but he had asked for this. Usually she turned away from him, closed that part of herself off and refused to speak of it further.

"No, not in the Force. There is more." This time, he knew, she was not going to let it drop. The explanation had to be allowed to take its course. "There is more to it."

"How can there be more? We conceive a child. I will die. As a prophesy it's plain enough. Whether the child has my soul or I becomes one with the Force, I, me, this body, will be gone."

"No."

"No?" He made to protest. That a child's life could be measured against a man's death. He thought perhaps that she sought to steer him away from the destiny, to save his life by denying the future. As she had suggested was possible ten years ago. But she held her finger up to his lips.

"There is a unity you do not see. The rebirth of life. Your life." She traced the shape on his palm again, like a three petalled flower. "Just as day and night blend seamlessly into one cycle so the material and ethereal will become part of the same path. That is the future. Your future." Her hand rested on his chest. "Yours, Qui-Gon. Yours." Her eyes glittered, brown and gold, but they had taken on the green of the ocean depths as she spoke. As if her tears were composed of the salty waters of the sea.

He shook his head, he felt the disorientation of meaning. He still did not understand. The air seemed to waver.

"It's..." Her voice was level, a forced effort on her part, he sensed the pain behind it but did not know how to console her or to make it easier for her. "It's complex. The place you dreamt of. It means death, yes, but it means life too. After the day comes night. You can live on into the night. If you are prepared."

"And how do I prepare?"

"I have already prepared you, Qui-Gon." Iva breathed deeply. And continued. "You have undergone the blood rite, the change is already in you, waiting to take effect. It has only to be triggered, and death will then be a transition between this reality and the etheric plane."

"It doesn't make sense to me, Iva. I cannot comprehend how that can be."

"There are many planes of existence. Spiritual, astral, physical." She waved her hand across the air. "The body is not a container for the virtue. The body is the virtue. Do you understand?"

"Not yet." Yet he had glimpsed another plane of existence within her, another Iva, a succubus, nestled beneath the surface of this one.

"You will." It sounded like a promise. "And even though you do not understand it, you will experience it. Let it in, Qui-Gon, and there will be more for you and I, a future."

He didn't know what to believe, how much of it to believe. He couldn't change. He might have to. Iva smiled, her self-assurance and her commitment to him rested on her beliefs. But her beliefs were at odds with his. He hoped that he was wrong. He hoped that what she believed was true. She would be truly bereft if it wasn't. He was afraid. He was afraid for her. He was also a little afraid of her.

In a sudden movement, he hugged her to him. For reassurance. For security. For faith.

It seemed they had only spoken for a few moments but the morning had almost passed. The sun was high now, it baked the coastline and rippled the air. The waves thrummed a soporific tune as they splashed onto the rocky shore. The sea still glittered back at Qui-Gon from the depths of Iva's eyes.

As if a spell had broken, she suddenly leapt up and ran to the edge of the ocean, closer to them now than it had been when their conversation began. He followed her, infected by her abrupt burst of excitement. She stepped out into the water, the pebbles shiny with the sea. As he approached her she turned and kicked with the wave, an arc of sea foam catching him across the face.

She laughed. Her mood feral. He frowned at her, deliberate, knowing he could tease her back with equal ferocity. "Do you mind," he protested. "I'm an old man, almost sixty."

She splashed him again, harder. "When will you learn, Qui-Gon Jinn, that age has no relevance for you now."

The breeze was coaxing cooling eddies of air across the waters, taking the edge off of the summer heat. Qui-Gon picked Iva up and strode out into the waves with her struggling against his side, to dump her unceremoniously in the deeper waters. But she clung onto him and he was soon as wet as she and his hair as tangled with weed. And their kisses were as salty as the waves.

***

Obi-Wan found himself the unexpected centre of attention at the Chapter House. A small group of children from the Temple, here to find peace before the final stage of their training prior to possible selection as apprentices, found him a great source of amusement and excitement. He was taking great delight in regaling them with elaborate tales of his exploits. Tales he elaborated with such embellishments that he knew Qui-Gon would frown on them. But he was revelling in the hero-worship and knew it might be the last opportunity before knighthood beckoned. In whispered tones he thrilled the children with his stories when he should have been overseeing their meditations.

"Do you think your method will bring these trainees a better sense of inner peace than ours, Padawan Kenobi?" Obi-Wan jumped. Caught out in his diversions by the Master of the House. The children fell silent, abashed, looked down. One giggled. "Return to your meditations now. Playtime is over." The Master was firm, they knew when to obey without hesitation.

Obi-Wan too knew to defer to authority. "I am sorry, Master. They were so interested."

"Your life is not such a great one yet as to be of interest to them, Kenobi. Let them make their own mistakes, not emulate yours."

"Yes, Master. I will return to my study."

"No, Padawan Kenobi. There is a message for Master Jinn. He has been called back to Coruscant. You will deliver it to him immediately."

***

The harsh pebbles and the sharp rays of sunlight were too much for a comfortable tryst upon the shore and Iva ran back to the shelter of the hut, Qui-Gon hard on her heels. He caught her before she could throw herself down on the bed. She was already chanting the wordless rhythm of a love song. He crushed her mouth with his hand. "No more spells," he said. "Not today."

He removed his hand, only to replace it with his own mouth, pushing her back, down, onto the bed as he kissed her. "Now you are all mine," he promised as he knelt over her. "You're going to do just what I want." Qui-Gon's hands were harsh and expectant on Iva's body, but his eyes were loving and he drew her into them. They sank together into the maelstrom of sexual union, their bodies leading, their minds unbound.

She wove her arms around him and drew him down, down into the depths of her fire. The wind was rising, stirring the sea into choppy peaks. Every motion of their savage excitement was reflected in the crash of the waves upon the rocks beyond the window. Qui-Gon gripped his lover's waist, the strength of his hands transmitted through her body, anchoring her love, unleashing her hunger. The sunlight gleamed on the interplay of their limbs, edging their united form with white heat. Qui-Gon cried out his yearning for Iva as his climax quelled the embers of his lust.

She slid out from under him without a thought and he slipped lower on the bed, finding the place between her blossoming folds where desire took on corporeal form. He massaged her to the zenith of emotion as she gave voice to her passion.

With a final satisfied laugh, she wrapped her arms around Qui-Gon's big sun-warmed, sex-flushed body and they lay in the mid-day heat for a while, stroking each other's skin and drifting slowly into slumber.

***

Obi-Wan set off on his long hike immediately. The sun was past noon, the air hot and steamy. He had abandoned his robe and outer tunic in his room and went dressed only in his undershirt. Already the sweat had adhered the cloth to his back and his braid to his neck. That last reminded him that soon it would be gone and he didn't want to contemplate the end of his time with Qui-Gon Jinn. Perhaps the message he carried meant another dangerous field mission loomed. Another parcel of time he could spend alone with his Master. At such times it was rare for Qui-Gon to even mention his wife's name. Obi-Wan knew she was still in his Master's mind, but he put her out of his. He had long ago conquered his antagonism towards Ibhormheith, at times he even liked her company, but at times also the intense jealousy he felt still surfaced to remind him that he had to share Qui-Gon with another.

As he walked, his hand strayed to his pocket. He felt the familiar smooth curves of the river stone, his permanent link with his Master. He felt too the soft fronds of the feather that had fallen from Iva's hands. Only the Force knew why he had kept the ominous thing conjured from insubstantial matter. He shivered in the sweltering air as her words came back to him. You will know great sorrow. You will not know love.

***

Iva woke from her siesta, disappointed that Qui-Gon was no longer beside her. But he moved at the far side of the chalet, peeling and cutting fruit. It's sharp sweet smell permeated the air. She loved his shoulders and as she lay she watched the muscles move and jump under the skin as he worked. They were strong shoulders, high and straight over a broad back, a well-kept body. It made her smile, thoughts of that body. She etched the image into her mind, storing it with others of the same order, hoping against hope that they would remain fresh when he was no longer there to steal glances at.

She couldn't at that moment believe that time had fled past them so quickly. Soon, for a time, all she would have was a blur of memories. She owed Qui-Gon a great debt. He had taught her to keep a tight rein on her emotions in times of stress. And he had taught her the strength of mind and body that came with the mastery of moving meditation. He had given her a home and a life. But most of all, he had given her all of his love.

And how did she repay him? With a reluctant curse and an unwelcome fate. She wished there could have been another way, but then there would have been nothing between them at all.

"You look so sad." Qui-Gon brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. They were sticky with juice.

She grabbed his wrist and sucked at them, laughing. "Just thinking," she confessed.

"Don't think, then. Just be." He held out a slice of the fruit, its flesh red and succulent, as if suffused with blood. "Eat." She opened her mouth to receive it, licking again at his fingers.

They fed each other the fruit that Qui-Gon had prepared and afterwards washed the juice and the sea salt from each other's bodies in the shower behind the chalet. Then they sat together in the shade, Iva wrapping her shawl around them both, lingering in a comfortable embrace, luxuriating in the feel of skin next to skin.

Such an interlude could not last. Iva felt a tremor of alarm at the back of her mind as Qui-Gon turned. As if he heard something. Though there was no sound. Or none that she could hear. She gripped his arm. "What is it?" she asked, knowing yet not wanting to know the answer.

"It's Obi-Wan," he sighed in reply. "You'd better get dressed, it won't be good news." Already he was standing up and entering the hut, reaching for his clothes.

***

They waited until the cooler temperatures of the evening before leaving. Iva wore a simple linen dress of charcoal grey that fell to her ankles and walking boots that laced to the knee. Although she had hardly changed over the years, she dressed more plainly now, a practical necessity of her life. To Qui-Gon's eyes, she looked all the more beautiful without the distraction of fine gowns.

As a farewell to the idyll, he led her by the hand along the shore for the last time, walking with her in a comfortable silence. There seemed little more that could be said. They watched the sun slowly descended below the line of the horizon, tinting the sky with saffron, limning the clouds with gold. At last, when the final rays were blocked by the land, they turned back and followed the path towards the treeline, to where Obi-Wan already waited with the packs. As they left the wide sweep of coast and the sea smell behind, birds gathered in the air, skimming the shoreline for fish, their lonely cries becoming a hoarse screech as desolate as the ocean's wide expanse.

The end game was about to be played out.

- 4 -
This Is the Way, Step Inside.

As their ship had approached Coruscant, Qui-Gon had wondered about Iva's predictions. As readings of the future go, they were haphazard, meaningless when analysed. And yet he had the feeling that there was more, much more, behind her words. She offered out the elusive hope that his death was not certain, but she veiled it with strange pronouncements of a living death. It was beyond his comprehension, far beyond the teachings of the Jedi. The more he accepted of her, her words, her magic, the further he was taken from the Order. And he felt in his heart that he was already so very far away from his roots. It chilled him and it thrilled him. He craved the excitements of the flesh which were proscribed to the Jedi and he embraced the destiny which would sever him from the Force. He wanted to lose himself in those emotions, but by the time they set down on Chancellor Valorum's private landing platform, he had put those thoughts aside and concentrated his focus on the moment. It disturbed him hardly at all that he continued to avoid a confrontation with his personal demons.

Valorum greeted them warmly. Qui-Gon was always touched that the Chancellor was so approving of Iva. Where others regarded her with doubt or looked at her askance, Valorum simply and openly accepted her. But his welcome was tempered by his news. A Baobhan-sith ship was in orbit, their representatives housed in his apartments, but the Jedi Council had refused their request for an audience. Valorum looked at Iva as he spoke, acknowledging this to be her sphere, but Qui-Gon knew the message was for him also.

"What is the Council's position on the matter?" he asked. That was his sphere.

"Officially. Only that the Baobhan-sith do not carry weight in the Republic. Unofficially..." Valorum cocked his head to one side. "Unofficially there is fear of what the Baobhan-sith bring to the Republic, of what they might represent to the people."

"What do the Council *think* they represent?" Iva sounded peevish.

Qui-Gon took her arm. "We'll worry about that later." He turned his attention back to Valorum. "Do we know what the Sisterhood wants?"

"No. They will not give me the details. Only that there is trouble brewing on your world." This Valorum addressed to Iva. "But they wish to see you." He looked again at Qui-Gon. "Both of you."

***

Sidious was impatient for Palpatine's departure. He had begun to mistrust his offspring, his twin, some time ago, but there was little that could be done. He still had great need of him, not least in the Senate. It was the desire to usurp power from one's elders and one's betters that was the affliction of the Sith way. Bane's teachings had been quite clear on that, antagonism between the Sith had been their downfall a thousand years before. There should only ever be one Master and his trained successor, kept loyal through fear and desire. Sidious knew he had violated that edict with Palpatine, but the hunger for power in areas where he could not show his face had thwarted his obedience to the Sith code.

He stared down on the holocom image of his clone, at least it reduced Palpatine in size, if not in ego. Sidious chose his words with care. He did not wish to be misconstrued. "Be careful, Senator, please. I understand the hags are here, they already conspire with the traitor Valorum. They are unlikely to successfully solicit the aid of the Jedi, but they must not be allowed to move against us when we are so close to achieving what we seek. We must move quickly. Excavate all you can. And make a speedy return."

His clone would not take kindly to commands, he had to implant the import of his instructions covertly. Sidious believed Jinn and his Sith witch would attempt to intercept Palpatine regardless of the Jedi Council's edicts, he had seen a glimmer of it in the future, but he could not be sure of their success. Both of them were shrouded with a strange radiance which interrupted the flow of his visions. He did not want Palpatine to underestimate them in his greed, and he did not want to lose him yet, he was still too valuable an ally. Moreover, to speak of that couple would inflame the Senator's passions and take him beyond reason. It made Sidious despair. Did all children disappoint their parents in this manner?

Palpatine barely nodded in reply. "Yes, brother." His image flickered and faded. The transmission was complete.

Maul turned to the Dark Lord. "I should accompany him, Master."

"No, Maul. How many times must I tell you, your powers would lapse there. You could be lost to us."

"Jinn return unharmed."

"But not unchanged, I think. Jinn is different. He has the aid of the hags."

Maul muttered under his breath. "And his apprentice."

Sidious heard well enough despite the infirmities brought on by the practice of his craft. He spun on his apprentice. "Stop whining Maul. It is not becoming of a Sith. You will stay on Coruscant. I need that blood potion. And soon. Get working on it right away. And pray you have better success this time."

***

The atmosphere on board the ship that had brought Iva and the Jedi to Coruscant from the Chapter House had not been tense, but there had been an air of interlude and of expectancy that had confounded Obi-Wan. It was something he was excluded from, the relationship Qui-Gon had with Iva, and he had given up denying that his Master had much to hide. As much as he respected him and revered him, loved him even, he could not deny that Qui-Gon kept things from him. Things to do with Iva, yes, but things which affected the apprentice nonetheless.

The nearest allusion that Obi-Wan could use to describe the atmosphere on the journey, was that a storm brewed. A storm which would engulf them all, the details and the dangers of which were being kept from him. It wasn't fair, of course it wasn't, not a lot was, and he knew he had to accept it, but he desired all the more to be a part of it, a real part of it, and now, not a pawn that waited to be brought into play when the game was almost over. No, he thought to himself, that was impatience, self-importance, talking, these were not the traits of the Jedi. His time would come, everyone said it, even Iva. Qui-Gon most especially. But deep down inside he didn't want to go on waiting any longer. He didn't want his life to pass him by while he sat waiting and watching.

And so he was almost relieved when Qui-Gon sent him off on a seemingly trivial task the moment they landed. His Master had exchanged brief words with Chancellor Valorum, Iva had seemed strangely excited and preternaturally alert. She had that look in his eye that he feared, the one that told the world there was more to her than defenceless womanhood.

"Go and find Master Gallia," Qui-Gon had instructed him afterwards. "Tell her... tell her nothing, but ask her to come and see me."

Obi-Wan had been glad to take his leave. He was feeling the overdue urge for independence. Not that he ever wanted to abandon Qui-Gon, he still felt a duty to keep him safe from the strangeness Iva represented, but he needed his own life suddenly. His own missions and his own space.

He knew that Adi Gallia had been watching them. Or at least that she had been watching Qui-Gon with Iva. He knew that Mace had ordered it. She had questioned him before on occasion, gently, without being obvious, but she had questioned him all the same. His guilt was that he had given up more than he thought he should have, his crime to have betrayed Qui-Gon to the Council. But he had also sensed that Adi had a greater depth of feeling for Qui-Gon than she acknowledged. For Iva too, and it was that more than anything which confused Obi-Wan.

And Adi confused him again when he entered her rooms. "Ah, apprentice Kenobi," she smiled, looking up. "I must speak with you."

"I, I," he stammered, disorientated. "I came to say that Qui-Gon wishes to see *you*."

She took no notice of his words, but she assumed an air of familiarity. "When we last spoke, Obi-Wan, you told me that your Master had said nothing of the Baobhan-sith. Has he spoken of them since then? Has Iva?"

"No, Master Gallia. He never speaks of them. Not to me. No."

"But he speaks of them? To his wife?"

"Yes. Probably. No. I don't know." Obi-Wan's confusion railed at him. He felt defensive. Protective of his master. "Qui-Gon wants to see you. Why don't you ask him?"

Again, Adi ignored his entreaty. "You have gleaned nothing from either of them about the Sisterhood or their agenda."

"No." Obi-Wan stared at her, his expression as neutral as he could manage. Did she sense he kept things back?

She had quizzed him like this eight or nine years ago.

"Give me your impressions then," she had said on that occasion when he had given her no concrete evidence of Qui-Gon's or Iva's allegiances. He denied everything, anything, for a while, but she kept on at him, gently, calmly, but astutely. "Thoughts? Intuitions?" she coaxed and he, desirous of a meritorious record as a Jedi, acutely aware that he might still be marked down for his still recent escapades on Melida/Daan, relented.

"It's something to do with the blood," he admitted, knowing he was grasping at straws, unsure of the real meaning of all he had seen. But that was not enough for Adi, she had wanted more details. "She drinks blood," he finally blurted, "they are vampires." In his mind was the image of Iva's bared teeth over his neck when they had both been held in the interrogation room, of her slicing open her own veins and swallowing her own blood. He was embarrassed that he could even think such a thing.

"You mean they are haemovores," Adi corrected. But no, that wasn't it at all. And Adi laughed at him for his belief in a figure to tease children with at bedtime. To Obi-Wan's knowledge, nobody has ever seen a vampire, on any of the Republic worlds or beyond. He was chagrined, back then, that he had spoken his fears aloud.

So he had denied his thoughts then, and he denied them now. He had seen so many terrible things on his travels with Qui-Gon to know that Iva was not a monster, however inexplicable her behaviour might be. He looked at Adi, sensed a trace of concern in her manner.

"They're here, aren't they?" he asked. "The Baobhan-sith? They've come to Coruscant." Concerns of his own took root in his mind.

Adi looked at Obi-Wan questioningly as if she felt his growing trepidation. "Your Master said nothing to you?"

In reply, he only repeated Qui-Gon's message that Adi go and speak with him and finally she acknowledged the request.

***

Qui-Gon could not put his finger on what made him uneasy about the Baobhan-sith Matriarch. As she greeted him he thought at first that this was the woman who had officiated at the blood rite on Cair-deach Sithien, but the height was different and although overlaid with age, the facial structure unlike that other's. It was when Iva kissed her cheek in greeting and called her Etain that recognition struck. And the dreadful truth of what disturbed him hit him like a shock. He had seen the woman only once before, and then in a blinding rain storm, but she had been so much younger then. Younger than he. This woman here looked to be twenty years older, perhaps more. Though her hair was not completely grey, her wrinkled face and frail limbs spoke of the infirmities of old age. For a moment his mind reeled, could not comprehend it. After a moment he looked at Iva. She looked no older than she had ten years ago. Would she age like that? Suddenly and extremely. He did not want to contemplate the terror that that thought wrought in him and he forced his senses to cease their whirling. Forced himself to concentrate on the conversation taking place around him. The details were of great import.

Etain's handmaid, Cuimhne, was describing a violation, a theft. Perhaps many such events. "We cannot be sure of what has been taken, but Tir-nam-bean *has* been disturbed."

He spoke assertively. "We will seek evidence of the plunder of the tombs and notify the Council."

Etain shook her head. "The tangle in the threads is already upon us, we have no time for debate, no time to wait on your Council's pleasure. Already they reject us before hearing us out." She paused, took Iva's hand. Qui-Gon sensed the gesture was for consolation and anticipated ill-tidings. The Matriarch spoke softly. "There have been skirmishes, outbreaks of violence all across the homeworlds. Many of the clans are at war. And whole townships abandoned."

Iva sensed the foreboding too, so suddenly did she interject. "And the fortress at Dubhagan? Clan Solus?" She pulled her hand out from Etain's grip.

"Yes, Iva. There too. I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon stretched out his hand and clasped Iva's shoulder. She had never spoken of her home, the place he had taken her from, the place she had been exiled from on pain of death, the reward her people had given her for saving his life. He sensed no despair or anger or bitterness in her at this news. Not even sadness. Only resignation.

Iva placed her hand over his. "Then we have to go back, we have to go to Korriban."

Qui-Gon struggled with the implications and the need to keep his promises to her, that he would champion her and her people. "I can't. You know I can't. To go back would be deadly. The Taleach worlds have been closed to us. You know that. They mean death."

"The quarantine only holds because the Jedi demanded it," Cuimhne interjected. "Others have already broken it."

Iva took Qui-Gon's hand, her touch was gentle loving, but it foreboded suffering. "Trust me. My home will not affect you any more."

She spoke of change again. Change in him. But he had sensed nothing. Nothing in his physical being that could explain it. He did not want to doubt her, did not want to question her. He could not stop himself. "How can you be sure?"

Etain and Iva shared a look. He could not interpret it's meaning, save that it sharpened the outlines of Iva's face. It was Etain that spoke first. "The blood rite has changed you, Jedi, changed your blood. You can go back with her." She nodded at Iva. "But you alone. You must not allow your Padawan to set foot on our worlds."

Iva spun around, taking a grip on his arm as she turned, and pulled him away from Etain too. "I have tried to tell you, Qui-Gon." She slid her hand down his arm and grasped his hand. "Do you not understand yet that you are no longer the same person now as you were back then?" She raised his hand to her lips, kissed his fingers. "You are transmuted." She held his hand against her cheek. Let it lie there for a moment. Then pushed it away from her, let it drop. She laid the flat of her palm against his chest, over his heart. "This flesh and this blood are ours now, like us and with us. To go to the homeworlds does not indicate your death in the same way as it did then."

"After all this time, you can only offer me more riddles?" Even as he uttered the words, he wished he had not spoken. He accepted, he had always accepted. Why did he continue to question?

Iva did not sigh in reply as she had so many times before. She only smiled in a sad way that made him want to take her in his arms.

"Then in what way?" he asked, the thought that he should already know if only he were to open his mind taking form.

"In the way that is outside of defeat," she replied.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a second, calmed his raging thoughts, centred on a spark that flared within him. His eyes open, he looked at Iva. Spoke the half-remembered, oft-repeated words. "Death will not defeat us. We can thrive in the darkness of despair." He was suddenly sure. "I will not die on Korriban." He understood the visions Iva had shown him. He would only accept defeat in the dry desert. Only embrace death between the walls of fire. Neither place would be found on Iva's worlds.

But something else still nagged at him. He had to ask. "Etain - how has she become so old?"

Iva almost laughed, he noticed, but she snapped off the response quickly. She bit her lip. "It is a function of the blood rite and the roles we have to play. Etain is the Matriarch. The Matriarch is always old."

"She just became old then, when she took on the job?"

"Yes." This time Iva did laugh. A tinkling sound. "Could you love me as a crone?"

"What?" He sensed there was something more behind the question than a tease. The vision of his love wearing cold, blue, dead flesh reared up in his mind. It did not disturb him as it had once before. "I would love you whatever." He told here warmly, honestly. He touched her cheek. "Don't I love your tattoos and your foul temper? Don't you love my broken nose?"

Cuimhne was at their side then. "The Matriarch would like to speak."

Iva let go of his hand. He turned back to Etain, discomfited he had discussed such things in her hearing.

Etain did not appear concerned. "When the time comes, Qui-Gon Jinn, the course you are to take will become clear. You have only to call on the Baobhan-sith to protect and guide you." She took a step closer to him, looking at him as if searching for a sign. Apparently she found it. "You will know the whole truth soon. You are in us. We are in you. This is your time, the time to make the future whole."

There really was no decision to make. "I must speak with the Council first, but I vow that I will help you." He meant his promise and would keep it. As he would keep all the promises he made.

- 5 -
The Map Becomes The Territory.

As Adi made her way to Chancellor Valorum's residence, she pondered what Qui-Gon might have to say to her. She had no idea of what *she* would say to him. She rued the day Mace Windu had set her to spy on him and his wife. It had ended the closeness she had once felt to Qui-Gon and prevented for ever a friendship with Iva.

Qui-Gon had opened himself up to her on two previous occasions, Adi remembered them with pleasure, but after the second time he had withdrawn as if afraid of getting too close. And after Iva there had been little warmth between them at all.

Adi recalled how surprised she had been by Iva's appearance when they had first met. Feminine in a raw, uncultured sort of way, with a wild look that had unsettled her. Iva didn't look like Adi's idea of Qui-Gon's type. But then what was Qui-Gon's type, she thought, surprising herself with an unfamiliar surge of envy for the woman who had won Qui-Gon's heart. It didn't concern Adi at the time that she ignored the beginnings of affection for this strange creature. But afterwards it preyed on her.

If only she could have made contact with Iva then, Qui-Gon and his wife might not have been severed from real contact with the Jedi all this time. Adi blamed herself for the impasse, but regretted the fact that Qui-Gon hadn't exactly helped himself. She lingered in the corridor a few moments longer, turning her thoughts over and over in her mind.

She remembered coming across Iva, alone, late at night, a few weeks after that first meeting. She'd gone to stand by the entrance to the government-held outpost the Jedi had made their headquarters, waiting for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to return from a mission. They were overdue and there'd been reports of skirmishes between the rival factions. She didn't notice Iva at first, so still in the darkness, but she gradually became aware of her. The woman was so quiet and her lack of presence in the Force shrouded her well. But as Adi turned to address her she was shocked to realise that Iva was weeping silently. "I'm sure he's safe," she said to her, trying to console, trying to find a point of contact between them. "I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"I know. He's almost here." Iva's voice was a whisper. Adi had to struggle to hear it. She wondered, but didn't speak aloud, why Iva cried in that case. And she was shocked when Iva replied, as if she'd read her mind. "I weep for the time when he won't return, Adi Gallia."

Adi was sure that wouldn't be happening any time soon and said so. "Qui-Gon's a great Jedi," she told Iva, "highly skilled. We all respect him." Those were her very words.

And Iva laughed. But not humourously or lightly. There was deep irony in the sound. "Respect," she snorted and came close to Adi in the darkness. Her next words made Adi start. "You will strike Qui-Gon's name from the records of the Jedi." And with that Iva had walked out into the night just as Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan crested the brow of the hill.

Adi remembered the chill she had felt at that moment, though it hadn't been the temperature that had dropped or a draught that had blown through some vent in the wall. The chill had come from Iva herself. Adi railed against the memory. If it was a prediction, it was one she was intent she wasn't going to let come to pass.

Adi stopped her thoughts, pushed back the memories. She had almost reached her destination and she could not hold back time any longer. And so, reminding herself she was a diplomat, she walked resolutely down the last stretch of corridor that took her to Qui-Gon's door. The nervousness that had been building in her fled when she saw him. She looked quickly around the apartment. Valorum provided it for Iva, but Qui-Gon always stayed there when on Coruscant. He was rarely at the Temple.

"You're alone," she said.

"Yes. Obi-Wan is in the training halls and Iva with the Baobhan-sith."

"Do you trust them?"

Qui-Gon looked at her openly. "I did not ask you here to discuss trust, Adi."

"Yet I must know."

"The Council don't."

"But you do."

"Why not?" Qui-Gon reasoned. "They need our help."

"The Council have refused it."

"There is no reason to."

"You believe them." Adi felt sure he did.

"They do not lie."

"But they have no evidence. Only the word of visionaries."

"I do not doubt such words."

He was thinking of Iva, Adi knew. He loved that woman still, with all his heart, you didn't have to have the senses of a Jedi to see that. How he had changed, she thought. He was no longer the man she once thought she knew, and perhaps could have befriended had their lives been different. Had he been different. But not in the way he was now. Adi reminded herself to be strong. Her life was full of regrets today, but that was no reason to let her resolution lapse.

"This threat they claim," she went on. "It cannot come from the Republic. It's not possible for any of us to go there in any safety. The danger must come from their own people."

"The threat is real. And there's no reason to doubt it comes from the Republic. The possibility that someone could alter their body chemistry cannot be ruled out."

She knew in that moment what Qui-Gon was intending to do and she despised him for it. Already he had ruined his career and had spent the last ten years of his life chasing a fairy tale.

"You will ask the Council for permission to go back there, won't you? Despite the fact you nearly died there once before." She looked at him. However much she disliked his choices, she still felt concern for him. "You think you can go there with immunity, don't you? How? What have you done? What has she done to you?"

"It's not like that, Adi." He looked at her with intent, but there was only a distance in his eyes, not longing.

"Isn't it? What is it like then?" If only she could prove something, that he had been poisoned perhaps, or brainwashed, she might bring him back into the fold. "Will you consent to a cell analysis? A midi-chlorian count?"

He shook his head. "It would be disloyal."

"Disloyal to whom, Qui-Gon? Not to the Jedi. Are your loyalties to Iva stronger than those to the Order?"

He only shrugged. As if it were obvious. As if it didn't need saying. It didn't.

She tried another tack. Inflected pleading into her voice. "There's too much risk. You shouldn't go. It will be dangerous."

"No, not the trip itself. Maybe afterwards. There will be a danger after. That is why I asked to see you."

She almost shivered. Her mouth could not form the word. Why?

"Adi, I want you to protect Iva, if something should happen to me."

This wasn't what she wanted to hear. "What could happen to you, Qui-Gon?"

He made light of it. "Only what could happen to anyone, Adi, at any time, you know that."

Past tensions between them surfaced in her mind. "Oh Qui, don't say such a thing."

He looked at her sharply, annoyed at that diminutive use of his name.

"I don't know what it is she asks of you, but you could refuse her. They all say she has too great a hold on you. Prove them wrong, Qui-Gon."

"It isn't that," he said, reading her fears exactly. "I do what must be done."

"Why me? Why not someone else? Why not Plo Koon?"

"Plo does not have the diplomatic skills and connections necessary to hide Iva if need be. You do."

"Hide her? Why"

"If things go to plan, she will be in danger too, Adi."

He seemed so casual about it. "To plan?" she asked. The thought rampaged through her mind, what sort of plan had they devised exactly? She didn't dare to ask.

"I can't explain, not now. I have made a promise. I can't break it." He took a step closer to her. Her heart lurched. She almost wished that he would touch her. But he didn't. He simply spoke on in a gentle tone. "Promise me you will make sure Iva is safe. If, when, I can't."

Against her better judgement, she decided. For Qui-Gon, because it was Qui-Gon asking this, she consented.

Taking her leave, she went straight away to speak with Mace.

***

Qui-Gon was already waiting in the Council Chamber when Mace and Adi entered, the other ten already seated. As Adi took her place, Mace opened the meeting. "You wish to address us, Master Jinn."

"I am concerned, Master Windu, that the Council denies the representatives of the Taleach people an audience. That we reject their right to request our aid."

Mace looked firmly around the circle... "These people are outside the Republic. We have no duty to them." ...reminding the Council of the agreed stance.

Adi glanced surreptitiously at her fellow members. She had no intention of siding with Qui-Gon, but others might. Plo Koon perhaps. She noticed Oppo Rancis ready himself to speak.

"You seem to forget, Master Jinn, that you forged an alliance with these people against our advice," he said.

Qui-Gon stood his ground, his hands loosely clasped, a sign he intended to appear relaxed, unconcerned, Adi noted. He spoke calmly. "With respect Master Windu, Master Rancis, the duties of a Jedi should not depend upon political persuasion or allegiances."

"That is very true," Mace began. "However, the Baobhan-sith are an unknown quantity. And you have consistently refused to allow us access to Caer Ibhormheith. We are still uncertain as to the threat they pose to the Force."

Qui-Gon smiled slightly, almost unnoticeably. "They pose no threat to you. The Taleach people are under attack from unknown assailants who may originate from within the Republic. *We* threaten them. Why can't we act? Seek this person out?"

"There is no proof."

"Then we must find it."

"The allegations are foundless."

"Then I will do it alone."

"This is untoward. I cannot allow it." Mace's voice was injected with finality.

"Try our patience again, you do, Qui-Gon. Disrespectful, it is." All eyes fell on Yoda. "Duties already, you have."

"I have given my word to protect Iva's people. I cannot refuse. We leave with the Baobhan-sith tonight."

"You intend to return to the Sith worlds? Despite the danger?" Mace sounded a touch exasperated, Adi noticed. Qui-Gon could do that to people so easily, his very calmness in the face of his resolute attraction to forbidden causes exasperated them all.

Qui-Gon merely nodded.

Yoda became indignant. "Eat of her fruit, you do. Partake of the food of the dead, yes. If you go there, you will know no return." He stabbed the air with a finger pointed towards Qui-Gon as he spoke. A Master admonishing a wayward pupil. "Forbid it, I do."

"I do not believe it will be as you say," Qui-Gon replied evenly. "I *will* go there."

Mace sighed. "I don't doubt it, Master Jinn."

"And I will return," Qui-Gon countered.

"So sure, are you? Wish I could be so sure, I do. Danger I see in your future, Qui-Gon. And death." Yoda's voice became hushed as he spoke.

Yaddle leaned over towards him. "You show fear, Master Yoda. Is this true, what you say?"

Yoda shrugged off her accusation and her question and maintained his attention on Qui-Gon. "Stubborn, you still are, eh? Realise what you are throwing away, you do not. Experience the ultimate embrace of the Force, you could. But, no, hold on to the shadows offered up by these women, you do."

The Council was silent. Alarmed by Yoda's words. Even Qui-Gon let his eyes drop to look at the floor.

Finally, Ki-Adi-Mundi turned to Mace, concerned. "Can we do nothing to dissuade him? Should we not try?"

Mace said nothing. Adi looked around, surprised that Plo Koon did not come to his friend's defence.

Yaddle stood up. "I will go with you, Master Jinn."

"Master Yaddle!" Mace looked at her, alarm written across his features.

A growing murmur filled the chamber.

"I have been studying all I can," Yaddle explained. ""But even the secretum does not contain much information. There is scarcely any data in the holocrons. I wish to see these worlds with my own eyes. Walk on them if I can. But most of all I wish to exchange information with the Baobhan-sith. I could learn much from them. And give them much in exchange."

Adi was shocked. She could hardly credit Yaddle with this desire. Nor, from their response, could the other members of the Council. Evan Piell was pleading with Yaddle to reconsider, but Adi could not make out his words over the level of noise. Only Qui-Gon accepted her words. He spoke clearly above the hubbub. "Thank you, Master Yaddle." He nodded in acknowledgement. "We would be honoured for you to accompany us."

"No, Master Yaddle." Mace sounded insistent. "I cannot let you go."

Plo Koon spoke out at last. Adi turned her head at the sound of his metallic tones. "Let her go, Master Windu. Let Qui-Gon go. We cannot stop these events unfolding. How can we defend one people and refuse another? And if we allow one people to be destroyed, who will defend us when we are attacked?"

"And who will attack us?" Evan cried out.

"Indeed, Master Piell. That is the question we must all consider." Plo had to shout to be heard.

Mace stood up and gestured for silence. A hush fell. Plo spoke again in the silence. "Let Master Yaddle go with Qui-Gon to the Sith worlds. Information cannot harm us."

"Very well." Mace relented. He risks relinquishing his control of the Council, Adi realised. He continued speaking, even as Yoda muttered some unheard words. "Be careful, Qui-Gon. And you too Yaddle. I will be praying that the Force returns you both to us safely." He took a deep breath. "The Council is dismissed."

***

Plo Koon fell into step beside Qui-Gon as he left the Chamber. "Look after Yaddle, eh?"

"Of course, Plo. When would I do other?"

"She is fascinated by the Baobhan-sith, Qui-Gon. She craves what you have. Being close to them."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Does she?"

"Yoda has had her searching the libraries for information. She has found little, but it has become a compulsion in her. Evan resents it, he thinks it is a waste of time."

"None of this seems like the actions of the Jedi Council."

"I am worried, Qui-Gon. You..." Plo slapped his companion on the shoulder. "You were always unconventional. The others..." He shook his head. "I do not know. There are changes on the horizon. Sometimes..."

The pause was a little too long, the silence a little too quiet.

"Sometimes?" Qui-Gon prompted.

"Sometimes I feel we are losing hold of everything important. In the Republic, if not in the Order. Word is that commerce dominates the Republic, the Trade Federation now have more power than the Senate. I do not like the rumours."

"What have you heard, Plo?"

"It's too long a tale for now. When you get back, Qui-Gon - I know you'll get back even if those others in there doubt it - then we will talk. It's been too long."

Qui-Gon clapped his hand on Plo's back in return. "It has, Plo, that it has."

"Yaddle isn't the only one. I envy you too, Qui-Gon."

"You? Envy me?" Qui-Gon laughed. "No."

"Yes. You got your greatest wish, to be away from any debt to the Council, and you got your woman."

Qui-Gon thought for a moment. Plo's banter was legendary, but he could be bettered. "It seems you got your wish too, Plo. Taking that seat on the Council has kept you away from *me*."

"Hah, you have me there, Qui-Gon," Plo admitted, his tone surprisingly jocular given the mask he spoke through. He and Qui-Gon were about to go their separate ways, but he turned back briefly, his voice now serious. "I warn you though, Qui-Gon, the Council have run out of patience with you. They will not be so accommodating next time."

- 6 -
Through Birds, Through Fire, But Not Through Glass.

Iva said it finally, once they were boarded and underway to Cair-deach Sithien. "It's Palpatine, isn't it? He's behind this, he's the one raiding the tombs."

Qui-Gon sealed the cabin door behind them. "That's entirely possible, but we can't be certain yet."

Her eyes were downcast. "Then the mirror fragment failed. We failed."

Qui-Gon felt the tension too. "It's not failure, Iva. Don't think of it as that. We underestimated him, perhaps only slowed his progress, but we did what we could."

She tilted her head up to look at him fiercely. "Then it wasn't enough. We have to do more." Her voice was emphatic.

"We will." He stepped close to her, towering over her but taking hold of both her hands tenderly in his. "We need a plan. I need you to look into the tapestry."

She squeezed his hands in reply. "Then I'll need your help."

"You know my help is always freely given," he replied and, taking the skein of her hair in his hand, pulled her head back gently so that he could kiss her mouth.

***

Once they left Coruscant orbit, Obi-Wan headed straight for the galley. His stomach grumbled at him after an afternoon's exertions in the training halls and in the hurry to leave he hadn't had a chance to eat. Eating was something Qui-Gon had never made much time for and Iva was even worse, picking at tiny portions and invariably leaving half. Obi-Wan's appetite was rarely satisfied, even now he had outgrown his adolescent hunger, and so he helped himself to dollops of preserved fruit on some thick chunks of bread.

The preparations to leave had been carried out quickly and efficiently, but the journey to the Taleach homeworlds was still going to take them several days. Qui-Gon and Iva had locked themselves in the only private cabin on board the minute they had embarked and Obi-Wan hadn't seen them since. Their ship, a small diplomatic shuttle long ago made available to Iva for her personal use courtesy of the Supreme Chancellor's office, was in docking flight with the Stellar Sweeper. Yaddle had requested permission of the Matriarch to travel with the Baobhan-sith, and had been granted it. Obi-Wan wondered about that, why she was here, why she was coming with them, what she wanted of the sisterhood, but hadn't asked. He hoped, as usual, that Qui-Gon would tell him later.

In return, the Baobhan-sith had reciprocated by sending one of their pilots to help him with the shuttle. He didn't feel he was in need of help, though, and he certainly resented the presence of the young woman. She was dogging his every step, though she hadn't yet deigned to speak to him, and he wasn't surprised when she joined him in the galley. He eyed her warily, unsure of her motives. One witch around, he thought, was quite enough. Nevertheless, he pushed the remains of the loaf and the fruit towards her, mumbling through his mouthful of food. She took a corner of crust politely and nibbled at it.

"You don't like me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know you." It was not a conversation he wanted to indulge in.

She smiled at him shyly. "You are very lucky."

"Lucky?"

"To be so close to the bellatrix."

"What?" He didn't understand the way the conversation was going, didn't know where it was heading.

"Caer Ibhormheith is blessed."

"Iva? Blessed?" He thought of her more as a blessed nuisance.

"Her child will be a great hero. It has been foretold."

"Child?" Obi-Wan's eyes bulged. "What child? She doesn't have a child."

The Baobhan-sith laughed at him. "Well, it isn't born yet. Obviously." She sniggered.

Obi-Wan could feel the heat in his face. Presumably, that would mean Qui-Gon would be the father. He wondered how he could be so stupid. Sometimes his adherence to the Jedi way, even in the face of his Master's permissiveness, left him wallowing in naivete.

The woman laughed again. "My name is Eilidh."

He looked at her blankly. "What?" He didn't want to know her name.

She shook her head. "You never asked my name. It's Eilidh."

He didn't want to go down that path, the path of familiarity. Whilst he normally relished attention, he did not like the look in her eyes. "What do you want?" he snapped. His shortness, he knew, was rude, but he wanted to be alone.

"Do you want to share sex?"

He looked at her aghast. She just came out and asked. Just like that. Out of the blue. "No." He stood up and stormed out of the galley. Iva was like that, all over Qui-Gon. Well, Qui-Gon might reciprocate, Obi-Wan thought, but he sure wasn't going to. If he was destined to be a wiser man than his Master, he was going to start here and now and remain chaste, at least where these women were concerned. He was not going to end up in thrall to one of these witches and so he swore to adhere to the Jedi path.

When he reached the cockpit, he locked himself in and decided to stay there until Qui-Gon came looking for him. He could spend the time going through the data files they had downloaded to the ship's system in the hope of finding some concrete evidence of Republic involvement in events surrounding the Sith worlds.

***

Passion locked itself around their bodies, forcing them together, close and closer still.

Iva had cast a circle and they were enclosed within it. Qui-Gon sat crossed legged supporting her between his knees, her legs were curved around his hips. His hands braced her lower back, his thumbs hooked around her waist. A bead of sweat trickled down between her breasts as her nipples brushed against his torso. He was already inside her, beneath her skin, within her mind, even before he penetrated her. His arms moved to encircle her and she clung to him in reply, her hands locked on his shoulders. Their combined energies fed the relentless escalation of their desire.

Her breathing became strained as her rib cage was squeezed in his embrace, as he lifted her and supported her, guiding her movements down onto him. She didn't fight against the breathlessness, did not fight to be free, she only gave in to the heightened urgings of her body and the power of their lust as it grew stronger. She clamped her mouth upon his and teased his lower lip with her teeth.

She felt Qui-Gon reach out with his mind, drawing the energies of the Force around them both, cocooning them in its heat like a durasteel cage. The world flew apart around them, fled from their physical union. Air, sound, light. Gone. Their bodies sang, minds closed down in the trance of sexual union, only emotion and the lightening strike of nerve endings in tormented pleasure remained.

Breath, Iva told herself, breath. She thought of what they were about to do. She thought of the Sith tombs.

There was an instant of calm and then the ecstasy swallowed them.

They sat, quiescent finally, within the circle of knotted cord, united and enclosed by the energies of the immaterial world. Iva stroked one hand, palm down, across the other, palm up. A complex web of violet energy flared between them, a card appeared within the knot of threads. She studied it a moment.

"The past," she proclaimed. "Lot, the coin king." The card showed an imperious figure seated on a gaudy throne reading a long inventory of his possessions. Behind him a great city loomed. "The materialist," Iva said. "A rich and powerful leader. Courageous but inclined to jealousy. Successful, clever, but unrefined." The card was ill-dignified, reversed. "He is a petty and interfering man, lacking in vision, intent on spoiling the hopes and dreams of those around him. He is trapped by his physical wealth and ensnared by his arrogance. He might be a vicious man, corrupt and perverse, revering ugliness." She drew a breath, deep and portentous. "It could be Palpatine."

"It is an accurate description." Qui-Gon took the card from her hands. "What does the next card say?"

Iva brought her hands together again and rebuilt the sphere of energy. A second shape took form. The tomb of a knight lying in state, one sword above him, three beneath.

"The present. The fourth sword." She laid it aside, outside the circle. "It is a bad card. The tomb, the coffin, exile." But she hesitated. Picked it up again. Closed her eyes and thought awhile. "No. Wait. It means a setback, but also a serene mind. It means time alone to recover your individuality."

She felt Qui-Gon start. "Mine?"

Her eyes flew open. "What?"

"You said 'your individuality.' Did you mean me?"

She frowned. "Perhaps. The card had a positive healing aspect."

"Yes." She could hear a sense of relief in Qui-Gon's voice. "But what of Palpatine? " he asked.

She called a third card from the web. "The future." It depicted a tower struck by lightening, two figures, a male and a female, thrown to the ground. "It is a purging force. This signals the end of everything. Everything will change. There will be widespread disaster."

"And Palpatine will be the cause."

"I couldn't say. But it points that way."

"Can we prevent it?"

"Do you want me to look?"

Iva could sense Qui-Gon searching for the Force, calling on its protection. "Yes," he said. It seemed as though a conflagration burnt around them. "I need to know how you see the outcome of this endeavour."

She held up the fourth card for him to see. "Ten wands. Oppression." A barrier of staves blocked a man's path to the rising sun.

Qui-Gon looked down, she thought she heard him sigh.

"It is not necessarily a bad omen," she said. "It has many significances, contradictory ones." She tipped her head forward and looked up at him. He returned her gaze, she hoped he was heartened. There seemed to be nothing but ill-fortune in her visions, in her words these days. "It indicates treachery, true, but also gain. We might well face an overbearing force which cannot be harmonized, but the confrontation will not be without success. Success will bring its own burdens but the card tells us that the sacrifice of the self at this time is positive."

"This confirms the time draws near, then?"

"Yes. But wait. I want to see more. I want to see what our path must be." She breathed deeply again. Gold dust flickered in her eyes and in her exhaled breath. "Ah, Cuchulain, the Charioteer. That's good, it is a forceful card. It means that we must provoke action in order to contain it. We must be swift to act, before the rot sets it. But we will have to compromise to achieve any sort of victory."

Qui-Gon took the card when she handed it to him. "Whatever happens," he said, "I'll make sure you're safe. Always."

***

Yaddle looked around the Stellar Sweeper in awe as Cuimhne led the way. Bird-like from the exterior, the ship also displayed an avian look to its interior. The sweep of its corridors was like the fall of a wing, the walls inlaid with the feathery curls of silver filigree, the large chamber at its heart like the curve of a robust talon. The technology looked dated but not inefficient, adapted from the old Sith sciences perhaps. She nodded to herself, in recognition of the fact that she could feel at home here.

Etain greeted her courteously. "We are honoured to have you with us Madame Yaddle. I have great faith that one day I will have the honour of calling you sister."

"I too Etain," Yaddle replied openly. "I'm eager to learn from you. I have been searching for answers for a long time."

"I hope we do not let you down." The Matriarch bowed to her.

"You know me, don't you?" Yaddle's curiosity on that matter was satisfied now. "When I first met Ibhormheith I sensed recognition in her, as if I was known to her or she knew of my kind. Master Yoda wanted knowledge, but he was not keen to let me talk to her. I had to rely on my holocrons and ancient books. The texts were sparse, the Jedi records held scant information."

Etain acknowledged Yaddle's words with a brief smile. "You are familiar to us. Your form is that of one of the forest dwellers in our myths. The guardian spirits of the natural universe."

Yaddle smiled, nodded. "I have supposed that if the fallen Jedi took human captives to the Sith worlds they might also have taken other races. I looked into the records of my own people, there were stories of abductions, disappearances, but nothing substantial. Nothing proven. Still, it is not unlikely."

"If this is true, we owe a great debt to your kind. The people of the forest taught us much in the way of herb lore and the magical crafts."

"Thank you, Etain. But tell me... Are folk like me still living on your worlds?"

"I'm sorry, no." Etain's look of sadness emphasised her words. "We know them now only from stories of the past. Our people passed through a time of great hardship to survive the plagues of the ravaged worlds after the fall of twilight. It was only through our breeding programme that the strongest of us survived. It must have been that all your people perished."

Yaddle repressed the guilt that threatened to overwhelm her and looked up at the Matriarch. "It is not for you to bear that grief, Etain. You were not responsible for all that happened then."

The shadows that had beset Etain's face lightened and she smiled again, broadly. "You are too kind, Madame Yaddle. Cuimhne will show you to a chamber. We do not have a great number of texts aboard the Sweeper, I'm afraid, but she will gift you the knowledge of our tongue while we travel. It is too great a risk for you to visit our library on Cair-deach Sithien, but we will make whatever books you desire available to you on board the Sweeper when we arrive."

"That would be more than generous, Etain. Thank you." Yaddle felt a heavy mantle of gratitude close around her. "I couldn't ask for anything more," she said and bowed gracefully to the Matriarch.

***

Qui-Gon emerged from the shower, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. Iva lingered and he turned back to her.

"You're worried for your people." He sensed the anxiety in her. "We will go to Cair-deil Talamh first, ascertain what is behind this outbreak of warfare. You must be strong." He took her to the bed and made her sit down with him. "We must both be strong."

"I'm worried for you, too," she replied. It was self-evident. "And for me. And for Obi-Wan."

"When we get to Tir-nam-bean, whatever we find there, it will be dangerous. We may find little in the way of evidence against Palpatine, I will be surprised if we catch him red-handed. But the dark side will be present." He cleared a strand of damp hair away from her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he did so. "Even so, I don't intend to lose anyone on this mission." He bent to rest his forehead on hers. "Understand?"

"I understand." She slipped an arm around his neck. "I will keep you safe."

- 7 -
The Breeding Ground Of Dust.

"Lord Maul." The lab tech jumped back from his work bench, standing to attention as the Sith strode into the room.

Alert, Maul noted with little pleasure, though he saw the traces of fear which marked the man's face, giving away his servility. Maul sneered. "Any progress?" He shouldered the man out of the way and peered intently into a test tube. Picked up a flask and swirled the contents around until they threatened to spill. "We need results fast."

He would not stand on ceremony to any of these underlings of Sidious. He saw them as little more than slaves. And he treated them as such.

The technician looked desperately at the equipment Maul fiddled with, as if fearful for its safety. "We... We've isolated a new agent from the original blood samples, but... But we're running out of supplies. We're going to need more."

"More? You know we can't get more. You'll have to replicate this agent artificially in the lab." Maul understood that Sidious kept a small supply of the Baobhan-sith's blood, the blood she had spilled when Palpatine had been hoodwinked by her and Jinn's apprentice ten years back. But even with current preservation techniques it was at the limit of its storage time and most had already been sacrificed in failed experiments.

"I don't know that that's possible, sir." The man seemed flustered. He was shaking visibly.

Maul did not attempt to hide the fact that he despised the technician and his work. "Make it possible. Lord Sidious doesn't have time for you to fritter his remaining life away."

The tech rallied himself. Maul could see that the man gathered his courage around him like a shield. "There's one thing we could try, sir."

Maul waited. The man hesitated. Maul could not hide his impatience. "Well. What is it?"

"A direct infusion into Lord Sidious. It's risky, but..."

Maul raised his hand and cuffed the tech about the ear. The man reeled away, smarting. "Fool," Maul yelled at him. "Inject Lord Sidious with the witch's blood? Are you mad?"

The technician looked back at Maul, defiant for a moment. But it cleared instantly at the sight of Maul, at the obviousness of his rage. "We... we could try an indirect approach. Take blood from Lord Sidious. Inoculate it with this new agent. Or with the witch's blood itself. And then, if it takes, transfuse it back into Sidious." He looked at Maul, almost cowering, as if in expectation of another blow.

Maul merely sniffed. "I'll see whether Lord Sidious concurs. Keep up the good work." And as he left the lab, he laughed as though he told himself a joke.

***

Iva had often, over the years, yearned for the glens of Cair-deil Talamh with their meagre vegetation scrambling over the lichen-stained rocks, with their lowering purple clouds drizzling the land with mist, with the hills stained silver under the glow of a gibbous moon. Now she was here, now she was about to step out onto her homeworld once again, they held no attraction for her.

The Stellar Sweeper had left them to orbit Cair-deach Sithien, Yaddle was with them and was eagerly anticipating her studies there. Eilidh they would leave at Dubhagan if she could be of any help there. Soon her contact with the Baobhan-sith would be severed again.

As Iva steeled herself to go outside, Qui-Gon instructed Obi-Wan not to leave the shuttle, to keep the outer airlock doors closed until they returned and to keep the ship's atmosphere, only the ship's atmosphere, circulating. They couldn't be sure it was the air on the Sith worlds which had disabled their channels of access to the Force before, but it was a safe assumption. Qui-Gon warned his apprentice to take no chances. Iva wondered whether he had doubts about her assurances that her world would no longer affect him. It made her doubt herself. Well, they would all know soon enough, she thought.

She buttoned her coat, but then unbuttoned it again so that she could wrap it around herself, overlapping the layers of fabric, holding them tightly against her chest with her arms, as if that gave her better protection from the elements, from the danger, from her insecurity. She realised that Qui-Gon was looking at her quizzically and she knew he sensed her qualms.

"I can go alone," he said. "You could wait here with Obi-Wan."

"No." Even as she snapped back at him, she realised she was becoming irritable and swallowed her words. She sighed. "No," she said more calmly. "I'm fine. I have to do this. It's my duty and responsibility."

Qui-Gon touched her arm lightly. "You'll be fine." His touch brought warmth to her soul and gave her hope.

***

Sidious glided into the lab with barely a noise. Maul, at his shoulder, announced their entry with the stomp of his boots on the uncarpeted floor.

The technician and his assistants bowed low as they turned to greet their patron. Sidious returned the tech's acknowledgement of his superiority with a nod. The tech took it as a good sign. "It's a great pleasure to see you again, Lord Sidious," he said.

Sidious peered at him. "Do I know you?"

Maul bent forward and whispered in his ear. "Ah yes," Sidious began, what might have been called a smile on any other face passing across his features. "Piet Grocelind. Your father was Tine Grocelind. An advisor of mine."

"Yes, sir." Grocelind smiled back at him, humbled. "You were kind enough to take me in and continue my education when my father..." His words tailed off.

"Yes, yes. A terrible tragedy, his treason." A touch of boredom soured the edges of Sidious' words. Maul shuffled his feet.

"You stepped in when no one else would even acknowledge my family, sir. Thank you." Grocelind bowed again, compliant.

Maul coughed loudly.

"Yes, yes." Sidious acknowledged the prompting. "If this is what we must do, let's get it over with." He was already rolling up his sleeve for Grocelind's needle.

***

As they made their way up the hill Qui-Gon held tightly onto his sense of connection with the Force, anticipating at any moment that the link would sever as it had before in this place. But Iva's promise was true and he felt no ill-effect. He wondered what it was that had changed. He had, he knew, but was unable to detect exactly what kind of transformation he had undergone. He felt much the same as he had that other day, physically, internally. But then he would, wouldn't he? he thought. The changes were less to his corporeal body than to his life-force. He switched his attentions to his surroundings.

The town of Dubhagan was in ruins, the fortress damaged by battle.

Iva stared around her. "What could have done this?"

Qui-Gon recognised the cause instantly. "This is the result of blaster fire."

The streets were empty, the wind whipping the detritus of warfare and the remains of everyday life into pockets of activity. Here and there a body still lay abandoned where it had fallen in battle. Iva and Eilidh both set to wailing. Qui-Gon had heard the sound before. It was a sound Iva made whenever she came upon death or disaster. He had always taken it as a sign of her belief and Eilidh's echo of it confirmed his suspicions. But he had never before heard such an undercurrent of despair to it. He made her stop for a while and crushed her against his chest in an effort to staunch its flow. Eilidh feel silent too.

In the main square, an image flooded his mind, it was the place where Iva had caused the fall of violet flowers and the memory of his first words of love to her on that day made him tremble. But huddled there too was a group of three children, none more than ten years by the look of it. Their clothes were nothing more than rags and their faces filthy.

Eilidh approached them cautiously, whispering quiet words of reassurance. She gathered them to her, holding the youngest ones hands firmly, urging the eldest to hang onto her skirts. "I'll look for any more survivors," she announced. "See if I can find something to feed them with. Then I'll take them somewhere safer. You go on without me."

Qui-Gon and Iva left her to the task without a word.

***

Left to his own devices for he knew not how long, Obi-Wan's thoughts dwelt on his predicament. Without the standing of an official diplomatic or Jedi mission to back them up, the Council had asked that he remain on Coruscant. But he had refused. Even though he knew he would be of no use in this endeavour, his place was with Qui-Gon, his duty that of student to teacher. He might be a useless appendage on the Sith worlds, but he would always be there to look out for his Master.

Resolved, he continued to apply himself to the data mining job he had begun on the journey. He had found a lot of potential evidence, but it was all circumstantial. There was little to link it all, and he couldn't fit much of it into a coherent pattern.

One company which Palpatine had known links with had a project underway which, as far as Obi-Wan could tell, was to develop an invisibility field generator. But all the reports so far indicated that it was only at the experimental stage and, the conclusions all suggested, little more than theoretical speculation.

But then a sub-contract put out by another company, with no direct links to Palpatine but connected to him through the Galactic Corporate Policy League, seemed to involve the building of a courier ship designed for covert operations. The sub-contract had been awarded to Sienar Design Systems, but Obi-Wan could find no links between them and Palpatine whatsoever. It didn't mean there wasn't one, just that there was no proof of a conspiracy.

If some sort of shielding device existed, Obi-Wan deduced, Palpatine could have been coming to Korriban without the Republic, the Jedi or the Baobhan-sith having any knowledge of it.

But it was all hearsay. And proved nothing.

He would have to go on looking.

***

The castle itself was equally bereft of life as the town. The stillness and the silence pressed upon Iva and Qui-Gon as they searched its corridors, oppressing them but failing to dissuade them from their task. Finally, in an upper chamber, they came upon Ringan's daughter, Iva's foster-sister of old, disowned and exiled by Ringan even before Iva had been.

The woman was sitting in a corner, a shawl, the colours in the plaid all but concealed by soot and grime, clutched around her shoulders.

"Moireach?" Iva crouched down before her.

She looked up, bewilderment in her eyes. Then sudden recognition.

"Ibhormheith? They told me you had gone away. Are you a revenant already?"

"No, Moireach. I'm still alive." Iva almost laughed from the tension of it all, but held back the sound. "I came back to find out what has been happening here. When did you return?"

"Father needed my help." She made a disgusted sound. "His lands were under siege. He needed anybody's help. It was a hopeless cause."

Moireach looked up fearfully at Qui-Gon, noticing him for the first time.

"This is Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Iva reassured her. "He has come here at the request of the Baobhan-sith to eradicate the evil that besets you." She didn't look, and would have ignored anyway, the eyebrow she knew Qui-Gon would raise at that. But she knew an embroidered half-truth was what Moireach needed to hear. "Is Ringan still here?" she asked.

Moireach looked down, her forehead dropping to her knees. "Yes, but he's close to death."

Qui-Gon stepped forward and squatted down beside the women. "How did all this happen?" he asked Moireach gently. "Do you know who did this?"

"Mharais, it was Mharais." Moireach was fighting back her tears.

Qui-Gon remembered the name all too well.

"Mharais betrayed him," Moireach said. "Mharais betrayed us all. He said he had an army."

Iva took hold of her hand, willing her strength, fortitude. "And did he?"

Moireach looked back at her blankly.

"Have an army?" Iva asked again.

Moireach wiped her face, smearing her tears. She looked like a grubby child who had been weeping alone in the fields. But she continued. "Yes. But the people laughed at him. His army was of skeletal men, made of metal. They thought they were puppets, automata. They thought he sought to scare them with toys. But they were deadly toys."

Qui-Gon stood up. "Battle droids - ineffectual troops but with strength in numbers," he said, though there was no one left to heed the warning. "The Nemoidians have been using them for years."

"They wiped us out," Moireach went on. "Ringan fought bravely. He was not a great man but he tried to protect his people at the end."

Iva waited for Moireach to cease sobbing. "Can we see him?"

She scrubbed at her face with her hands again. "Yes. But I have to warn you - he is no longer a handsome man." She hauled herself to her feet and led them to the nearby room.

Ringan's head lay on a soiled pillow. Half his face was hacked away, the flesh around the mouth mutilated by scar tissue, one eye an empty hole, the cheek below it distorted and concave, the forehead bisected by the tracks of swollen keloids. His arms lay on the covers. One hand twisted and useless, the other gone entirely. His body, beneath the sheets, ended at the thighs.

Despite herself, despite her old hatred of this man, Iva gasped.

His one eye darted to her face. She could not but stare at the vacant socket of its partner, the disfigurements above and below. She felt Qui-Gon's hand on her waist, offering the pledge of moral support.

Moireach broke the silence. "He was a strong man, Ibhormheith. The remnants of his strength keeps him alive. I don't know what for."

"For revenge," Ringan roared, his voice still strong despite the destruction of his body. "I hear you, woman. Tormenting me. Why have you brought that witch here?"

"She's come to help, father."

"Help, there's no help to be had now." His words this time were weak and tormented, as if all his energy had been spent. "Tell her to call up the goddess and set her on Mharais." His head lolled to one side and his gaze fixed on Qui-Gon. "And you?" he accused. "Have you come back to gloat at the wreck of the man who would have killed you if that witch hadn't been around?"

"Father. Don't..." Moireach looked at Iva desperately.

Iva moved a step closer to the bed. "Qui-Gon is a good man. He is not vindictive and he bears you no grudge. That is a lesson you could have done with learning a long time ago."

"The Republic can help him." Qui-Gon turned and whispered to Moireach. "We have healers, surgeons. They could restore him."

Moireach shook her head. "He will not want your help, he is beyond help."

As if to prove the point, Ringan cried out to her again. His voice was full of pain, too much pain for any one man to bear. "Get them out of here."

But as they moved towards the door, he called Iva back. She approached the shattered husk of her foster-father cautiously. Almost shied back when he grabbed at her with the bent and swollen fingers of his remaining hand. He motioned to her to bend down close to his face, that he wanted to whisper something to her.

His words were not hard to grasp, but they were haunting. "Mharais wiped out Clann Solus," he said. "And I will be dead soon. Promise me that you will nominate your first-born son as member of the clan."

"I can't." It was true, she couldn't. How could she? She had no son, and any son she might yet bear was already destined to carry another burden.

"You must." Ringan's voice was now a hiss. "You must. To perpetuate the line. To avenge us all."

Iva closed her eyes. She lied. "I promise."

Ringan's hand fell back onto the bed and she turned to leave.

***

Palpatine tore at the bindings of the inner tomb doorway with his bare hands. His team of local diggers were still excavating the last corners of the previous site and he wanted to gain entry here before they moved on. He needed to search alone, in the absence of prying eyes.

Finally the seals gave way and he pushed the entrance open. He was insensible to the stench of foul air which assailed him. He did not wait to enter.

As he shone his light around the space, disappointment wracked him. This was a small tomb, not that of a potent Sith Lord. Not even an apprentice. A minor alchemist maybe or an acolyte. The walls were bare of the ornamentation and sigils that suggested a mighty warrior or a worthy scientist. There looked to be no gold or jewels or Sith instruments of power here. Nevertheless, there was still the corpse. And the findings of a minor burial might be sneaked past Sidious' prying mind. Already the Sith Lord had taken every amulet and tool Palpatine had purloined and he despaired of ever retaining anything for his own use. He was not afraid of Sidious' anger, which he could take, but of ever completing his own plans to win over the Sith witch and her Jedi. And so, he tore at the coffin, prising it open, ignoring the musty smell and the clouds of dust which attacked his eyes and nostrils. The corpse was old, shrivelled, barely more than ashes and shards of bone.

But there...

There, reflecting in the light of his torch...

There was a glass vial amongst the tumble of knuckle bones.

This corpse had gone to the grave clutching what Palpatine hoped to be a Sith potion. He snatched the vial away. Held it in the beam of his light. Yes. Yes, he thought. A globule of liquid still filled the base of the vial. The symbol etched on the glass offering the promise of dark thoughts which could not be shed.

His relief at finding such a tool soothed the ache in his head. He would use the potion before Sidious even knew he had found it. This, to be sure, would be his opportunity for the entrapment of Qui-Gon Jinn and Ibhormheith, the opportunity he had been waiting for. That fool Mharais had played right into his hands and would now become the instrument of his vengeance.

And so Palpatine prayed.

He prayed hard, though he believed in no god but the power of the human capacity for hatred and the affluence of wealth. He prayed that the potion was still active. He prayed that it could still turn a man - or a woman - to the dark side.

- 8 -
But When The Thunder Breaks, It Breaks For You And Me.

The light was numbed by a wan yellow nimbus that gave the world an aura of sickening death and encroaching despair. A fretwork of arterial clouds besmirched a sky of gunmetal grey. The fearsome, never ceasing wind worried at the stones, scouring their edges into sculptured blackened curves. A driving wall of rain crashed in waves across a bleak landscape of canyons and towering cliff-faces.

This was Tir-nam-bean. Korriban. The necropolis of the Dark Lords of the Sith. Dead itself for five millennia. This was the world forbidden to all the Taleach peoples save those trained since childhood by the Baobhan-sith to resist its snares and pitfalls. For the Sith Lords had left it riddled with powerful magic and deadly traps.

This was the world, and the danger, which Qui-Gon Jinn and Caer Ibhormheith now braved.

The gale swept through the chasm unhindered, snatching at their hair and at their clothing. The rain stung their skin and soaked them through. They seemed to be the only living things moving in the absolute seclusion of a dead land. But they were here to find another. Or evidence, at least, of his presence.

Speech was futile. All utterances were snatched away before they could be heard, before they could be voiced. But they knew each other's thoughts well enough not to need the comfort of spoken words. And Qui-Gon kept a firm grasp of Iva's hand as if afraid of losing her in this terrible place. The wind buffeted them and slowed their pace to a crawl.

As they crested the last outcrop of loose rocks that barred their way into the valley of the tombs, what sun there was that struggled through the devouring clouds set behind the looming escarpment and all the world went dark.

They stood a moment on the slope which overlooked the valley, in awe of the place. The shadowy entrances of the tombs lay black against the rock walls, the steep rise of stairs and overhanging balustrades were carved from the granite itself. A light, pale and cold in its brilliance, glittered for a moment along the edges of the tombs, and then faded as if it had never been.

They descended a slope defined by shadows. Shallow steps led down, down onto the sinister valley floor. Immense pillars like upright needles now marked their way, a path, narrow, between the high cliffs which shut off almost all the sky. It was a haunted, desperate place. Only the occasional ray of guttering moonlight found its way through the oppressive clouds like a spark from a hammer struck against metal.

Finally, they approached the grim facade of the tombs, their empty doorways like gaping maws. Finally, they found shelter of a sort and could converse again.

***

Mharais approached Palpatine cautiously and quietly. He didn't trust this man any more than he had trusted the other outsiders who had come here from the far suns. This one reminded Mharais of a ferret in his features, and in his behaviour. But at least this one offered out the promise of wealth and power. Mharais thought himself wise enough in the ways of the world to smell a deceit when it was offered up to him, and he believed himself more than capable of taking the fortune and running when the turning point arrived. The way Palpatine had been greedily and gleefully smiling to himself when Mharais had chanced upon him emerging from a previously sealed tomb earlier that day was the sign that crisis was coming sooner than he had expected. Still, Mharais had laid a tidy sum in payments aside on Ruadh. Enough to finance a comfortable retirement. And seeing Ringan brought so low had been reward aplenty. He'd made sure the chieftain's injuries, terrible though they were, were not critical enough that he wouldn't live for some considerable time in that despicable state. It offered up a joy that would last Mharais till the grave.

Palpatine was scouring the valley floor below through his electrobinoculars. Mharais wouldn't mind getting his hands on those. If he and Palpatine were to be parting company soon, he'd have to purloin them pretty quickly. Mharais considered the possibility that Palpatine could be distracted now he was so jubilant over what he had found in the tomb. But the outsider turned at the sound of Mharais' nearness despite the care the war chief had taken in creeping up on him so silently.

Mharais was curious about Palpatine's quick reflexes and even his ability to survive in these lands when others from the far suns had died from simply being here. Not that he really cared much for the explanations themselves, it was only that they might provide a clue as to the man's weaknesses and thus give Mharais the upper hand. Still, he was here now to deliver a message. "The workers are all on board the transport, sir. We're ready to leave."

"Hold the departure," Palpatine said. He resumed his studies of the valley. And after a small time, chuckled. "Yes, there they are. I was right indeed. They have tracked me here."

"Who?" Mharais couldn't resist asking.

Palpatine passed him the binoculars and he stared through them for a few moments, amazed at the clarity of the images. Far better than any lens technology the Taleach had yet developed. As he scanned back and forth, the focus shifted almost imperceptibly. Finally, he spotted the figures below. They had been still and difficult to spot. Mharais' anger bloomed and fermented. "It's Ringan's seer, come back with the priest." He spat out the words with contempt, ten years had not dimmed the acid memories of their humiliation of him in Dubhagan.

Palpatine snatched back the binoculars. "He's not a priest, you imbecile. No wonder he bested you. The Jedi are warriors, not men of religion. Though they behave piously enough to confuse a fool like you."

Mharais bit back his retort. And vowed to get even later.

"They're entering the tomb." Palpatine had resumed his covert observation.

"We should leave now." Mharais became impatient. "While they are inside. When they can't see us."

"Idiot," Palpatine snapped. "I want them to see us. I want them to follow us to Ruadh. I have a plan. And a very special job for you when we get there. We'll wait."

Mharais forgot his anger at the mention of a special job. That, at last, might be his opportunity to make his move.

Palpatine continued, though Mharais no longer listened. "And I want to see their faces when they emerge. They can't avoid the presence of the dark side in there." He laughed again, this time in anticipation.

***

The dark side was indeed all around them. Qui-Gon felt its fingers grabbing at his thoughts, prodding at the edges of his mind. But inside it all, inside the swirl of the evil maelstrom, something even darker resided. Something he couldn't quite reach and couldn't quite grasp. So strong it was that he couldn't even locate it. It dodged away from him even as he used his connection to the Force to find it. He drew it deeper into him. Then let it go, sensing its guidance.

"There," he pointed. And he pulled Iva against the gust of the wind towards a nearby sepulchre. "This has been opened recently," Qui-Gon yelled above the howl of wind. Freshly blasted rocks littered the entrance where a sealed door must have stood for thousands of years. "We start here. They would have left this end till last for ease of escape." His voice sounded like a whisper.

"Are you certain?" He could barely distinguish her words from the beat of the rain.

"Nothing in life or death is ever certain," he replied, and led her through the doorway into the realm of the dead.

There was a pitch blackness inside the tomb which surpassed even the darkness of the valley outside. No light crept into the narrow, low passage, they had to penetrate an almost solid black interrupted only by patches of inky discolouration in the darkness. The air hummed with an atonal modulation, the sound of stone grinding on stone. Qui-Gon sensed a faint current of discordant energy, and held tighter onto Iva's hand. He didn't fear the dark side but he feared losing her in such a place.

Iva passed his hand from one to the other of her own, weaving her fingers through his. She raised her freed arm, her wand sliding from its resting place along the inside of her forearm into her hand. Its crystal glow cast a sharp lozenge of pale green light ahead of them.

They passed into the burial chamber, evidence of desecration all around them. A shattered coffin, fittings torn from the crypt walls, jars and chests ransacked and empty. All recent damage.

It did not concern Qui-Gon. Yet Iva bent to right an urn. It seemed a futile gesture. He was surprised as she that she found something. Something that was neither incredibly ancient nor of Sith origin. She held it out to him.

A Senate pass, he realised. Out of date, but issued to Palpatine's offices. "Well," he said, "the man must be getting careless. Or over-confident. Maybe he wanted us to find it."

Iva had already moved deeper into the vault. Qui-Gon heard the creak of a flagstone as she moved forward. Saw how she froze. How she darted a quick glance all around her. "Booby trapped," she whispered. Ornamentations on opposite walls had fallen away to reveal dagger tipped spikes, ready to fire at the release of pressure on the stone beneath her foot.

Qui-Gon backed away until he was standing in the entrance. "When I say run, run. Straight to me." He willed the energies of the Force into a stream that would deflect the darts. "Now," he yelled. And Iva ran, skidding the last few steps, past him and into the passageway. The darts clattered uselessly to the floor. The Force he had directed seemed to crackle and spark, even as a tremor in the floor alerted Qui-Gon to something else that endangered them further.

The dark side, he realised. "It does not seem to be to comfortable with use of the Living Force," he said.

The tremors continued. And increased in magnitude. The very stone surrounding them seemed to be crying out in pain. The floor oscillated, threatening to throw them both off balance.

Iva grabbed his arm. "The magic is unstable, it's corroding."

Qui-Gon turned and tried to run for the exit, his feet having a hard time finding purchase on the floor as it rocked and trembled. Iva clung to him but was thrown back against the wall, halting his movement. The edifice was crumbling around them, unable to hold back the geological pressures brought to bear upon it. "We have to move fast," he shouted above the crash of stones falling around them. "Or we'll be trapped."

He picked her up bodily before she could regain her balance and drew on the Force to speed his exit. If there had been anyone to watch, so fast did he move, that they might have thought he vanished into thin air and reappeared again at the door leading off from the valley.

But the open air offered no safety. The quake was spreading rapidly and boulders were tumbling from the precipitous canyon walls. Qui-Gon dropped Iva to the floor beneath a flight of steps cut into the cliff and huddled over her, sheltering her as best he could from the avalanche of rocks that threatened to crush them both.

- 9 -
Different Colours, Different Shades, Over Each Mistakes Were Made.

The world was split by the thunder crack of the very earth breaking open. The sky rained stone. The once-solid ground opened up on an uninviting hell. No normal senses, no sight or hearing or smell, no touch or taste, could encompass it. No living being could stand amidst such devastation and watch.

Palpatine and Mharais ran and ran and ran, away from the solid cliff that had become a shifting sand, away from precipice that pursued them towards their ships.

Obi-Wan cursed this forsaken land and hauled himself into the cockpit, into the pilot's seat, his trembling hands failing to fasten the seatbelt, failing to ready the ship for launch. Because he knew he would never leave this place without Qui-Gon.

Iva clung to Qui-Gon, her mind empty, her breathing slowed, her heart open to the beings that dwelt within the earth, the bodachan and the brolachan, calling on them for forgiveness, calling on them for aid.

Qui-Gon held onto the still form of Iva, surrounding them both with a shield of Force energy, concentrating all his powers into their protection, trusting that he could hold back the fall of rocks.

Slowly, slowly, the sound abated and the earth stilled. The dust settled and the land calmed.

Slowly, those who could not stand and watch before, raised their eyes to look on the changes that had been wrought.

Where once had been steps and pillars and grand entrances to cavernous mausoleums, there was now only a blasted valley, bisected by a delta of cracks surrounding a narrow chasm into which a few, small streams of friable soil still trickled.

Palpatine remained standing well back as Mharais crept closer to the newly forged cliff-edge to look. "She can't have survived," he called back. "It's a mess."

"Don't be so sure." Ibhormheith might not have survived the quake had she been alone, but Palpatine did not underestimate the Jedi. "Use these." He tossed the electrobinoculars to Mharais. He had seen how the man eyed them earlier, had felt the waves of covetousness pouring off them. He knew Mharais would keep them if he could. Let him. His usefulness was nearing an end. He turned to make his way into his ship. "We should get moving. We'll rendezvous on Ruadh."

Obi-Wan moved back into the main cabin of the ship. He could see nothing from here. He could sense nothing of his Master or of the Force. He almost wished Eilidh were still with them. For the company at least, if not for comfort.

Iva crawled away from Qui-Gon and, kneeling by a patch of freshly exposed soil, scraped a shallow hole with her bare hands. She traced a symbol in the earth, a line crossing a triangle, point down. Satisfied with her work she bit sharply into the pad of her thumb and let a few drops of blood fall into the depression. As she covered it over again, she offered words of thanks to the earth dwellers.

Qui-Gon could not believe that they had not been overwhelmed, not been buried alive by the extant earth. Perhaps it had been his use of the Force, perhaps it had been Iva's entreaties to the spirits which personified the land for her. Or perhaps it was their combined powers and their combined beliefs which had met to save them. It pleased him that the latter might true.

Sensing that he was uninjured save for a few bruises and scrapes, he stood up, the better to survey the damage they had caused. It was considerable, he thought, as he turned to Iva.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said as he helped her to her feet.

"Done what?"

"Used the Force inside the tombs."

He glowered down at her, his sternest look. "And you should have been more careful about setting traps off, princess," he countered.

He expected her to turn on him, he sensed the shock and disquiet in her and wanted to distract her from it. But she remained silent, staring up over his shoulder. He turned to look in the direction she looked. A ship, finned and bulbous at the stern, sleek as an arrow at the prow, rose away from the high ground above them. A second ship, a Taleach vessel, tailed it.

"Palpatine?" Iva queried.

Qui-Gon studied it. "It looks like a Republic ship, but it's no design I recognise." And then the ships passed out of sight. "We must get moving. We'll have to track it's course."

As they climbed back over the loose rubble towards the shuttle, Iva looked back. "It's all gone. The tombs. Everything."

Qui-Gon did not turn. "Then perhaps we did some good by coming here."

***

Alone in the Infiltrator, Palpatine examined his find. The bottle was quite beautiful, the glass cut into ornate patterns, the stopper rimmed with a soft dull grey metal. But the artefact itself was of little interest. It might look well amongst his other ornaments, but it was the contents which held glamour for him now. A Sith potion. A poison which could infect the noblest spirit with the dark side. He couldn't test it of course, there was little time, the Jedi would be after them without a pause, and barely a small spoonful of potion. He had no idea how powerful it was, how much would be required to corrupt a soul. Would too much kill? Would too little have no effect? How could he judge? His instincts would have to suffice.

He set to work on Mharais' gun, a crude projectile weapon, its energy supplied by small explosive charges. Primitive next to a Republic weapon, but its very quaintness attracted him to the method of delivery. It was unlikely to cause a quick death, it was an inaccurate and clumsy device, but that could work in his favour. It wouldn't matter that it was unlikely to kill outright, it would cause a painful injury *and* be the messenger which carried on the Sith potion on wings of steel.

Palpatine emptied the projectiles from the chamber first and then carefully poured the potion into a shallow dish. It was not that he feared its effects upon him, the dark side already burnt in his brain and in his blood, he only wished to retain some of the precious fluid for analysis back on Coruscant. His rise to power would be greatly eased by such a tool. One of the projectiles he meticulously infiltrated with potion and replaced in the pistol.

His work done, he would leave it to the inept fool Mharais to complete the task. So addicted was Mharais to his desire to inflict pain on others, that this was the ideal job for him. One shot and Iva would be contaminated. The witch, the demoness inside her, would be his for the taking. Ten years Palpatine had waited. Ten years of repressed cravings. Ten years of regrets. All the pain and all the unwanted visions would be wiped out when he had her at last. And Jinn, how Jinn would suffer when he knew Palpatine had stolen his woman. How he would suffer when he knew she had gone to him freely.

And then, in the midst of his suffering, Palpatine would turn Jinn too.

***

"There, that planet." Obi-Wan pointed to a reddish-brown coloured orb to their starboard.

"Ruadh," Iva announced. "I don't know why they want to go there, though. It's pretty much deserted. Not many people live there, except a colony of monks. Many of them are hermits. They reject the goddess." Qui-Gon could hear the amusement in her voice. "They're ascetics. It's an austere enough place for them."

Palpatine's trail had been easy to follow. Qui-Gon was not complacent. Not yet. "I suspect it's a trap. Palpatine, or whoever it is, undoubtedly has a bolthole here. If he's been recruiting the likes of Mharais and amassing a battle-droid army, he'd need somewhere quiet. Would these monks aid him?"

Iva shrugged. "They might. Some might."

Qui-Gon grasped Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Follow the ship's energy trail down to the planet. Land close but put some natural feature of the landscape between them and us if you can."

***

There was a low incline between them and their objective. Qui-Gon felt the need for subterfuge was over. If this was a trap, and it seemed likely, he trusted in the Force enough to allow them to walk into it with eyes open. All that had transpired on Tir-nam-bean gave him enough confidence in his connection to the Force and its power here on the Sith worlds to confront Palpatine head on. He would have been happier doing it alone, but this was Iva's battle too and he had trust enough in her abilities to be sure of her. It was love alone that unsettled his own confidence.

They walked directly toward the Republic ship and the two figures that stood in its shadow. He still couldn't be sure that the smaller of the two was Palpatine, the figure had a hood pulled low over his face, although the build and the stance were accurate enough. The other figure saw them approaching, shouted, and came towards them quickly, moving fast over the rough brown grass.

Mharais. It was Mharais, it was obvious now from the pale red shock of hair and the rugged features. He was screaming at them as he came, his words befouled with anger. Qui-Gon almost recoiled beneath them. How could one man harbour so much negative emotion? He glanced at Iva. These were a people of raw emotion. He smiled at her. "Are you ready for this?"

"I have no choice," she said. She looked determined and he sensed her ferocity.

Mharais' words were clear now, as he neared them. "Soon we will own the Republic. It's riches are ours to enjoy as we will."

He's ranting, Qui-Gon realised. He's quite mad.

"The Princess Seer, what does she offer you?" Mharais taunted. "Death, only death. Join us, priest, and you won't have to live in fear of death any longer."

But Qui-Gon knew that these were not just insane ravings. What has Palpatine been saying to him? he thought. What has he offered him? There was some deeper mystery, some greater conspiracy at work here.

And something in the immediate present was wrong. Qui-Gon recognised it almost too late. It seemed to him as though he was suddenly moving through a quagmire of palpable vileness. The dark. What was once an amorphous mist was now a tangible solidity. He struggled to maintain pace with Iva, but it did not seem to impede her as much as it did him. She moved forward with ease, with grace.

"Take her." That was Palpatine, the voice was unmistakable, yelling at Mharais, commanding him with a power akin to the Force.

This barrier was Palpatine's work, Qui-Gon realised. The senator had a connection to the Force, that much was now clear. As to how the Jedi missed it before now, well that would be a concern for later. At this moment, Qui-Gon couldn't let Palpatine block him like this, he couldn't let Iva go on alone, she was pulling ahead of him, there was a danger, a great danger of failure. He called on all his resources and strode forward through the thickened air...

...just as Mharais raised his gun...

...overtaking her, blocking her from Mharais' view, disturbing the man's aim...

...just as Mharais pulled the trigger and let the poison bullet fly towards its target.

Iva realised what was happening too late for action. She screamed out a warning too late. The bullet that was destined for her heart, took Qui-Gon in the shoulder, tearing through cloth and flesh and bone with ease.

The impact and the pain threw him backwards. His mind recoiled as it fought the pain. He saw Iva immobilised in shock. Relief that he had saved her flooded his mind, immediately forced away as he assessed the injury. His arm was useless for the moment. Other injuries as bad as this had been inflicted on him in the past. He would live. He pushed away another wave of pain.

Mharais was crowing in victory. But something was wrong. Palpatine was climbing into his ship even as he hurled abusive words at Mharais. A look of confusion was contaminating Mharais' gloating grin.

Qui-Gon pulled on all his strength and stepped towards Mharais. His useful hand on his sword hilt.

Mharais turned to stare aghast as Palpatine's ship took off. Qui-Gon knew by the panic on his face that the war chief realised Palpatine had left him to take the fall.

But something was wrong. Palpatine would run if he faced failure, yes, but why was he only interested in Iva's death. The bullet had been aimed at her. And Mharais did not attempt to fire again.

Something was wrong. All he could hear were the screams. Mharais in final admission of abandonment. Iva at the pain she must be feeling in sympathy with his. Palpatine's ship as it tore through the air in its escape. Obi-Wan through their bond.

Something was wrong with him. Qui-Gon sensed it at the edges of his consciousness. He felt that a tightening, blackening rope was binding him about the chest. He knew then with a sickening realisation that it was more than just a simple wound he had sustained.

He heard Iva calling his name. He felt that she had said it several times already.

He took another faltering step towards Mharais. The ominous presence at the edge his mind condensed. He felt a blackness grow in him. It clutched at his chest. "What have you done? What have you done to me?" He staggered and fell to his knees, the dark force of corruption was surging through his bloodstream, penetrating every corner of his body, his mind. Iva was behind him, he could hear her but he could not make out her words. She was holding him, but he could not feel her touch.

"Hah, a dark side potion." Mharais voice trembled. "It was meant for her. But it'll corrupt you just as well."

"No." The sting of comprehension threw Qui-Gon further into the pit of pain. There was venom in his blood, in his brain, in his connection to the Force. He hauled himself to his feet and forward, fighting against the unleashed emotions, the anger and despair and hate that sought to wrest control of his body and mind. He swayed as he drew his sabre, fell to his knees again just as he took up a position, ready to fight.

As Qui-Gon stumbled, as Iva attempted to right him, Mharais took his opportunity. He simply turned and walked away.

Qui-Gon felt the dark clawing at his legs. Its hands twisting about his face. Its fingers pushing into his mouth, his nose, his ears, probing his mind. It called to him. It called him. He resisted it's call. It taunted him with names, coward, fool, failure. When his resistance continued, when he fought back, it squeezed the breath from his lungs, took his strength and sapped his will. Accept, it demanded. His mind screamed no, his ability to fight back breaking down. He collapsed to the ground. It was taking his free will.

He knew it almost overwhelmed him. He would rather die. He wanted to live. He sought to hold onto Iva's words. He could hear her crying out to him, could hear her reciting some words of protection and healing. Her chants became a mantra, a spell to save his essence from the poison that raged in his bloodstream.

"Don't be afraid of it - the power and the passion. Don't be afraid of what makes you different." Did she say those words or did he imagine them? "Remember, bury it deep down where no one can touch it. The memory of what you are is in your body, the spirit and the body are one." Her voice was real. She was with him.

He reached out for her even as he lost contact with the world and all it contained, the struggle against the evil which was possessing him driving him deeper into unconsciousness. He felt Iva take hold of him and knew he was safe with her. He shut his mind off from the darkness and fell into oblivion.

- 10 -
Feed From Me, Feed From Me, Drain Me Of Love My Dear.

Obi-Wan gave up all control, all discipline, all obedience and rushed from the ship. Caring nothing for the dangers inherent in the Sith world or its atmosphere, concerned only that his Master lay fallen, bloodied, poisoned. He called out, heedless whether Qui-Gon could hear him or not, his mind in torment, his bond broken - though whether through the effects of the place or the toxin he cared not.

Iva was already tearing at Qui-Gon's clothing, laying his chest bare, when Obi-Wan reached them. Obi-Wan could not read and could not understand the expression on her face. He knew of only one course of action he wished to take. Iva was murmuring words of magic, and spells cast over Qui-Gon's inert form were not a part of any plan Obi-Wan could conceive of. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away.

"We have to get out of here, get him back to the ship." There was a note of pleading and panic in his voice which he did not like the sound of.

Iva turned and growled at him, feral, her teeth bared. He jerked away from her involuntarily. Took a step back. She pushed her fingers into the wound on Qui-Gon's shoulder, raised her hand and sniffed at the blood that besmirched them. Put a finger to her mouth and tasted it. She recoiled and spat. Obi-Wan felt queasy just watching her. But she held her hand out towards him. He drew back from her even further.

"A poison. A dark side potion, Mharais called it." Her voice quavered. Despite the feral nature of her expression, she sounded close to tears.

Obi-Wan forced himself to move towards her. She growled again. And uttered a word that froze his movements, a word that held him still.

"Let me get him back to the ship," he begged. "We have to help him by getting him away from here."

"No," she said, rising to her feet. She came close to him and laid her hand, her bloodstained hand, on his chest. "There is only one thing I can do now. Only one way to save him. Do not try and stop me, Obi-Wan. And do not be afraid of what you see."

He felt a heat building up upon his chest, a burning heat that he felt might brand him with the outline of her palm. He looked down at her hand. Her bracelets coiled like snakes upon her wrist. She spoke another series of words. He felt the heat fade, grow cold, until it threatened to burn him not with fire but with frost. Her hand transformed under his gaze. Leaner, thinner, longer. Whiter. The nails the colour of dead flesh. "Trust me," she said as he looked up into a face clothed in skin as colourless as the hand. The pale face held dark lips parted in readiness. Readiness, he thought, to suck out his Master's blood, his life, to drain his last breath.

How could he trust her?

Her hair streamed in the wind like frayed rags. Inhuman eyes, depthless as opaque glass, looked back at him. Obi-Wan sought the memory, the recognition. A wailing flat uninterrupted note chilled his marrow, the hairs rose on his nape, he felt the prickle of fear in his spine.

"Trust me," she said in the voice of an enchantress.

He could only stand, helpless, and watch.

Watch as she threw herself prostrate on the ground, across the inert form of Qui-Gon. Watch as she raised her head and opened her mouth to expose her fearsome teeth. Watch as she lowered her head to feed.

Obi-Wan gasped involuntarily, imagining, almost feeling for himself, the razor slash of pain as she bit deeply into Qui-Gon's neck, her teeth, long and sharp and penetrating, sliding easily through the flesh. Her body undulated as she drank deeply. Obi-Wan could almost believe that Qui-Gon's breathing got stronger as the demoness that Iva had become sucked him dry. He didn't think there could be any worse sight in the whole galaxy.

But there was worse.

The worst thing of all was that as Iva drained Qui-Gon's blood, she did so with love in her eyes.

***

Once he cleared the brow of the hill, Mharais ran. He ran as if death itself was chasing after him, and carried on running even though his leg's cramped and his lung's burnt. He ran till he was safe within the walls of the monastery.

Inside, he leant back exhausted against the gate he had just slammed behind him and panted the air back into his lungs. He was free, free to enjoy his ill-gotten gains. He hurried to his rooms. They were not ornate, they were not even comfortable. He didn't care. He cared only that his hiding place was inviolate, the payments he had received from Palpatine intact.

He had the electrobinoculars. He had the money. And Palpatine had abandoned him alive. He lay back on the bed, his tiredness an exhaustion that did not come physical exertion alone, but from relief that it was over and he was still alive. That he was safe.

***

Qui-Gon's blood tasted foul in Iva's mouth. It curdled in her throat. The Sith poison tainted his precious, life giving fluid.

It gave her no pleasure, feeding like this, in these circumstances. It gave her no strength. The only relief she drew was from the intimate connection with her lover, with his mind. She sensed him there, drawn deeply into the cocoon of his own self, withdrawn from the temptations of evil which the poison offered out like a succulent fruit. She willed him to fight it. She willed him to stay this side of death. She felt the tremors of desire in her body, but she pushed them away. There was no satisfaction to be gained here. She wanted no pleasure from it.

She hadn't wanted it to be like this, to happen like this. She had wanted so much for Qui-Gon to choose the moment. She had wanted so much for the sharing of the gift to be a great wonder for both of them. But now circumstances had forced her into a rash advancement of his initiation into the mysteries of the Baobhan-sith.

It pained Iva, what she did, what she had to do. She regretted deeply that she had not explained it all to him before. She would not be doing this now, without his knowledge, if she thought there was any other choice. But there had been no other choice on offer. Obi-Wan's choice was no choice at all. What she did, she did to save Qui-Gon. She did it so they could have time to conceive their child of destiny. She did it so that he would live, now, in time present, and later, in time future. Though there were some, she thought as Obi-Wan's eyes bored into her like spikes of hate, that might not call it living. It was Obi-Wan's pain, not just here at this moment but in the future too, that she regretted most bitterly.

She sensed then that Qui-Gon's blood was ceasing to flow, his heart to falter. It signalled that the poison had been drawn from him, but it signalled too that he was close to death. She withdrew from him and raised herself up to kneel beside him. She touched her fingers briefly against the wounds her teeth had made, and against the hole in his shoulder. Both were dry.

"Don't die," she urged. "Don't give in to it. Fight for your life. You can live, you can. You have the gifts of the Baobhan-sith within you. You must hold on to life."

And then, placing one hand on his forehead and the other over his heart, she felt for the spark of life in him. She bent and kissed him, opening his mouth with her tongue. She breathed her magic into his throat, down into his lungs. She felt his physical life fading and dying, his etheric life growing and flowering.

When she sensed that he grasped at the life she offered, she gathered him up in her arms and held his face against her breast. "Drink from me," she whispered. "You've done it before, you can do it again. But you have to do it for yourself. I can't do it for you."

She felt her own heart quivering, its beat erratic from her grief and her fear and her regret.

Qui-Gon did not move, he did not stir.

"Please, Qui-Gon," she murmured, "drink. Save yourself." She willed him to comply. "Taste me, can't you taste me?"

Nothing. She despaired.

"Stay with me, Qui-Gon. Please." It was her final hope.

At last she felt his lips part, his tongue flicker over the skin of her breast. She shivered, her anticipation growing.

"Yes, that's it. The taste of the divine, the goddess."

His mouth clamped on to her. She could feel the edges of his teeth. She could feel passion growing. His. Hers.

"Bite me." She shook him, hugged him, kissed his hair. "Remember the dark kiss. You must hold on to it. You must hold on to the night. Take the pathway into the twilight."

She felt the sharp tug as his teeth became blades in response to her entreaties, tearing at her fragile skin. Yes, she had willed him back into existence. He had succumbed to her delights. The feelings of their union grew. "Embrace it, Qui-Gon. Live in it, exist in it, be it."

And he drank from her. The blood of the benevolent, life-giving goddess filled him. Ecstasy took them both, not in this existence, but in one beyond the physical realm.

As Iva began to feel the balance of her own life beginning to wane, she took Qui-Gon's head between her hands and pulled it back. "That's enough," she said gently. His eyes were still closed, his face still marked with pain. Blood, her blood, was on his mouth.

She cradled his head in one arm, the other, amulet clad, she raised to the sky. She called up the winter's storm that was the birthright of the Cailleach Bheur and rain poured heavenwards, drawn from the dusty soil, sucked from the sparse vegetation. Dark clouds formed, lightening split the sky, thunder rolled across the plain.

She looked down at last and stroked Qui-Gon's face. "The poison is gone from you, Qui-Gon, but the evil has touched you, its presence is still in you. You must fight it now. I have given you the tools you need."

His eyes opened and he stared up at her for a moment, bewildered. But recognition flowered. With a great effort he raised his hand to her cheek, stroked his thumb across her milky skin. It felt so cold, his hand, the chill of his fingers matched the iciness of her own flesh in hag form. The ghost of a smile enlivened his face for a moment. "Mo luaidh," he breathed and then his head dropped back, his arm falling to the ground. He sank back into a deep coma.

Reluctant as Iva was to leave Qui-Gon where he lay, she was bound to a wheel of necessity, she had other work to complete. She placed his head gently onto the ground and stood.

Obi-Wan still watched her warily. She kept her distance. She needed to retain the Cailleach a little longer.

"You stay with him, Obi-Wan. I must go after the assailant."

He looked at her. She saw guilt in his look. She reminded him, then, despite her fearful appearance, despite her enactment of the blood rite, despite everything, of duty. "I'll go," he stammered. But he did not move.

"No. You are a Jedi. Your powers do not work here. But you *can* recognise the signs of dark Force in your Master's heart. If he recovers his senses and is turned, you must restrain him. Help him to fight it."

He nodded. And as if he only just remembered that he had a body which was under his own volition, moved suddenly to Qui-Gon's side. Iva stepped away from him and he looked up at her sharply.

"What are you?" It was all Obi-Wan could do to whisper.

She touched his cheek with her cold hand, gently, almost lovingly. "I am the moon's tears and the frost's breath," she said. She felt him tremble at her touch. She loved him as a son, as a brother.

And then she took flight, soaring away, away across the red-brown undulating landscape on the wings of the wind. The very earth was naked, patched with dark red and a brown which was almost black, like a skinned animal. The sky was beset by shadows.

The human Iva felt unstable, her spirit teetering on a knife edge of anguish. The goddess Iva rejoiced in her freedom. The wind seeped through her blood and bones, filling her with nascent energy, her desperation and despair drew strength from the currents of the air she moved through. Dead leaves became ensnared in the web of her hair. The burgeoning gale crackled like broken glass in her eyes, drawing out her tears.

Her eyes were filled with a vision of Qui-Gon standing like a pillar of resistance, his robe and his hair streaming back from his body. And then, in the vision, she saw his body crumpling and tumbling. She flung back her head in grief and complaint as she soared through the storm, and wept. A violent tremor shuddered through her body, but passed in an instant. This was not the time for desperation, not the time for sorrow or anger. It was the time for revenge.

She sought Mharais. And she found him by trailing the odour of his fear.

***

Mharais was with the monks. Hiding amongst them as though they could shield him from her piercing eye. As she approached their chapel, Iva seized one of the brethren by the collar. "Take me to Mharais," she ordered.

The man cowered before her, grabbed at the scared symbol hanging on a chain around his neck. Their petty religious iconography would not stop her or frighten her, though she knew they believed it protected them. She was not concerned with that, she did not care that she disturbed the comforts of their faith.

She repeated her demand. "Take me to him."

"He has sanctuary," he said by way of reply, as if this would put a stop on her determination and her progress.

"Take me inside." She thrust him towards the heavy ornamented iron doors.

Once the monk had led her across the threshold she pushed him to the floor. The others ceased their devotions and stared at her as she passed, in fear and trepidation.

She walked the length of the aisle in the chapel until she reached the point where Mharais knelt and preyed.

The sound began as whispering at first, and then became a cry of panic. The monks fled their place of refuge, leaving Mharais alone to face his nemesis.

Iva stretched out one arm and lifted him by the neck. He did not struggle, she could see his terror. He was too fearful even to resist. He tried to block the sight of her, to shield his eyes, with an upraised hand.

She raised her other arm and grasped his wrist. "This you should see," she said. "Don't you know who I am?"

He gathered his wits. He returned her gaze defiant. "You are no goddess, Princess Seer. Your clan no longer has need of you. You no longer have a clan."

"Clann Solus has need of revenge. I have need of revenge."

"Traitor." He tried to spit at her, but his mouth had dried and he could raise no saliva. "Did you try and save your Jedi, foolish woman?"

She did not raise to that bait. What confidence, what defiance he had mustered was wavering.

He was silent as she crushed his hand, squeezing it until the joints popped and the bones snapped. When she released it, he looked at it vacantly, as though it wasn't his and didn't belong to him. The thumb splayed unnaturally, the fingers were bent at acute angles, the palm was a mangled pulp.

He stared for a moment, taking it in.

And only then did he scream.

"Did you enjoy that?" she taunted. "The way you enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Did you enjoy all that torturing? Did you?" She stared into his eyes, she froze him so he could not look away. "Did you take pleasure when you tortured my husband? When you broke his fingers?"

His scream became a whimper. He could barely shake his head in denial.

She took his other hand. "Well, now I give you back the pain," she said with a promise in her voice.

Mharais screamed out. "No, no. Please, no."

She raised his hand to her face and took the index finger in her mouth.

"No," he pleaded again. But it was in vain.

She bit the finger off and spat it to the ground. She lapped at the blood that gushed into the vacant space. "This is for Ringan," she said. "This is for Dubhagan."

Mharais broke. He wept, wailing like a baby for its absent mother. He was a coward at the end.

Iva felt a great pity for him. The goddess was merciful. "I could make you suffer a lifetime of pain, an aeon of torment, but I will end it for you here," she whispered.

She let him drop back to the ground but did not let him fall. She wrapped her arms around him as she fed from the stump of his finger. His sobs faded as his life ebbed.

"And that was for Qui-Gon," she said as she snapped his neck and let the lifeless husk of his body crumple onto the stone floor.

- 11 -
Were It Not So Black and Not So Hard To See.

Yaddle was in her element. She had never before experienced such delights. The Jedi Libraries were immense, but they were well known to her. The books that the sisters brought to her on the Stellar Sweeper all represented new experiences, they offered fresh explorations, unique insights. Their pages were sometimes thick, some had been hand-written long ages ago, others were newer, there were slim volumes printed in ornate typefaces, thin tracts containing the records of single days, a few were heavily illustrated, many were annotated with addenda, comments and notes in the margins. All were different. There was such variety that Yaddle found joy in just looking and handling each one. The written words were harsh to her eye, the musty pages an assault upon the nostrils, the rough paper dried the oils in the skin of her fingers, but the books, each and every book, brought her senses to life. It was as though there were magic in the very pages and the more she read the more she believed in that magic. She almost wished that she had been born a Baobhan-sith and not forged a Jedi, though there were grave and awesome mysteries about the sisterhood which she dared not even contemplate. Her respect for Qui-Gon grew as she realised the sombre obligation he had assumed.

But the books disturbed her too. They did not counter her fears that the Jedi themselves had been, and were still, responsible for all of this, this history, this unfolding of misfortune. For the severing of the Taleach people from the Republic, for their exile to the Sith Empire, for their abandonment after its fall. She had found no concrete evidence of this, but neither were her suspicions allayed. She resolved all the more to determine the truth or otherwise of her misgivings. She pledged to dedicate herself to this task alone when she returned to Coruscant, though any desire to call that planet home was now fast receding.

There was evidence enough that people from her own world had once dwelt here, on the Sith worlds, had once shared much in common with the Taleach, had shared these lands in the days of slavery, though not very much beyond that age it seemed. The records did not show what had happened to her kin, there were only stories that told of guardian spirits that once lived in the forests, but had retreated to the summer lands after the fall of twilight. Yaddle knew in her heart that this fall could only be the destruction wreaked upon these worlds when the Empress Teta led her fleet in the final battle that wiped out the forces of the Sith Lord Naga Sadow. A destruction which had wiped out the Sith and poisoned their worlds. And, it seemed, left a body of slaves, protected somehow in the deep mines and distant corners of the Empire, to salvage what they could and build a new culture on the remnants of a once great civilisation.

Somehow, then, these stories shed light on the official Jedi histories. Yaddle knew she would look with new eyes on those records when she was back in the Temple.

On the third day, Yaddle's musings were interrupted by a great and terrible feeling of a disturbance in the Force. She had not noticed its absence until then, the void that had surrounded her had seemed so natural, like being in a silent library isolated from the hurly burly of Coruscant life. But it hit her like an overwhelming wave, a sheer wall of rising surf.

"Qui-Gon!"

She did not know why she cried his name out in such anguish, she only trusted that the Force would not misdirect her. She felt the sob growing in her throat. She did not know for sure that he was lost, but her mind could form no other explanation for the sorrow.

***

Obi-Wan struggled. He struggled in his shock to get Qui-Gon's almost lifeless body to the shuttle, he struggled in his turmoil with raging emotions forbidden by the Jedi code, and he struggled in incomprehension with the memory of what he had seen Iva become.

As he watched over his Master, he could not even accept that Qui-Gon was not dying, was not perhaps dead already, so shallow was his breathing, so faint was his pulse. Obi-Wan gave in. He gave in to the misery and to the tears and wept.

He could feel no spark of the Force. Not in himself, not between him and Qui-Gon. It was the place, he knew, he should not have breathed the atmosphere, should not have gone outside. But how could he have not done so. How could he have ignored what had happened.

It had all gone bad. His apprenticeship, his life, his hopes and dreams. They'd all been swept away in Iva's wake. He should have stayed on Melida/Daan. He should never have gone back to the Jedi, he should never have let Qui-Gon take him back, he should not have sought the apprenticeship in the first place. He should have stayed on Bandomeer. He should have been a farmer.

No, he mustn't let himself think like this. Qui-Gon would tell him to focus on the moment, to not regret actions taken in the past. What he should do was leave. Now. Get Qui-Gon back to the Temple, to the medics, to the care of healers. That was the course he would take.

But could he leave Iva behind?

Yes. Of course he could. She was part of the problem, wasn't she? She had turned into a demon and bitten Qui-Gon. He'd seen her do things like that before, drink blood, but he'd never seen her turn into something else. He didn't even know if she would change back into the person he knew. Or thought he knew.

Should he leave Iva behind?

Yes, he should. These were her worlds. She obviously belonged here. This was a place of evil, of demons and darkness, of death and despair. And she was all those things. But she had always been tolerant of him, had always obliged his whims, had always given him the space to be with Qui-Gon. She had even taught him things no Jedi could.

No. He couldn't leave Iva behind.

Not because he found the sharpness of those haughty features beautiful. Not because he liked her. But because if he did, and if Qui-Gon recovered, then Qui-Gon would never forgive him.

***

Palpatine wasn't at all sure why he had fled from Ruadh. He didn't know what exactly it was that he had run from either. And so he retreated into the spherical chamber at the heart of the Infiltrator. Unbeknownst to its designers and its builders, the ship contained a Sith meditation sphere. There he composed his wayward thoughts and stilled his trembling body. It was true, he realised when calm, that he feared the witches more than he feared the Jedi. Had Iva fallen, he would have willingly met Jinn man to man, Sith to Jedi. But with Jinn the one infected by the Sith potion, it would have been the ire of the Baobhan-sith he would have faced. That, he believed and remembered from his previous brush with the demoness that Iva harboured, was an encounter he was not willing to face under those circumstances. Much as wanted to meet that fearsome creature again, he wanted Iva on his side before he tried to draw her out again.

But surely, and he struggled here to find an answer, there was something to be retrieved from this mess. Sidious would not like it that he had tried to turn either one of that pair, but Sidious did not need to know the whole truth of it. An accident, an ill-advised action by that fool Mharais, then. Yes, that would suffice, to be certain.

And then, when the dust had settled, he could waylay Jinn, dark Jedi now, and use him any way he wanted. He would get him alone, away from the Temple, away from the Jedi, away from Coruscant, and then he would twist the knife again. Jinn would be ensnared, a vital cog in his rise to ultimate power. Once the man was on his side, the witch could be tamed. If Jinn proved incapable of it, Maul could assist.

Yes, that was the path he would take, the plan he would see through to completion.

***

Fleeing from the monastery, Iva began to comprehend the implications of what she had done. She had killed a man, she had taken his life without hesitation. She still tasted the blood in her mouth. It thrilled her, the feeding, but it shamed her, the death. No matter that Mharais was a traitor and a sadist, a murderer and an executioner, that did not give her the right to enact violent revenge. What good did that do Ringan or Moireach or the slain of Clann Solus? What good did that do Qui-Gon? He would need her now, after what she had done to save him. But would he want her?

She had given away her deepest secret, the secret she had kept most astutely since revealing herself to Palpatine ten years before. Obi-Wan had seen her. And even if Qui-Gon did not remember her this way when he awoke, she would have to explain herself to him now, now that she had made him into what she was, what she had always been. She did not know what his response would be to that. She feared that her duplicity might be the end of it all. The end of love, the end of hope. There was no hiding, now, from that.

Nearing the ship, Iva told the cailleach that she could go, thanking her for the use of her being. She did not want Obi-Wan to see her as the hag again, but it was more than that. Letting the goddess wear her flesh was draining, and Iva wanted nothing more than sleep. Her exhaustion was great, and her anguish greater, the temptation to give in to the oblivion of slumber was too much for her and she sank down onto the rough clumps of short grass. But the ground was wet, still wet with Qui-Gon's blood, it clotted the vegetation and blackened the soil. It was on this same spot, where she now attempted sleep, that he fallen.

She knelt and wept. She wept for Qui-Gon and her yet unconceived child and the death she had caused and the deaths that loomed like a thunder cloud, all the deaths yet to come.

But her tears were futile. She had to carry on. She had to return to Qui-Gon. She had to right what she had wronged. Her work was not yet done. And so she hauled her aching body upright, knowing she was unable yet to make the few short metres back to the shuttle.

The cailleach nudged at her. "I cannot return to my own realm," she seemed to say, "while you still have need of me. Accept me for a little longer."

"I can't," Iva said to the empty air. "I don't have the strength to hold you." She didn't have the strength to refuse. And so she invited the goddess in once again and it was the hag that directed Iva's steps on towards the shuttle with renewed determination. She fled on the wings of the winter storm back to the ship.

The main hatch of the shuttle was locked to Iva. She hammered on the metal with her bare fists, calling for Obi-Wan. She was possessed with the strength of the goddess but it would have seemed disloyal to force her entry.

There was no reply. "Let me in," she called. Her cheeks were wet with tears, so close was she to Qui-Gon but barred from him. "Let me in, Obi-Wan."

Finally he answered. A staccato stream of invective phrases. "I shan't. I can't. You're evil. I won't."

"Please, let me in. You must let me in." Her voice was smooth, seductive, rich.

"Why should I?" His reply was petulant, she expected more maturity from him, but it seemed her transformation had brought all his old resentments to the surface.

"Because I love Qui-Gon," she replied. It was the truth. "Because he loves me." She hoped that remained true. "Because you are still here. Because you didn't leave without me."

That last must have been the truth, because the hatch slid open then. The Cailleach left her at that moment, when Iva had no more need of her, and all her strength went too. Iva half-stumbled, half-fell into the airlock, crawled to the closest wall and slumped there, huddled on the floor. She was cold, so very, very cold, chilled through to the bone. She had worn her hag form far too long, so long that even the blood she had consumed did not warm or succour her. She couldn't stop the violent shaking and she could not stop the virulent tears. Only the thought that she must get to Qui-Gon filled her mind, but she was capable of neither movement nor co-ordination.

She must have looked a pathetic sight for Obi-Wan brought a blanket to wrap around her and helped her to sit up. He pressed a cup into her hands and helped her to sip at the warm liquid it contained.

Then he backed away from her, passing into the main cabin, closing both the inner and outer hatches of the airlock, leaving her alone, imprisoned, confined within the small, dark space between.

- 12 -
Where the Cold Wind Blows In a Sea of Dreams That Seem To Know.

Yaddle was more familiar with the bookshelf than the battle field, but she was as well trained in the Jedi arts and as skilled in the practice of swordsmanship as any other member of the Order and did not fear a fight despite her diminutive stature alongside many other of the known races. She checked quickly that her sabre was in prime condition and determined to come to Qui-Gon's aid. Although she could not sense his life or his spirit within the flux of the Force, she did not believe that he was dead, though she knew that he was in some peril. She left her cabin and the precious books the sisterhood had loaned to her and set off to search the Sweeper for one who could, and would, take her to Korriban.

She came upon Cuimhne in the radio room, talking on the communications link. The Baobhan-sith looked up, silenced at the sound of her entry.

"Cuimhne, I'm sorry for the interruption..." Yaddle paused, giving time for the woman to turn. "I sense trouble, I sense Qui-Gon is in danger. I must go to him. I must go to Korriban."

"I'm sorry Yaddle, the tombs have fallen. An earthquake destroyed much of the valley."

Yaddle, despite herself and her control, was startled. "Qui-Gon was trapped then..." He was trapped, she thought, within the dark Force that ruled that place. That was why she could not sense him, could not feel his presence in the Force.

But Cuimhne's next words countered that suggestion. "We don't believe so, three ships left."

"Three ships? Then there were tomb robbers there." The danger, she thought now, must be from Qui-Gon's opponents. "And Qui-Gon's ship? Do you know where he went?"

"They went to Ruadh."

She grasped at the sound of the place. "Rhelg?"

Cuimhne shrugged as though the pronunciation of the name was unimportant. "A planet on the edges of Taleach space. Occupied by small communities of religious men only. They reject the goddess." Cuimhne smiled condescendingly. "We practice religious tolerance, but they do not... They make their own world."

"Then we must go there. I must help Qui-Gon. He is in peril."

Cuimhne turned away, her shoulders showing the set of disinterest, of indifference.

"Qui-Gon is not your concern now."

Yaddle's face burnt, her ears quivered. She was about to utter her objections, to voice her indignation, but Cuimhne spoke first.

"We let you read the prophesies. You do understand what they say?" Cuimhne's back was to Yaddle as she spoke.

Yes, Yaddle understood. But it didn't make her helpless. Yaddle considered her options, she would leave, try to find another way to get to Qui-Gon. But Cuimhne surprised her again.

"But I suppose there is no reason not to help your brethren if you wish it." The Baobhan-sith stood. "Come on then, we can take a smaller ship."

***

Obi-Wan crept quietly into the private cabin, up to Qui-Gon's side. He had cleaned the wound and made his Master comfortable, but still he did not sense that Qui-Gon was with him there. The body was alive, but the personality seemed absent.

"She's back, Master." Obi-Wan kept his voice as level as he could. "Iva's back." He sat down on the edge of the bed beside Qui-Gon. "But I don't know what to do with her. She looks like Iva, but I don't know who she is. She says she loves you, but she bit you. I've shut her in the airlock."

If Obi-Wan thought that his harsh words would bring some response, he was wrong. He sniffed hard. He took hold of Qui-Gon's hand, it felt cold and stiff. The tears in his eyes threatened to overflow. He sniffed again, harder, determined not to give in to his emotions. Determined not to cry.

The only movement in his Master's still form was behind the closed lids of his eyes. At least he is dreaming, Obi-Wan thought. That must be a good sign.

He left Qui-Gon to dream and went back to the cockpit. He had already prepared the ship for launch and he pushed the final code for take-off, setting them on a course back to Khar Shian.

***

Iva drifted in a land that was strange and yet eerily familiar to her. "I fell asleep," she thought, "I'm dreaming." And her thought took form in the dreamscape. It became a raptor, a sparrow-hawk with wings of tawny power and a beak of violent death. Its cry was harsh, but she recognised its words.

"You must lead the warrior out into the world again," the raptor said. "He must face his final battle."

"Qui-Gon," she whispered with her dream mouth to the dream bird. "Take me to Qui-Gon."

"I can't," it screeched and flew away from her into the surging mist. "You must find him on your own."

She was standing in a glade, if glade were not too beautiful a word to describe a gap of bare, hard earth between the black skeletal boughs of what had once been trees. A dark pool sat at its centre, glittering malevolently at her. She approached the water and knelt at its edge, reminded of another pool on a rocky shore where she wished with all her heart that she could have remained for all eternity. Gingerly, cautiously, she stretched out a hand and touched the water's surface, wondering, hoping, that it was a scrying pool. Ripples spread in endless circles, showing her a countless number of worlds, a countless number of dreams. She scanned them all for a sign of her beloved, but despite the vivid sights before her eyes she could see nothing. She looked up at the sky. A single star fell into the infinite depths of the heavens.

She stood and passed between the trees cautiously, emerging into a snowfield blinding in its whiteness. Her feet were bare, but nothing could chill her soul, it was already frozen and would remain so until she had brought Qui-Gon back into the world.

In the distance was a tower. She trudged towards it, her progress slow through the icy drifts, her progress slow through dreamscape time.

The door was open, inviting her in, in, into a cold, black, deadly space. She accepted the invitation. She entered. She found herself tiptoeing through dusty, twisting corridors of locked doors. She was trailed by a smell of must and dried flowers.

It was darker now and the darkness twined around her like a clinging vine. Like corrosive cobwebs, they echoed with the crackle of cold static, a deadening anti-sound. It swallowed all noise, it swallowed her words.

"Qui-Gon," she called, but it stole her voice. She knew she must be near her goal, for the evil that hid in the shadows tried so hard to hold her back. She fought onwards, ever onwards into endless travail.

If words would not carry, then magic might, she thought. And she formed a dream shape, a light to guide her way. It illuminated the hideous twisted garden of vines with a sickly gleam for a moment and she realised that she had been near, so very near, to her lover the whole time.

She had found him, ensnared, held fast, caught by tendrils of the dark. She became one with the very suffocating stems and curled herself around him too, closing her eyes to the dream and sinking into the rapture of his soul.

But his body jerked and she was thrown back into awareness. She knew she must not let the trickster of this nightmare take them both. It was almost too tempting.

She reached around Qui-Gon and tore the vines away. "You must fight it with me," she urged. And he did. They seemed to make no progress but soon they were walking knee deep through cloying mud and aerial roots.

"There is a light," he said to her. "Go towards the light."

No, she knew that was not the way. "The light creates the shadows, we must persevere, we must go on through the darkness," she said. "It's the only way we can be sure to leave the dark side behind us."

Space-time was distorted. Dream perception twisted familiar shapes into threatening peaks. They were walking backwards on a knife edge of insanity. Light burst in upon them, overwhelming them.

Iva and Qui-Gon walked out of the ruined tower, emerging under an ageing swollen moon which sloughed off its outgrown shell of light and became young again. They fell together into an ocean of unlit forever.

***

Pain. All he felt was pain.

A million sharp little teeth assailed him, stripping him of his skin and veins, his muscles and soft tissue, biting through to the bone.

He wanted to get away, all he wanted was to get away from the pain.

He severed the connections with the corporeal realm, broke off all identification with the body.

No, he thought, no. He must remember who he was.

Who was he?

Madness. Madness assailed him on all sides.

His essences were laid bare. He was suffused with death.

He had to remember who he was.

He stood up, unsteady for a moment before he found his strength. Strength of a physical body. Strength of mind. Strength of purpose.

He held his hand up to the light. The skin looked rough, like tree bark. The bones of his wrist thick and unyielding. He curled the hand into a fist. It felt flexible, powerful, despite its look of immobility.

He glanced around, but did not recognise the place he was in. It was not a homely room, it held few comforts. A figure was reflected in the transparent panel that looked out into the blackness of the night. It wore a face and form he recognised and knew to be himself.

He knew that he was Qui-Gon Jinn.

But just behind the reflection of reality another figure stood. A man too, with his visage, his appearance, but one clothed in a dark pelt of rich brown hair, one whose forehead was adorned with branched horns.

He was the leader of the wild hunt, the long-haired one, lord of the Day, the opener of the gates of Life and Death. He knew who he was. He wasn't this one who called himself Jinn. He was Mananan.

He took up a seat from beside the bed and hurled it at the reflection, screaming out in anguish and dementia and anger at the one who wore his form yet knew him not. But the reflection did not shatter, the window did not crack. The chair rebounded back against the wall, a table overturned, a lamp smashed.

"Master!"

He turned at the sound of the startled voice behind him. The young man looked back at him aghast.

Qui-Gon, that part of him who knew still who he was, recognised his Padawan, his protege, his friend. He fought against the thing that possessed him.

"Stay away," he warned. He thought he might have said it aloud, but his ears rang with the madness and he could not hear.

He saw Obi-Wan's hand stray to his belt, saw it reach towards the hilt of his sabre.

It was Mananan that rushed towards Obi-Wan, it was Mananan that laid the apprentice out with a blow to the jaw, that sent him reeling back out into the corridor, cracking his head against the opposite wall and leaving him slumped on the floor.

But it was Qui-Gon that locked and barred the door to the cabin. It was Qui-Gon that howled in anguish at the dark side, at all that which had over taken him.

- 13 -
Give Me a Sign In Your Direction and Show Me the Road To Your Soul.

It was a while before Obi-Wan could gather his wits, let alone stand. And when he did he reeled as much in the aftermath of the terror that he had felt at the sight of his unhinged Master, as he did from the blows to his jaw and the back of his head. His knee, too, was unsteady, it had twisted painfully under him when he had fallen and he could only haul himself to his feet slowly. He had no clue as to what he should do next. Outside of the envelope of pain surrounding him, the only sensation he was alert to were the sounds of crashing and Qui-Gon's maddened yells from within the cabin.

Slowly he became aware of another sound behind the first, more distant yet equally as insistent. A hammering.

Iva, he realised. Iva was still in the airlock.

He limped painfully to the inner airlock door. She was hammering on it still with her fists, yelling, calling, complaining, but he could not make out her words through the thickness of the metal. It took his befuddled thoughts a moment to realise the comlink to the airlock wasn't on.

"...have to let me out of here." Her voice rang out indignant.

Obi-Wan stepped closer to the transparisteel viewing window. He knew his face was red and streaked with tears, he didn't care that she should see him so unmanned. "Qui-Gon's gone mad. I can't control him. I don't know what *you* did to him, but I think... I think the potion has corrupted him."

"Then let me out," she pleaded. "Let me out."

"Why? Haven't you done enough damage already?"

He could see that she was exasperated. He knew that she could open the door easily enough if she wanted. She must be waiting for him to make the first move. He didn't like playing her game.

She sighed. Her voice was quiet, it sounded so small and hesitant. "I don't know if what I did was right. I believed it was. But I don't know whether Qui-Gon could have fought the poison on his own. I don't know if your people could have helped him if you'd got him back to Coruscant. But I didn't know either if Mharais and Palpatine knew how to administer the potion correctly. I don't know that it wasn't so strong that it would have killed Qui-Gon or turned him irredeemably."

All he could think of was to taunt her. "I thought you could read the future."

"The future is not always clear, Obi-Wan. The tapestry does not always show us detail."

He watched her lids fall slowly, masking her eyes.

He heard her voice, clear and alert. "Help me, Obi-Wan. Let me help Qui-Gon."

He watched her eyes open. He looked into gold-brown depths.

He hit the code that let her out.

Iva stepped quickly past him and made her way towards the cabin. Despite the pain in his head and in his knee he darted ahead of her, putting himself between her and the door. He could still hear Qui-Gon's cries, although the crashes had ceased.

"I can't let you go in there," he protested. He told himself he was only thinking of her safety.

Iva pushed him aside, but gently. She did not seem to mean him harm. Nor did she seem to fear Qui-Gon in his madness.

"Leave us," she hissed to Obi-Wan as she opened the door.

"No." He was resolute.

"Leave us." Her voice was still soft, but its echoes reverberated and filled all the spaces of the ship.

Obi-Wan stared at her. "What are you going to do?"

"It doesn't concern you, Obi-Wan. I'm the only one who can heal your Master. Now go."

He complied, but he did not feel glad to be doing so.

***

"I sense a disturbance. An agitation. It is strong. Very strong. The Force is disordered." Sidious looked at Maul from beneath his cowl. His underling stood, legs astride, his body firm, staring into the distance. "Has Palpatine made contact yet?"

"No, Master," Maul intoned, his voice emotionless. "The ship must still be cloaked and Palpatine maintaining radio silence."

"Something has happened, to be sure. But it does not come from his quarter of the Force." Sidious concentrated, meditated, on the strong currents seething around him. Finally he stirred. "Certainly, though, it is a movement in the dark side. Palpatine is up to something. You say Jinn left with the witches, but has not yet returned either?"

"Yes, my Master. That is what I said." Maul still stood like a statue. He had stood like that for several hours already. Sidious watched him closely. This was as much a part of the apprentice's training as sabre practice. If he managed to distract Maul or disorientate him, or if Maul lost concentration or balance, then he, Sidious, would take great delight in administering the punishment.

"Palpatine is conspiring to turn the Jedi. He is a man obsessed." Sidious rose from his reclining chair, stood up. Took a long stride towards his desk. But he slowed before he reached it, he felt the weakness of the dark senescence of his craft reverberate in his legs and in his spine. His bones were being stripped of all their calciferous minerals again. His medics warned that they could break at any time. Crumble and shatter like dust. He must undergo another treatment soon. The medics had better pray the next one would take better than the last. He slowed his pace to little more than a shuffle.

Maul never even blinked.

Sidious snarled. "My little brother-child plays with us. He thinks himself better than us. He thinks us malleable. He is mistaken." He thrust the punishment stick down upon the desk bare inches from Maul's thigh. A datapad shook, the water in the carafe trembled and a stylus tumbled to the floor.

Maul never wavered, never moved an inch. Sidious was cruelly foiled. Never mind. Maul might escape punishment this time, but Palpatine would feel the full force of Sidious' wrath when he finally returned.

***

Iva knew she must look into Qui-Gon's eyes. If she saw the dark side there, she did not know what she would do. She couldn't kill him. She would have to walk that path with him. Turn too. She didn't know that she could bear that pain. But neither could she bear the sorrow of losing him too soon.

He looked at her as she entered as though surprised to see her there, as though expecting someone else. He stood there wearing only shorts and an undershirt open to the waist. She wanted him more than anything else in the world. She wanted nothing but him. She noticed that he sniffed the air. And so, because he seemed quiet enough now, she stepped around the bed towards him. She could hear his ragged breathing and she could smell his untamed masculinity. But she did not want to see or care what resided in his heart.

Fearing as Obi-Wan did, that it was the dark side that lodged there now, Iva looked into her lover's eyes. She saw only the god, her consort. And she breathed again. The madness then, it was only that Qui-Gon could not, did not yet, have the knowledge and the capability to control this form when it came upon him.

She voiced the words that commanded Mananan to leave. "A null e!"

She had ventured too close.

He struck out at her, hitting her across the face, a blow that wasn't hard but stung her cheek. "Do you seek to command me, impudent woman?"

She stood her ground. It wasn't Qui-Gon that rejected her. She reached out and seized the hair each side of his head. It was tangled and dishevelled and it set fire to her passions. "Away from him. A null e." She wanted so desperately to kiss him in his fury and confusion.

He seized her by the wrists and pulled her hands away. There were strands of his hair caught between the fingers of her fists as he forced them to her sides. He pushed her down and compelled her to her knees, looking down at her with eyes that raged with blue fire. "Do you dare to touch me?"

She knew that she would have to meet him now on equal terms. "Is duth domh ma ghlun a leagail..." She spoke words of submission, an act of devotion. It becomes me to bend my knee...

If she could not win Mananan's trust, she would steal his heart. She stood, threw caution to the wind, and uttered a further entreaty to her lord. "...gum faca mi thu a rithist." ...that I have seen thee again.

Her amulets clad her hands with silver, she held her wand protectively, provocatively between her breasts. She bent forward, her eyes glinting with enchantment.

A change was coming over her. She realised that the goddess had not finished with her yet today, nor she with that divine being. The desire to stand face to face, heart to heart, clothed in human flesh, with the lord and master of the hunt was too strong. She did not care what this would do to her, that she might not be strong enough, that it might rend her asunder.

Her flesh shimmered, reformed, as she offered herself to him.

***

The Stellar Sweeper's ship-to-shore tug raced through the darkness of space towards Rhadh. Yaddle paced to the tune of the engines churning at maximum thrust. The tug was small, even from Yaddle's perspective. But she felt constrained more by her concerns for Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi, than by confinement.

"Madam Yaddle." It was Cuimhne, calling to her from the flight chair. "I've picked up a ship, it's Valorum's shuttle. It's on a trajectory back to Cair-deach Sithien."

Yaddle darted to the flight controls, even though they were no distance away. "Can we reach them with your radio?" The distance would be to great for her comlink.

"If anyone is listening, they can." Cuimhne handed her the transmitter.

The radio sputtered into life before she could speak. "Master Yaddle? Is that you? Are you there?"

"Obi-Wan. Are you all right?" She was relieved to hear his voice, but feared more now for Qui-Gon. His tone held hints of panic and perplexity.

"Master Yaddle, I don't know what to do. Qui-Gon has gone mad. There was an earthquake and the tombs fell down. Somebody shot him. He was poisoned. Iva turned into some sort of monster and then she drank all his blood. I thought he was dead. I locked her in the airlock. And Qui-Gon's turned to the dark side. I don't know what to do." Obi-Wan poured out his story all at once.

Yaddle could make little sense of Obi-Wan's babbling, but knew that he believed Qui-Gon to be in grave danger. What she did make out sounded far-fetched to her, true, and it didn't help that Cuimhne sniggered, but after what Yaddle had read of the Baobhan-sith and the sense she got that Cuimhne laughed at Obi-Wan's reaction to what he had seen, rather than to his words, she felt that he reported the truth. It confirmed to her that Qui-Gon faced a much more daunting destiny than many Jedi would be prepared to take on.

"Master Yaddle! Master Yaddle! Are you still there?" Obi-Wan's voice broke into her thoughts and Cuimhne nudged her, nodding at the transmitter.

Yaddle put all the soothing energies she could muster into her voice...

"Calm down, Obi-Wan. I'm coming. I'll be with you shortly."

...though in her heart she felt only the thrill of excitement for new horizons.

***

He marvelled at her splendour. The deathly pallor of her countenance was lit by dark eyes which shone with bitter tears, silver fire flowed across white skin stretched smooth over high cheekbones. She had a look of haunted beauty, shadowed with sorrow; bruised lips, eyes marked by sleeplessness, features etched into elfin lines. The expression of an angel. Night and nightmare in a single entity.

An unearthly desire for the thing that lurked beneath the veneer of humanity burned in him.

Qui-Gon knew it was his Iva, Mananan knew her as his bride.

He was aroused by a hunger beyond mortal appetite, a desire to consume her over and over for all eternity, his succubus, his death angel.

He seized her by the throat and choked the breath from her lungs with a fierce, deep kiss. He pushed her back onto the bed, throwing himself down upon her heavily, his bulk allowing her no movement, no escape. He could taste the blood his kiss drew from her lips. She was locked into his embrace, but he could feel her shivers of excitement. Her spine arched, pushing her body up against his. He sensed the drumbeat of her heart, commanding him to destroy his own soul. It was his own lust that drove him.

He lifted himself away from her, his legs astride hers, still pinning her to the bed. He ran his hands up along her hips, caressing her, arousing her, through the fabric of her dress. Across her stomach, over her ribs and under her breasts, his hands drew patterns of desire on her. He tore at the fastenings of her bodice and ripped the cloth away. One arm burrowed under her, and he lifted her away from the bed, pulling her dress from her shoulders in the violence of passion.

He moaned with agonised pleasure, the sound becoming a fierce snarl as he pushed her down again, his teeth nipping at the skin of her breast and her clavicles and her neck. He teased the rings in her nipples and she screamed, but he knew it was with rapture and only a little pain.

Snarling like a vixen, she fought back against his domination. Lissom fingers with the strength of a vice raked his back, nails curved into claws took the skin from his shoulders. He shifted away from her, aroused even further, ready to enter her, but she rolled and struggled, pulling him with her, They tore at each others clothes and hair and skin in a frenzy of lust and both crashed onto the floor. She straddled him and he could feel the liquid heat between her thighs. She hissed and slid down his body, looking up at him with mesmerising eyes under hooded lids, casting her glamour on him. She pulled at his shorts, tearing them from his body.

Time had lost all meaning.

His excitement rose and she seized the moment with a lick of her tongue. Shifting her position slowly across his body once again, she enclosed him in ecstasy.

The whole world was eclipsed.

Her movements were so exquisitely slow, so tantalisingly fluid, arousal seethed in them both. He was in thrall to her. He could sense the moment of release, so close, yet held at bay.

They barely felt the jolt of the ship docking, such was their immersion in the sensations of their conjoined bodies. In the moment of her agonised shriek and his guttural lament, nerves detonated and passion was spent.

In the afterglow of sensation, she remained astride him, her hands resting on his torso, her weight a welcome pressure as she held him down. Sweat glazed their bodies, chests rose and fell as they both took deep gulps of air.

Qui-Gon reached up to touch the cheek of the Cailleach, wondering at it. The world no longer seemed so strange, he knew who he was, who he had always been.

"Iva?" He wasn't sure still if it was really her.

She turned away to hide her face, cowering from his gaze, his touch. "Stay with me," he said. His voice carried the power of persuasion. "I need your strength. Show me how to be as brave and ferocious as you, as the dark goddess." He knew what she was. And it did not spoil his love for her.

"Later," she whispered. Her voice was distant and she fell away from him into deep slumber. As he stroked her face, the death mask faded and she became the woman he had known in his life and in his dreams, the woman he had always desired.

"You are my rock," he said as he gently kissed her tattooed cheek.

- 14 -
Aching For Your Hand, Our Love a Distant Voice.

Yaddle sent out a strong wave of calm. She stood before Obi-Wan and despite being dwarfed by him, succeeded in mollifying him. Since coming aboard he had been voicing his panic loudly and the inflections he was causing in the Force were preventing her sensing other fluctuations which might help her determine what was happening with Qui-Gon. She had felt something raw and unruly the moment she had set foot on the shuttle, but Obi-Wan's raging emotions were clouding the readings she was trying to make of the situation.

"Be still, Obi-Wan. Sit down." She passed her hand through the air before her. Mind persuasion only worked on the weak willed, but right now Obi-Wan's strengths were diluted by his frenzy. It would not look good for him, this nervous episode, but she would never mention it if only he could control it. She knew the circumstances were extenuating and she felt his future service to the Order could be invaluable.

Obi-Wan sat. He sagged cross-legged to the floor before her. She looked at him eye-to-eye. "That's better," she soothed. He seemed calm. Calmer, at least. "Now, tell me again, what happened to Qui-Gon. Slowly."

"I didn't see everything. I stayed inside the ship. Qui-Gon was shot. Poisoned. But I saw Iva drink his blood."

Yaddle suspected there was something odd, perhaps inhuman, about the Baobhan-sith but she sought a rational answer; that was her way. What Obi-Wan said might be true, nonetheless she could not take such a thing at face value. "You mean, she sucked the poison out of him."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I suppose." He seemed much younger than his twenty-five years.

Yaddle sensed that there was something he wasn't saying, something perhaps he could not say. Could it be that the Baobhan-sith, despite their lack of access to the Force, had more of the dark side in them than anyone, than even they, suspected? "Go on," she prompted.

"When Qui-Gon recovered consciousness, he was deranged." Obi-Wan's words betrayed his pain.

Yaddle closed her eyes, the better to detect any eddies in the flow of the Force around them which might help her make sense of this. What she had felt on entering the shuttle was lessened now, but something of it remained. Perhaps it was only Iva's presence, or Cuimhne's nearness on the tug, or perhaps it was the Sith worlds themselves. It flared again. A searing, virile rent in the fabric of the Force that gripped her heart. It wasn't dark but it was strange.

"Master Yaddle!" Obi-Wan shook her shoulder insistently.

Her eyes shot open. She spun around.

"Master?" Obi-Wan jumped to his feet.

Qui-Gon stumbled towards them, his hair was tangled, his eyes shone wildly, his shirt was torn. He seemed distracted somewhat, but otherwise was calm. He focussed on his hand as he held it up before his face. "Does this look odd to you?" He held it out to her.

Obi-Wan rushed to his Master's side, only to be pushed away.

Qui-Gon ran his hand across his brow. "What do I look like?" His eyes didn't seem to focus, though he looked towards Yaddle. "Is my face alright?"

"It's as ugly as it always was, Qui-Gon." Although she kept a lightness in her tone, he did not respond to her tease. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at her, but there was a method to her actions. She could not sense much that was untoward in Qui-Gon's Force presence, save an unleashing of the most primal of his emotions, but he was clearly not himself.

He ran his fingers through his hair, prodding at his scalp. "I thought that I had horns, antlers. I thought I was a stag."

"You just look a mess, Qui-Gon." She sensed his overwhelming tiredness. "You need to get some rest." She touched his mind with her thoughts. He was not mad, that much was clear, though she sensed much confusion and an overriding longing for Ibhormheith. "Is Iva alright?" she asked.

It was the first thing she had said that seemed to get through to him. He turned back towards the corridor that led to the private quarters and Yaddle shadowed him, nimbly squeezing past him to look over Iva where she still lay slumped on the floor. Her head was thrown back to one side, her dress was torn, its skirt caught up around her waist and her hair covered most of her face. Yaddle pulled down her skirts, smoothed back her hair and slid a pillow under her head. "I can see what have you two been up to," she mumbled and she laughed quietly, wishing forlornly that she had the opportunity to give in to amour with such abandon. Even Piell had been an attentive lover on occasion, but he had rarely been spontaneous.

"Sleeping," Yaddle announced to Qui-Gon. "She seems exhausted, that's all."

Iva's breathing was erratic, but strong. Yaddle felt she would be fine.

Obi-Wan had squeezed into the cabin too and he peered down at Iva wearily. Yaddle knew it was time to get him out the way. "Obi-Wan, go and lay in a course to Coruscant. It is time to go back to the Temple." He left almost reluctantly, but he seemed to Yaddle to have regained his composure. She moved over to Qui-Gon and patted the bed. "Sit down, Qui-Gon, you are suffering from exhaustion too." He did as she instructed.

"Yaddle?" He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. "What happened?" He reached down and stroked Iva's hair gently, lovingly.

Yaddle worried that there might be some long term damage, psychosis was remote, a loss of memory perhaps, but that would have to be dealt with later. At least Qui-Gon seemed to be his normal self again, relatively speaking. She touched his arm. "You need rest, Qui-Gon. Watch over Iva for a while if you must, but get some sleep."

She did not feel she was taking a risk leaving them alone.

***

Cuimhne watched Yaddle carefully as the little woman tapped her fingers on the tug's instrument panel. "I will leave you when we reach Cair-deach Sithien," she said. "Return to the Cloister."

It was Cuimhne's sole job now to watch and guide Yaddle, even from afar. She recognised that Yaddle still had much to learn but knew that such information could not be given to her wholesale, not without preparation. Alas, there was no time for her to open the forest guardian's eyes to all that she had been blinded to living amongst the Jedi.

Yaddle said nothing in reply. Only stared intently at the dials and the lights flickering within them. "Qui-Gon. He has become like you? A revenant?"

Cuimhne let out a laugh, she could not stop herself. "That word is not exactly appropriate, no." Nevertheless, Yaddle was astute. And would be a valuable ally, too. She deserved respect. "But effectively, to your way of thinking, yes. Although death will still take him."

Yaddle was silent. She still examined the readouts. Cuimhne waited too.

Finally, Yaddle looked up at her. "If someone, one such as I, came to you... I mean, came to the Baobhan-sith, and requested to join. Would that be possible? Would that be allowed?"

"Our arms are always open. You would be welcome, Yaddle." Cuimhne lingered over the words, measuring their meaning. "I have seen things of the future. Things which could be, if we chose to follow certain paths. If you so choose."

"What path, Cuimhne? Am I allowed to ask? Are you allowed to say?"

"What begins here, Yaddle, heralds a nexus of some importance. The threads of your life run through this pattern too. But for the Baobhan-sith it will end with the leaving of the homeworlds for a new safe haven beyond the fringes of the far suns."

"You would take me with you?"

"If you accept our ways. If you accept our fate as yours."

"As Qui-Gon has accepted your fate as his?" Yaddle answered her own question. "Yes. I know what I must face. How long do I have?"

Cuimhne drew a symbol, a star, a circle, in the air... "Not quite in the same way as Qui-Gon has." ...and smiled. "Return to us when you are ready, Yaddle. You will know the time."

***

Iva woke with a shock. She was still cold, shivering. She was lying on the cabin floor, her legs pulled up against her body, her feet numb from the chill in her bones and from immobility. She had to know Qui-Gon was alright. Without thinking, she got to her feet almost immediately, but stumbled, her legs collapsing beneath her. She pulled herself up onto the bed beside Qui-Gon. He remained in a deep sleep.

She leant over him and she could feel his breath on her face. "Qui-Gon, wake up," she urged. "Please let him have returned with me," she pleaded, unspoken, to any divinity that would listen, "I want him back, even if there is some of the evil still in him."

Whether she had succeeded in her task or whether some divine being had indeed answered her prayer, Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. They reflected a bottomless anguish she had never seen in him before. He jerked with pain. And looked up at her without recognition. His arm spasmed and he pushed her away. She fell hard onto the floor, rebounding against the unyielding wall of the cabin. He looked at her as though it was she who had been possessed by some vile darkness. She dreaded failure, she almost believed for a moment that she had lost.

But when Qui-Gon spoke she knew that it was him even though his voice was taut. "I can't move."

"Lie still, it is only a spasm. Of the kind you will feel when you die." She lay beside him and stroked his brow, ran her fingers down his face soothingly. "It will pass."

***

Yaddle looked out of the rear viewing port as they left the Sith worlds behind them. She could see Khar Shian, a cold silver world, glitter in the light of its sun. She chided herself and swore to call them by their true names, Cair-deach Sithien, the Taleach worlds.

Even when the hyperdrive was activated and the planets winked out of existence, out of the sphere of her existence, Yaddle continued to look back. One day, she swore to herself, she would return. Her greatest desire now was to know what it was truly like to be a Baobhan-sith.

***

"We move between time and forever, between the past and the future, between the world and its reflection."

As Iva comforted Qui-Gon, he heard her murmur her strange words and he remembered the dreams. In the dreams he had been falling down and down into the darkness. He had tried to fight it, to rail against it, to exclude it from his person, but it had invaded his body and fouled his mind with evil. But the goddess, she had looked like the personification of death but he had somehow known her to be a loving and chastising goddess, had let him drink of her very life, feed from her very body. She had given him an elixir that would bring him back from death. And when he had been held fast by the evil that had possessed him, she had led him out of the darkness.

"We went down into the underworld and were becalmed there, we returned."

There had been another face behind the one he knew. A sight he had half-glimpsed before in the face of another but never dared believe. He had become a god, a strong powerful creature of the forest, and he joined in union with the goddess who had saved him. Portions of the dream were still so clear and yet there was so much more that was elusive.

"Chaos comes, it will end in death and tears."

Iva was speaking to him of dying. The words came clear to him through the fog of his pain. But the death that Iva spoke of was not the finality of the grave. This was the zenith of her destiny. She wanted his death, was waiting for his death. He had not understood completely until now what she, what she and the Baobhan-sith, had done to him through the blood rite.

He stiffly forced his legs, his arms to move. They responded to his command only reluctantly. "You didn't tell me it would hurt this much."

"Only because this is a foretaste. Later, when you are truly dead, it will not hurt at all."

He snorted. "I certainly hope not."

She spoke almost as if he were dead already. But he was not dead, he couldn't be. His body ached, his throat was parched, his head rang. Injured, ill maybe. But dead, not yet. Injured. Yes. He remembered with a sudden surge of agony that Mharais had fired on Iva, that time had slowed and he had stepped between her and destruction, that the bullet had taken him down.

"I was shot." He tried to sit, forcing his body to respond. He twisted to look down at his shoulder. Pulled back his undershirt to examine the injury, expecting to see a bloody mess. Barely a blemish remained to mark the site, it was almost healed. "How long have I been out?" It couldn't have been that long and it niggled at him, he fingered the site. There should be a scar at least. He flexed his shoulder. He did not understand why the flesh and the bone were intact, when they should have been shattered.

"You can heal very quickly now," she said. She sounded so matter of fact.

"What do you mean? Now? How is this possible?" Inchoate fear snapped at his heels. "What did you do to me?"

"When you allow the god to possess you, he can leave you with many gifts. Healing is one of them. He healed *you*."

When he allowed the god to possess him? In his dream the god had possessed him. "Mananan," he whispered, hardly daring to give the name form. Then that had been no dream.

"Yes." She smiled. He could not believe it. How could she smile about it?

He let himself fall back. He remembered the face of the Cailleach. The cold chill of realisation hit again. "That was you."

"Yes," she said again, as though she were admitting some inconsequential action everyone performed every day. As though it were not an earth shattering revelation.

The thought of his union with the goddess excited him. He pushed the excitement away. It appalled him too. "Who is she, Iva? Something that possesses you?"

"She is the goddess."

"You are her. You become her?" He knew he sounded wrathful, he intended to. If it was true and he had never known... The foundation of all that had ever passed between them was crumbling.

"Yes, she is a part of me who is a part of the goddess. She is in my blood, in my body."

"How?" How does it work was what he meant. But how could it be that she had kept it secret from him was what he thought.

"Sense it in yourself, Qui-Gon. Don't you feel it in you now?"

He closed his eyes. Yes, he did feel it. It was strong. But that was not the only thing he felt, He could feel what she had taken from him. The greater part of that which joined him to the Force.

"You bit me." His hand went to his neck. "What did you do to me?"

"I put her blood into you to save you, to cleanse your body of the dark side. To help you fight it."

"Why, Iva? Why?" His words came out small and still, like a voice in the wilderness.

"Because you were infected with the evil. Because you might have died."

He looked sharply at her. "No. Not why did you do it. Why didn't you tell me before. In all those years. I can't believe you hid this. I trusted you. I thought you trusted me. But you didn't trust me enough, did you?"

Her voice, when she replied, was cracking. "It's not about trust." There were tears in her eyes. "I thought I could stop it, your death, deflect it. I thought that we could go on like we were. I've shared a good life with you, Qui-Gon. Now the destiny is unfolding, I can't stop the end coming."

His heart was breaking. "It was always about trust." He was suddenly fearful. "How can I trust you now? How can I trust you again?"

She looked at him, the shock and perplexity clear on her face. "Don't take it that way."

"No? When you can change into that thing. What way should I take it?" He was yelling at her now.

"You can change too."

"And that makes it right, does it? That justifies you keeping secrets where there should have been no secrets? When were you going to tell me exactly?" And even if what she said was true, even if he could change, he swore to himself that he wouldn't. The cost to the Force was too great.

Iva let herself lie back on the pillows. There was a look, a faraway look on her face that he could not read. "There are stranger stars out there than any that shine in our night sky." Her words were lilting but they were scarred by bitterness. The bitterness of his rejection of her.

It did not touch his better nature. "You dress it up in mystic words," he said, "but it's a theft. You pretend that you have given me a gift, but you have stolen from me too."

The tears were welling up in Iva's eyes. But he did not relent even at that. He rolled over in the bed and turned his back to her. "You hid it all these years, all this time. Yoda was right, you are a succubus." He would not make a move towards her. He would not touch her. He would not take her in his arms. He would leave her, weeping, disconsolate.

She turned away herself to hide her acrid tears.

- 15 -
In the End You Will Submit, It's Got To Hurt a Little Bit.

Iva lay on her side, awake but unwilling to move. She could feel the space between her back and Qui-Gon's as though it were a wall built to withstand the deluge and the quake. He lay as still as she, she could not sense if he slept, but she doubted it. She had never before felt him to be so distant - even when they had been apart. There had been rows before, many of them, Qui-Gon was an assertive man and she was prone to anger. He was persistent in his arguments and she would scream and shout to get her way. But this... this felt different. This was a shutting down of emotions and a closure of shared passions.

She turned uncomfortably, but closed her eyes so she did not have to look on the expanse of his back, on the scars, the reminders of past battles, which she had often kissed so lovingly, on the strands of his hair lying across the muscled shoulders.

It was all so close now, the end of one thing, the beginning of another. And through her reticence and her doubt and her stupidity she had demonstrated her untrustworthiness, her worthlessness. She had ruined it all, even before the destiny had even been allowed to play out. If she could be sure that leaving him now would save Qui-Gon, would save his life, she would do it, she would be glad to, but she wasn't sure even of that. And so she fretted, her anxiety growing in leaps and bounds the longer he lay without acknowledging her, the longer he left her alone.

But then she felt Qui-Gon turn too and felt him move closer to her. His hand reached out and grasped hers, she squeezed her thumb against his knuckles. At least it was contact. It gave her hope and lightened her despair. He stroked her hand with his fingers for a little while. She could not sense whether he looked at her and she did not dare to open her eyes.

After yet another while his arms found their way around her and he crushed her hard against his chest. Cushioned there, she could barely find the air to breath, but the closeness was what she craved and she did not seek release. His hand cradled her head, his fingers were in her hair. She reached out too and stroked the coarse hairs of his beard, her fingers sneaking up to trace around the deep curves of his ear. She felt hot salt tears on her cheeks and knew that he must have felt them too on his chest. He loosed his hold on her and wiped her face dry with his fingers. He pulled off his remaining clothes and she let him slip her dress over her head, raising her arms so as not to impede his objective.

Neither had yet spoken. There were no words of apology and none of endearment. She had no inkling of what that silence might mean but her heart was open and she hoped that his was thawing.

Between tears and silence, between resentment and rejection, between anger and despondency, he kissed her. She gave in to it too, but as soon as she felt the beginnings of feeling rise in him, he pulled away.

He broke the silence. "I'm trying hard to resist you," he said.

"Why? Don't you want me any longer?"

"The problem is I do." That was his answer. It was better than nothing.

In his desperation he pulled her closer, in his arousal he kissed her harshly, in his lust he thumbed her nipple. He circled the flesh two or three times, increasing the pressure on her breast. She couldn't stop herself responding, her body moving to his tune.

"Love me more," she pleaded. "Love me harder."

His body was firm, his breaths short. He eased himself into a better position and licked her breast, running his tongue around the aureole, before taking the nipple in his mouth and sucking on it greedily. His hand ran over the skin at the top of her thigh and towards the space between her legs. The tip of his finger stole its way into her warm, dark, moist space, a thief breaking into the shrine.

She moaned with the pleasure of it. And with the yearning for more.

He pulled away from her. "How am I doing?" he asked. "At resisting you?"

She twined her fingers in his hair pulling his face back down towards hers, towards her bare, white, vulnerable throat. "Not very well at all, Qui-Gon. You don't score very highly on that count." Her voice was a tremble.

His finger still teased itself inside her sex even as he lapped at the skin of her neck. She opened her legs to give him better access and he pushed deeper into her, stretching her wide to accept more fingers. His thumb massaged the tiny bud at the apex of her emotional centre.

She felt a growing warmth, an irritation, a joy, deep inside, rising in waves that threatened her resolve and her freedom. His fingers withdrew from her and she sucked in her breath deeply. "Don't stop," she wailed, defenceless.

His fingers nudged back inside her as he knelt over her, his teeth scoured across her neck, his legs forced hers apart. She writhed and twisted under his welcome assault on her emotions, his undermining of her reason. His warm mouth slid up her neck and over her cheek, kissing and nuzzling the flesh. She couldn't tell where physical sensation ended and mental expectation began. For a moment her muscles relaxed and then they tightened again as he murmured in her ear. "Open your eyes."

Slowly her eyes slipped open. She saw an intensity in his face, a single-mindedness.

"Kiss me," he said. His voice was firm. How could she resist?

Her kiss was soft at first, she tasted the salt of his sweat and her tears on his lips, his beard scratched her skin. As her kiss became more urgent, he stroked her face with one hand, the other still working her relentlessly to a climax.

She began to shake, a wave rushing through her from her feet to the crown of her head. She could not stop herself crying out. A burning, engulfing burst of energy took her away from all reality.

Qui-Gon made soft noises to quieten her, to soothe her. But even as she still arched her back in joy, she pulled his fingers from her and seized his rigid flesh, compelling it, guiding it urgently into her.

He moaned, but quickly found a rhythm which echoed her spasms. Even as they faded, his thrusts grew, taking up the lead. He groaned again. His face as he looked down at her was dark with ecstasy. His hands grasped her hips, his fingers digging into her buttocks, pulling her onto him rabidly. She felt his engorgement and saw his face relax with pleasure as he emptied his love into her.

She knew she would have to walk the path to a desperate future with him, even if it took them over the edge, even if it took them towards oblivion.

- 16 -
And Voices From the Deep Abyss Reveal'd a Marvel and a Secret.

Confusion reigned in Qui-Gon's mind. In the glow of fulfilled desire, he was torn. Torn between a destiny he had chosen and a life that had been forced upon him. He wanted to put all that the Jedi had instilled into him aside and take the path of emotion and passion and death. Yet the Code had been ingrained in him so deeply, it fought to keep him from following Iva's path. He had been indoctrinated, he was not his own man. This knowledge repelled him even as it sheltered him. He did not know which way to turn.

He made his way quietly to the galley, searched in the storage units furtively for what he sought. He wished ardently not to be disturbed. He could not face Yaddle or Obi-Wan at this moment. Not when he could hardly yet face Iva.

Part of him wanted to go back to the beginning - to never have taken Iva from her home, to never have dreamt of her, to have lived out his life as a Jedi pure and simple, to never have been taken from his family by the Order. He wanted a calm world, one without conflict, without disobedience. But he smiled wryly at that. He would have found a way to disobey, he would have found discord, even if Iva had not taken possession of his heart. For what he did not want most of all was a world without Iva, in which he had never known such love. That part of him wanted nothing to have changed, for things to be exactly as they were. That part of him wanted to live on forever in the divine madness he had succumbed to. As he thought of Iva, he knew that only one path appealed to him: acceptance of her and her way. The way of Mananan and the Cailleach. The way of the primal gods.

He found a suitable fruit. It was not native to Machin, would not be used in the custom he was about to undertake. But it was ovoid and segmented. It would suffice.

Yet he wondered how could he take that path when he had to return to Coruscant. He had to go back to the Jedi, he knew they and their duty bound him too tightly. How could he not return to them? And another part of him wanted to return, wanted to exact revenge, to destroy Palpatine. To beat the treacherous Nubian senseless with his bare fists, to craft a plot of intricate revenge to discredit him forever. Was that in his destiny, he mused? In Iva's?

He turned the fruit over in his hands, contemplating the pores of its surface, the orange-green of its rind.

He wanted to embrace Iva's world, her future for him. To look into her eyes and see his destiny play out. She was a seer, but she had never shown him anything but snatches of the future. She could not, would not, reveal more than obscure allusion and vague guidance. That was as it should be. To speak of the future was to change it. He had to face it, whatever it brought, unsullied by forbidden knowledge. But he knew it was a burden on her, he had seen that in her eyes. There was so much she could not share and she had carried it alone, things, terrible things, which he only suspected and only half-believed. He could not go on blaming her for holding things back. He had to accept and not expect for more.

He raised the fruit to his face, breathed in its smell. Its ripeness was aromatic and sharp. More than sufficient, it was apt.

This thing Iva had done to him. He wanted to ask her. Ask her to speak plainly, honestly, of what the change she had wrought in him meant for his future. The future he half-believed was almost over. The future which ran on into the mists of time.

He stole back to the cabin quickly, alert to the murmurs of Yaddle's voice from the cockpit running through a meditation mantra with Obi-Wan. He smiled, he could trust Yaddle with his Padawan's peace of mind.

Iva looked ponderingly up at him as he re-entered. Her hair was freshly washed and combed, stray tendrils already made unruly curls. Her face was pale. It still chilled him, the memory of fragmented images, the beast in his features, the death-mask of hers. But he accepted it. He accepted and welcomed the world, the many worlds, that existed behind this one. He almost wanted it to return. He wanted to return to it. Just not yet.

He sat cross-legged on the floor and indicated she should join him, facing him. He placed the fruit between them.

"This is for you," he said. "This is for our love."

She smiled. A small uplift of her lips.

He pushed the nail of his thumb into the skin of the fruit and pulled it away from the flesh, it peeled back in a curled shell, the aroma of its zest bit the air. He broke apart the segments and laid them out like a flower, nestled like stamen within the peel petals.

The shape of the fruit was auspicious. Qui-Gon took a segment, careful not to disturb the arrangement of the fruit and held it out. "The moment is blessed," he intoned. Iva took the morsel from him and ate. He held out another. Then another.

When she had eaten a little less than half the segments, Iva pushed the fruit towards Qui-Gon. He ate the rest slowly, in silence, savouring the taste.

Finally, he bowed low towards her. "I thank you for the gift of sharing."

The gestures of the ritual gave him comfort, they stilled the misgivings of his heart and gave him reassurance that affection was restored.

He offered his hand to Iva and they both stood. He felt her grasp strong on his hand. Confirmation.

His mind and his body longed for her embrace but first he had to face what would happen next, plan his move, prepare himself. Palpatine was his prime concern. He could not kill the senator, even as an executioner - coldly and dispassionately, the Republic and the Jedi Order had their laws and statutes. Both he must comply with. The Code and the creed of his life would stop him short of murder, however justified.

"We've come far together, Iva. I can't pull out now. But I must deal with Palpatine first. I should have done it long ago."

"There's nothing to be done now, Qui-Gon." Iva's face was serious as she spoke. "It will play out unbidden and unhindered."

He met her gaze, as serious as she. "That won't stop me trying."

"It won't matter," she replied. A promise. "Death can't take you from me now."

The ship pressed on through hyperspace.

***

Piet Grocelind looked down at his workbench and his shoulders sagged, despair written on his face, desperation chewing at his thoughts. He rubbed at his eyes, raw with overwork. He stretched his shoulders, knotted with tension. Another failure, another inconclusive result. These were the milestones that marked his life now. Beacons of the wrecked hopes and illusive dreams and forlorn aspirations. The abandoned freedom and the collapsed ambition. Working for the Republic would have brought far greater rewards and achievements, but he was tied by bitter birthright and misplaced allegiance to Lord Sidious.

The cloning experiments were not difficult in their own right, it was the oppressive secrecy that constrained the work here. His father had faced much worse and fared little better, but at least he had not been a scientist, at least he had not been forced to work at the coalface. He could deal with, and destroy, the paperwork from afar.

Grocelind had seen the records, he'd sneaked a look, unbeknownst to anyone else, at those few papers that remained in Sidious' scant archive. Sidious had cloned himself several times, but only Palpatine had achieved full potential and that had been a fluke, a chance meeting of design and accident. The last implanted embryo clone had been some years ago, that arm of the project abandoned shortly after his father's demise. That had been another failure, the mother's unexpected Force sensitivity too strong, strong enough to warp the clones cells. The child abandoned to an uncertain fate amongst the pirates and slavers and scoundrels who scorned the ways of the Republic. Now Sidious used only the Spaarti cloning cylinders, now they produced only full grown, semi-sentient drones, and these had to be hidden far away, on outlying, forsaken worlds, far from the reach of the Republic.

But Grocelind did not have even the luxury of working out of the reach of Sidious. He had been chosen to shoulder full responsibility for the health of his employer. It was too much for one man, even when that man owed his life and his career to the other.

Grocelind sneered at himself. Some career, tied to this laboratory, working himself into oblivion. Some life, tied to Sidious, forced to prolong the man's life with unsavoury treatments only the desperate and the obsessed would contemplate.

Like his father before him, Grocelind doubted he would come out of it intact. Doubted he would come out of it alive. He needed rest, but he knew he would not sleep. He added another extract from the witch's blood to the latest synthetic medium and sluiced the dish with the sample he had taken from Sidious, before placing it in the incubator.

Next, even if he couldn't rest, he would at least relax. There was an establishment on the lower levels he could lose himself in for a few hours. It was time he had a break. He deserved a break.

***

As Obi-Wan steered the ship towards the landing platform at the Jedi Temple, Yaddle finally got Qui-Gon to talk. She had so much to say, so much to ask, but she sensed, she knew he was unwilling to share. Her desire was selfish, she knew, motivated by her infatuation with the ways of the Baobhan-sith. Iva watched placidly as she hovered by the cabin door, a symbol of their mystery. But Yaddle knew she could restrain herself a little longer, patience was her soul-mate.

She levitated herself to Qui-Gon's eye-level, a sign of her earnestness. "We really need to talk, Master Jinn."

He looked back at her, a impenetrable look, not indifferent but remote, his thoughts directed elsewhere. She felt the changes in him, the precious emotions that flourished in his heart, the wild abandon that he held in check, the secret of another, distant, life he harboured in his soul. Yaddle wanted all that, too, but knew she might never attain it. She might never find the Baobhan-sith again, their gift to him might never be given to her.

She put aside such trifles, she could only hope that one day she might yet indulge them, and continued. "About what you saw on the Sith worlds. And what Obi-Wan uncovered in the records."

Qui-Gon responded with resignation. "This is my problem, Master Yaddle. Your company has been most welcome, but there is little more that you can do."

Yaddle would not give in to fate so easily. "You're wrong, Qui-Gon," she said emphatically. "I intend to search the records and the holocrons for further data on the Taleach and the Sith. With perseverance, I may find the link to Palpatine. Maybe even beyond."

Qui-Gon nodded in recognition of her pledge. "We must act quickly." He turned to glance out the nearest porthole. The ship was already settling down into its landing position. "He will have reached Coruscant before us and we do not know his plans."

"Then we must hurry. We must speak with the Council."

Plo Koon approached them as they disembarked. There was an urgency in his stride that made Yaddle uneasy. She glanced at Qui-Gon, but he only smiled.

"Old friend..." Qui-Gon held out his hand.

The Kel Dor did not take it. His voice was hollow, even through his breather. "There is a problem, Master Jinn. A political situation, a dispute involving the Trade Federation. A diplomatic vessel is already prepared for launch. You are to act as ambassador and must leave immediately for Naboo."

- 17 -
And We'll Drown Our Reservations In The Hopes Of All Tomorrow's.

Palpatine sat in his office, content. Yes, he had received a tongue-lashing from Sidious when he had returned, but he could stomach it. It had been no more than he had expected and his father-brother seemed weakened even further than usual. There had been no attempts at mind coercion or pain stimulation or any physical threat as he had been berated. It was a good sign. A sign that soon the time would come when he, Palpatine, could reign supreme. Sidious' accusations of his obsession with Jinn and his witch were becoming stale. Let Sidious call him stupid if he wanted. Let the decrepit man say what he liked about his obsession with that pair causing his downfall. Palpatine knew they were the key. They were still the key. He and Sidious had laid the groundwork that would wrest control of the Republic from the ineffectual political toadies and the interfering, self-satisfied Jedi. But soon, but once Sidious was out the way, it would be he alone that took the helm and ruled the galaxy.

And so, for a moment, just for a moment, Palpatine was content.

His plan with the Sith potion had failed, true. Word was that Jinn had returned to Coruscant. Had somehow overcome its effects. Or it had been ineffective. No matter. Palpatine was sure the brush with evil had no doubt weakened Jinn, had no doubt left him vulnerable. It was all the more likely then, that he would be overcome in his next confrontation. Especially if it was just him and his pipsqueak companion up against a droid army when they least expected it.

On a diplomatic mission.

It was Sidious' plan that was in place now. Sidious' manipulations of the Trade Federation and its Nemoidian representatives that were coming to fruition. But it suited Palpatine well enough. He had taken advantage of his own homeworld, put it under threat, all but signed the death warrants of his own people, of their freedom. And then he had turned on the full force of his charm to request help from the supreme chancellor, to beg for aid, to plead for Jinn by name, that he be sent to assist in this trade dispute. Ha, this Naboo conflict would keep the Jedi and the Sith witch apart. Deal with them separately, that appeared to be the answer.

Palpatine chuckled. The oppression of his own people. Nothing was beneath him. He felt good. Even his eye did not bother him as much as usual. His mood was buoyed up even further by his secretary's interruption of his thoughts.

"Sir, word from your operative." She drew his attention. "Piet Grocelind left the lab not long ago."

Yes, she was looking exceptionally beautiful tonight, but he would have other pursuits.

"He is currently at a bar," she continued. "At this address." She handed him a card. "He did not previously leave the lab for almost three work shifts."

"Make my apologies to the Yag'Dhul delegates. I will not be able to join them for dinner tonight. Tell them pressure of work, the trade route taxation, difficult negotiations. They will understand." Palpatine smiled, a smile that reached his eyes, a rare occurrence, and thanked her for her diligence.

***

Qui-Gon felt his heart lurch at Plo Koon's words. So soon. His plans to unmask Palpatine had clouded his judgement, sapped his attention.

"No," he countered.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon frowned as he recognised the touch of shock in Obi-Wan's voice that the Padawan could not hide, but simply stepped past his apprentice. "Later, Obi-Wan. I must speak with Master Koon." He stared into the concealing mask. The mask stared back. "Plo," he began, addressing him informally. "I must discuss my intent with you."

"Of course, Qui-Gon," the Kel Dor responded, but the vacant face was directed towards Iva, as if searching her for a response. Qui-Gon looked at her too, but her eyes were cast down. She hung back as if this were not her place. It wasn't.

Qui-Gon returned his attention to Koon. "Senator Palpatine is responsible for everything that happened on the Taleach worlds, the wars, the destruction, the slaughter, the pillage of the Sith tombs."

"Palpatine?" The startled response betrayed Plo Koon's composure. "But why? What has he to do with that place?"

"He had recruited a group of Taleach, apparently to loot the tombs. I can only suppose he seeks ancient Sith artefacts. Perhaps even ancient Sith powers. He possessed a Sith poison, a potion of some kind. He left this." Qui-Gon handed over the Senate pass he had retrieved from the tombs. Plo considered it carefully, turning it over, holding it to the light, to verify its authenticity. Qui-Gon sensed his friend's doubt, he doubted this evidence himself. "Proving any of it will be almost impossible," he said.

Obi-Wan quickly grasped the import of what they discussed. "But there are four of us," he interjected. "Against Palpatine's word. We have evidence." He looked towards the pass.

Yaddle fixed him with a serious glance. "One, Obi-Wan, only one."

Qui-Gon responded to his Padawan's questioning glare. "Master Yaddle is correct, Obi-Wan. She saw nothing. Nor did you. Iva's position is precarious, even now. That..." He pointed to the pass in Plo's hand. "That is circumstantial. It will be my word alone against his."

Obi-Wan looked, and sounded, peevish. "Surely that is enough, Master? The word of a Jedi Master. Against Palpatine..."

Qui-Gon turned away, he knew he could say nothing, nothing to reassure his Padawan.

Yaddle shook her head and took up the line of reasoning. "Probably not, Obi-Wan. Palpatine is a Senator, a highly respected representative of many worlds, and Qui-Gon, forgive me for saying so, has a reputation which is not unsullied by his past exploits."

Qui-Gon watched Yaddle carefully as she spoke. Her words meant nothing to him. He sensed only her feelings about the Baobhan-sith, her longings and desires, the future she was fearful of. Had she too read Iva's reticence to enter the debate as a sign of future tragedy?

"But the data I found..." Obi-Wan protested hard. He blurted out his thoughts in his agitation. "Palpatine's involved in the Corporate Policy League, with Sienar Designs, with the Power Ministry. He had a hand in the Colicoid droid production. And the Trade Federation."

"Padawan Kenobi!" Plo's voice was stern, raised above its normal level. "Unless you have verifiable facts you cannot slander companies and institutions. Do you have verifiable facts? Proof?"

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes. "No, sir."

"How far ahead of you was Palpatine?"

Yaddle answered. "Two, three days, Master Koon."

"He will have had ample time to cover his tracks then." Plo half turned away. "Undoubtedly, he will have an alibi in place already. Qui-Gon, go to Naboo as the Supreme Chancellor requests. I will make what enquiries I can."

***

Palpatine often wandered the lower levels of the city, alone, without bodyguards, without a beautiful woman on his arm, dressed not in the robes of state but the nondescript plain clothing of the common people, his shoulders slumped, his bearing mimicking a working man's. He liked the anonymity. And, with the arrogance of the powerful man, he loved the risk. It was an addiction, he craved it.

But this time it was not for pleasure, not only for pleasure. This time, Palpatine sought out a man whom Sidious owned, body and soul. A man tainted by the accident of his birth, by his parentage. A man who had been raised to be obedient, malleable. A man who would do another's bidding unquestioningly, a man with no will of his own.

Palpatine knew that some day, a day not too distant now, all the citizens of Coruscant, all the people of the Republic would be thus. For now, just one, just this one, would do.

His eye was full of grit and while his head didn't ache there was a growing, gnawing lightness at the back of his skull. But he wasn't going to let it stop him now.

Palpatine slunk into the bar named on the card his secretary had handed him. His thoughts of what she might be doing now, freed from the workplace, relaxing in her apartment, taking a slow bath perhaps, her blue-black hair clinging to the dampness of her olive skin, made him hesitate. No, he told himself, tonight was not a night for feminine pleasures. Tonight, with any luck, it would be rampant male flesh that sated his eager appetite.

Piet Grocelind sat alone. He looked tired, worn down, overworked. Palpatine smirked, that was good. His concentration would be poor, his self-esteem low. Palpatine waylaid a hostess, requested drinks and made his way to the booth in which his quarry sat. The bar was not a fashionable place, inexpensive but tasteful. And clean. Certainly not the usual sort of disreputable establishment Palpatine liked to slum in. He was almost disappointed. He so enjoyed the low life.

Grocelind looked up, wary, weary, as Palpatine sat down across the table from him. Palpatine could see the exhaustion marring the man's face. And he could read more, much more, than that in the expression. This Grocelind was not stupid even if he was not skilled in subterfuge. This Grocelind knew exactly who he was. And what he was. And knew he shouldn't know. Palpatine recognised instantly his advantage. Grocelind wouldn't reveal that knowledge. Would risk limb and life not to give it away. Perhaps Grocelind was suspicious that Sidious had sent him here. That would be a sweet revenge, indeed. He licked his lips. "May I join you?"

The hostess approached.

"I have taken the liberty of ordering drinks."

Grocelind looked at the glass, confused. Then at Palpatine, almost forlorn.

Palpatine held out his hand. "Cos."

A look of terror tempered by bewilderment crossed Grocelind's face. His cheeks flared crimson for a moment. Then he took the proffered hand, lightly, briefly, damply. "Piet," he relied, his voice little more than a whisper.

Palpatine had him now. A smile designed to entice transformed the senator's face. "Good to meet you, Piet."

***

Once Yaddle had left with Plo Koon promising to fill him in on all that had transpired, when Obi-Wan had been sent on ahead to the diplomatic shuttle, Qui-Gon pulled Iva into a narrow passage between the main Temple walls and the flanking towers. He could have gone to Valorum with his concerns, he could have gone to confront Palpatine directly, he could have gone to the Council and refused the assignment. But no, he desired to spend these few moments with the woman he had no resistance to. His beloved, his irresistible, temptress.

"We don't have much time," he said as he grasped her chin in an intimate touch. "I had hoped that once I had resolved the Palpatine problem, we could have talked about the path of the destiny."

As he stroked her cheek, she took his other hand in both of hers and held it close to her heart. "This is the final step, Qui-Gon. You know that. If you don't want to take it, don't go to that place."

"And if I don't?"

"And if you don't, we leave here now and never return. And make another life. And go with the Baobhan-sith when they flee the galaxy."

"And if I don't, the people of Naboo will suffer and die and the Republic..."

"...and the Republic will fall and never rise again."

He ran his hand back through the sweep of her hair, his fingers catching in the tangled curls. "I can't do it, Iva."

"You are the only one who can."

"I have lost my connection to the Force. I felt it go when I became like you."

"No. You gained." She slid his hand inside her dress and guided it across her breast. "You didn't lose. If the Living Force and the Unifying Force are aspects of the cosmic energies that drive the universe, that are embodied in Mananan, you have lost nothing. You are only looking in the wrong place now. Believe me." She let out a sweet moan as the caress of his finger aroused her nipple.

She slipped her arms up around his neck and pulled his face down towards hers.

"When I return..." He breathed the words close to her cheek.

She laid her fingers on his lips. "Sh, don't speak of it now."

He shook his head. "I will return. I swear by the force that I will return. I will do whatever I have to, no matter the cost, to return." He kissed her brow.

"And I will be here. I'll be waiting here." She kissed his mouth.

"I know you will." He returned it with a light caress of her lips with his.

She spoke through his kiss. "Be careful." She slumped languidly back against the rough smooth surface of the wall, her knee raised, her foot against the stone, her skirts askew, a glimpse of her parted thighs white in the dim shade cast by the overhanging building, so tempting.

"When am I not careful?" He felt the arousal she wrought in him thick and heavy against his thigh.

"All the time. You are reckless, Qui-Gon Jinn."

He crushed her nipple between his finger and his thumb, squeezing, pinching, ruthless, loving. "As are you, Caer Ibhormheith. Don't leave Valorum's protection. Stay where he can keep you safe. Tell him what happened. Let Yaddle deal with the Jedi. She has her own agenda, but she will not work against us." He felt Iva tremble at the sensations his touch let loose in her body, he heard the moan of her deepening desire. "And if there's a problem you can't handle, go to Adi Gallia."

"Adi? But Adi doesn't like me."

"Trust me in that. Adi is a Jedi Master. Liking doesn't enter into it. She has given me her word. She'll help you if you need it."

She touched his hand and pulled it from her breast. Where she touched him he felt his skin grow chill. He looked and saw the bones and sinews, the blood slowing and coagulating. His flesh became hard, blue tinged. Her milk-white skin looked ghostly. He felt the blood, her blood, in his veins, he felt the power it gave him.

"You are reckless, Qui-Gon, to do this here, beside the Temple." She laughed and he was not afraid of her. Or anyone.

She guided his hand to where she most desired it. He was happy to oblige. He made her moan all the more, he made her wet with passion. Her tongue flicked into his mouth, deep, probing, the taste of her saliva, sweet with herbs and hot, filled his mouth. Her hands undid his belt and stole inside his clothing, struggling to remove it. Reaching down around her thighs with both his hands, he pulled her legs further apart. He slid his hands upwards until they rested on her buttocks and lifted the full weight of her up against him until her legs laced around his body, until her heels met behind his hips. He lifted her away from him, precarious and daring.

He was on fire as he entered her. He thrust himself into her and ground his hips against her, crushing her back against the wall. She clung to him desperately, she moved frantically, she screamed wildly.

The pain of his anguish, the pain of imminent parting, was slowly alleviated by the spasms that her gyrations tore from his eager flesh. "I want to be with you at the end." It was a wish he hardly dared to voice.

Her reply was forced out through the gasp of her indrawn breaths. "Oh, Qui-Gon. I don't think that will be."

He let her slide slowly to the floor. He wanted to hold her close for a little while longer yet but he moved away and straightened his clothing.

She smoothed down her skirts. Her gaze never left his face. "Promise me," she said as she looked at him. "Promise me, before you leave me..."

"I won't leave you willingly."

"Before you go ahead into the summerland, promise me you will give me your virtue."

Her body was his, his spirit was hers. "I will," he said. All it required was his promise.

When he kissed her goodbye she clung to him desperately. It had never been a problem for her before, parting. He knew the import of this severance. As he turned and walked away, he thought he heard her sobbing, but knew that if he turned around he would never leave her - and all hope for the future would have to be abandoned. A moment of hesitation and he would have gone back to her, but he was already on his way.

- 18 -
All There Was Before Is Because Of What Is Now.

Obi-Wan did not sleep that first night out from Coruscant. It was not that he was excited or agitated by the mission - no, it seemed too dull for that. Nor was it because he was disturbed by the suddenness of their departure for Naboo so soon after their return from the Sith worlds - as a Jedi he was used to such disruptions of routine and there were no longer any surprises which could discomfit him. No, it was worse than either of those things. It was his Master. It was thoughts of Qui-Gon that disordered his thinking.

Qui-Gon had assigned him to a cabin and instructed him to continue his researches on the Trade Federation and its blockade of Naboo. Obi-Wan had conjectured that Palpatine had dealings with the Trade Federation, but Palpatine was himself from Naboo and it seemed unlikely that *he* was responsible for the blockade of his own world. Even so, Qui-Gon wanted no stone left unturned, wanted nothing left to chance. And he had made sure Obi-Wan knew as much.

Well, Obi-Wan had obeyed and done all that was expected of him. And he had learnt much, if not about Palpatine's involvement, at least about the Trade Federation. But throughout his reading and searches of the data banks, his innermost thoughts had been elsewhere. His deep and deeply personal thoughts had been centred around Qui-Gon and the events - or their after-effects - that he had witnessed on Rhelg and during the return to Coruscant. Something since then had been amiss with his Master, not wrong, not evil, just strange. As though a powerful disruptive force ran through Qui-Gon, its current sending eddies through the Force signature that surrounded him. Obi-Wan did not sense that it tried to hide his Master from him and it did not mark Qui-Gon with any sign that he had been tainted by the Dark Side, but it cut Obi-Wan off from his Master, its interrupted their bond, it seemed almost protective and jealous, in a way that unsettled and confused him.

Obi-Wan blamed the Baobhan-sith. He believed now that the Sisterhood sought to influence, if not control, the Jedi Order. Even Master Yaddle seemed to have been infected by her association with the Cloister. Obi-Wan blamed Iva. It had all begun with her. She had stolen Qui-Gon's heart and now the Baobhan-Sith were infiltrating the heart of the Jedi Council. They had even tried to get at him through Eilidh. He had resisted then, but something about it nagged at him. He intended to remain steadfastly aligned to the Jedi Order, but something didn't feel right. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Something that Iva had once said nagged at him. "You will play a greater role in the coming age than your Master." Was this it then? Was his star about to rise, just as Qui-Gon's faded?

Obi-Wan sighed. It was not his place to question his Master but he had to face reality. He was ready for the trials. Qui-Gon was holding him back, deliberately. He had suspected as much for a while. And he suspected it was at Iva's urging. He loved Qui-Gon as much as he might have his father had he not been raised a Jedi, he loved Qui-Gon more than a father. But if Qui-Gon was changed in some way, irreparably, irredeemably, then it was time Obi-Wan became the great Knight Iva and Qui-Gon both had promised he was destined to be.

***

The room, the strange unlived-in room, Grocelind found himself in was a blank. It belonged to Palpatine yes, the Senator undoubtedly owned it, but it was not anyone's. Nobody had made it theirs, nobody had left their mark upon it. The furnishings and the wall hangings were anonymous, mass-produced. Grocelind shivered at the thought. And he shivered at the expectation of what the night would bring. It was not a cold room, but his soul had been chilled. His head was woozy from the alcohol Palpatine had plied him with. And maybe from some other agent too, some other strong influence, maybe a drug, maybe the hypnotic seduction in Palpatine's eyes. Grocelind doubted he would have the strength of mind to escape this night, to resist whatever perversions the Senator suggested. It was not that he did not want to take advantage of such a seduction, such an opportunity had rarely come his way before, but in his dreams he had wished for any seduction bar this one. Well, tonight he would have to put aside his desires and preferences. Already he had meekly complied with Palpatine's suggestion they retire to these rooms and he knew he would not have the upper hand here. No would not be a word Palpatine would listen to tonight.

"A drink, Piet." Palpatine handed him a tall glass filled with a chill, pale liquid.

Grocelind rallied himself. The room was long, yet narrow. The door an acre of thick carpeting away. It seemed a multi-purpose room with comfortably padded chairs and low tables along the walls, and couches, long and wide, which could be for sitting on - or could equally be used as beds. The darkness beyond the windows was still, there was no passing traffic here. An out-of-the-way place, low down in the city hierarchy that was Coruscant. There would be no escape if he refused Palpatine now. And so he would not refuse.

"Sit down." The Senator ushered him onto a couch. "Please relax. I intend you no harm, I assure you." Palpatine sat beside him, not far enough away to ensure propriety, not close enough to be a threat. Yet.

Grocelind knew it was too late to worry about the consequences of his intoxication or his recklessness in coming here. Palpatine smiled at him as he drained the drink. It tasted bitter behind the sweetness of its bouquet.

Palpatine moved his hand across the space between them and placed it on Grocelind's leg. "I do so like things to be special, Piet, don't you?"

"Yeah, yes." Grocelind stammered in reply. It was all he could do to stop from shrieking out. "Sir, uh, sorry, Cos. I'm... I'm not..."

"You're not used to this. I know." Palpatine leaned close, his breath on Grocelind's face hot and rancid from the drink. "Just let me take the lead."

***

Qui-Gon had a new strength in him. But he was unsure yet how to approach it.

It had taken him years to control the Force, and now he would have to unlearn those disciplines. If he was to make full use of the power Iva had gifted him through the blood rite, he would have to walk a new path. Even if her ways and his were nothing more than different paths to the same goal, it was not so easy to unlearn the one and master the other. He would have to give in to emotion. To see things in a different light. With every breath and with every thought of his being.

He had observed Iva's ways, the Taleach customs, the Baobhan-Sith practices, for ten years, been soothed by her chants, endured her emotional outbursts, listened to her teachings, been enthralled by her beliefs. It was time to embrace them wholly. But even at this late stage, it was an alien task. At the end, in time present, she had given him so little warning. He didn't understand why she had held it back. Yet he smiled. He had to admit that it was harder for her to face than him, his death, his seeming death. The separation.

Her words came to him as he took the small amber bottle she had given him from a deep pocket of his tunic. "A infusion of violets," she had said, "to guide your entry into the world beyond this one." So that he could forge new links, discover new powers.

He smiled and unstoppered the bottle. He already felt the tingle of Mananan's power in his limbs and in his mind. It was that which he had to learn to control. He drank deeply, without hesitation, and waited.

For long moments he felt nothing.

For long moments his mind wandered.

For an instant he knew himself to be a wild free being, running fast and furious at the head of the wild hunt. He threw himself headlong into the chase, though he knew not what his quarry was. He stole a glance at the one who ran beside him. The horned god welcomed him by name.

Qui-Gon Jinn was alone and still, on a ship speeding through space. Qui-Gon Jinn ran, as he had never run before, through the still and silent universe. The power was with him. The power of the ocean. The power of the forest. The magic was the key. The magic was his. So that he could give up his life and yet still live.

Qui-Gon had a new strength in him. A new resolution.

***

Iva waited for Valorum to emerge from his evening meetings. They ran much longer than anticipated and while she waited she sorted through her bags and phials of herbs and resins. A dried sprig of yarrow she wove into her hair, for though it was the death flower, it was sacred to the Horned God and it comforted her with the thought that it was a connection to Qui-Gon. A stem of vervain she slipped into her pocket to aid divination.

As morning threatened to encroach upon the agenda, Valorum appeared. But despite the hour, he looked almost relieved to see her and slipped her arm through his, like a father with his only daughter. Only his words betrayed his anguish.

"It is late, Lady Ibhormheith," he said, "and there is nothing I can do for you. I cannot recall your husband." He patted her hand. "But I will walk back with you to your chambers."

"I would not ask that, Finis. No, I need only know why." She looked down as she spoke. "Is this Senator Palpatine's doing?"

Valorum faltered in his stride. "Palpatine?" He frowned. "Why, yes. His homeworld was under threat. He asked for Master Jinn by name. Out of respect, I believe."

"Respect? I doubt it. Palpatine has made an attack upon my people. He has destroyed my home and left my foster-father mortally wounded."

"This concerns me, Iva." He shook his head, though it seemed to Iva that he did not deny her words but instead sought to dislodge a foreboding thought from his mind. His expression made his quandary clear. "I do not like Senator Palpatine, I even have reason to distrust him, but I do not have anything concrete against him. It's true he seeks high power and will stop at nothing to get it, but I had not considered him possible of such a deep deceit. Maybe I was wrong. Nonetheless, there is nothing I can do. I'm sorry my hands are tied. I could not refuse him."

"But why, Finis? You are Supreme Chancellor. What hold does he have over *you*?"

Valorum stopped walking and turned to face her. "You are too astute, Iva. Take care. These are dangerous times."

"I know that more than anyone. What does he have on you?"

"Iva, don't ask me." Valorum shook his head again, this time in denial, and resumed his pace, striding ahead of her now.

"He tried to turn Qui-Gon." Iva kept pace behind him. "To the Dark Side. He failed. Now he wants to see him dead. Would you have that on your conscience?"

Valorum turned again. "Palpatine has threatened to expose me, to bring out fabricated evidence against me." His voice was tainted with vitriol. "He conspires with the Yag'Dhul representatives to accuse me of involvement in illegal arms shipments to rim world pirates. If it comes out, it will not stand up in a court of law. But by then it will be too late."

Iva bit at her lower bit, but she spoke out as she walked on. "I've never asked much of you, Supreme Chancellor. It's not much I ask now."

"You know I will help you if I can."

"I only ask for free use of a personal ship, to be made available when I need it, without question."

Valorum nodded his assent. "Without question."

***

When Grocelind's senses returned, the first thing he heard was the hiss of simmering water and the aroma of cheap kaffe. His body ached from Palpatine's invasions and he rued the moment he had thought he might gain an advantage over Sidious by going along with the Senator's lusts. He reached out for his strewn clothes and hurriedly pulled them on. All he wanted was to get out of there quickly, to hide his embarrassment and his shame. To forget this liaison had ever happened.

But Palpatine was returning to his side with the kaffe. Palpatine obviously had more in store for him.

"This will help, I think. I have analgesic if you need it."

"No, no thank you." Grocelind's voice was hoarse and cracked. But Palpatine seemed solicitous enough now.

"I believe you work for a man who calls himself Sidious."

Grocelind was shocked by the directness of Palpatine's approach. Maybe this would not be such a waste after all.

Palpatine did not wait for an answer. "His plans are getting out of hand. But then I'm sure you are aware of that. Aren't you, Piet?" Palpatine barely paused to draw breath. "We could stop his plans. You and I. Is that agreeable to you?"

Grocelind only stared. He could only stare.

"I take that as an affirmative. What work exactly are you doing for Sidious?"

And whether it was the shock of the earlier violation, or the aftermath of drunkenness, or the lulling rhythm of Palpatine's voice, Grocelind told all he knew about the extract from the witch's blood that would restore Sidious to the prime of life and full health.

***

Obi-Wan understood destiny. He understood it as the Jedi taught it. Whatever happened was accepted. There was no point in railing against it. There was no point in regret, no point in grief. What had happened was past and gone. The future was unknown and unknowable. The Jedi Order had its prophets and its prophecies, but there was no point in trying to make the future, seen or unseen, come true. Qui-Gon had taught him that.

Yet Qui-Gon had embraced a destiny. A destiny that the Jedi had refuted and rejected. Iva's destiny. Hers was a destiny, a future, that could be forged. That could be sought. That could be embraced.

And Qui-Gon was chasing her future, a future that held an horizon dark with stormclouds. Obi-Wan felt a finger, a frozen terror, probe his spine, not with chill fear, but with reverent awe. Could he do the same? He doubted it. He wished for it.

Obi-Wan could only wonder now about his future, about Iva's prophecy for his life. A life alone, a life of solitude, a life without love. Watching and waiting. For a new generation. For a new hope.

- 19 -
Hollow Like The Towers On The Inside.

Maul was toying with the punishment tongs, enhancing their function and upping their pain capacity, when Sidious entered.

"What are you doing?" his Master snapped.

"Going to see Palpatine." Maul carefully injected a note of meekness into his voice.

"You think you need to see Palpatine?"

"No, Master. I wanted to. He needs a lesson in humility."

Sidious snatched the tongs from Maul's hand. "Leave him alone, Maul. We need him healthy." He looked down at the sharp probes projecting from the snout of the tongs. "... and intact. He's not out of control yet. He has much work to do in the Senate. For us. For our cause. To advance our plans."

Maul was crestfallen. Each and every unilateral independent decision he made was not to Lord Sidious' liking. He steeled himself for discipline, but none came.

"Go and see Palpatine anyway," was all Sidious said. "Use him if you wish, deceive him. Pretend to do what he wants. Just don't mark him. Don't physically harm him."

Maul rose to his feet, about to take his leave.

Sidious snorted. "But not yet, Maul. First we must work on curbing your impatience, my young apprentice. Save your pleasure for later. Get to the meditation chamber. Two hours at least."

Maul nodded, humbled. He knew that Sidious would check, he knew that meant he'd have to stay in there three hours or more, he didn't care. It would all come to him. With time.

His Master was the one to take his leave. "I have something I must discuss with Grocelind."

The inflection in Sidious' tone told Maul that discussion, that words, were the furthest thing from his Master's mind. Maul felt the heady mix of expectation, relish and excitement flow off Sidious as he powered up the punishment tongs.

Sidious' milky eyes cleared suddenly, flaring with bloodlust. "I'll borrow these if you don't mind."

Maul almost wished the man would decay and die before his scientists could forge an antidote for his decrepitude.

***

Grocelind went directly from the uncomfortable geography of Palpatine's bolthole to his equally anonymously located lab. Work was a hell, but a refuge nonetheless.

He was back at his work bench mere minutes - not even enough time to check the results of his latest test - when a commotion at the door attracted his attention. He stood, stiffly.

"Lord Sidious! We weren't expecting you."

The withered frame of Sidious advanced on him. "I'd like to know what progress you are making. I may have to bring forward my plans. Circumstances are conspiring against me, events are moving on too fast. It is imperative I have another treatment. One I hope..." Sidious placed a bony, shrivelled hand on the bench next to Grocelind's arm. "...that this time will prove more permanent than the last."

"Sir, I... My tests... They are inconclusive. But..."

Sidious bent close to him and hissed. "No buts, Grocelind."

"...I am hopeful."

"Hope? Hope, Grocelind? Hope is not enough. I want results." He drew the punishment tongs from within his robes. "I have been patient with you until now." He flicked the tool open. It hummed with the promise of pain.

Grocelind's mind whirled. "My latest test." He pointed towards the incubator. "Please, Sidious. Let me check the results." It was hard for him to keep the whining note from his voice.

Sidious waved his hand vaguely in the air. "Very well. But be quick about it."

As Grocelind fiddled with his equipment, stalling for time, unwilling, afraid to open the incubator which housed the dish which could be his salvation or his blight, his thoughts dwelt on his predicament. It was through no fault of his own that he was in this situation, but there was little he could do to escape it. He knew why he stayed and fawned on Sidious. He did not understand why others did. Did Sidious, he wondered, have a hold on them too? Or did they really believe that Sidious and his dreams of a Sith Empire held promise for the future? Did they believe, truly, that such a rule could be better than the inept bureaucracy of the Republic?

Well, he had better get those thoughts out of his head now. The only skin he might have a chance of saving was Sidious', never his own. He drew in his breath and opened the incubator. He pulled out the dish and slid it under his microscope.

"Well?" Sidious' voice, harsh but tired, cut into his thoughts.

"A moment," Grocelind murmured in reply. He hardly dared to look. He looked.

He hardly dared to believe. The cells flourished. They proliferated and multiplied. Young and virile cell division was occurring before his eyes. The excitement of release thrilled him. He believed.

He looked up. "Yes. A success. Lord Sidious - a success."

"At last." The man's fraility looked like it would overwhelm him in his relief.

Several moments of silence passed before another word was spoken. "Prepare an infusion. Call me as soon as it is ready."

A thought, the seed of sedition, whirled in Grocelind's mind. To tell or not to tell. To betray or betray himself. He could confess Palpatine's scheming to Sidious, pray his employer's mood of exhilaration would cushion an angry outburst, and trust that he still had a place in Sidious' grand plan, however lowly. Or he could keep quiet and give himself whole to Palpatine, to Palpatine's mutinous design, and risk all - his sanity, his soul, his life.

Sidious turned to leave, but Grocelind, with a new-found confidence born of achievement, called him back.

"Lord Sidious. Begging your pardon, but I'd like to speak with you about Senator Palpatine."

***

Maul infiltrated Palpatine's Senate offices via a secret and entirely hidden entrance. He had come and gone from here many times without being observed and none, except Palpatine, had ever known of his presence. He did not bother to knock.

Disappointingly, Palpatine was in an ebullient mood. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. It was a pose Maul favoured and he read the body language as he knew the Senator intended, as a sign of his claim to have the upper-hand in the conversation to come.

"So nice to see you, Lord Maul." Palpatine put all the emphasis on Lord.

Maul read that accurately too, but only smirked. "Having a good day, are we?"

"It started well, yes." Palpatine sat upright, his elbows now on his desk, one each side of his datapad. "What can I do for you, Maul?"

Maul shrugged. "I thought you might have some little errand for me." He sounded nonchalant, but his body was still poised for action - flight if need be, fight preferably. "Now that Jinn has been sent to Naboo."

"My thoughts entirely, Maul. You read me like a book." The smile on Palpatine's face vanished. "But don't presume too much."

"I don't, my Master."

"Don't call me Master. That title belongs to my abhorrent kin."

Maul held his ground as Palpatine brought his fist down hard on the desk. He ducked his head. "My apologies, Senator. Sometimes you are so alike..." He paused, expecting another outburst. Palpatine merely grimaced. "What did you have in mind, Senator?"

"The witch is ensconced with the Supreme Chancellor. But she won't stay there forever. She's far too pro-active. When she makes a move, you can take her. Bring her to me when you have her. Do this thing for me and you may take enjoyment in her, uh, discomfort too, if you wish."

"It will be my pleasure, Senator." That was no pretence.

"Not all pleasure, Maul." Palpatine spoke with a hushed eagerness. "Work too. I want to ascertain the source of her power and make it my own. It might be dangerous."

"She has powers, Senator?"

"Powers, Maul? Yes, she has powers, terrible powers. Powers I have never known even the dark Side to supply. But tread carefully with her, Maul. A strange force is gathering around them, her and the Jedi both."

Maul bowed, an emblem of obedience. "You can rely on me, Senator."

"I don't need to remind you, Maul, that Sidious must know nothing of this." Palpatine dismissed him with a gesture. "If this works out, it may be that we can work together on other projects."

And Maul hid the smile that deformed his face by turning and walking away.

***

"Well, Maul, it has been a profitable day to be sure." Sidious gushed.

Maul merely grunted. The news that a cure was now likely for his Master's condition did not please him. Longevity in Sidious only meant further long years of subservience for himself. Palpatine's offer was looking appealing. He decided to shield his thoughts of treason and plot by speaking out.

"Shall I get rid of Palpatine now?"

"No, Maul. He is still of great use."

"But he is up to something, Master. I sense it."

"He's always up to something, Maul. It'll just involve the damnable witch. Let him have her. I don't need her now, and Jinn's out of the way - hopefully for good."

Maul knew a change of subject was in order. "You have informed the Neimoidians, Master?"

"Don't be a fool." Sidious looked at his apprentice with contempt. "If those cowards know the ambassadors are Jedi they are likely to flee from Naboo space at the earliest opportunity. No, events are more likely to go our way if it comes as a surprise to them."

- 20 -
The Course Is Clear To Ride The Nightmare Out.

Qui-Gon looked down at his sleeping Padawan and wondered for a moment if he was doing the right thing. He had no desire to harm Obi-Wan but it seemed unavoidable. The damage was already done. Obi-Wan could have taken the trials by now, could have been a knight, could have taken on his own apprentice too if Qui-Gon had been willing to let go of him. But he hadn't. He had held back. He had held Obi-Wan back.

He knew he should have been led by the Jedi Code, by its practices and tenets. Instead Iva's reading of the tapestry of time future had been his guide. It still remained unclear to him, the future, but he knew that events of great import were about to shake the foundations, not just of his own life, but of the whole galaxy. Perhaps these obscure and trivial difficulties with the Trade Federation presaged the coming strife, but it was not in his nature to dwell on that. He wished only to live in the present.

But Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan's future was of great concern to him. Obi-Wan's thread in the tapestry ran strong and clear through the tangle ahead, ran on into the future. As a Jedi, as master to a Padawan, Qui-Gon had certain responsibilities, a charge to forge another in his likeness. He had failed once and, though that no longer haunted him as it once had, it reinforced the weight of such a responsibility on his shoulders. It was a serious duty and a duty he had taken seriously. Yet if that had been all that motivated him, Obi-Wan would be a Knight by now. He wasn't and he wasn't because of Iva's readings of the future. Qui-Gon still needed Obi-Wan, the destiny the Baobhan-sith were striving for still needed Obi-Wan.

And so it came to this. Qui-Gon trusted a woman, an outsider, a being with a connection to a strange world beyond - or within - this one, more than he trusted his own people, his own Order, his own Master. Yoda had called Iva a succubus. Perhaps she was, it didn't matter. There were more dimensions to his life now than he had ever dreamed of. His commune with the Horned God, his joining with Mananan, now made him as much a stranger in this world as Iva was.

He had spent the last few days in transit meditating, though his meditations had taken on a new dimension now. The Force still flowed in him, but now, when he drew on it alone, it seemed so incomplete. As he felt incomplete without Iva, so his grasp of the Force felt incomplete without the Baobhan-sith power he had been gifted. He wished, not for the first time, that he was facing this with Iva at his side. He felt inadequate to the task ahead but put the thought out of his mind. Whatever path he chose, it would be as it was destined to be.

Qui-Gon bent to shake his sleeping apprentice gently. "Padawan."

Obi-Wan woke quickly, came instantly to consciousness, sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed platform.

"We have arrived in Naboo space, Padawan. It's time to make our final preparations."

***

Iva had put off deciding on her next course of action for several days. The future, like her thinking, was muddled and as the nexus of disaster, the tangle of threads in the tapestry, came nearer, she could find no guidance in its knots. Qui-Gon's sudden, unexpected, untimely absence had brought on a malaise she could not seem to shake. And news of Valorum's compromised position only added to the mood of melancholy which had descended on her.

She drank a cup of herbal brew designed to aid astral vision, but the future would not come to her. She burnt a handful of tranquillity incense, but sleep had abandoned her.

***

The conference room that they were ushered into on the Trade Federation flagship was, like the rest of the ship Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had passed through, cold, not only in its micro-climate but in its décor. It suited the Neimoidians perfectly. Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose, the room smelt faintly of salt and damp and ozone.

He knew the Neimoidians' actions ran counter to the activities and protests of the Trade Federation to date. This, Obi-Wan thought as he caught sight of the window looking out onto the battle fleet looming before the planet, had the appearance of outright war. Perhaps Palpatine *was* involved. Perhaps Palpatine was manoeuvring for power in the Senate, willing to sacrifice his own people, and use their sacrifice to garner sympathy. And votes.

If that was true, he and Qui-Gon might have a fight on their hands. And not just around the conference table. They were here as peacemakers, but if the Neimoidians' were not willing to forge a peace, to make a compromise, what action could a Jedi Master and his apprentice take? Defence might be tricky, escape even trickier.

Obi-Wan glanced at his Master. And wondered if Qui-Gon was up to it. Most of the trip Obi-Wan had spent in a state of apprehension, wondering how and when he could broach his concerns with Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan's premonitions of trouble, of danger, were unspecific but plain. And the aura around Qui-Gon disturbed him. It was become like that around Iva, a void, an absence in the Force. He had a feeling something was wrong. Some omen that was pressing down upon them. It wasn't this trade dispute. It wasn't just this trade dispute. Something else was approaching like a storm cloud, dark and lowering on the horizon.

Qui-Gon returned his look and Obi-Wan felt the reassurance of Qui-Gon's bond with him. That, at least, felt normal. If Qui-Gon was impaired, Obi-Wan knew that he had to be all the more alert and guard his Master well.

Left alone with Qui-Gon in the conference room by the protocol droid, Obi-Wan pulled the hood of his robe back from his face. He decided to be frank, not just about his thoughts of this dispute, but the ill-omen he felt about the future. "I have a bad feeling about this," he began.

***

Iva feared to see Valorum as she approached his office. And she feared for him. She had received only a recorded message calling her to an appointment with him, but she knew his position now was in danger and she knew it to be more precarious than he had yet revealed. She felt great sympathy for Valorum, but in her heart she had concern only for Qui-Gon. There was nothing, it seemed, she could do for either of them.

The dread chill of danger settled over her at Valorum's report.

All contact with Naboo had been severed.

Valorum could do nothing except wait. The Senate was complacent, unwilling, unable, to act. Diplomacy had stymied them.

At a loss to decide her next move alone, Iva resolved finally to take Qui-Gon's advice and take her concerns to Adi Gallia.

***

Yaddle ceased her investigations. Just as they were, finally, bearing fruit, the impact of what she had just found, what she had to conclude from the evidence, carried a weight she could not bear alone. It was not just the shock of her findings which threw her off kilter, but that they threatened to undermine the whole ethos of her life. She put the holocrons aside, closed the files, and left the library.

There was only one person she could turn to. Only one person she had a hope of trusting.

She went straight to Plo Koon's rooms.

"Come!"

Her knock was answered immediately. She entered, yet hovered in the doorway, unsure even of Plo's allegiances.

"You have found something, Master Yaddle." The Kel Dor's words were a statement, not a question.

Yaddle realised she must be broadcasting her anxieties loudly and breathed deeply, stilling her thoughts. "Yes," she replied calmly. "Though it does not help us with the Palpatine question."

Plo Koon motioned a welcome, inviting her into the room. She stood her ground. "Master Koon, I know you have been a friend to Qui-Gon Jinn. Yet I know you have gone along with the Council in distrusting his loyalties."

"I don't..." Plo began, but Yaddle cut off his words.

"As did I."

Plo's head snapped towards her sharply. "Did?"

Yaddle ignored him. "It may be the Council we should distrust."

Plo shook his head in bewilderment.

Yaddle knew she was not making sense. "The Jedi were responsible for the Taleach," she blurted. "In the time of the Great Schism the Jedi appeased the fallen Knights and provided them with slaves." She could sense that Plo was shocked by her words.

"No, Master Yaddle, you must be mistaken." It sounded, through his mask, that he might have laughed, though it could have been an exclamation of disgust that meant he took offence. "The Jedi would not.. could not... The Jedi are the guardians of peace. We are. We use our powers to defend and protect. We respect life. We serve others."

Yaddle knew that as well as he. It was from the Jedi Code. "In this case, Master Koon, the others that the Jedi served were Knights fallen to the dark side."

Plo Koon sat down, his head bowed. Yaddle wondered if he thought her mad. Contaminated, as Qui-Gon had been, by the Baobhan-sith.

He looked up. "How do you know this?"

Yaddle entered the room and sat herself down on a footstool opposite him. She knew it might turn out to be a long session. "There seemed to be nothing in the records from that time save the usual official documents about the Schism and copies of the ancient Sith holocrons that fell into the hands of Odan-Urr. Iva says her people were slaves. Why were there no records of the fallen Jedi taking human slaves from those times? Iva says my people were also enslaved by the Dark Lords. Why is there no record of this either? It disturbed me. I went to the Senate library. I started looking into my own history. I found nothing about slavery. But I did find stories of abductions from that time."

"Abductions?" Plo leant forward, hanging on her words now.

"Unexplained disappearances. Youngsters out hiking in the forest. A family on a holiday in the lakes. A scientific team on an expedition in the tropics. No bodies were ever found. No clothing. No evidence of foul play. They just vanished. As though they had never been. It made me wonder..." She paused awhile.

Plo waited.

"So I started to look in the records of human worlds for similar incidents. It was no small task. Humans are so prolific. But then, in the public archives of the Correllian worlds I read of a one-man campaign, waged against the authorities. This man wrote letters, held protests, spoke to anyone who would listen. He claimed his family, his life, his municipality had been stolen."

"Stolen?" Plo now sounded almost incredulous.

"He did have some support. Others who claimed similar crimes had been committed against them. Stories circulated amongst the radicals and others disaffected by the state. It was quite widely believed for a time, but the authorities always denied everything. Of course, it was claimed there was a conspiracy, a cover-up. But it fizzled out after a while. The original complainant suddenly went quiet."

"But what was supposed to have happened?"

"As far as I can make out, three townships were cleared of their people. Overnight, no warning. Thousands of people were moved out of their homes. The authorities claimed it was because of contamination. But there seems to have been some confusion as to where the people were relocated. It would have been forgotten but for the fact that some individuals had been away from home when it happened. Some children returned from their relatives to find their parents gone. A household had been on a holiday and returned to empty streets. The complainant had been away from home on business and lost his family. The thing is..." Yaddle leant forward, her voice dropped to a whisper.

Plo bent forward too, to catch her words.

"The thing is, there were unconfirmed reports that the people had been herded onto Republic ships, ships manned by Jedi."

She sat back, slumped back, her story told. Her story shared.

Plo looked from side to side, as if searching for the direction of his response in the air. Finally, he spoke. "Do you believe this, Master Yaddle?"

"Qui-Gon would tell me to trust my instincts. My instincts tell me it is true."

"But Yaddle, these are just old stories, from ten thousand years ago, stories which were given no credence at the time."

"So what happened to those people?"

"I don't know. Contamination. Perhaps they all died. The authorities did cover something up - just not a slave trade."

"But why cover that up? It would be a tragedy, yes, but compensation could be paid, apologies made, life would go on for the survivors. No. It's clear. People vanished from Corellia. Slaves appeared on the Sith worlds. The Jedi colluded."

"Why?" Plo waved his arm accusingly. "Why collude with slavery?"

"To get rid of the problem, Master Koon. To pay off the fallen Jedi. That is why the Council has turned its face from the Baobhan-sith."

"You think the Council knows about this still? You and I..." His hand moved between them both. "We don't."

"Your term is a limited one, Master Koon, and I am only a long-term member. Perhaps the permanent members know and want to keep this dark secret hidden, even now, after all this time."

"We should not assume that without proof, Master Yaddle. The implications are devastating. I will talk to Master Gallia about it. I know she has Qui-Gon's trust. You are close to Master Piell. His membership is permanent. Can you trust him with this? Can you ask him without causing Qui-Gon - or us - more trouble."

"I have not spoken to him since my return, Plo. I fear he will side with Master Yoda. But I will sound him out." She nodded and stood slowly. "I will sound him out."

And though she was still filled with sadness and doubt as she left Plo Koon's rooms, her heart was a little lighter.

- 21 -
There's A Yearning Inside And It's Showing Through.

The door opened just a crack and an eye glinted in the dark lozenge of the room that it revealed.

"Oh, it's you." The voice that emanated sounded more than a little disgruntled. "It's late. What are you doing here?"

Yaddle was saddened, and not a little annoyed, by the lack of a welcome. "I came to talk to you, Master Piell. We used to enjoy talking."

Even merely grunted. But he opened the door wider to allow her access to his rooms.

"Thank you, Master Piell," she said as she entered. She could not be ungracious. Even was frequently a little grumpy, it was just his way, and it was true, it was late. "I had hoped you might have come to see me since I returned from Cair-deil Talamh."

"You mean Khar Delba," he grunted.

"Perhaps it is time, Even, that we stopped calling those planets by their ancient and long forgotten names. As a token to their people, at least."

"We owe them nothing."

Yaddle sat down and patted the seat beside her. "Don't we, Even?"

He remained standing. "What do you mean?"

"Do sit down, Even. We should be comfortable if we are going to talk."

He peered at her curiously, almost suspiciously. Despite the wound that had creased his features and had taken his eye, Yaddle loved it, his face, his scar. She wished that he would put aside his obedience to protocol and open up to her. In heart and in mind. She sighed. "The Council has been less than open with me since my return."

"You and Master Jinn have been less than open with the Council."

"What Master Jinn has done is beyond the Council's jurisdiction now. It no longer matters if we excuse him or not. I only wish to intercede on behalf of the Taleach."

"The Council cannot accept such pleas. Since the Sisterhood came here, since you left with them, the Council has agreed. It is too dangerous to have dealings with them."

Yaddle felt impatience pricking at her. She stood up, if Even would not do her the courtesy of sitting with her as a friend and lover, she would stand to face him as a Jedi and a fellow member of the Council. "Some of the Council have hidden too much for too long, Master Piell. From the people of the Republic, from the Jedi and from the Council itself."

"What is this foolishness?" Even moved towards the door. "You should go now, Master Yaddle. You are confused. Perhaps you should meditate on these misguided accusations."

Yaddle moved quickly to place herself between Even and the door. "I know, Even, I know where the Taleach came from. I know that they were Correllians given as slaves to the fallen Jedi at the time of the Great Schism. I know my own people were taken as slaves too."

Even looked disconcerted by her words, but held his ground. "How could you know such things? These are falsehoods which you speak."

"I do not know who authorised it, or if it was authorised at all, but I know that the Jedi colluded with it. Perhaps to rid themselves of their evil brethren."

"You must not say such things again." Even grabbed her wrist and held it fast. "You must not speak of this to anyone. Not even to me."

"It is too late, Even. I have already discussed this with Master Koon. He intends to speak with Master Gallia."

"What have you done?" Even looked close to panic. He still held Yaddle's wrist and the tightness of his grasp verged on pain.

Yaddle looked deep into his face. "Was Master Yoda hiding this? And Master Windu? Were you hiding it, Even?"

He only nodded.

"Why? For the sake of the Light Side, why?"

"The Republic commanded it. Back then. It solved a crisis. It was a long time ago. Nobody knows any more. Only a few on the Council."

"Then why not reveal it a long time ago? You could have spoken when the message came from Cair-deil Talamh. When Master Jinn returned with Lady Ibhormheith."

"It seemed so long ago. We believed those worlds, the Dark Lords, the Sith had been destroyed, their secrets with them. But if there was a chance the Dark Lords had survived, a possibility their secrets remained there, hidden... Once we knew, once Master Jinn returned, we dared not speak in case it was a trap by agents of the Dark Side. How could we know for certain that the survivors were not of the Dark Side? Ibhormheith was strange enough to cause us doubts. To speak out then would have opened up the worlds. The peoples of the Republic would have been sympathetic to their plight."

Yaddle let her head drop to hide the sorrow that she could feel building up beneath her eyelids. "Such secrets poison us all, Even. They poison us all. And because of your inaction the artefacts of the Dark Side have been found by evil men. The Taleach have been slaughtered. That is our responsibility now."

Even loosed his grip on her hand but did not let it go. "Not yours Yaddle. Mine. You do not need to bear it with me."

"I do, Even. I want to." She looked again into his face. "I love you."

He let her arm go, then, and turned away. "Love? What is love, Yaddle? Passion. An excess emotion which we do not need. Especially, now that you intend to split the Council."

"I intend no such thing. I intend only that we aid the Taleach. I intend only that we beware that what has happened to them does not happen to us. I intend only that we listen to the Baobhan-sith and forge an alliance with them."

"You believe the prophesies that Ibhormheith made. That there will be a purge, a genocide, a war."

"Are her prophesies so different from our own. She spoke of a child. She spoke of a reunion between polarities."

"She meant sexually." His back was still towards her.

"You are not open to what she meant, Master Piell."

He span around to face her. "And you are," he accused. "You are no longer a pure Jedi. Your heart is filled with emotion. Your head is filled with thoughts of passion."

"There is nothing wrong in that, Even." Yaddle still hoped that he would submit, that she could melt his heart.

"I think you had better leave now," he said.

And she left.

***

"Master Koon, please stop pacing. It is late and I cannot think with you striding around like that."

Plo sat, meekly. Adi could do that, even to the most senior of Jedi. She possessed the authoritative touch that would allow her to command an army, though she was content to use her gift for diplomacy and to oversee the training of the initiates of the Jedi Order.

She began to put her thoughts in order. If it was true, if Plo's report of Yaddle's words was accurate, it could prove a devastating blow to them all. She needed to come at it rationally. She had not been on the Council when Qui-Gon had been sent to the Sith worlds and returned with Iva. The Baobhan-sith's presence had effectively ended Adi's relationship, such as it had been, with Qui-Gon, though they had, on the few occasions they had worked together or had official duties together since, remained friends. They had been close enough once or twice for her to know that he had changed in a way that was not just a repercussion of the ending of their brief affair. The Council now was wary of Qui-Gon, and she knew full well why, perhaps even more than they. But did that explain why they all, even she since she had joined the Council, had set their faces against the Baobhan-sith so adamantly? Yoda had led them in that, she thought, and had been supported most strongly by Mace and Even. Though Mace had in the past advocated a softening of their attitude towards Qui-Gon and Iva, he had remained a staunch advocate of the isolation of the Sith worlds. Even had always lobbied in the strongest terms for the continuation of the quarantine with the Senate representatives.

And then, when Valorum had received the Baobhan-sith as emissaries to the Republic, the Council had been in a state of uproar for more than an hour. It had shocked Adi, and though Qui-Gon's actions had brought things to an impasse, they had rocked with the implications of Yaddle's defection for days. Plo Koon had argued that it had been unavoidable, that the Jedi should have foreseen it and acted accordingly instead of refusing all contact with the Baobhan-sith. Ki-Adi-Mundi had wanted to know why the Council showed such fear towards these woman and was bewildered when no one could provide him with adequate reason. Mace almost seemed to be at a loss without Yaddle and her holocrons to back him up and Evan Piell was angry at her for going and at Qui-Gon for taking her. Yoda had held things together, but looking back on it in the light of what Plo had told her, Adi could see that he had been directing them all towards only one solution. To maintain the veil of secrecy around the Sith worlds. He had even had her obtain a pledge from Valorum that these matters would not be discussed within the Senate.

And finally, they had all seemed more than happy to see Qui-Gon sent off across the galaxy on some half-baked trade dispute as though they all wanted him out of the way as soon as possible. Something about that didn't ring true, though she wasn't sure exactly whether it was the Council's unquestioning acceptance that the job be given to him, or the fact that he of all people had been requested in the first place. And she was troubled most of all because Qui-Gon had intimated that his own life was in danger and had asked her to protect Iva.

She knew then, though she couldn't say why, that what Yaddle had found and what Yaddle suspected had to be true.

"Go now, Master Koon," she said. "We should both sleep on it. And speak to Yaddle in the morning."

***

Yaddle was just about ready for bed when her door chimed. It's Plo, she thought, resigned to the fact that he had come back to her with yet more questions.

But the door opened on Even and he stormed into her quarters without a word.

She closed the door and turned. "No more arguing, Even. I'm too tired."

"I changed my mind. I'm not here to argue," he said, walking straight up to her, taking her in his arms and kissing her passionately.

***

Dawn had just broken over the spires of Coruscant's political quarter and the clouds they scraped were tinged with a golden-pink light. Maul's anonymous black aircar dropped out of the west-bound traffic stream as he spotted his target leave the Supreme Chancellor's residence with two Imperial guards and the Sith witch aboard.

He cruised slowly, edging into the lane above them, matching their speed. He armed his vehicle's blaster cannon and centered them in his sights. He savoured the expectation as he let his finger hover over the trigger, waiting for the ideal moment to fire.

- 22 -
I Want This Bliss But Something Says I Must Resist.

A flash flood of electric intense ultra-violet white-out light erased vision. The screech of metal rent the air with its falsetto wail, wiping out all sound.

At the driver's warning cry, as the sleek black vehicle bore down on them from above, the guard seated alongside Iva had pushed her head down onto her knees. But it offered scant protection from the blast. Her senses were assaulted and she felt the impact of the detonation as a jagged vibration running through the aircar.

Sound returned first. The driver shouted that the car had lost all power and he was taking it down.

Iva hauled herself back to a sitting position though the car rolled violently.

Colour seeped slowly back like inkspots dropped on tissue paper.

Ahead of them, no, below them, a second aircar was crossing to a higher lane. The proximity alarm blared. The driver tried to wrench back control of the vehicle, it swerved as it fell but gave the other car a glancing blow and it too was sent spinning out of control.

Iva felt that she would scream, but her voice and mind were frozen. The assault vehicle followed them down and the shiver of primal fear in her spine warned her of a presence she had sensed approaching through the years and did not wish to ever face.

The driver directed the car towards the edge of a high level city square, a market place, the traders already setting up for the day's business. They hit with an impact which threw Iva forward, the restraining belt cutting into her hips. She was hardly aware that her head whiplashed back to meet the headrest with a crack. She was only aware that the black aircar landed nearby as they slewed to a halt. They had, maybe through luck, maybe through skill, missed the occupied part of the square. The car that they had hit on the descent crashed nose first, the front crumpling against the adjacent building. Its emergency beacon flared but no one emerged from the wreckage. Iva feared the worst for its occupants, though she knew she should be more concerned for herself.

The guard undid the belt that still restrained her and pulled her towards his side door. "Get out." His words were harsh and his hands on her body harsher. He meant no harm but she considered that he should be worrying about himself, she doubted it was her own safety that was at risk. Yet. But she complied when he urged her to take shelter as the occupant of the attack vehicle emerged from its interior, a blaster rifle in his hands.

He had the appearance of a demon, not tall, nor particularly imposing in his build, but with the face of a monster stained black and red, his visage spoiled further by a circlet of horns and piercing evil eyes. Remembrance nudged at her conscious mind. Here was a vision of death. But the conviction of recognition was no phantom, she had seen this being before though she could not place such a man, if man it was, in the lexicon of faces she had encountered. And it was not a face that could ever be forgotten.

This man with the fiend's face strode towards them.

The driver took a shot first, a blast taking apart the left rear engine of their assailant's car. He paused in his approach, looked back briefly, and then turned towards them, snarling like a predatory beast.

He marched forwards, and Iva knew he came towards her. She stood up and moved around the car, looking at him resolutely, not daring to tear her eyes away. It was as though a magnet pulled her towards the baleful glare of his yellow-haloed eyes, visible even at this distance in the black-red intersections of his face. She heard the guard behind her draw in breath to call her back even as he raised his blaster rifle.

"Ani!" It was not the shout of the guard that came to her but a whisper from the echoes of a vision, from the future. Qui-Gon's voice coming to her across space, across time. She turned her head. Had Qui-Gon left this world already? How else could his spirit warn her like this? No, it was Mananan, she told herself. Preserving her for their reunion.

The guard fired past her. The blast missed its target as the assailant dodged to the side. Iva realised with curiosity rather than alarm that his reflexes were sharp, sharper even, perhaps, than a Jedi's.

"Drop." Again - a murmur in her ear. She spun round expecting to see her husband there. But the sound was a phantom. The air was empty of his presence.

And as she turned, a blast singed the air beside her. The guard fell with scarcely a moan. Stunned.

Iva twisted back to face the assassin. She felt the tingling in her hands as she fed her life force into the bracelets at her wrists and the frigid metal of her amulets grew and crept across her cold flesh.

A woman climbed, groggy, bloodied, from the other car. Her scream split the air as she cowered from the sight of terror before her.

A moment later another shrill sound burst into life. A siren joining the cacophony as a rescue vehicle sped towards them.

The assassin turned and ran. The market was ahead, the square beginning to fill with people now. He would soon be lost in the crowd. A compulsion to confront him seized Iva. She set off in pursuit. A hand grasped her arm, pulling her back. The second guard, the driver. She pulled herself away from him and ran.

The assassin ducked, his head disappearing in the throng. But she was small and agile, too, and could dart between the people as easily as he. She snaked through the crowd, using her slightness to make headway against the flow of bodies.

He turned into an alley and she followed, oblivious to danger, blind to the threat. Wanting only to know who he was, this man with a monster's face and an assassin's intent.

***

The last few hours had been a whirl of action. Obi-Wan was still in a vibrant state of mind, though Qui-Gon was the only one aware of it. His apprentice was well skilled in controlling his excitement and stilling the physical responses to the adrenaline flow that combat always brought. They had managed to evacuate the Nubian Queen safely, though the escapade had not been without cost. The loss of the royal yacht's hyperdrive engines left them pretty well stranded, and the inadvisability of using the communication channels at this time meant their isolation was complete. But it would be quiet now for a while, so Qui-Gon drew Obi-Wan aside and together they found a secluded corner on the Nubian yacht where they might be undisturbed.

"We have a few hours until we reach Tatooine, my Padawan. We should talk."

"About what, Master?"

"We should begin to prepare you for the trials."

Obi-Wan seemed surprised that it should be this topic which was broached. "No, Master. I am not worthy," he blurted. "I still have much to learn."

Qui-Gon reached out and gripped Obi-Wan on the shoulder, reassuringly. "Nevertheless, Padawan, I sense you are chafing to be free of this apprenticeship."

"No, Master. I am not disloyal."

Qui-Gon laughed. "That is not what I meant, Obi-Wan. And you know it. You wish to be a Knight, that is all. You must ready yourself. And I will not be able to teach you all that much longer."

Obi-Wan looked appalled. "But Master, where would you go? Don't abandon me. I can't do it without you."

"I hope you won't have to, Padawan. But we can never be sure of the future." Qui-Gon paused a moment, wondering, suspecting, that that was a lie, for him, now. But he would not say that to Obi-Wan. "In any case, I'll always be with you. Here." he touched a finger to Obi-Wan's chest. "And here." He placed it on Obi-Wan's forehead. "Remember that."

Obi-Wan still looked bleak.

"But there's plenty of time yet, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon wasn't sure there would be, but continued confidently. "Let me tell you about my own trial."

***

He prowled, the assassin, back and forth at the blind end of the alley. Iva stood and watched him watch her in return. She thought he might have been as curious as she. She could not yet recall his face though a memory of him still lingered that did not come from the future she had seen in visions.

She stepped forwards, raising her hand palm out, the crystal at the heart of the amulet glowing cold and green. It might not ward him off, though it might give him pause for thought.

He snarled at her. A warning, perhaps, not to venture closer. "Do you know who I am?" His voice was unpolished, but not uncouth.

She thought awhile before replying. "No, but I know what you are." She took another step.

"What am I?"

She knew he only taunted her, a serpent playing with its prey, waiting for the moment to strike. "You are an instrument. As am I."

A step.

"Hah!" He tossed his head as a lion might, the sound vibrating in his throat. He denied her words. He denied subservience to a greater cause.

"Disavow it all you like," she said. "You will play your part in the coming drama, just as I will."

And another. Closer now. She was very close to him now.

He ceased his pacing and turned to face her. "My destiny is to slay the Jedi."

She lowered her hand. She deemed a warding was no longer necessary. "You will be slain by a Jedi before you can bring that to pass."

She took a final step. She was close enough now to touch him, but she could not yet make the final move.

"Jinn will not best me." His nostrils flared as he spat the words.

"No, not Qui-Gon." She swallowed her fear, fought back a tear. "Another."

"I will kill your husband."

She said nothing. Only smiled a little. She could taunt this man too.

"You already know that, don't you?" His words were sneering, but she heard the doubt and apprehension quite clearly.

"If you strike him down, you will only make him stronger." It was a Jedi saying, but she believed it heart and soul.

What little trepidation she still felt towards this man, this enemy, formed into a compulsion that was only part curiosity, he intrigued and repelled her both.

"I will break Jinn and when I'm through breaking him I'll give what's left of him to my Master." He was boasting now, a flaw which could be exploited. "And you, you will make an excellent whore."

She saw that his eyes were wide with desire. She saw a face beyond the mask he wore. She wondered how her own mask appeared to him. And if he saw the face beyond. Could this man love it, she wondered, as Qui-Gon did?

Threats did not sway her. He tried temptation. "Come with me and I'll spare his life." There was lust in his voice.

It almost enticed her. The manacle grip of his mesmeric gaze, threatening to drain her of self and certainty.

She searched the terrible mask before her for a glimpse of the man. There he was indeed, looking at her, smirking at her. She had seen him before. Yes, she recognised in him the vision of the creature that would strike Qui-Gon down. But there was something else too, an entity that shimmered beneath the surface of her recall. He was the small boyish figure she had thought she had seen, that she had sensed in Palpatine's art room when she had first arrived here. The shock of recognition threw her. If only she had known then, she might have done something. But there were to be no might have beens, it was already too late. Too late again. The boy was gone. Here was the man, trained for his role in the destiny. She rallied herself to wait it out.

***

"Master?" Obi-Wan's hesitancy was clear in his voice.

"You have another question, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master."

But Obi-Wan still hesitated.

Qui-Gon nudged him on. "Then ask it."

Obi-Wan looked down, he could not face his Master at that moment. He opened his mouth, but still the words would not come easily. He forced them out, he had to know, it had become a compulsion in him. "What happened to you on the Sith worlds?" He looked up only when the question was out, hanging in the air between them.

Qui-Gon seemed composed enough. Obi-Wan knew that he must have anticipated such a question.

"I cannot explain it to you, Obi-Wan, without explaining the mysteries of the Baobhan-sith. And those secrets are not for you to know, your future is with the Force. You must concentrate your mind, all your resources, on that."

But Obi-Wan would not be deflected so easily. He and Qui-Gon, and the Naboo, still faced great difficulties ahead, even if they could find the parts they needed on Tatooine. If he had to stand beside his Master to defend the Queen, then he must know the cause of Qui-Gon's strangeness. "Did she kill you, Master, and bring you back to life?"

Qui-Gon frowned at him and he expected a stern rebuke. But his Master's face softened a little and he spoke gently. "Of course not, Obi-Wan. Such things are impossible. Even for the Force."

"I thought perhaps..." Obi-Wan did not know how to ask what he yearned to ask.

Qui-Gon prompted him again. "Perhaps?"

"Perhaps you were immortal now. Because the bullet didn't maim you."

"We may often come across things that we find strange. But they are no more magic than the Force might appear to others. You must nurture your inquiring mind, Obi-Wan, but you must not let it wander into fancies." Qui-Gon stood. "Come, we're nearing Tatooine."

Obi-Wan turned and saw the small yellow-brown planet, devoid of seas or water courses. They didn't satisfy him, Qui-Gon's answers. All it amounted to was a rejection, a reminder that what went on between his Master and Iva was not his concern. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know so that he could avoid such mistakes himself. He promised himself he would return to the subject later. For the time being, he capitulated to his Master and preceded him to the flight deck of the yacht.

***

Maul had not expected it to be like this. Had not expected her to be like this. He thought her a frail thin female creature. But there was a power in her which soured his mouth and turned his stomach. And which set his heart aflame.

"What are you waiting for," she said. "Haven't you come to take me to your Master?"

"No," he replied. And laughed. "First, you are going to..." He stopped. Suddenly aware.

She didn't know, he realised. Of course she didn't know. The Jedi didn't know. They were all blind. Sidious had hid himself so well. It shocked Maul more than he had been prepared for. She thought, like they would all think - if any of them thought at all, that Palpatine was his Master.

A rush of images sped through his mind. Sidious using Palpatine as a puppet. Sidious controlling the reins of government that only yoked Palpatine. Sidious holding the true power. Maul despaired of what he was doing here, risking the wrath of Sidious to indulge Palpatine's fantasies. He should not be dallying here with this woman when he should be searching for the escaped ship which carried the Queen of Naboo and the Jedi. He dreaded to think of the punishment which might be meted out if he failed in that task.

She was looking at him strangely, the witch. As if she could see his thoughts. She reached up and touched her fingertips to his temple. He felt the chains of her amulet brush against his cheek. He felt the icy presence of her power, so like the Dark Side powers he himself had mastered, but yet unlike the Dark Side. He let her touch him. He was afraid to brush her hand away. He was afraid to move. He was afraid.

He looked back into her eyes.

He looked into her eyes and saw his own past there, his own fantasies. He saw the tears and the long hours of training and the disciplines and tortures and he felt the aching torments of his flesh and bones. He saw a future that could have been, a childhood that had not been stolen, a man that might have grown, a long-buried wish, a futile hope.

Her voice broke through his anguish. Tender. Compassionate. "What did they do to you?"

He wept for what he could have been had his Master not snatched him from his cradle.

"Help me." He asked because he knew he couldn't hurt her now, nor she him.

"I can't help you." She denied him. "We are enemies."

"You said we were the same."

"We are both instruments. But we walk on different paths. You are on the wrong path now. But you can help yourself."

"How? I have given myself to the Dark Side."

"There are other paths. Paths which are neither dark nor light. Paths in shadow and in twilight. If you give yourself to one side, if you reject half, the whole is diminished."

"The Jedi would disagree."

"The Jedi are wrong. Just as you are."

He shrugged her hand away. The moment was broken. He reclaimed his inheritance. His bequest from the Dark Lords of the Sith. "Get away from me."

She stepped backwards, putting herself apart from him again. "You do not understand what we are," she said.

She held up her hand and a ball of light appeared there. He saw himself falling. He felt himself falling.

She closed her hand into a fist and he felt the life had been burnt out of him. She turned and walked away.

They alley had become a chasm and he watched her diminishing figure slowly depart. Before she vanished from his sight, he saw her look back over her shoulder and speak some words of import, he saw that her eyes were hooded and her face had taken on a blue-white tinge. He had lost sight of her before he heard the words that she had spoken.

"You don't have much time."

- 23 -
From The Past Until Completion.

An air of barely disguised chaos pervaded the crash site when Iva returned to it. Her encounter with the being from her visions, glimpsed in her past and haunting her future, a man whose name she did not know and had no desire to know, had set confusion loose in her mind. She felt unhinged. She felt unclean. She felt that she had betrayed Qui-Gon. If only she had called upon the Cailleach. If only she had acted to end it here. If only her adherence to the destiny had not let the assassin walk away...

If only...

She missed Qui-Gon more than she could say. She yearned for the touch of his hands on her body, for the longing etched in the blue of his eyes as he gazed at her, for the soft tones of his voice as he whispered to her of love.

If only...

The moment and the spell were broken.

The guard who had sat with her in the aircar looked up at her approach. Though still dazed, he seemed relieved that she was not unharmed. The driver made to speak, but she was not inclined to conversation. They might have been appointed her bodyguards but she knew well enough that if it came to it, their allegiances were to Valorum, to the Republic. She knew she was expendable.

"I couldn't find him." It was a lie, an admission of guilt, of complicity. She shrugged and walked on by.

A med-unit gave assistance to the injured occupants of the other aircar. The transport patrol officers exchanged notes. She could not avoid speaking to them. If they wondered about her involvement here, they did not give their concerns away. She did not know what to say, how much to reveal. But they were already confused as to what had happened, the witness statements all at cross purposes. It was agreed upon that the assailant had worn a mask and Iva did not contradict them. It was assumed that he, together with person or persons unknown, had conspired to make an attempt on the Supreme Chancellor's life. A failed attempt in the mistaken belief that Valorum was aboard his private aircar. They did not ask her why she should be there, why she might be using the vehicle, what her business was. To them, she was an insignificance.

That couldn't hurt her now.

All the anguish, all the grief, that a soul could bear was already pressing in around her.

***

Yaddle sorted through a box of trinkets. Items of jewellery, raw uncut chunks of precious minerals, pebbles made beautiful by the elements, strings of beads and delicate rings. Not the things a Jedi would possess, but things that Yaddle loved to touch and look upon. They made her feel peaceful, they reminded her of a womanliness that she could never have, they gave her that indulgence just for a few moments as she sorted them and let them slip through her fingers. If one day, if ever, she could remake her acquaintance with the Baobhan-sith, could join them in their future, these irrelevant baubles would become a sign of her femininity. They would adorn her.

Even interrupted her thoughts. "I have to go now." He was brusque, he kissed her, perfunctorily, on the cheek. "I won't say anything to Master Yoda. But don't do anything rash. Not yet. Please."

She wondered if what she planned was wrong. She wondered if her thoughts were remiss. "I won't," she promised. "I'll speak to Master Koon and Master Gallia. They will understand."

She wondered if it was a foolish wish: to plan her return to the Sith worlds in the expectation that she could persuade Even to go with her.

***

Iva's breathing was laboured as she walked into the lobby of the Jedi Temple. She was not out of breath, she only feared the place. She had not set foot here since she had stood before the Council shortly after her arrival on Coruscant. On that day she had seen a vision of a dark shadow, a child, a terrible thing, an event which dread told her was about to pollute all their lives. The skirt of her Baobhan-sith gown brushed the floor and the halls seemed to whisper in reply, warning the Jedi of her contaminating presence. She shivered, only slightly, but the chill did not dissuade her from her purpose. She stepped forward to the knight on watch.

"I am here to see Jedi Master Adi Gallia."

***

There were decisions to be made. And Qui-Gon made them. He organised the Naboo officers and tasked Obi-Wan with overseeing the repairs and maintaining communications silence. A thing the Naboo themselves, for all the right reasons, could not be trusted to do - their concern for their own people would surely override their concern for safety. As for his part in the operation, Qui-Gon took responsibility for obtaining the items necessary to get them away from this place. The Gungan youth he kept close for fear his clumsiness would jeopardise them all. In some strange way Jar Jar reminded him of Obi-Wan in his adolescence, Oafy-Wan they had called his Padawan for being ungainly in the training halls. The Gungan too would grow into his body as he matured, Qui-Gon thought as they readied themselves to set off for the nearby settlement.

But though the preparations kept him busy, Qui-Gon's mind wandered. He drifted away in his innermost thoughts to be with Iva. He feared for her, he feared for their love. It was a knife-edge they walked, a precarious destiny. She spoke of their future, he felt his end was close. She had given him immortality, but to what kind of life? She had not closed the doorway to death. The paradox was clear. He had tried to see her as though she were any ordinary lover, but he knew now that had been futile. And he knew the love he felt for her could not, would not, be shed. The fires of passion she had lit in his heart would burn on even in the flames of hell.

He took pleasure in his memories. The scent of her hair and the taste of her skin. The captivating curl of her smile and the light of magic in her eyes. The stolen moments of love, each a small theft from his covenant to the Order.

"Wait!" A voice from the land of the living called him back. "Wait. Her Highness commands you to take her handmaiden with you."

***

Adi approached Iva with much trepidation and a little guilt. Her espionage for Mace weighed heavily on her heart, but her knowledge of things which the Jedi had done to Iva's people was heavier. Only her promise to Qui-Gon drew her here, to this confrontation, now.

"Lady Ibhormheith, there is nothing I can do for you. The Jedi have had no communications with Naboo. We know nothing more about the situation there than the Supreme Chancellor."

"I didn't come about that..."

Adi watched as Iva bit her lower lip. Wondered at the meaning or significance of the tattoos that marked her cheeks. She could not fathom Qui-Gon's attraction to this slight creature.

"...not directly. Though I believe it's linked with Palpatine's invasion of the Taleach worlds."

"How?" Adi felt her scepticism rise. "From a vision?"

"No. From glimpses of the future. From supposition. And from the signs of evil nesting in a man's heart." Iva looked back at her reproachfully.

"How is this linked?" Adi knew she must repress her doubts, nurse the small sympathy she felt for this woman into a semblance of concern.

Iva looked at the ground as she spoke. "Palpatine seeks power. He seeks to destroy what he cannot conquer. He sends assassins to kill those who will not side with him. Even Chancellor Valorum is in danger. But ultimately he seeks to wipe out the Jedi Order if it will not follow him."

Adi crossed her arms. "Are you so sure? The Republic is very old. Sometimes men who seek political power are ruthless in their pursuit of it. They may appear malign but weakness is not a strength in any leader. At times it may be expedient to support an autocrat to maintain the peace and prosperity of the galaxy."

Iva looked up sharply at that. "And the Jedi would follow such a leader?"

"The Baobhan-sith wouldn't?"

"No, we have died for less." She looked down again. "We are dying for less."

Although Adi bristled as Iva's slight against the Order, she sensed the pain behind her words. "We are not so different, you and I."

"We are not at all alike."

"We both have Qui-Gon Jinn's interests at heart. We should not be at odds."

"Unless you align yourself with the Baobhan-sith we will always be at odds. The only way out is to join our opposite polarities, but the Jedi have forbidden that. You have forbidden that."

Adi recognised a moment was opening up before her, an opening which if she did not take now would close forever. "Iva, there is something you should know." It took a moment for the reality to sink in. Even as she questioned the ethics of what she did, she knew that Qui-Gon was right. It was the Force which pushed them towards an alliance with this woman, with these people. "Your ancestors came from the Republic, a world in the Correlian system. Their slavery, it was sanctioned by the Jedi. This is why the Council holds back from acting in your interests."

The look on Iva's face changed so slightly, so quickly, that Adi blinked in an attempt to clear her vision. A power, a presence, looked back at her from those previously placid eyes.

Iva's voice was quiet, but its strength was clear. "And you tell me this because you now wish me to act? Because you wish me to take on the responsibility that you should bear? No, you made us, soon you must face the consequences of your inaction."

Adi looked around uncomfortably. She feared that this encounter had become the attention of others, here in this public place. But she and Iva barely merited a single fleeting glance from the passing Jedi and the knights on duty. It was as though a silent shell surrounded them, insulating them, isolating them. For a moment, Adi assumed that Iva would turn and walk away, but the smaller woman stood her ground.

Adi cleared her throat and broke the impasse. "Qui-Gon has asked me to help you." Her words were swallowed by the silence.

Iva moved then, but only to take Adi's hand. The Jedi felt the spark of something preternatural pass from the Baobhan-sith into her, into the flesh of her arm, into her veins and into her mind. She didn't recoil from it, it enticed her. She didn't recoil from the impression that they were standing at the apex of a river delta, the threads of water flowing away from them in a myriad of channels.

Iva's voice came to her, close, intimate. "Do you see it?"

Adi could only nod.

"Do you see time as I see it?"

"Yes," she murmured.

"How shall we shape the future? Which channel will we take?"

Adi said nothing, she had always thought she knew exactly where her future lay. It had never included a promise to Qui-Gon. It had never included this woman. Now she did not know.

"Which channel will the Jedi take?" Iva pushed her further into acceptance with each of her words. "They have already denied two of the three chances they will be offered. I came and they turned away. The Sisterhood came and they turned away. A third will come soon. I think they will turn away again, don't you? Help yourself by facing the truth. Help yourself by accepting a new future."

Iva released her hand and the vision fell away.

"Qui-Gon has asked me to help you." Adi heard herself speak the words, and they were clear now. Had she just imagined what she had just seen in a momentary lapse of concentration? No, it had been given to her, that exchange. Her skin still tingled where Iva had touched her. She looked at the Baobhan-sith, searching for further clues as to what had just happened and why she now felt so drawn to something alien to her.

But Iva now was just a woman, a woman with a shy smile and brown eyes in a comely face not entirely spoilt by the strange markings of her craft.

"And I will expect that help, Adi Gallia, when the time comes. Tragedy stalks us all."

Adi felt that she had been dismissed and turned to go.

"Thank you," Iva said after her.

She turned back. "For what?"

"For your honesty. For admitting the Jedi's part in this."

"I hope I don't regret it."

Iva only shrugged. Adi continued on her way and looked back only once at the Baobhan-sith, standing alone, swallowed up in the cavernous entrance hall. It disturbed her not at all that she now felt a link to her rival.

***

Yaddle and Plo Koon were already deep in whispered conversation when Adi finally joined them in the library. Their hushed tones and bowed heads, almost touching over the books spread before them on the table, gave an aura of suspicion to their meeting. Adi looked around guardedly before sitting down. Her rendezvous with Iva unsettled her more now it was over than it had during the encounter itself. She wondered what sort of pact exactly that she had entered into without realising that was what she did. But she gave her fellow Jedi a wry smile.

"Am I late?"

"No." Plo's voice thrummed through his breathing apparatus. "I was early. Forgive my eagerness. Yaddle has informed me Master Piell confirms her findings, but does not wish us to act at this time." Eyelessly, he looked slowly from one to the other, before setting his shielded face towards Yaddle. "When will he consent to our acting, I wonder? Ever?"

Yaddle shifted uncomfortably and Adi could have sword she blushed with embarrassment. "Do not blame him for his caution, Master Koon. None of us want to jeopardise the position of the Council. Or the Order. Do we?" She stared back at Plo.

Adi leant forward, interjected. "It's in no one's interests to act irrationally and impetuously." This revelation, this urging to passivity, in the light of Iva's words about the Council's refusal to act, disturbed her equilibrium further. But she let it go. The warning about Palpatine, the politics of the Republic, nagged at her. "We have more pressing concerns with immediate matters. Matters which do not need to be hidden." She looked around again. "At least, not within these walls."

"Yes. We look like conspirators," Yaddle said lightly, sitting back. "Relax."

Plo, too, relaxed a little. "You are concerned with the political situation, Master Gallia?"

"I'm not sure what to be concerned with. Iva is convinced that Palpatine seeks power - at whatever cost. She believes the Supreme Chancellor is at risk. As is the Order. Yet there are far more corrupt individuals in positions of political power within the Republic than Palpatine. I have never heard anyone speak of the Dark Side being at work in him."

"Yet if he went to Korriban..." Yaddle sounded worried but Plo interrupted both their train of argument.

"Wait a minute. Master Gallia, you have spoken to Iva about this?"

"Yes..." Adi was unsure why Plo would sound so upset.

"About Palpatine? And about this?" He indicated Yaddle's researches on the table in front of them.

"Yes."

"Was that wise?"

"She has a right to know." Suddenly, Adi felt defensive, about her own position and about Iva.

Yaddle spoke up. "Why should that be a concern, Master Koon? I consider you to be Master Jinn's strongest supporter."

"This is nothing to do with my support for Qui-Gon." He lowered his voice. "She is still an outsider. To the Council, to the Jedi, if not to Qui-Gon, or to us." His head flicked quickly and briefly towards Yaddle as he said this.

Adi glanced at him, but her focus was elsewhere. "You think there is a problem, Master Koon?"

"The timing is difficult."

"Difficult? That's a strange word to use, Plo, difficult. Difficult for whom? Not for us. Nor for Qui-Gon, if Palpatine seeks to act against him."

"For all of us."

"He means for the Council," Yaddle said, a bitter note almost creeping into her voice. "He sides with Even."

Adi knew at that moment they were stymied. How could they make a move when their paramount allegiance was to the very Council which forbade them to act? Adi sensed there must be much more to all this, but she could not utter her concerns. She would have to meditate on all of this and wait for the next act to play out. She knew she had not heard the last from Qui-Gon's wife.

***

"Don't tempt me!" Sidious' voice was inflected with loathing. Maul knew it had been unwise to confess his part in his intrigue with Palpatine, but it would have been equally unwise not to. So he stood his ground. The witch had taunted him. She had seemed so kind, but she had taunted him. What could she offer him but words? Well-meant, ill-timed, unhelpful words. He owed her and her kind nothing. He owed the Jedi even less. Sidious had been right all along. Palpatine's delusion was foolish, his desire a fatal flaw. Maul felt himself to have been sucked in, but now he had freed himself. He had freed himself to the wrath of his Master, but he had freed himself too to the power that came after it.

Sidious laughed. "Let this be a lesson to you, Maul. Palpatine will be expendable soon. I've no doubt of it." But the Sith Lord seemed to sense Maul's deeper fear. "Be strong, Maul. Our time is at hand. Your time. Soon we will make our first move. Soon we will overthrow the Jedi."

Maul took this as his cue to reveal his other news. "I have a trace on the Queen's ship, Master. They have made landfall on Tatooine."

Sidious' face, deeply lined as it was, creased further with concern.

"It is a desolate planet, Master. It will not be hard to track them down."

"Nevertheless, Lord Maul, it is of great concern to me that they should be drawn there; with the Jedi, no doubt, guiding them. It may be a problem."

"The clone, Master?"

"Yes, Maul. The boy may attract the interest of Jinn. That would be unfortunate."

"You should have destroyed him, Master." The tone of deference in Maul's voice, made it almost a question.

Sidious read it as one. "Perhaps we should have dealt with it sooner, Maul, but the results of this experiment still interest me. We may have deemed it a failure, but whatever caused the mother's influence over the development of the embryo, whatever gave her the strength to subvert the modifications we made to the clone, the boy may still be of use to us. I remain curious as to his development, Maul. Perhaps we may yet have an instrument to further our cause in that boy. Perhaps we may yet wield him against the Jedi. If they do not get their hands on him first. Stop that happening if you can, Maul, contact the Hutts. But you must secure the Queen first. Her ship must be badly damaged. Take the Infiltrator, at top speed it should get you to Tatooine before they can effect repairs."

"Tatooine is sparsely populated. If the trace was correct I will find them quickly, Master."

- 24 -
Is It Written In The Stars Upon The Milky Way That We Must Burn Bright Before We Fade Away?

Before he retired for the night Qui-Gon looked into Anakin's bedroom. The boy was sleeping as only a child could, limbs uncomfortably sprawled, the bedclothes awry.

"No one can kill a Jedi." Those had been the boy's words at dinner the evening before. Anakin believed it. Qui-Gon didn't. Death stalked him now, he knew it, he felt it. It was, in any case, a fallacy. The Jedi were not the heroes of legends, merely the servants of peace. He was flesh and blood. What blood, now that the Baobhan-sith seed grew within him, he couldn't be entirely sure, but still he was only, merely, flesh and blood, mortal. As all Jedi were, even though they believed that death brought them union with the Force.

Qui-Gon knew then that he was distracted from his purpose and his mission by his thoughts of Iva's mysteries. Of death and immortality and goddesses and gods who could possess and rule. As a Jedi, he accepted his fate. And as a Jedi, he would accept death when it came. Now, in the task at hand, he was responsible for other lives, for other souls. It was not right that he dwelt on his own to the detriment of theirs. His task was to see the Queen safe to Coruscant and that was what he would do. His only goal. His only thought.

Tomorrow he would have to see to it that they were able to leave this place. It put a great weight on Anakin's shoulders, this plan they had conceived. And Qui-Gon could still sense his doubts in using the boy that way. Of course, Anakin was complicit in the plot. He was gifted, without a doubt; strong in the Force. He needed to be tested, and quickly. Still, he was a complication.

The boy's dreams of becoming a Jedi may indeed be prophetic, but the Jedi Code was against him. He was too old. But still, his circumstances were exceptional. Qui-Gon knew what he should do, what he wanted to do, what he desired to do. But that only complicated things further. Taking a child under his wing, at this time - how would that stand with the destiny he had committed himself to with Iva? With the child her prophecy foretold they would conceive, with the death she had foreseen for him. Could he offer hope to Anakin, knowing it might be snatched away at any moment? That had been his thought at dinner when Anakin had so confidently spoken of his misplaced belief in the invincibility of the Jedi. But then again, if Anakin was indeed destined to become a Jedi, loss was a cruel lesson the child would have to learn very quickly.

Yes, Anakin might have been wrong about the Jedi's mortality, but he had a rare talent. That was certain. His ability to read the immediate future, to anticipate events, was proof enough. A midi-chlorian count would confirm that the boy had the capacity to become a Jedi. Of course, that didn't mean that he could complete the training and graduate to the Order, even if the Council could be persuaded to make an exception to their rule.

Qui-Gon turned away and readied himself for sleep, knowing that he could not resist testing Anakin's midi-chlorian count, knowing that he could not resist taking the boy under his wing should the result mark him as having the potential to master the Force.

***

There was a message waiting for Grocelind when he arrived at the lab at the beginning of his day's work. He returned the call immediately. A command from Lord Sidious was not to be delayed.

"Ah, Grocelind, what progress? Have you seen our esteemed Senator again?"

Thoughts of Palpatine were beginning to be less unpleasant, his company less onerous. Grocelind had spent an almost pleasurable evening and night in the Senator's company. He was beginning to doubt his confession - and subsequent betrayal of Cos - to Sidious. But he was determined not to let that show. "Yes, sir. Twice."

"Good, good. It is not too hard on you, is it Grocelind?" Sidious sounded almost kind, but Grocelind knew that surely that could not be.

"No, sir," he replied.

"The salary increase is sufficient compensation, I hope?"

"Yes, sir. More than adequate." It was, it gave Grocelind a welcome respite from his financial worries that Palpatine's attentions could not spoil.

"Good." Of course, Sidious wanted something for his money, and Grocelind took the message and the command when it came. "Stay close to Palpatine if you can. Learn as much as possible about his movement and plans. Do this well and I shall see you are further compensated. Well compensated. Now, what of the treatment?"

"I have prepared a serum to boost the cell regeneration. I still estimate it will require a day or so in a bacta cylinder."

A shadow crossed Sidious' face but it did not taint his voice. Disappointment, perhaps, that he would have to wait. But Grocelind saw that he hid it well.

"I cannot be out of touch at the present moment," Sidious mused. "This will have to wait a while. There is not a problem with that, is there?"

"No, sir."

"Good. We'll speak again soon, Grocelind. I expect much from you."

As the call ended, Grocelind doubted he was the man to deliver what Sidious truly wanted.

***

Night still hung like a pall over Mos Espa when Qui-Gon awoke unexpectedly. It was a dream that had disturbed his rest. He still had the clearest sense, visually sharp and disturbingly real, that an arrow aimed at his heart was speeding towards him. As the dream dissolved, he knew it was a ship, arrow-shaped, the same that he had seen flee from the Sith Lord tombs and the moors of Ruadh. Was this a premonition? Did it now come speeding towards him on Tatooine? Or was it just a fancy, a symptom of his anxieties, born of his thoughts of death.

Qui-Gon stood up and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was a small house, cramped, and his frame was not suited to it. He felt clumsy here, awkward.

A day had passed. A long day which marked the cycle of Tatooine's life, the pace of existence on this planet shaped by the long days and short nights of a planet caught in the orbit of twin suns. It had been a day of awkward negotiation, of white lies and petty wagers and small thefts, which had come to Qui-Gon too easily for his own liking, necessary to the aim of his mission though they were. And it had been a day of preparation - and at least that had gone well.

But it had also been a day of mysteries and revelations.

The day had been punctured by Shmi's revelation that Anakin had no father and had ended with Obi-Wan's analysis that Anakin's midi-chlorian count was the highest yet seen. Qui-Gon had expected much, but that much? Did it make Anakin the Chosen One? Was it possible that he had been conceived by the midi-chlorians? Was this why they had landed here, on this desolate world? To be directed to the one who would fulfil the prophecy to bring balance to the Force. If that was so, why had it fallen to him? Why hadn't Iva seen this eventuality and warned him of it?

Perhaps she hadn't seen it. Perhaps she had seen it and hidden it. But she had, she had seen it. Qui-Gon felt cold suddenly, and shivered in the chill of the desert night. The words she had spoken in the Council Chamber long years before, the flames of destruction, a child, an oppressive darkness. If it was the conception of this child she had seen ten years ago, she foretold a dire future. But was that for Anakin, for his slavery, for his life of oppression and wasted gifts if he was abandoned here on Tatooine? Or was it for them all if he took Anakin away to become a Jedi? Iva would say that both paths were open to him. The future was not pre-ordained. It was his choice.

But what choice would he make?

Qui-Gon moved outside to the small landing that served as a balcony for the house.

He leaned against the wall and meditated on the word of the prophecy. Could he expect Anakin, a slave boy, not a Jedi, untrained, raw, to bring balance to the Force. Why not? Might not those traits be exactly those required for such a task. Might not the Jedi training of infants eradicate the very thing that would allow Anakin, of all people, to fulfil the prophecy.

If there was one amongst the Jedi who could recognise these things, it was himself. Out of favour and out of step as he was with the Council.

Meeting this boy, it had added a layer of complexity, unexpected and unasked for, to the puzzle of his life.

A movement disturbed him. It was Shmi, beside him, close, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. She brushed against him softly, almost imperceptibly, perhaps an accident. She remained close, an invitation.

"Couldn't you sleep?" she asked quietly.

He looked up at the deep blackness of the night sky, spattered by an arch of stars.

Had he given out the wrong signals? Or had she misread them? In being open and warm towards her, he only wished to demonstrate his compassion towards her plight. Why did he attract her, when he had nothing to offer her?

Her hair was neatly plaited and fell over one shoulder, she was dressed in a simple white shift and wore a light floral perfume. Iva's antithesis.

He continued looking up at the heavens. He said nothing. He didn't move. He could think only of Iva's unruly curls, the heady, woody aroma of incense that clung to her skin, her pierced and tattooed body.

Shmi's voice came from the darkness at his shoulder. "It must be a very lonely life, that of a Jedi."

Was that what this was then? That she felt sorry for him? Or did she ask for her son, did she hope that he could fulfil the boy's dreams.

"You must be lonely." She made it personal now.

An offer was there, but he could not accept it. He sensed that she wanted something, but for Anakin, not for herself. Was that, then, the kind of life she had had to lead? To offer herself to gain favours for her family. It was not an offer he could accept, even if his heart had been his to give. He felt a great sadness for her.

If she only knew what his life entailed. If she only knew what he planned.

Perhaps in another life, another time, another world, he could have stayed here with her, won her freedom for her, taken her and Anakin as his ready-made family.

Instead of taking her son, the only brightness and the only hope in her life, from her.

Two replies formed in his mind.

"No, it's not a lonely life." His spoken words.

"Only when I am apart from Iva." His unspoken thought.

"It's a full life, a busy one," he continued, filling the silence in the night and the absence in his heart, "and a Jedi knight usually takes an apprentice."

But she was perceptive, this Shmi. "You look lonely now," she said, "under the distant stars."

"Perhaps a little." He swallowed. "I have someone I must get back to."

"Your apprentice?" she asked.

"My wife."

She stepped away from him. Stammered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have presumed..."

He looked down at her at last and smiled. "Don't be."

"I've embarrassed you." She looked away shyly as she spoke.

"No," he said. He wanted to be kind. "You are a good woman, Shmi. You deserve a better life than this. If I could give it to you, I would. But I'm afraid even a Jedi cannot work miracles."

"If you could," she spoke hesitantly, "I would wish for you to make one for Anakin."

She was giving him permission, he knew, to take the boy away from her if he could. He still disliked the idea, it still disturbed him, though he wanted it, though she wanted it.

After a few moments she spoke again. "What is she like, your wife?"

How could he answer such a question? It was not a question he was ever asked and not a topic he would broach voluntarily. How could he describe Iva to anyone who did not know her?

"Strange," he said and laughed at the memory of her, her face looking at his, her arms around him, the weight of her head on his shoulder. "You would probably find her strange. But to me she is more valuable than power or wealth or freedom."

Shmi laughed too. "You are a romantic as well as a thoughtful man, Qui-Gon. She is lucky to have you. And I'm sorry I couldn't have known you better."

Qui-Gon stood a little while longer, Shmi beside him, but distant now. Both were silent. There was nothing left to say.

- 25 -
A Circle Of Varying Diameters.

The ship, cloaked until the last moment to hide its arrival, sank slowly down onto the rocky escarpment under the first weak rays of the dawning of Tatooine's secondary sun. Maul felt the moment gathering around him. The power. The supremacy. Of his ship, of his Sith training, of his place in the world. This was what he had been born and raised to. No matter what the witch said, no matter her kind words and gentle touch. He didn't want or need her sympathy. She had better save it for herself, he was ready and able and willing, hungry even, to kill her husband at the first opportunity.

Maul stepped down onto the baked, arid upland and looked out at the sprawl of the community below him. Mos Espa, he knew from the cartography record. Here he was to contact the Hutts. And here too, or near here, was the escaped vessel from Naboo and the Queen. He ran through the checks on the Dark Eye probes one more time. They were all in perfect working order. He was proud of his equipment, the finest in the Republic thanks to Palpatine's surreptitious siphoning of Senate funds and contracts to Sienar Designs and other malleable or bribable corporations. But he was taking no chances.

He sent the probe droids on their way. He had only to wait and monitor their signals now. Time enough to prepare himself for the expected battle.

***

Qui-Gon rose early, too, on the morning of the pod race. He had not slept deeply again after his nocturnal agitation; he had only fallen into a state of restful sleep in danger. But the new morning brought strong conviction. The choice he made was the only option, the route he walked the only path. He was sure that what he did was right and directed by the Force.

Padme had accused him. "Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know." But Padme's vision was limited. She saw things only through the Queen's eyes. She could not see and could not know what this boy meant.

"And in the time of greatest despair there shall come a savior."

The line from the prophesy echoed down the ages of Jedi history, too familiar, too heavily weighted. Who amongst the Order would recognise its fulfilment in a scruffy child from a backwater planet, untrained, a wild talent waiting to be unleashed? Yaddle perhaps. She, with her sensitive forbearance and open mind, might see the potential in the arrangement that Qui-Gon would propose.

Shmi knew, he was sure, in her own way. He sensed that she was sensitive to the Force, though she might not recognise it herself. He saw that she had channelled it all into her son.

***

The Twi'lek servant ushered Maul into the inner sanctum of the Hutt's. "Jabba lost badly on the pod races today, his mood is not favourable."

"Lord Sidious wishes me to examine the clone in the Hutt's keeping. Lord Sidious' mood will be equally unfavourable should you cross me in this."

Fortuna's back was towards Maul, but the Sith sensed the emanations of distaste which his invasion of this place had wrought. Maul looked over at the Twi'lek with dislike as he translated the message.

"Kum da chee Lord Sidious, tee wundee ka. Lord Maul ta kee. Ahlrubba daa clone tata wundoo madd kee."

Maul bided his time as Jabba sucked on some unappetising morsel. He refused to be disturbed by the deliberate snub. Finally, the Hutt spat some unacceptable gristle from his maw and replied.

Fortuna returned to where Maul waited. "The boy was lost in a wager. Gardulla was held responsible and has been punished. If Lord Sidious requires financial recompense, Jabba will see to it."

Maul rejected the unnecessary negotiation which would distract him from his task. "No. Where is the boy now?"

"In Watto's service. A junk dealer, you will find his shop in the merchant district."

***

"You are not being open, Padawan. Talk to me." Qui-Gon had seen to the delivery of the replacement parts to the ship and was intent on setting off back to Mos Espa with the hired eopies. When he returned he would have Anakin with him. But just now he saw the worry on Obi-Wan's face.

"It's dangerous here now, Master. The transmission..."

"I know, Obi-Wan, there were probe droids in the town. But I have other concerns here, now."

"Don't do it, Master."

Qui-Gon turned a shocked look at Obi-Wan. "What?" His mind flooded with outrage, how dare his apprentice question his word like this?

"Whatever it is you intend, Master. I'm afraid for you. Don't do it."

But Qui-Gon realised quickly his Padawan's sense of danger encroaching on them like a tidal wave. "You can't know what I intend, Obi-Wan," he said more reasonably. "Or why. These things are not your concern."

"Yes, Master, they are. I..."

But Qui-Gon cut him off... "Start getting this hyperdrive generator installed." ..and mounted the eopie.

***

"There is another thing."

Jabba raised his head only slightly as Maul spoke.

"Relay it," Fortuna instructed.

"Lord Sidious expects that soon he will take possession of a Sith witch, a seer, gifted with certain magical abilities. In recognition of your services to him, he is willing to deliver her into your hands." Maul paused, knowing he had the ear of the Hutt, greedy as he was. "For a price."

Fortuna began the translation, but Jabba interrupted. "Name it," he said.

In lieu of words, Maul handed Fortuna a data tablet. He took it to Jabba who growled. "It is too high."

"Lord Sidious has seen manuscripts from the Sith worlds which foretell her child will be a great warrior. My Master also has a certain gift of foresight. He believes this child will be yours too."

Jabba's corpulent fist trembled. "Very well. I will pay the asking price."

***

It was a beginning for some and an end for others.

Qui-Gon had felt the wave of relief surge from Shmi when Anakin had completed the race. It didn't matter to her that he had won and the thrill that they could now escape from Tatooine still felt bitter in his mouth. Yes, his feelings were mixed. Anakin had freed them. And now he had freed Anakin. But at what cost? Despite Anakin's excitement and elation, Qui-Gon had been the bearer of bad news.

He looked sidelong at Shmi as he left the Skywalker's slave quarters with her son. Feeling the sadness in her, feeling the sadness in Anakin.

But the boy now had a future. Shmi had none.

This severed their link forever.

***

It had become a chase now. He the predator, they the prey.

Maul had tracked the clone to the junk merchants but he had already gone. Taken by the Jedi.

He had tracked them to the slave houses, but they had already left.

He still gave chase.

The mother's details he entered in the data coder at his wrist. She was going nowhere. He, or someone else, could come back for her later.

***

Hate.

Hate shimmered across the Tatooine sands like heat. It was a warning that drove Qui-Gon on towards the ship. He set a pace, slow for him, but Anakin still could not match it. He felt the boy's anxiety and exhaustion at his back, but he could not stop. Danger hunted them.

***

Glee exploded inside Maul, filling his whole being. They were in his sights. The Jedi and the clone. He had them now, he thought. He had them both.

***

"Qui-Gon, sir. Wait. I'm tired."

Qui-Gon turned at Anakin's call. The vicious sight of death loomed behind the boy. Had he known? Had he sensed?

***

So this was what it was to have seen the future, to have carried an image in his mind for ten long years, and now to face it on the corporeal plane. So this is what it was to meet his nemesis. His epiphany. His fate.

The Force surged from Qui-Gon's attacker, but it was dark, corrupt, unseemly.

He couldn't fight this thing. He didn't want to fight this thing.

The evil struck out at him, his opponent's lightsword flaring red as he parried it with his own. A fallen Jedi, then. Or one trained in the Jedi arts. With Jedi weapons.

Qui-Gon had been trained to fight such a thing. He fought the thing.

He struck out with his sabre, throwing his foe off balance and then pressed his advantage, turning the assault back onto this being who dared to challenge him, who dared to try and take his life, who dared to attempt to murder Anakin.

But the being was strong and quickly recovered. He fought like Obi-Wan, but unlike Obi-Wan did not possess the advantage of self-control. This fighter was undisciplined. That might be the flaw that would later bring him down. Qui-Gon felt his footing falter on the shifting grains beneath his feet. The muscles in his armed screamed as he defended himself from the blows directed at him.

Sand. Heat. Pain.

Qui-Gon called upon the Force as he had done so many times before. Silence fell around him and he sensed only the small fluctuations in the currents of power that might forewarn him of the dangers of the battle and forearm him for attack. And he responded to them.

Noise. Light. Sweat.

These things became nothing.

Sword clashed with sword. Man stood against demon. Darkness and light met and battled for supremacy. They were evenly matched. Qui-Gon with the weight of experience. His opponent with the ferocity of youth. Neither one could conquer the other. He would be hard pushed to win.

Then, suddenly, unexpectedly, a voice came to Qui-Gon in the still centre of the storm. "You're mine, Jinn, if not today, then soon." This being knew him, had been prepared for this, had lain in waiting.

Was the assassin taunting him, tempting him? If so, it was a second failing which could later be exploited. Or was it simply a ploy at distraction. Qui-Gon refused to rise to the bait.

But the voice came again. "And your precious woman. She'll be mine too. Neither of you are a match for me."

Qui-Gon knew then with great certainty that he had to get back to Iva, and quickly. His pace quickened and his blows intensified. But the air was a burning acid in his lungs and his knew his legs would soon fail to support him. His connection to the Force still held and his abilities were the match of his opponent's but his strength was beginning to fail him. He had never fought as well-trained a combatant as this in earnest, for his very life.

He took another deep gulp of air, he called more desperately on the Force but knew it would not be enough.

Another sound reached his ears then, a sound that was like the crash of waves on the shore, though this desert could not have known the ebb and flow of the tides for many millennia. A movement in the corner of his eye, threatened to distract him.

The vibrant blade of his foe swept across Qui-Gon's vision. He raised his sabre in defence and was forced back a pace.

In a sudden lull in the battle, Qui-Gon looked towards the point where he had seen the unexpected movement and seemed to see the stag, the horned god, standing on the barren plain. He took the offer of renewed strength with an open heart and pressed an attack on his opponent.

As he struck forth again and again, the thunder of the Queen's ship reached Qui-Gon through the maelstrom of the battle, the pattern of the Force and the insulating presence of Mananon. He sensed the open hatchway was within his reach and he leapt, crossing the air like an dart to accept the security it offered. His opponent made a great leap forward too and almost made it, but as the ship surged away the gap widened and he fell short.

The being stood on the sand, his sabre blade snapping off. Just before the hatch closed and he threw himself inside the safety of the ship, Qui-Gon threw a taunt back at his opponent. "Watch for my apprentice, he is a match for you."

Qui-Gon couldn't see the being's piebald face and didn't know if he had heard.

- 26 -
And Sure In Language Strange She Said - 'I Love Thee True.'

Iva stood up as Qui-Gon entered their apartment, her mouth already open to voice a greeting, but he crossed the room with decisive strides, letting his cloak fall to the fall, and crushed her in his embrace, snuffing out her words. He bent to kiss her and hardly waited for her to yield before pushing his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes were wide with astonishment and dark pleasure and she responded in kind. His hands found the fastening of her dress and such was his fervour that he could not stop himself from ripping at her clothing to expose her sweet and welcoming body. He tore at the fabric of her dress and she gasped in delectation as threads broke under the pressure and the buttons flew off. She seemed to be melting under the ferocity of his passion as he stripped her dress and under garments from her quivering body and as her legs buckled he supported her as he let her fall carefully to the floor.

He spread her legs and knelt between her thighs at the same time as he removed his own clothing. He could hear her fervent breaths as she reached up to assist him in his task. Naked at last, he fell on top of her and they kissed again as their bodies sought what they desired and had been denied for the long solitary nights they had been apart. Mouth to mouth, breast to breast, hip to hip, thigh to thigh.

Her fingers dug deep into his back as she held onto him as though her life depended on it. "Oh, I've missed you," he murmured. "I love you so much. I want you so much."

"I'm yours," she whispered back as she locked her legs around his hips, claiming him for her own.

She was wet and warm and welcoming as he slid inside her and when he began to thrust, slowly and shallowly at first but then deeper and deeper, her tongue at first teased his nipple and then her teeth tormented it passionately. It took him to the plateau of arousal, but he slowed his pace and his fingers found her breast in return. He took hold of the ring that pierced her nipple. Twisting it slowly and tantalisingly, he made her squeal with indulgence and he could sense the sparks of sensuality transfusing her body. Her hips reared up under his and he thrust faster and deeper again, caressing her breast under the palm of his hand all the while, until they both came in an explosion of rapture.

Qui-Gon rolled off Iva as gently as he could, and she turned onto her side, snuggling against his body, her arm stretched across his chest. "It's so good to have you back," she said. "Things have been bad here."

"Shh," he hummed, and kissed her, gently, lovingly and longingly. He surfaced for air, breaking their kiss only reluctantly. He stroked her hair. "Don't think about it now, mo luaidh, I just want to enjoy you and love you without distraction for a little while."

And with that he stirred himself, picked her up, she slipped her arms around his neck and burrowed her head into his neck, and carried her into the bedroom.

He fell onto the bed with her still in his arms. Already her tongue was lapping at his throat and the thought that she might bare her teeth, might break the skin, excited him again. But she did not draw his blood, she only bit him playfully. It did not disappoint him and his excitement did not diminish. He took delight in the sharp pain and the growing ache of the bruise she left.

He laughed and pushed her back onto the pillows, his head bent over her breast, his teeth nipping at the soft swell of her breast.

"Oh, my love," she sighed as she ran her hands through his hair, pushing his head against her, urging him to continue.

He bit her sharply, could almost taste the saltiness of her blood. She let out a small quick cry of protest, but he sensed she was taking as much pleasure in this as he was.

He eased her thighs apart and pushed himself down the bed to bite her again, running his tongue into the grooves of her flesh and sucking her to arousal.

They hardly heard the door chime, so taken up were they in each other. Qui-Gon raised his head for a moment. "Ignore it," he said breathlessly and resumed his task. Iva only gave a little wail of pleasure.

It chimed again. Qui-Gon moved to take a breath but did not interrupt his task. He ran his hand down her mound and between her legs to where a moment ago his tongue had been. He shifted position and pressed his mouth up her body, kissing her skin and delighting in the moans of joy she gave out. His whole body was tingling as he slipped an arm beneath her shoulders and raised her up the better to kiss her on the mouth. With his fingers he massaged her to a climax and drank deeply of the shivers that swept her body. Her orgasm came with a shriek as the door chimed for a third time.

"It'll be Obi-Wan," he laughed. "He'll be getting impatient. I should go."

"Make him wait," Iva replied, her voice light, almost soundless. She touched his hair and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "You can't go before the Council like this. It won't take more than a few minutes to take a shower."

And before he could protest, she had pulled him into the shower room and turned on the jets of hot steamy water. She kissed him under the flow and licked at the rivulets that poured down his body. Her mouth found an earlobe first, and then a nipple. "I don't want to let you out of my sight again so soon," she whispered, her voice still husky. "And we have to talk."

"Talk? Yes, we must. But are you sure that's the only reason you're keeping me here." He couldn't resist teasing her, he adored her too much.

She laughed. And her tongue slid silkily down his torso as she lowered herself down on to her knees. He moaned in anticipation of yet further pleasures she would make him endure. "It's only the Council, I'll come straight back," he protested.

But she didn't reply, her mouth was already full.

- 27 -
I Wear A Mask So Falsely Numb And I Don't Know Who I Am.

The reception of his report to the Council had left Qui-Gon feeling rejected, despondent and frustrated, angry even. It had been a less than successful outcome, Mace doubting that the creature he had fought on Tatooine had been a Sith Lord, a merely grudging agreement made to test Anakin, his own insubordination made clear by Yoda. Why were the Council so narrow-minded and complacent? Why had they been mostly silent on these matters? More was going on here than met the eye. Was it possible that the Council was loosing focus, couldn't see the bigger picture? Were they too insular and over confident? How could he broach those other matters, Palpatine, the pillage of Korriban, the emergence of this Dark Jedi, the path of his destiny, in such an atmosphere.

The only person he could take comfort in was Iva.

"What's wrong?" she asked when he returned to her. She could tell, of course she could tell. They were attuned, despite their fights and disputes over the place of passions and emotions in their lives, despite the absence of the Force in her. They thought the same thoughts, often said the same things, experienced the same joys and fears and tears. More so now even than at the beginning. They had grown together over the years.

She was sewing buttons on her dress. He sat down next to her and took it from her. "I should do this," he said as he took up the task. "It's my fault they are missing."

She leant over and kissed him. "That's very sweet," she said, "but there's still something wrong. Have you crossed the Council again?"

He bent over his work. "We don't exactly see eye to eye."

"No kidding." She laughed ironically as she threaded another needle and passed it to him. "Tell me." She looked at him seriously. Of course, she would know it involved their fate, he couldn't hide it from her.

"There were unexpected complications. Naboo was invaded by a droid army. I can't say if it's the same one as at Cair-deil Talamh, but it is suspicious coming so soon after. Palpatine is from Naboo and I can't rule out his involvement there either. He has the Queen with him now."

Iva looked at him and frowned. "Did you warn her?"

"No." That rather troubled him, to let Amidala walk into the lion's den unawares, but he had thought it unavoidable. "The time and place were wrong. She has enough worries without sowing seeds of doubt about her nation's representative in the Senate. She has her officers and attendants with her, I'm sure she will be safe enough." He finished the last button and bit of the remnant of the thread. "And a confrontation with Palpatine would have been counterproductive. In any case, I could sense no trace of the Dark Side within him. It may just be that he hides it well, but I must be sure."

She bit her lip, but smiled too. He watched the play of light emotion on her face letting him know that she was wise to his foibles. "Perhaps it's time to tell the Council everything," she said.

"Perhaps it is, but I couldn't, not today. There were other matters which caused some dispute." He handed Iva back her dress. "I was attacked on Tatooine." He watched her face carefully. He could see the concern grow. "By someone who does have Dark Side powers, possibly a Sith Lord."

"By a man whose face..."

"...whose face was marked for war. Yes."

"I saw him too, here, on Coruscant, not far from the political centre. I spoke with him."

"Oh, Iva. That was rash. And dangerous."

She shrugged.

He couldn't chastise her, he knew her foibles too. But it pained him that he might so easily have lost her. He seized her in his arms and hugged her to him. "He could have killed you."

"I think he planned to, but he was hesitant. He has been hurt too, but I couldn't read him clearly. I think he has links to Palpatine. He didn't deny it." Iva wriggled from his embrace and knelt behind him. "You're too tense." She slipped off his tunic and undershirt and began to massage his neck. "Palpatine has something on Finis, some scandal, but he wouldn't talk about it and won't do anything about it. But it's serious, I can tell. I looked. Finis' thread into the future is burning."

Iva's hands were soothing. He felt his cares and concerns melting. "I felt something was wrong when we landed. You'll have to watch him closely." He paused, wondering how to broach the other matter, the matter of the Skywalker child.

She massaged the tense knot of muscle between his shoulder blades. "There's something else, isn't there? If you upset the Council again, there must be."

He reached behind him to grasp her hands and pulled her arms around him. He held them close against his naked chest and traced small circular patterns on them with his thumbs. She pushed her body close against his back. Her presence reassured him that what he'd done had been right.

"I found someone on Tatooine."

"Found?" She laughed, she knew too well his reputation.

"Well, he found me. A boy, with strong Force powers. He's too old for training but I've asked the Council to test him. Perhaps they can be persuaded to make an exception in his case. I think he may be important to *us* in some way." He felt her lay her head against the back of his and her arms tightened around him. "I wondered if perhaps he was the child you saw when I first took you to see the Council. Will you see him?" He could feel the tension and anguish flowing from her, the reflection of his own. "I wouldn't ask, but I do believe it signals something. Destiny, the end perhaps, I hope not, but..." His words trailed off.

She didn't reply for a few long moments. She simply leant against him. And then she spoke. "I'll see him," she said.

***

Yaddle had wanted to waylay Qui-Gon after his report to the Council, but there had been a good deal of discussion of the matters he had raised. When the Council meeting had finally broken up with questions still unanswered and decisions still unmade, she had hurriedly set off in search of Qui-Gon. She felt guilty that she had not said more, nor said anything in his defence when he had been present. She consoled herself with the fact that no one else had spoken out, shocked as they had all been that the Dark Side had made such a brazen attempt to kidnap the Queen of Naboo and take on a Jedi Master in the process. It had been such a tediously small political affair before that moment. Now it seemed the Trade Federation were in league with the forces of evil, with agents of the Dark Side. Perhaps with Palpatine, too, a matter she had considered revealing but kept private for lack of proof. And than too, the revelation that Qui-Gon had discovered a boy he believed to be the Chosen One. That had shocked and silenced even her.

Qui-Gon was nowhere within the precincts of the Temple, but she had found his apprentice in the training halls. Obi-Wan was working on a set of exercises Qui-Gon had set him and all he would say was that his Master had a private matter to attend to. She could sense that Obi-Wan was disgruntled about something but he kept silent on the matter and she did not press him. She was standing alone, forlorn, watching the young man practice complicated sabre moves when Plo and Adi found her.

"We must come to a decision, Master Yaddle," the tall woman said. "If what we know is true, and if it is - it is of great significance, it is counter-productive for all of us to sit by while events unfold."

Yaddle thought for a moment before replying. "And what is it exactly that we know, that is the truth, not supposition? There's the difficulty."

Plo stood back a little, silent, as Adi addressed the problem. "We should concentrate only on the crisis at hand. Forget the past, forget the atrocity on Corellia. And put aside the question of this vergence that Qui-Gon has found, aside from the timing it is irrelevant. What we know is that a potential Sith Lord is at work. We believe that Palpatine has been to Korriban, but we don't know for certain how deeply, if at all, he is involved, either with the Dark Side of the Force or with the Naboo dispute. We should not be so arrogant as to assume that this Sith could not have originated from inside the Temple. We also know that a droid army under the trade Federation has invaded Naboo, though the Senate has yet to condemn the outrage. Palpatine has no connection with this either, or none that we know of yet. We cannot even be sure that it was the same army that was used on Khar Delba. That leaves us with very little."

Yaddle could see that Adi had been ruminating on this for some time. If Adi had not found a way through the impasse it was time to widen the circle. "Well, Adi, in that case we should share our concerns with Master Windu. He must decide whether or not Palpatine should be investigated."

***

Anakin looked up at Qui-Gon questioningly. Qui-Gon simply nodded and smiled, indicating with a hand that he should enter. Anakin peered again into the dim room. Candles were burning on a low table behind a woman. She knelt in the centre of a patterned cloth on the floor. He took a hesitant step forward. The air was smoky. Fumes rose from a bowl between the candles and they smelt thick. It was like a shrine or a temple.

Qui-Gon stood behind him and held his shoulders. Anakin felt secure in the Jedi's presence, although he already feared this woman. She was going to help him see his future, that was what Qui-Gon had said. But he already knew it. He was going to become a Jedi, free his mother and marry Padme.

"This is Iva," Qui-Gon said.

Iva smiled too. "Sit down," she said, pointing to the space before her.

Anakin glanced back over his shoulder towards Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon nodded. Anakin walked towards Iva a little way and did sit. But he left a large gap between himself and the woman. He felt that the circle printed on the cloth was a wall. He did not feel confident that he could cross it. He was glad that he could still feel Qui-Gon standing behind him.

When he was comfortable, Anakin looked at Iva more closely. Although she wore a veil about her head, he could see that her face bore strange markings. They made him shiver. He thought that she might be a faerie or a nix, an evil one. He trusted Qui-Gon, but he didn't understand why he had brought him here.

Iva closed her eyes and spoke a few words. Anakin couldn't make them out and couldn't comprehend them. He fidgeted, the floor was uncomfortable and his arm itched where he had scrapped it a few days before. That made him think suddenly of his mother and he sniffed. He wasn't going to cry.

Iva open her eyes and looked at him. He fidgeted again, she made him feel uncomfortable. And cold. Very cold. Colder than the Queen's ship had been in space. Icy.

Iva held out her hands. Palms up. Both were empty. She balled them into fists and spoke again. He noticed for the first time that she wore a lot of jewellery and bracelets. Her hands were covered in silver. Chains tinkled when she moved. He thought she must be rich.

Suddenly, she opened one hand. To Anakin's surprise, she held a stone. A conjuring trick, he thought. It was a dark rock and not large.

"This is your time past," she said. She spoke basic. At least he could understand her now. "Your home which is lost. A woman close to you."

"My mother." He laughed. "Anyone could tell me that."

"This is serious, Anakin Skywalker. This is how your heart will become towards her memory if you are not careful to cherish the past. You must be open to your emotions and remember to be moderate in your actions and thoughtful in your approach towards others. Don't give in to solitude or to dispassion."

He scratched at the scab on his arm. He was going to be a Jedi, he was going to be fierce and brave and strong. But he wouldn't stop loving his mother. Not ever.

"This is your time future."

At Iva's words, he looked as she opened her other hand. What would she have this time. An egg, he guessed. No, that was silly. A gemstone. Yes, that would be it. His eyes widened in awe when he saw what she really held.

A silvery-white liquid metal pooled in the palm of her hand. It oozed through her fingers. It dropped to the floor and scattered into beads that rolled about and joined with other beads when they bumped into each other. He laughed again. That was a clever trick. He wondered how she'd done it and tried to see where she had hidden the container. One of the beads rolled towards him. He poked it with a finger and saw that it had become solid. He picked it up and it squelched between his finger and his thumb. He looked up, confused.

"Liquid or solid?" she said. "It seems, Anakin, that you will eventually be neither one thing or the other. Or perhaps you will be both at the same time."

He didn't like the sound of that. He spoke up. "I don't understand."

"You will have choices to make. You may decide on one course for your life and then discover it leads you to a place you least expected or once rejected. Perhaps you may become something you didn't expect you would become. But inside you will still be you."

"I'm going to become a Jedi." He tilted his chin up confidently. He still didn't like her and wanted her to know it. Jedi were better than everyone, and he was better than her.

"In that case," she replied, "perhaps you will discover that being a Jedi is not what you thought it would be."

He wanted to say something back. He couldn't think of anything. Why didn't Qui-Gon defend the Jedi? He half turned and looked back. But Qui-Gon was smiling.

"Yes, Qui-Gon knows all about that. Don't you, Qui-Gon?"

Anakin didn't know why Qui-Gon laughed, but he was relieved that it seemed to be over. "Can we go now, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, Anakin. I'll take you back." Qui-Gon seemed serious again.

Anakin stood up and walked towards the door. He heard Qui-Gon tell Iva that he would see her shortly. He wondered if they were going to talk about him. He wondered what it had to do with becoming a Jedi. He wondered why a Jedi would bring him to a place like this. But as they flew back towards Palpatine's apartments where he was staying with the party from Naboo, he saw so many other things that amazed him, he all but forgot to wonder.

***

Plo, Adi and Yaddle had dragged Obi-Wan away from his training and he had agreed, without enthusiasm but without hesitation, to accompany them to Mace's office and relate what he knew and share the data he had uncovered to the senior Jedi. But their resolution to request a full investigation was undermined when they arrived. Mace was in the company of Palpatine.

The Senator beamed when he saw Obi-Wan. He stepped forward and gripped the boy's shoulder's. "I came to thank Master Windu for the help you and your Master gave to Naboo and to Queen Amidala. What a great privilege it is to be able to thank you in person. Is Master Jinn not with you?"

Adi could see that Obi-Wan was embarrassed by this display, but sensed that it was nothing more than the discomfort of unaccustomed familiarity.

"No, sir. He is dealing with matters elsewhere." Obi-Wan responded evenly enough, a sure sign of his mastery of the Jedi ways.

"You will thank him from me and tell him that he has my personal undying gratitude." Palpatine turned back to Mace. "Such a terrible thing, that an assailant should make an attempt on the Queen's life. I'm sure you understand my feelings of debt towards you and to Master Jinn. If there is anything I can do, anything, to help you in your investigation of this outrage I will oblige. Resources, manpower, anything. My staff are conducting their own inquiries and are at your disposal."

Palpatine's presence here was reassurance enough for Adi. He would not risk a visit to the Temple and to Mace, surely, if he were involved? She observed him carefully as he spoke, his manner, his tone of voice, his body language, the flow of the Force around him. None of it was untoward. All the strengths and weaknesses of a politician, with rather more than the usual drawbacks - pomposity, superciliousness, ruthlessness, ambition, duplicity, though none beyond the realm of probability for his profession. She couldn't sense the Dark Side at work in him. It just wasn't possible, whatever Yoda said about it being hard to see, that Palpatine was strong enough that it could remain undetected by the cream of the Jedi Order arrayed in this room.

Mace nodded, politely. "Thank you, Senator. We have the matter under control. We will keep each other appraised of progress though and I'm sure we can usefully share any information we uncover."

"Thank you, Master Jedi, that is more than I could hope for." Palpatine bowed low to Mace, then to the rest of the Jedi and departed.

As Adi scanned Mace's face, she ran over events again in her mind, recalling conversations and as many small details as possible and quickly ascertained that it would be ill-timed to bring up their concerns about Palpatine now, without further consideration of the matter. Without casting aspersions on anyone, Adi knew she had to think carefully about Iva's feelings towards Palpatine, about how, given his personality, the Baobhan-sith might have read him wrongly or interpreted his actions in the wrong way, and how Qui-Gon, influenced by emotion and adoration for Iva, might have taken her side unquestioningly. She looked round guardedly to her comrades, warning them to silence. To Mace she said only: "We wanted to ask you to think carefully about what approach you take towards Qui-Gon. We know he has not always shown proper respect and obedience but we admire his courage and wisdom and his skills as a Jedi are without equal. We all believe he acted in the will of the Force in bringing this boy to our attention. Don't hold this against him."

To Adi's surprise, Mace laughed. It wasn't often he cast aside his serious nature when on duty. "Well," he said, "Qui-Gon certainly has his supporters today. And I'm very glad that you come forward in support of your Master, Obi-Wan. Tell me, you have spent time with this boy. What are your feelings about him?"

- 28 -
The Birth of Liquid Desire.

Palpatine leant forward, one hand nonchalantly close to Grocelind's arm. "And tell me, Piet, how is your work for Lord Sidious going?"

"Slowly," Grocelind sighed. " He seeks the secret of the witch's power of transformation in order to rejuvenate himself. I am afraid that if I do not find it soon he will dispense with me. But all my attempts at distillation of a cure for his condition have failed. I am still very hopeful, but oh, Cos, I fear the agent of her power is not organic."

Palpatine looked at his current lover and sensed a lie behind the words. But what part was the lie? The hope? The root of Ibhormheith's power? Or the lack of a solution? Palpatine couldn't tell, despite his dark skill. Grocelind's mind was an amorphous thing filled with terror and hate and lust and confusion. The lack of focus revolted Palpatine, he hated such a show of weakness. If Grocelind were not such a useful tool for him at present as a spy in Sidious' employ, the technician's other services would be redundant. Just as Palpatine had eyes on the supreme chancellorship, he had also been lining up Sci Taria, currently an aide in Valorum's employ, as the new addition to his office and his boudoir. He just had to get Valorum out of power and Grocelind out of his bed first. It was not that he was averse to juggling several lovers at one time, it was that Grocelind was so close to Sidious as to make Palpatine uncomfortable with the arrangement.

Palpatine assumed a hypnotising gaze behind the allure of his smile. The better to lull Grocelind to passivity. "Lord Sidious seemed very weak to me when I saw him last," he said, a silky tone to his voice. "He has put his trust in you and relies on you, I'm sure. No harm will come to you. I will see to it." It was not a promise, it was a smokescreen. If Sidious was discontent and meant to eradicate Grocelind, Palpatine knew he had to act quickly. "Perhaps he has plans which mean he must renew his strength. Tell me and I will help you if I can."

Grocelind tensed slightly. Palpatine knew it signalled that betrayal was about to come. He closed the gap between his hand and Grocelind's arm, a voluptuous, reassuring touch.

Grocelind's mouth opened and shut, hesitant, before he finally spoke. "His thug, Maul, went to Tatooine. In connection with the clone, I believe. Forgive me, Cos, but I suspect this interests you. I wondered if you had designs of your own on the boy?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "He is kin to you, too, after all."

Grocelind's face was flushed as he voiced his words, a sure sign, Palpatine knew, that he feared punishment for speaking out of turn. Palpatine could not resist tormenting his lover further. "And if I tell you that, Piet, how do I know you won't go running to the Jedi? The clone is already in their possession, though they do not seem aware of what he truly is."

Grocelind's reply came fast, stammered vehemently. "Oh, Cos, no. The Jedi killed my father. I hate them. Their superior ways. The way they look down on us beings without access to the Force. I hate their high and mighty Force."

Palpatine stroked Grocelind's arm to soothe him. "Don't worry about the Jedi. I have clouded their minds to my intent. I will beguile them even as I brutalise them. Soon I will have the peoples of the Republic baying for their blood. The clone was the final implanted zygote, his powers could be of use to me in taking over the reins of power. And if I were seen as a patron to the boy it could gain me much sympathy with the people during my political rise. You will let me know what Sidious plans in that respect, won't you, Piet?"

"Oh, yes, Cos. I..."

But Palpatine cut off Grocelind's words with a glance at the time. He had to work his charms on the Queen before tomorrow's session of the Senate. She was young and malleable, but her spirit was strong. He wanted to be absolutely certain she had assimilated the suggestions he had made to her in respect of Valorum's inability to act in the interests of Naboo.

***

Sidious paced his rooms impatiently as he had done for the past five days. Not hearing from Maul, not being able to raise Maul by communicator on Tatooine, was a torment, but now the Jedi had returned, and with the clone too, and Sidious was looking into the jaws of defeat. The pain of loss, the pain of failure, the pain of the unknown was so great that he beat his own arms with his fists to alleviate the agony of emotional torment with the hurt of physical bruises.

His masochistic attempts at relief were interrupted by the chime that sounded an incoming message from the Infiltrator and Sidious rushed to active the holoimager. Sidious' fury grew at the sight of his apprentice, Maul's shoulder were set at a jaunty angle and his face was twisted by a supercilious smirk. "Where have you been?" he demanded of Maul. His voice was a scream.

Maul seemed or affected not to notice. "I have been conducting some investigations of my own, Master. I have some interesting findings to report."

Sidious lowered his voice slightly. It would not do to be wound up by his apprentice's scorn. "They had better be good, Maul. My disappointment in you is intense. The Jedi are here on Coruscant, with the Nubian Queen and the Skywalker clone. You cannot cover up your mission failure."

The transparent shimmer of Maul's face betrayed only the slightest fear as he let his smile fade to a scowl. "I have made contact with a bounty hunter working for the Desilijic line of the Hutts. A woman raised by the Jedi but failed in her apprenticeship. She despises the Order. She goes by the name of Aurra Sing."

Sidious felt a glimmer of hope behind the failure. No wonder Maul was acting smug. "Sing," he mused, "ah yes, I wondered what had happened to her. And this took you five days?"

Maul's tongue darted like a lizard's across his varicoloured lips. "She was very accommodating, Master."

"I'm sure she was, Maul. And I hope in return for her favours you have recruited her to our cause?"

Maul smiled again, an aura of satisfaction on his face. "She has said that she will contact us again when her work with the Hutts is complete."

"It seems, then," Sidious replied, "that you have done something well at least." He paused, drinking in the expectation of Maul's disappointment as he dressed him down. When he spoke his voice took on a bitter tone. "But your failure in the other matter has not gone unnoticed. What went wrong?"

Maul's eyes stared out of his image defiantly. "This Jinn was stronger than I imagined, Master. He defended the clone and made his escape with the help of the Nubians."

Sidious' voice reached a crescendo of anger for a second time. "You underestimated him, Maul. Did you think he was an old man that you could best as easily as you could a training droid? Did you think his skills would be no match for yours? Have I not trained you to fight as well as the best Jedi Master?"

Maul lowered his head under the verbal lashing. "This Jinn... He seemed possessed, Master. He fought like there were no more tomorrows. As if he had nothing to lose. As if death was near him already. It was strange, Master, but he had the stink of the sepulchre was about him. It was unnerving, as if he was possessed of something beyond our reckoning."

Sidious nodded. Maul may have failed this time, but he had surpassed expectations in his analysis of his failure. "You know what you must face next time then, my apprentice. Don't come directly to Coruscant, I want you on Geonosis. Tell them you have been sent to carry out an inspection of the clone warriors, just to keep them on their toes. But stay alert. Keep this channel open and be prepared for further instruction."

Maul nodded. "Yes, Master. You can depend on me."

"I have little choice in that matter, Maul. But know this. I will not tolerate another failure. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly. Jinn will not escape me a second time, Master."

***

A fitted shimmersilk slip the colour of weathered bronze embraced Iva's curves and fell to her ankles in molten folds. She was standing in the doorway to the bedroom and Qui-Gon knew she had been waiting for him. He had seen her once before, a long time ago now, framed in another doorway, in another world. He had been in pain then too, pain physical and emotional. She had felt pain too, back then, but her eyes had betrayed her love even so. There was love, a deep love forged from the familiarity of time, in her eyes now. He hated that his duties had kept him apart from her, but he had been almost afraid to return, fearful of the words of prophecy she might now have to say to him. And here she was, a vision of beauty, and he wished he hadn't delayed to explain to Anakin what he would have to face in going before the Council. Without speaking, only smiling, she held out a glass of dark red chimbak wine, an Alderaan vintage. There were still many candles burning in the apartment, but now their gentle light also illuminated the bed behind her and flickered on the warm strands of her hair.

What was she doing, seducing him? She had no need to work especially hard at that. She surely knew the effect she had on him.

"We will have tonight and most of tomorrow to be together," Qui-Gon whispered, coming close to her and stroking her hair in preference to taking the glass she proffered. "The special session of the Senate will take up much of the day. The Council are set to test Anakin later in the afternoon. And Obi-Wan has plenty of sabre exercises to practice."

She was so enticing, he hardly dared to touch her. "You look tired, Qui-Gon," she whispered back, a sparkle in her eye. "You should rest." Of course, that wasn't what she meant. He would have no rest with her. She stepped to one side to let him past and the fabric of her dress glistened. She seemed to make even the air shiver.

He did as he was told and sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his boots in preparation. Iva stood seductively framed by the doorway, but she was watching him closely. He was bewitched. He could not take his eyes from her as he unbuckled his belt and removed his outer tunic. Finally, she came towards him, her movements serpentine. He reached out and took the glass from her hand as she laughed.

"I'm afraid to touch you," he sighed. "You look so beautiful."

"Too beautiful to kiss?" Her words were temptation incarnate. "Take the opportunity while you still can, Qui-Gon."

She fell silent as she sat down beside him. Both knew but neither spoke of the prospect of death.

The thin straps of her dress left her arms bare, the inked markings beneath the skin told a story he knew only too well. Her feet were unshod, the oval nail on each delicate toe the colour of pearlescent twilight.

He could hardly speak. He took a sip of the wine and then put the glass aside. "You're worrying me, Iva. What did you see when you looked into Anakin?"

"That the future has already begun. That he has set in motion a chain of events that will set the galaxy aflame. His end will be the beginning of a new order. But between now and that new era I see only tragedy for him. He will die and be reborn more than once before his final sacrifice. He his strong, but his strength is not enough to prevent his fall. It is as though he has too much potential, it clouds his future."

"Will he be a Jedi?"

"Oh, yes. That is clearly in his future. But perhaps that is not the best path for him, for he won't be the kind of Jedi you are, Qui-Gon. If you can, you should ensure he is reforged."

"How?"

"How?" She shrugged in reply. "The future does not reveal that. There may be many ways. It may be as simple as maturity or as hard as taking his powers away from him."

"Is that possible?"

"The only way I know is to take him to the Cloister. It may be that the Sisterhood could divine a way to seal him off from the Force permanently."

"But that would prevent him from becoming a Jedi."

"Yes. But possession of the Force can be a weakness. It divides you from the people you seek to serve and can divorce you from the realities of life. That is the failing of your Order. From what I have seen, you have to be a good man first before you can become a great Jedi." She touched his hand as she said this, he knew that was how she saw him, a man first, a Jedi second. She held his gaze as she continued. "Although Anakin is the key, the future doesn't show him becoming a good man. I'm sorry, I can't see more than that."

As her words faded, she turned her face away. Qui-Gon knew that she wept silently. He gently brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, then slid his hand behind her head and pulled her face close to his. He kissed each eyelid, then her lips. "I know it's hard. To see what will come and not to know which path to take. I do believe he is the Chosen One whom Jedi prophecy has spoken of. It's enough for me that you've confirmed it."

He hooked a finger under one strap of her dress and pulled it down over the curve of her shoulder. He kissed the spot where it had lain. He burned to make love to her but didn't want the moment for words to pass as it had so many times before. He touched her face again with his fingertips. Her skin felt as smooth and as cool as it had the day he'd first touched it. There was something inhuman in the way the Baobhan-sith apparently only aged when their roles demanded it. All her words had indicated immortality but had not seemed to preclude death. It was still unspoken between them. What alternative was there now but to ask. But how exactly did you ask the woman you loved, and whom you knew loved you, if you were just about to die?

"And what about us, Iva? What does Anakin represent for me?"

"You already know he's connected, don't you? To us, to our destiny. His fate and ours are linked. He is a child of sorrow. The first of such. Our child will come next."

Her prophesy only allowed them a child if he passed his spirit on to it. And that would mean his death. He knew that too. He knew that too well. He slipped one arm around her and pulled her to him until she was leaning against him, the weight of her a comfort. "And if we don't have a child?" he asked.

"There are many futures. I cannot say which one may come to pass in the absence of an act. Only that one which is most probable if you act in a certain way." Iva sat beside him, close, warm. She stared into the depths of empty space. "If no child is born, then you will live for a little while longer. But Obi-Wan's thread ends soon after, as does mine and later yours and all the tapestry is clouded by death and despair without respite." She let her head fall sideways to rest against his shoulder. "It is the time for endings, Qui-Gon."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. I have been sure ever since the man from the vision who wears a demon's face appeared."

"It will be hard for you."

"I'm sure. I'm sure not only because I love you but because I believe we can forge a salvation for the future and I believe in you. If I didn't have that belief I couldn't have done what I did and I couldn't do what I plan. I believe that you can do it. Mananan has accepted you." Her voice seemed frail but her arms were powerful as she turned from his embrace. She pushed him down onto the bed and knelt over him, her legs straddling his waist. She held a crystal in her hand, its colourless transparent surfaces revealing a broken web of fissures at its centre. She breathed on it and it hummed back a resonant note of cold sound.

He sat up. "What are you doing?" he asked, his curiosity awakened.

She pushed him back and pulled the thin fabric of his under-tunic apart to bare his chest. "Stay still."

The crystal was thin, its facets knife-edged. He winced only slightly as she made a small cut into the skin of his chest, above the heart. She made another. Then a third. The blood welled to form a lurid character, a symbol of life voicing a word of power on his breast.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

"Marking you with the sigil of Mananan." She selected and opened one of her assorted bottles, an amber coloured vial containing a dark liquid. She let fall a drop of ink from a small pipette, it wormed into the cuts and under his skin. He felt its burning energy as it flowed into a complex pattern of curving lines and sharply angled characters. As she had marked him at the beginning, so she was marking him at the end.

He felt as though his consciousness was fading, he was aware only of the pressure of Iva's hands on his shoulders as she leant over him, kissing him.

"Now your flesh and his will be one after death," she said.

He struggled with the feeling of intoxication and the whirl of words in his mind. He lifted Iva away from him, she felt like she weighed nothing, like a feather, and went to stand before the window. As he looked out over the endless metropolis, he recalled the many times she had spoken of her belief in an afterlife so very different to his, a life even in death. He had so many times doubted whether what she had been speaking of was really death at all. Could he now reject the imperative to become one with the Force and join her in her dream of the ultimate unknown. What if she were deluded? What if the tattooed markings on his wrist and now his chest were no more than marks, meant nothing? And yet Mananan was real enough to him. As real as the Calleach was to Iva.

"You're telling me, aren't you, that all of that is real? That the Summerlands are a physical place. That there is a life beyond this one."

"Yes."

"That if I refuse the Force, deny the Force, we'll be together there."

"Yes."

"But the gateway is pain and the price is death. And we have to be parted before we can be together again forever."

"Yes."

He looked out of the window for a little while longer, but he no longer saw the city, only the ghostly reflection of himself with Iva behind him. How could he renounce the Force? How could he face Yoda tomorrow knowing he was contemplating such a thing?

But Yoda's opinion didn't matter. The Council's edicts didn't matter. Iva was the thing he wanted most in all the universe. For her, he would so anything. For her, he would renounce the Force. Whatever the cost.

He turned back to her and took off his under-tunic as he walked towards her. The smile she gave him told him she knew he had accepted the pact.

She let the strap he had already dislodged fall further down her arm, exposing a breast. "Let's make a baby," she said.

"Don't we need magic?" he whispered in reply as he sat down and cupped that breast in the palm of his hand.

She pulled his head close to hers and whispered in his ear. "Oh, you work magic enough on me already, Qui-Gon. Let's try the natural way first."

And the time for conversion, for second thoughts and for regrets was at an end.

- 29 -
The Light In Our Window Is Fading, The Candle Gutters On The Ledge.

The pellucid blue of his lightsabre was a blur of motion. It whirled this way, that, in a balletic dance of silent frenzy. On contact with the seeker droid, the sharp tang of the energy blade on metal filled the air.

More training. Always training. Obi-Wan knew why Qui-Gon had put him through the training on the journey back. And he knew why he was still here in the gym now. So that if they had to face that Sith creature again they stood a chance of taking him down together. If? "Not if," Qui-Gon had said, "when." Qui-Gon assumed that he would come after them. As if the Sith held a personal grudge. Perhaps he did at that, though Obi-Wan didn't know why or what the grudge might be. It was not his place to ask. It was enough that this person was a Sith, an enemy.

Obi-Wan's lightsabre slashed at the droid, falling short and to one side. The sparking sphere leapt at him and he barely ducked away in time.

It almost had him then, the seeker droid. Obi-Wan knew he didn't fight as well as he might. His hold on the Force was elusive today. His concern for Qui-Gon, his frustration with his Master, clouded his thoughts and overshadowed his connection to the Force. And where was Qui-Gon anyway? It was past noon. He should be here training too, given the way he had been so exhausted after the fight on Tatooine. He should be here with me, preparing and perfecting his technique. Not with Iva, laughing and kissing. He could spend all the time he liked with *her* later, Obi-Wan thought. It disturbed him to think that his Master was suffering the effects of age, but it had to be faced. If Qui-Gon preferred her company that much then perhaps he should give up the fight, retire, take a place on the Council. But Obi-Wan knew they'd never let him do that now unless he capitulated to their demands. And Qui-Gon would not do that, he would never give up Iva, blood-sucker though she was.

Obi-Wan felt a sudden surge of shame as he recognised the feelings of jealousy, guilt and betrayal build in him. He pushed them down, away, but they lingered. He hadn't sold his Master out to Mace, but he might as well have, denying as he had his own interest in the boy from Tatooine. Despite his initial reservations and resignation to Qui-Gon's adoption of yet another stray, he had grown fascinated by and affectionate towards Anakin on the journey from Tatooine to Coruscant. He felt, no - he knew, his future and Anakin's were intertwined, though he'd thus far held back from saying so, especially to Mace, for fear that such an opinion would reflect badly on Qui-Gon. But yes, he felt he would lead Anakin to his destiny. It was enough to worry him, not only about himself, but about his Master.

The clash of energy blade against metallic casing, a arcing spray of electric sparks, awakened Obi-Wan from his reverie. His actions had become like those of an automaton. He fought on auto-pilot. That would never do. He concentrated, sucking on the energy of the Force. His sabre flew up. Then down and to one side. The droid fell, cleft down the centre, to clatter in pieces on the floor.

The dojun master would not be pleased with such destruction, but Obi-Wan smiled. He had nothing to fear. And he had not betrayed Qui-Gon.

Yes, he had erred on the side of caution in his analysis of Anakin. He had been humbled by Mace Windu's gravitas and confounded by Adi Gallia's switch of tactic, not to mention Senator Palpatine's presence in the senior Jedi's office. He had not spoken of the aura he sensed around Anakin and had reserved judgement on what this might mean. It would not do Qui-Gon's case any harm to keep silent and might yet prove to be an aid. Qui-Gon seemed intent on heading for another confrontation with the Council and Obi-Wan did not want to see his Master fall from grace again.

He picked up his towel and dried the sweat from his face and neck. He needed a shower. A shower would be the final step in the improvement of his mood.

But as he stood under the hot needles of water, one thing still nagged him. Palpatine. Why was Palpatine such a threat anyway? Yes, he was a politician and as despicable a man as politicians came. Did he dabble in the dark side of the Force to fuel his ambitions in government? And if he did, was he not so insensible to the Force as to make such dabblings useless. Perhaps this Sith was using the Senator: kill the Sith and free Palpatine. It might be as simple as that. Qui-Gon hadn't seen that solution. But his Master's delusion, much as it pained Obi-Wan to admit that Qui-Gon had a failing, was that he could see things only through the eyes of his paramour. Iva, she was like her own dark mirror, held up to Qui-Gon's eyes, obscuring the truth, not revealing it. Obi-Wan resolved to protect Qui-Gon from that. He knew in doing so, he would have to protect his Master, his closest friend, from himself.

***

When Iva woke she still lay curled against Qui-Gon. The light from the windows crept under the blinds and across the floor in a bright trapezium of light. She knew it was late morning or early afternoon for they had spent much of the night taking delight in each other's bodies and had not slept until near dawn. She snuggled in closer to Qui-Gon's warm strength, her arm over his chest, her leg wound around his. His breathing was deep, relaxed, even. She teased a nipple with the edge of a fingernail to waken him. When she felt the change in timbre of his breathing that signalled the arrival of awareness after slumber, she spoke.

"Adi says Yaddle found records. That the Taleach came from Corellia."

He rolled over and hugged her into his embrace. As he curled around her to enclose her body in the circumference of his arms, his mouth was close to her ear. She felt his breath on her skin, through the tangle of her hair. "And good morning to you, too, Ibhormheith."

"I think it might be afternoon," she shot back laughingly and lowered her head to recommence her torment of his nipple, this time with her teeth. "You'd better - go get - Anakin - ready for his - sentencing," she said in mumbled phrases.

"I'm not going anywhere... yet." He wrestled her onto her back and rendered her body immobile with the instrument of his own, pinning her hands above her head on the pillow. "Didn't I satisfy you with last night's efforts?"

"I'm never satisfied, Qui-Gon." She made her voice teasingly husky.

"But I'm not inexhaustible," he countered.

"Let me determine that." She arched her body beneath his, her hips oscillating wildly, fighting against his weight and awakening his passion further. "Waking is the best time."

"Is it, indeed?"

He always could tease her back. In that, he was so unlike her concept of a Jedi. "Yes, they are," she giggled in reply. But she could say no more, for he had sealed her mouth with his lips and silenced her with his tongue. It sought the depths of her throat even as his fingers sought the depths of her sex. It was all she could do to moan in pleasure.

His probing fingers foraged inside her, deep inside, until it seemed as he was stroking her very core, her womb, her heart. Skilfully, he licked and sucked and nibbled on, first, her lips and then her neck and down towards her breast and, finally, her nipples.

She couldn't wait any longer. "I want you," she screamed to the heavens, to any ears that would hear her, to her lover, to her Jedi, to the spirit that would fill the vessel of her flesh. "Now," she howled insistently.

His fingers, wet with the warm fluid of her arousal, spread themselves across her thigh. He seized her buttocks with both hands and raised her hips towards his erection, easing himself into her and then plunging deep towards the centre of her pleasure. He thrust hard but she wanted more. "Ravish me," she urged. "Take my life. Take my soul."

And he did, until she was pulsing uncontrollably and his orgasm wracked his body with unrestrained shudders.

At last, he pulled away from her and fell back exhausted and spent beside her. "What did you mean, from Corellia?" he asked in his fatigue.

"People were kidnapped, and taken to the Sith worlds. That's what Yaddle said."

"That's what we always suspected."

"Yes. But by Jedi."

"By fallen Jedi?"

"No. Adi says the Republic sanctioned it." She could hear the anguish in her own voice.

Qui-Gon turned back towards her and wrapped her in his arms again. "Oh, Iva, I'm so sorry."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why should you apologise? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Why? Why not? If it was the Jedi, it was *my* people who were responsible, as if I had done it."

"No. No. *You* cannot be sorry. It made me what I am. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't even be here now. We wouldn't be together." She held his face in her hands, his beard rough beneath her palms, and stared into his eyes, wanted him, desperately wanted him, to understand that it had all been ordained, that it had to be. "It's not your fault. What happened cannot be undone. They weren't your people then. And..." She stopped. Her mouth open in hesitation.

"And?"

"And they're not your people now."

- 30 -
There's No Light At The End Of It All. Let's All Sit Down And Cry.

It was ominous. All too ominous. Yaddle's thoughts and research had led her only into confusion and ennui. The lure of the Baobhan-sith. She wanted to join them, she didn't want to join them. The duplicity of Palpatine. She gave the arguments credence, she didn't give them credence. Her love for Even. She desired to be with him, she rejected her desire. The Council's betrayal of the Taleach. She wanted to condemn it, she was part of it. The return of the Sith. She dreaded it, she welcomed the opportunity it offered for the Jedi to focus once again upon a deadly foe.

She crossed the ante-room to the Council Chamber but lingered before entering, wishing Qui-Gon was already here, waiting. She wanted to ask him his opinion, about what she should now do, about the future of the Jedi, about her future. But was that the right path, either? To rely on him, much as she respected him. It was hard, it was all so hard. The Force offered her no answers. It possessed her as she possessed it, but there was more, she knew there was more. There had to be. She wanted to embrace the unknown.

She heard Plo Koon's measured stride approaching her. He walked on past her with only a nod and passed beyond the high double doors.

For Force-sake, she told herself, this is no way for a Jedi to behave. Go in to the Council meeting, she told herself, witness the testing of the boy. And act, if she could, in Qui-Gon's favour. That was true respect.

***

Obi-Wan watched Anakin shuffle his feet and chatter incoherently as they waited with Qui-Gon for word that the Council was ready to begin the testing. Had he been so impatient at that age, he wondered. He tried to remember but couldn't convince himself that he had. His life had been too full, of learning and training, of exercising and meditating. Oh, but he'd been impatient enough to progress. To master swordsmanship, to win a duel, to be a man, to become an apprentice. Qui-Gon had sweated all of that out of him, Obi-Wan thought with irony, looking surreptitiously at his Master. Using little more than patience, an infinite depth of patience.

Obi-Wan did still know impatience though, he knew it now. Not as Anakin did, for it to start, for it to be over, but for his ascendancy to Jedi Knight. He didn't fiddle with any object he came across and look around for any slight distraction as Anakin did. But he did wish for the day of his knighthood. All the same, he knew he wasn't ready for it yet. He wasn't ready to leave the side of Qui-Gon Jinn. Obi-Wan had curbed his impatience to be moving on with his life.

He had curbed his impatience...

Obi-Wan went suddenly cold with the thought. And a shiver ran the length of his spine, alerting the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He had curbed *his* impatience. Anakin, it seemed, could not. And such impatience, at such a level as he now sensed in the child, was dangerous. Dangerous, indeed, if the dark side tempted him with a quick and easy climb to mastery of the Force.

***

"A word in private, I will have, Master Jinn." Yoda's voice was firm and forbidding, not a voice to argue with.

"Yes, Master Yoda." Qui-Gon bowed his head and followed Yoda over to the outer wall, adjacent to the doorway to the balcony.

Yoda paced a little, then looked up at him. "Do not do it, Master Jinn. This thing you plan."

Qui-Gon dropped to one knee, to render him more equal to the Master, but not subservient. There was not a trace of subservience in Qui-Gon's voice. "I did not plan it, Master Yoda. It extends beyond me, beyond the Jedi Order. It is not my place to question what the Force asks of me. What has begun, cannot be undone."

"Take care, Qui-Gon, that turn to the dark side you do not."

"No, Master Yoda, never."

"Fear the path to the dark side has already taken you, I do. Warned you of this, I did. Of her. Seen in your future, it was. This betrayal." Yoda shook his head sadly, he would not meet Qui-Gon's gaze. "Too late to turn back, it is not. But see that you will not, I do now."

Qui-Gon felt a wish grow, more desperate than many he had felt thus far in his life, to make Yoda understand. To make him see. To make him aware of what was beyond the periphery of his vision. "What I do, Master Yoda, I do for the hope of the future, for all the peoples of the Republic, and of the galaxy. Not for the Jedi Order. The Order's future is already stained. Forgive *me*, Master, for I lack the strength to forgive the Order's acts against the Taleach."

"Dare do you, to say this, Master Jinn?" A shockwave of dismay poured from Yoda's tiny form. "Contaminated, irredeemably, the Taleach are. Yes. Rejected by the Force, they were."

Qui-Gon's mind reeled under the impact and the import of Yoda's words and feelings. How could he not see? How could he, the greatest living Jedi Master, close his eyes to the truth. "Rejected, yes," Qui-Gon countered, his own consternation evident in his voice. He knew he spoke too loudly, he knew his heckles were raised. What did it matter now anyway? Qui-Gon spoke the words that were on his mind, just as he always had. "But they were rejected by the Republic, sold into slavery by the Senate, given by the Jedi to the Sith Empire."

"What right have you, to speak of that? Not known, that is, Master Jinn. Hidden knowledge it is. Forbidden."

"I must speak, Master Yoda. It is not what you think it is. The Force denied itself to the Taleach so that they might survive, so that the Baobhan-sith might find a greater power that lies behind the Force. Not the dark side. Something else, something more commanding and more radiant." Qui-Gon's own words opened his own eyes to a truth. He spoke as a Jedi, but it was a sham. He no longer thought as one.

Yoda, now, looked truly shocked. "No. Wrong, you are, Master Jinn. Wrong, yes. Sense a lacuna, in you, I do. Fall, you will, unless you turn away."

"That absence you sense is no void, Master Yoda. It is the spark that ignited the heavens when the universe was formed. It is a life more beautiful than this one." Qui-Gon fell silent. This meant nothing to Yoda, he could see the old Master's failure to comprehend the import of it. He tried another tack. "I speak of things that have been revealed and cannot be contained again, Master Yoda. I have changed, I know. We must all change now. Or die."

"Wrong, you are, Qui-Gon. And sorry, I am, that our words should be harsh." Yoda turned and walked away towards the entrance to the Council chamber. He did not turn his head, but he did speak again. "Lost you are, to the Force, Master Jinn. Sad, this makes me. But know, I do, that shirk your duty, you will not. And hope, I have, when this is over, that restored to us, you will be."

Yoda was the last of the Council to enter the chamber and take his seat. The doors closed on his retreating back.

***

The running messenger, a young knight Obi-Wan only vaguely recognised, slowed to a panting halt and calmed her breathing.

"What is it?" Obi-Wan asked.

"A motion in the Senate. Of no-confidence. In Chancellor Valorum. An election has been called. I have to report. To the Council." She took one long breath and approached the doors.

***

"The boy may go in now, Master Jinn," the messenger informed Qui-Gon when she finally emerged.

Qui-Gon looked long and hard at his charge. "This is it, Ani. Be strong. And trust your instincts."

Anakin swallowed hard, but walked confidently towards the chamber and the waiting circle of Jedi.

"And may the Force be with you," Qui-Gon whispered after him.

"Master?"

It was clear Obi-Wan wanted to talk, he so much wanted to talk, there was so much he wanted to talk about, that the questioning emotions rolled off him. Qui-Gon closed his eyes a moment, and nudged a sense of reassurance towards Anakin before he turned back to Obi-Wan. "Yes, Padawan?"

"He won't pass, will he?"

Qui-Gon knew before his apprentice had finished speaking that that was not the question Obi-Wan really wanted to ask. He answered anyway. "I believe he will, Obi-Wan." That was not the answer Obi-Wan wanted to hear, either.

"Why did you bring him? Why didn't you leave him on Tatooine?"

Now that was a question closer to Obi-Wan's worries, Qui-Gon felt. He sighed, but barely. He had to keep his resolve in front of Obi-Wan even though he wished he did not have to keep justifying his actions. He was tired of it. He just wanted to get on with the next milestone of his life. But that was a restlessness he did not need. It was wishing away his last moments.

"It was the will of the Force," he finally said, "that he was there to help us. Anakin's talent is strong, Obi-Wan, but it is wild. If I had left him there, we don't know who would have found him and used him, exploited him, abused his powers. Especially if the Sith are at work amongst us again." There were more important things, Qui-Gon knew, that he wished to speak with Obi-Wan about. He would have to steer this conversation round to his direction. "We must move carefully, now. Very carefully. Bad times are ahead. I have been shown them."

"By Iva, Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was less than even, a sense of his confusion leeched through the words. "Why should we listen to Baobhan-sith prophecy?"

"Iva sees that Anakin will become a Jedi. Baobhan-sith prophecy and Jedi lore both point to the same future. Her prophecy is ours. On these matters at least." Qui-Gon stopped speaking for a moment as his thoughts intruded. Was that a truth or a hope of wish fulfilment? "I believe that," he added.

Obi-Wan did not look so sure.

Qui-Gon looked hard at his apprentice, as though vision itself might open up a channel of communication. But there were only words. "And I believe it proves the link between them and us. That though the Taleach were immutably changed by their sojourn on the Sith worlds, it was the Force that shaped them, that saved them and gifted the Baobhan-sith with their powers. Just as it did the Jedi."

"I can't believe this, Master. It goes against everything we have been taught, everything we stand for."

Qui-Gon relinquished the fight and relented. "Obi-Wan, I admit you don't have to believe something just because I do. And you don't have to follow in my footsteps, though I hope I've taught you well. But you do have to face facts. Soon you will have to make your own choices. I hope you are prepared for that."

It was clear to Qui-Gon that he only embroiled Obi-Wan further in his own quandary. "Let's go out onto the balcony, Padawan," he said. "The air is cooler there." He turned. "And I would like to hear your thoughts on Anakin."

Obi-Wan followed. "The boy will not pass the Council's test, Master, he's too old." The hound worried at the bone relentlessly.

It was a fear that Qui-Gon shared, but he clung to Iva's words. Anakin's future as a Jedi was clear. And Qui-Gon knew what would be required of them all.

***

"Anakin was rejected, we've been ordered back to Naboo." Qui-Gon was breathless, hurriedly throwing a small number of items into his pack. "Valorum has been ousted. Palpatine is standing for election."

Iva watched him, her eyes darting as they followed him around the room. "I know," she said. She didn't move. She held her dark mirror in her hands.

"It's too dangerous here now. Get your things, I'm taking you with me."

"I can't go with you. Not yet. You have to wait."

He let his pack fall to the ground. "What? Why not? You must. I can't. Queen Amidala is leaving now." His certainty, his world, was falling out from under him.

Iva stood still, frozen in time. He could see she was disturbed, that something had upset her deeply.

"It's Finis. I have seen things, here..." Her hand swept across the surface of the mirror. A static charge of magic filled the room. "Things almost too terrible for words."

The images passed through his mind as she looked, he saw with her eyes. The blood flowing from wounds that would never heal, the searing pain that wouldn't end, the anguish of unremitting torment.

Iva's voice dislodged them from his mind. "They will tear Finis' sons apart piece by piece and take his wife and daughter to sate the basest of their desires and they will make him watch it all. They will break him, Qui-Gon, and I, we, can't let that happen."

"Iva, no, I can't let you risk it." Even as he uttered those words, he saw her eyes widen, he saw them darken with consternation and loss.

"He accepted me as a daughter and gave me all this." She looked around the room. "Let me do this one thing for him in return."

"I don't know, there's danger in it." But she had a point.

"You stood firm once. You didn't let that happen to me. Let me do as much for them."

He had to accommodate her capriciousness, he had to let her stay, to be all that she was, to be all that she could be. Their enemies were destroying other worlds now as they had already destroyed hers, other lives were at stake - he had to let her prevent a tragedy, however small.

But there was another thing binding him to her, a prediction waiting to become reality. "What about us," he said. "Is the prophesy finished with me yet?"

She looked at her mirror, not at him. "No, not yet." She looked up, desperate for succour. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

"No. I can't. I wish I could. I can't. Can you come and find me when you're done here?"

"Yes. I can try."

"Do it, then," he said. "Do what you must and then come after me. But do it quickly." Only then did he go to her, for comfort, for tears, to quell the pain in his heart.

He held her arms, firmly and lovingly, and looked down at her, at her face, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to be apart from her so soon, even for a short time. "I have to go," he breathed quietly.

"Yes," she said, as quiet and almost as sadly. And she craned her neck up to meet his kiss. He held her passionately and desperately for a single long minute before he left.

- 31 -
Tonight I Think I'll Walk Alone, I'll Find My Soul As I Go Home.

Plo Koon waited just inside the exit that led to the landing platform, the vast metallic field behind him an empty expanse of dead grey. "I had to see you before you left, old friend." His masked face glanced over Qui-Gon's shoulder as he approached. "Isn't Iva with you?"

"She is detained on other business." Qui-Gon looked ahead, his eyes unfocussed, his voice flat. The transport waited.

"What other business could she have here now, Qui-Gon? Valorum cannot protect her once he has left office."

Plo's enquiry was met at first with only silence. Qui-Gon's face was set into a frown. He spoke at last. "Have you come to make sure I get on that ship, Plo?"

"No. I came to make sure you were alright. You have come to rely too heavily on your emotions, Qui-Gon. Yoda fears they are a temptation which the dark side will exploit."

Qui-Gon looked at Plo at last. And smiled. "Don't worry, old friend. I have learnt to respect my emotions."

But still there was a space between them. A gulf not just in the wary distance they kept from each other, but in their very friendship.

Plo took one last chance. "Ah, but that's the rub, Qui-Gon. As Jedi, we must seek to distance ourselves from sentiment. It is an illusion. Else we will suffer the consequence of living too much in this world. This impermanent, illusory world. These distractions that society offers are petty ephemera. And yet you seek them. And having found them, you embrace them."

"Are we really so much better, Plo, than all the people out there who love and hate, who fight and procreate?"

Plo pulled himself to his full height. "Yes. Yes, we are, Qui-Gon."

"We live, Plo. And this is the world we live in. Whatever its imperfections, it is ours. How can we help those who live in it with us if we seek to deny it to ourselves?"

"You're argument is persuasive, but I am not convinced." Plo closed the gap between himself and Qui-Gon. Slapped his friend on the shoulder. Dissipated the mood that lay on them both. "But Yaddle is, eh?"

"Don't joke about it," Qui-Gon snorted. "Yaddle should be careful. Keep an eye on her, Plo."

"I will, Qui-Gon, but Master Piell will keep a closer one." Plo chuckled.

Qui-Gon only raised an eyebrow.

Plo lowered his voice to a crackle from his breather. "I fear I could find no supportive evidence for these assertions against Palpatine."

Qui-Gon returned a gesture and took his turn to place a hand on a friend's shoulder. "Forget it, Plo. You did what you could. I don't want to bring you down with me."

"Well, Qui-Gon, the Council *is* irked with you but we have other pressing concerns to deal with now."

"The dark warrior."

"Yes. But the Senate too. Petty squabbles are breaking out across the Republic." Plo tipped his head to one side: "these members want the Senate to support the Trade Federation." And then to the other: "those wish to it to remain neutral." He spread his hands wide in an empty gesture. "Others clamour for military action. I would like to see Bail Antilles take the chair, but too many see him as just another Valorum. They want the promise of strength that Palpatine offers. Much is riding on the outcome of your mission to Naboo, Qui-Gon. I know the Council still trusts you."

"I wish I could promise you a favourable one, Plo. But I fear whatever the outcome there, this will not be over. Not for a long time."

Plo took Qui-Gon's hand firmly between his own and shook it hard. "Well, you haven't let us down yet. Be off with you, the shuttle is waiting to take you to Queen Amidala's ship."

Qui-Gon threw his other arm around his friend and pulled him close in a brief bear hug. Then pushed him back and stared deep into the coverings concealing Plo's eyes. "Good bye, old friend." And then Qui-Gon turned and walked away, out onto the landing platform.

It had been so heartfelt a farewell that Plo truly believed in that moment that they would never see each other again. He swallowed the thought and watched his dearest friend depart.

***

It had gone too far this time, Obi-Wan thought. Qui-Gon had overstepped the mark with Anakin, and that was unforgivable enough. But how dare he do what he had done next? How dare he discard his Padawan so flippantly and in such flagrant disregard for the Code?

Qui-Gon's words had detonated in Obi-Wan's ears like a bomb-shell. Why had Qui-Gon said nothing as they waited outside the Council Chamber? Why had he only spoken guardedly of Obi-Wan's future? It was tantamount to rejection. It was distrust. It was inexcusable.

Obi-Wan felt pleased with himself that he had stayed so outwardly unmoved before the Council. It had taken all of his resources to keep his outer shell serene and his emotions in control, but he *had* stayed calm. He hadn't exposed his Master to further derision and censure by the Council. He owed Qui-Gon that at least, though still it hurt, those perfunctory words of dismissal. His Master had cut him to the quick and betrayed his commitment not only to his training, but to someone who thought of himself as a son.

Obi-Wan let out a deep and long held breath. He realised that his teeth had been clenched and that his breathing had ceased. He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling, that something dreadful was descending on him. Obi-Wan knew it was time to let go. He must let go. But he couldn't let go. Not yet. No, he was not pleased with Qui-Gon and, yes, he wanted to be free of him. Of him and his damned emotions. But he couldn't let go, not while that feeling of doom hung over him. If anything still stopped him, still held him back, that did.

And Obi-Wan still clung to the hope that Qui-Gon might relent, that his Master might allow himself to be saved. Qui-Gon had given him more second chances than he deserved, a good master must learn from the pupil too.

All these thoughts whirled like a tornado through Obi-Wan's mind as he sat on the shuttle. He could not discard them, he could not confront them rationally. He eyes threw occasional daggers at Qui-Gon, but his Master was deep in thoughts of his own. Anakin squirmed in his seat and Obi-Wan willed him to be still. And why do I feel myself so drawn to you, he wondered, a bitterness in that thought, too, which he could not shake.

The transport gave a gentle lurch as it set down. It was time. Time to board the Queen's ship. Time to confront Qui-Gon and shake him into action. Obi-Wan let Anakin and his Master move to disembark before he got up quickly and followed them to the exit hatch. He would speak to Qui-Gon now, before he lost the chance, before he lost him forever. His motivation was strong. He would not abandon Qui-Gon yet, he was better than that, he was a Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan prided himself on his motivation. If he wasn't in control of his motivation, how could he be in control of his destiny?

"Master," he deferred to Qui-Gon with a sharp bow of his head. And then set forth his thoughts in words. "I have been observing Anakin, I sense his impatience and fear it is dangerous. Is it wise to take him to Naboo?"

"He will learn to curb his impatience, Obi-Wan. As you did."

"But he is too old to train."

"Why?"

"Why is he too old?" Qui-Gon turned on Obi-Wan.

Though Qui-Gon was by nature taciturn, Obi-Wan sensed a lecture coming.

And it did. "*I* don't think he is," Qui-Gon began, a firmness in his voice, his hands gesturing to emphasise his words. "There's another question you should ask, Obi-Wan. Why do the Jedi discard people with gifts because of their age? Think about that. Why do they consign them to invisibility? Leave them to flounder, unsure of themselves, out of rhythm with those around them, their talents wasted, their promise unfulfilled. Who decreed *that* Obi-Wan? And is it right?"

"Right, Master? Of course it is right, the Code..."

"The Code is not infallible." Qui-Gon's voice was bitter. Obi-Wan saw the flare of emotion in his eyes, passion, determination, sadness.

And Obi-Wan knew he was not just talking about Anakin, he was talking about Iva and the Taleach. He faced up to his Master. He swallowed hard and spoke resolutely. "You are wrong."

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon was aghast, there was no denying it. "A Padawan learner is expected to show respect to his master."

It was time to board. And Obi-Wan had almost run out of time.

He ignored the rebuke and tried again. "It's not disrespect, Master. It's the truth."

- 32 -
At The Point Of Departure, On The Eve Of Despair.

Iva's hand rested on her stomach. An empty vessel, she was an empty vessel. He'd had to go, Qui-Gon. She'd told herself that a hundred times, the fate of Naboo was in his hands. But the void in her womb was an aching gulf she had to cross to get to him. She took her pride and crushed it, she swallowed hard, her temper and her despair wouldn't bring him to her. Magic was her tool. She'd get to him. She wasn't finished with him yet.

She paused only to make a small collection of her possessions - the tools of her magical art, her book of illumination and shadow, the few physical memories she had of Qui-Gon Jinn.

An abrupt loud rap on the door gave her a start. She pushed the last of her small precious belongings into her bag and stood upright. She didn't need this, an interruption, now.

It was Yaddle.

The small woman, looking so like a forest spirit, took a hesitant step into the room. "I'm glad you haven't left yet. I wanted to speak with you. I want.." Yaddle looked down. "...to..." She licked her lips. "...join with the Baobhan-sith."

Iva heard a finality to the words. As if the little Jedi thought that saying them would make them real.

Yaddle looked up again, looked up at Iva, flustered, embarrassed. "If they would have me, of course," she added in an outrush of breath.

This, this was an interruption she welcomed and yet dreaded. It wasn't, the divine blood, the gift and the curse of life beyond death, something you could spread around like seed cast onto the nurturing soil. Could she reveal the truth to this woman? Could Yaddle take it? Iva didn't doubt that she could, but the prospect was daunting, the moment, the choice, a weighty one. And could she call on the Calleach to reveal herself to Yaddle at this moment, the crux of the destiny. Iva thought of the times she had revealed herself in all the power and glory of the hag. Obi-Wan had cowered from her goddess face, Palpatine had fallen in dread of it, Qui-Gon, as was wont of Mananan's chosen flesh, loved it. What would Yaddle see, unprepared as she was? Iva didn't have time to dwell on the niceties. There wasn't time for magic and there wasn't time for ceremony.

"It's your choice, brideach a coille," she said. She used the term of endearance for Yaddle's people, forest dwellers. "The Baobhan-sith would welcome you."

"I will do whatever you ask, Iva. Read, study, learn."

"You may do all that. But I only ask one thing. Give me your soul."

"Yes, Iva. That too."

"You only have to give yourself to the goddess, to the one who rules us in the night. And to the god, who brings fertility to the land."

"Yes. Yes, I will."

"Will you do what I say and what I ask."

"Yes, Iva. Yes."

As Iva bent her head forward, her hair fell across her eyes. She left it there. And welcomed the Calleach into her soul. When she lifted her head again she knew that Yaddle would see an awful sight, a face of terrible beauty, a face that could welcome a soul beyond the gates of death, that signified the destruction that was borne on the winds of change, the obliterating torrent which left nought in its wake. She half expected the Jedi to turn and run. But Yaddle, strong, true, loving Yaddle, whose people had shared the same fate as that of the Taleach, stood her ground. And Iva saw that her heart embraced the path of life.

"This won't hurt," Iva, the Calleach, promised. And she lifted her own wrist to her mouth and drew the skin across the sharp teeth of her mouth. Her blood dripped like shards of priceless ruby. She let them fall into an abandoned glass half-filled with Alderaanian wine to cut the taste. She passed the cup of her life to Yaddle. "Taste of me and you will be mine."

Yaddle took the cup. Raised it gingerly to her lips as if to sip, to sample it first. And then threw back her head and drank it down in one, deep gulp.

"You are one now," the Calleach said, "with the goddess and the god. One with the living embodiments of the universe, your spirit is mine."

Iva picked up her bag, alone now, only a woman, never a goddess and moved towards the door.

"What do I do now?" Yaddle asked behind her.

She turned back. "I don't know. You will have to find your own path. You will be different now, have a different life to the one you knew until now."

"What has happened to me? I don't feel anything."

"The divinities have been put into your blood. As they were put into mine at menarche. As they were put into Qui-Gon's when he joined with me. But we all have to find our own way. You will hear their voices when you are ready. I'm sorry I can't stay and help you more, but I have another journey that I must go on now."

"Yes, Iva. I understand. Thank you."

"Don't thank me until you know where the cycle of life and death will take you."

Loath as she was to leave Yaddle adrift, Iva knew she had no more time to give for pleasantries or explanations. She went straight to Valorum's private apartments.

He welcomed her with open arms. "Iva, I thought perhaps you might have left with Qui-Gon."

"I'm leaving soon. That ship you promised me, is it ready?"

"Yes. Where will you go?"

"Finis, your family, they're coming with me. Your son can drop me at Naboo, then take them on to wherever you think they will be safe."

"Iva!" He sounded almost alarmed. "That's not necessary. This vote of no confidence, it's a disappointment, yes, but it frees me from the chains of high office. It doesn't end my career."

"It's not safe for you now, you must listen to me, you must trust me. Resign, retire, anything, please. You must get out of here as soon as you can."

He took her hand and held it paternally. "I know you mean this for the best, but Iva, it's not that bad."

"It will be." She pulled her hand back firmly. "Look." She took hold of his head, a circle of magic glowing beneath her hands. She showed him, she showed him it all, the betrayal, the torture, the suffering. His wife, his family.

"No, no," he moaned. And then he screamed with empathetic pain and cried tears of sorrow.

She let him go. He sat, finally quiet, his head buried in his hands. "This can't be."

"This thread you see pollutes the whole of time future, it spreads out into the whole galaxy, those threads that will not be tainted by this stain are cut and severed."

Valorum looked up at her, his eyes red and rimmed with tears. She held her arms out to him. In her open hand a curl of paper lay on her palm, on the silver filigree and crystal of her amulet. It smouldered, a thin trail of smoke curling upwards.

"It is too precarious. I see only pain without the release of death if you stay." She held a burning scroll in her hand, its flame was cold. "The covenant is broken. It is over. You must leave Finis. I will take your family to safety ahead of you. Tie up your affairs and then go to join them. Get them on the ship. I'm leaving once I have been to the Temple. It's all I can offer you."

"And you, Iva, what about you?" He wept, but it wasn't for her, she knew, it was for his family, his life.

"Forget about me, Finis. I was never here." She turned on her heel and quickly left, refusing to look back on his tears for fear she would shed her own. The veil of night clothed her in obscurity.

A tall figure stood just inside the Temple entrance when she arrived there. Obviously waiting. His inky black cloak and tunic echoed the sleek thinness of his body and emphasised the cold grey of his hair. His face was almost gaunt, the features sharp, his beard a sharper point, but the eyes sparkled with vitality and a brazen charm akin to malice. He turned towards her as she passed across the threshold. It seemed as though his eyes drank in the sight of her. His presence was great, his charisma strong, even so her soul recoiled. He spoke.

"Ah, Lady Ibhormheith, I believe. Princess Seer of Cair-deil Talamh." He bowed from the waist and his heels of his boots snapped together audibly.

She looked at him, said nothing, took a step, intent on walking by.

He held out a hand. "Jorus C'Baoth, at your service, my Lady."

She was wary. She wanted only to proceed, to protect her plan. She did not welcome this interruption. "I've heard of you," she said. "Nothing complimentary."

His hand withdrew. He smiled with closed lips. "Forgive my presumption. I have followed your husband's career with interest. Master Jinn sees things differently than most Jedi, as do I. We both see tragedy in the future of the Jedi Order, I believe. The Council is remiss in continuing to affiliate with the Republic, the Jedi are not the servants of the Senate. It is time we freed ourselves from that yoke. It is time to seek independence, show our hand, and our real power. Before we are drawn too deeply into political intrigue and all its ramifications."

"Not me, sir, I am no Jedi." She didn't want to stand and argue with him, allied as he was to Palpatine.

"Your husband then."

"Qui-Gon Jinn believes the Jedi must learn strength in humility. Not seek power." Why did she stand and argue with him?

He cut her off, this dark mystery of a man. "The time will soon come, my Lady, when the Council will have to cease their anodyne passivity. Action must prevail, choices must be made. Master Jinn has much respect, many seek to follow his example. But the path he advocates is not feasible, empathy alone will not hold back the tide. And I will not let the Jedi be used for political ends in the days and years to come."

"The future cannot be averted in the way you suggest." He had a way of drawing her out. She saw it in his eyes but could not break away.

"How then? By seeking to unite the light and the dark in one as you do? Be wary, my Lady, the power of the dark side has an intensity which can strike us down at any time."

Iva felt suddenly afraid. How did he know these things, speak of these things? How had he not figured in her visions? Was she blind, the future a tangled web of chicanery?

"I know what you plan to do," he said, his words an answer to her unspoken question. "I pray to the Force that you can. As long as the light side persists it may be possible. But once the darkness falls I fear that it will overwhelm us all."

She had the measure of his flaw now. He made the same mistake as all Jedi, all those devoted to the Force. "It is not the darkness itself that is evil, sir. It is those that hide in it for evil ends. Can you be sure they do not hide in the light as well?" She didn't wait for an answer, she fled. Across the marble halls and down the empty passages to Adi's rooms.

"I am leaving Adi," she said without ado when the door had barely begun to open. "I know you'll follow me. I just want to make sure you will. I'm going to Naboo. You'll have to fetch me back."

The caution was clear on Adi's face. But Iva didn't wait for a reply, she had already begun her retreat along the corridor.

"What?" Adi stepped out into the corridor and ran after her. "Wait." Adi grabbed her arm and span her round. "Why? What are you going to do?" the Jedi asked her face to face.

"You don't need to know, Adi Gallia." She shook Adi's hand off her arm. "We - Qui-Gon, I, the Baobhan-sith, have decided to play our hand."

Adi's arm dropped to her side and she clasped her lightsabre as if for reassurance or comfort. She looked puzzled. "Alright," she said. "I'll follow you. Only you must know, it's not for you alone, it's for Qui-Gon, for the promise I made to him. And if you do anything that might harm him, I *will* stop you."

- 33 -
She Killed His Past With Her Kiss, All Past Was But A Lie.

Obi-Wan was deep in debate with Panaka over the Queen's plan to liberate Naboo when the pilot called them to the bridge. An edge to Ric Olie voice suggested an emergency. Obi-Wan didn't even consider fetching Qui-Gon. His Master had spent the past two days since their departure and discussions with the Queen in meditation. At least he called it meditation, but to Obi-Wan's eyes it looked more like a melancholic fugue, sitting cross-legged as he did for hours on end in the crew bunkroom mooning over a hand written text he knew was Iva's. Obi-Wan told himself that only Qui-Gon was responsible for his own condition, but he blamed himself in part for all that. They had hardly spoken more than was necessary for civility's sake since their argument on Coruscant and after the deliberations with Queen Amidala over her next move, Qui-Gon had charged him with the responsibility of liasing with Panaka. And since then, all Qui-Gon had done was sleep and meditate. Now there was a new crisis looming and Obi-Wan swore to himself that he would deal with it alone. He'd be the new-forged knight Qui-Gon now insisted by inaction he become.

A dozen scenarios ran through Obi-Wan's head as he stepped on to the bridge behind Panaka. A Trade Federation intercept, the Sith warrior, a courier with news of developments in the Senate... But no, it was none of those things, it was something that surprised even Obi-Wan.

Olie directed his report to Panaka before they had even crossed the deck to the helm. "It's a coded message, sir. "

"From whom, pilot?" the Captain responded formally.

"The Luna Herald, sir. It identifies itself as the personal lightship of Finis Valorum."

Obi-Wan glanced at the readout. "It's a Jedi cipher."

Panaka directed a look at Obi-Wan. "You'd better fetch your master, Obi-Wan."

"I can read it, Captain. It's requesting us to drop out of hyperspace and prepare for docking."

Panaka looked annoyed, and sounded so. "That may be so, but fetch Qui-Gon. I don't like this. I'm not sure how we should respond."

Obi-Wan's heart sank. He knew it could only be Ibhormheith. Only she would have access to Valorum's personal ship and Jedi ciphers. Valorum himself could hardly have abandoned the election in the Senate. He sighed in his heart, though not a flicker could be seen on his exterior. "I'll get him, but you'd better do as they request. I don't sense any danger."

Qui-Gon was already striding towards him as Obi-Wan jogged to the crew quarters. "Master, it's Valorum's transport, requesting docking." The royal yacht gave a shudder as it dropped to normal space.

"Thank you, Padawan. I take it Captain Panaka is complying."

Obi-Wan searched his Master's face for a hint of apology or forgiveness, but found none. "Yes, Master."

"Will you ask Panaka if there is a private cabin which is not being used."

"Master?"

"Don't argue, Padawan, just do it."

Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to the floor, he felt he had been chastised. For nothing. He wanted so desperately to talk, to air his grievances, to straighten things out, but now in all likelihood Qui-Gon was going to lock himself away with Iva.

But Qui-Gon spoke again, more like his gentle self this time. "Please, Obi-Wan. Iva has to get away from Coruscant now, Valorum's expulsion from office leaves her in grave danger. I'm sure you don't wish her harm, even if you are perturbed at our actions these past weeks."

Obi-Wan didn't speak, he couldn't speak, his voice remained trapped in his throat. He did as he was told.

When he returned with Panaka, Iva was already entering the ship.

She was dressed as a Baobhan-sith, but even though her eyes were half-hidden by her veil Obi-Wan could see the excitement and the joy of expectation in her face, though as was usual he could get no sense at all of any emotion or thought from her. She remained to him a dead thing. She confused him and confounded him as she had always done, but he gave her a grudging respect. She had always done as she had promised. She had always allowed him his space and his time with Qui-Gon. This turn of events was unusual for her, unknown. This intersection of a Jedi mission. Something must be badly wrong. It only compounded Obi-Wan's disturbance that the future held something bleak for them all.

He wasn't the only one observing her arrival. The unexpected break in the journey had attracted an audience. Anakin had come to gawp as only a nine-year-old could, Eirtae and Padme, charged with babysitting detail, watched him as much as the mundane events unfolding, Jar Jar loomed behind them all.

Qui-Gon seemed oblivious. He placed a hand proprietarily on Iva's back as Panaka led them away towards the royal accommodations.

"What's she doing here?" Anakin blurted. "I don't like her."

Padme looked in the direction they had gone. "She's very beautiful. But who is she? Why is she here? The Queen should be told."

"She's a fortune teller. Like the Ryn."

Jar Jar looked down at Anakin. "The Ryn? Whosa dey, Annie?"

"The Hutt use them, to read the cards."

Obi-Wan was alarmed. This could cause an unwelcome complication. Better they know the truth now than spend the next couple of days gossiping.

"She's not a fortune teller," he said emphatically. "She can see the future to some extent. Much like some Jedi can. That's all." He ushered them back to the galley. "And she's Qui-Gon's wife," he added in hushed tones.

"Qui-Gon has a wife!" Padme giggled as Eirtae flashed her a glance and raised a hand to stifle a snigger.

Obi-Wan frowned as he caught the inflection of their laughter. But Eirtae looked so beautiful when she smiled, her face so alluring. Funny, he hadn't noticed that before. A sudden and illicit thought struck him. Why should Qui-Gon have all the fun? He was too tense, he needed to relax. Perhaps he could get Eirtae alone and spend some time with her. He stepped closer and motioned her aside. "Do you think you could help me with some information about Naboo?" he asked.

***

Go here. Take this message there. Check up on this. Do that.

Maul's trip to Geonosis had been a waste of his time and his talents. What did he need to see row upon row of cloning cylinders for anyway? He wasn't a pen pusher. And he wasn't an errand boy.

He fumed silently, sending waves of hatred towards the Neimoidian slime. It gave him some pleasure at least seeing them squirm before him. And at least here, on Naboo, he had a real job to do. The Queen was returning. The Jedi were coming. He'd enjoying taunting Jinn and his little apprentice before he killed them both. And he'd enjoying torturing Amidala in the worst of ways to get her to sign the treaty. She was a strong one, it might take a lot to break *her*. He would look forward to bruising and tearing that unsullied flesh.

"Get on with it," he snarled at the Neimoidians as he left them floundering in their petty excuses.

Maul stalked the palace for hours, mentally noting the potential traps and pitfalls he might use to work for him, and against the Jedi, in a fight. He prowled the corridors and halls. He located even the smallest of the cellars and most insignificant of the cubby holes. He took the measure of the lower levels of the palace, the fighter hangers and power generators. He paced the catwalks of the latter, up and down, back and forth, committing its spatial intricacies to memory.

This, he thought, would be a good place indeed to ensnare the Jedi. They were insects to him, waiting to be crushed.

***

Obi-Wan learnt nothing from Eirtae that he hadn't already heard from Panaka. Not that he minded. He was enjoying the sound of her voice and the curve of her lips and, most of all, her company. He was tempted to push things forward. To lean in and kiss those lips. But he was held back by the thought that he could not offer her love and commitment, only a passing hour or two of delight. Who knew where he would be next week, next month, next year? Was it fair to ask so much from her, and not give in return?

"You are upset with Master Qui-Gon."

Her words, the suddenness of their intrusion in his thoughts, the impact of their meaning, stunned him. "No, no," he stammered, unwittingly embarrassed.

"Don't be hard on him, Obi-Wan. He has a lot of worries on his shoulders. Naboo, the Queen, the rest of us, Anakin." She stared at him, a look he couldn't read. "You too, Obi-Wan,"

He couldn't think of a thing to say.

"I won't ask what it is. That's your secret. But whatever it is, you mustn't let it come between you."

She was right. "How did you..."

"How do I know?" She laughed. "Oh, Obi-Wan, don't be blind. Do you think you Jedi are the only ones who can sense such things? Call it intuition if you like, but I know these things too. You and Qui-Gon are friends, a team. You work well together. It's the same for us handmaidens with the Queen."

She *was* right. Except now that Iva was here, he had lost his chance at a quick resolution of his row with Qui-Gon. He resolved to make his apologies at the earliest opportunity.

"Thank you, Eirtae," he said. And quickly bent forward to kiss her.

Just as quickly, she shifted sideways and away. "I can't give you love, Obi-Wan. Soon you'll go on to wherever the Jedi send you next and I'll go back to my life on Naboo."

His heart was thudding with disappointment, but she sounded almost as sad about it as he. Well, it couldn't be helped. "It's alright, Eirtae. I know. It was silly of me to think we could try."

It was, he knew. What sort of a relationship could a Jedi have anyway? True they could, and sometimes did, marry outsiders. Qui-Gon had, Ki-Adi-Mundi had. But Mundi had done it for the continuation of his race and Qui-Gon had done it for some yet unknown destiny. And both had had to spend long weeks and months apart from the woman they loved. No, most Jedi took what opportunities for sexual companionship where they could, and then only if it was mutually agreeable. They all understood the commitment being a Jedi entailed. Even Iva had said he would never know love.

He looked at Eirtae.

She was looking back at him strangely. She laughed again and the moment lightened. "Don't worry, Obi-Wan. Who knows? Our paths might cross again." She touched his hand and her touch was electric.

Were his thoughts so obvious then? Or was there, perhaps, the prospect of something between them in some future he had not yet dreamt of. He smiled, genuinely happy for a moment. "Thank you, Eirtae," he said. "You have given me more than I would have taken from you."

And she had. Perhaps Qui-Gon was right after all. Obi-Wan knew he should try and understand the living Force a little more. And perhaps, hard as it was, he should learn to recognise when it was time to let go.

***

The cabin Panaka had opened for Qui-Gon was small, bare, functional. A bed, a chest, a shelf, and little more. Meant for a lowly guard or minor servitor. But it brought a pain to Qui-Gon's heart and an empty ache to his belly.

He had seen this room before. Many times.

It was a room from a dream long ago. The dream that had led him to Iva.

He didn't want to face the meaning of it.

He tried to speak, but Iva stopped his mouth with her kiss, her fingers searching, seeking the means to bring him pleasure.

There was a silence between them that there had never been before. They filled the silence with love.

The bed platform was narrow but they curled together, each drawing on the other's nearness, falling swiftly into the birth of passion. He made love to her tenderly and slowly. She was willing and open. He cried as he came and she held him tightly as he sobbed.

Death stalked him now.

- 34 -
From The World To The Dreaming Fields Of Light.

The starlight of the dark Naboo night barely lit the glades between the trees. The damp air was cool, though the breeze barely rustled the leaves. Qui-Gon stood on the fringes of the forest with his arms tight around Iva. Her head rested on his chest. On the plain across the clearing, just visible through the trees, the silver hull of the Nubian ship glistened.

Qui-Gon had spent the remainder of their journey here closeted with Iva, emerging only for refreshment and sustenance. He would have to speak with Obi-Wan tomorrow, set things right with his apprentice before their action against the Trade Federation and the looming confrontation with his nemesis. For now, all he wanted was to spend these last few precious moments with his love.

"Where's Adi?" Qui-Gon whispered, half to himself, he expected no reply. "We have to contact the Gungans in the morning and I can't leave you here alone."

"Adi will be here all too soon, Qui-Gon. Don't wish this time away."

Iva's voice sounded muffled, her face nuzzling his body. It felt so comforting, that simple action, they could be safe, a thousand miles away from danger. She cooed provocatively as he buried his face in her hair.

A guard, alert to every sound, turned his head in their direction.

Qui-Gon felt the heat of Iva's body against his, fanning the flames of his desire.

She wriggled from his embrace and took his hand.

"Come on," she urged, pulling him further into the darkness between the tree boughs. "It's so beautiful here. Can you feel it? This is a sacred place. It's alive with the nurturing earth."

Qui-Gon could feel it too, a swirling, coalescing energy. It was here, the knowledge that he would fulfil his destiny, in the wild power of nature. He sank to his knees in the leaf-mould and pulled Iva down with him. She tumbled into his arms and he was kissing her. A thousand motes of mica swarmed around them.

They made love passionately, as if each were the only force of reality in the other's world, making every kiss and each caress last an eternity. In a limbo of sublime ecstasy between the ground and the canopy of the trees, Iva's rhythmic incantations spurred their movements to a frenzy. Their bodies spun a dazzle of phosphorescent silver motes into a wheeling scintilla of phantom moonlight that embraced them both.

The release of passion left Qui-Gon shuddering, spent, too unsteady to move. He could only trust that Iva, his beloved, his divine beauty, would be adequate support in the moments to come. In the post-coital glow, in the aftermath of passion and despair, in anticipation of the shock of imminent parting, Qui-Gon held on to Iva as resolutely as he could.

He looked deeply into her eyes. He smiled. He was not afraid. Inside, deep inside her eyes, he could see the dread knowledge of a strange life beyond this one. All the unspoken thoughts, all the moments they had lived, together and apart, all the dreams, all the love, it was all there in her eyes. And would be again.

He knew it, she knew it.

A wind stirred, the hot rush of an starship exhaust swept between the trees. Qui-Gon sighed. Was it over so soon?

Iva didn't move. He didn't let her move. His arms were around her and he wasn't willing to let her go.

His comlink trilled. The signal. The end.

"Adi's here," he whispered as he hauled himself to his feet, pulling Iva with him. They hurriedly pulled on their clothes and he readied himself for parting.

"Kiss me again," he pleaded. "One last time."

"Don't say that, Qui-Gon. It will not be the last." She reached up with her hand and her fingers brushed his lips.

He didn't know what to believe. He didn't know what he believed. He might die and become one with the Force. He might die and live beyond death. But he would die.

"Kiss me one last time in this life," he pleaded again.

She did.

Her hand was tiny and white in his large fist. She pulled it away, fiercely, as if leaving it there would fracture her resolve. And then, with a sob, she broke away from his embrace and ran. Away from him. Towards the sanctuary of Adi's ship.

She didn't turn. She didn't look back.

Qui-Gon stood for the remaining hours of the night staring empty-eyed across the Nubian plain.

A fleck of darkness floated on the glimmering landscape of his mind. He had to nurture it. He had to cease hoping for another path. He had to stop resisting. He had to let it grow.

Obi-Wan found him there in the morning.

"Jar Jar's on his way to the Gungan city, Master."

Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan as if for the first time. As if for the last.

It was time for reconciliation. It was time for forgiveness. It was time for sincerity.

***

The incarnadine light of the energy barrier slammed across Qui-Gon's path. He dropped to his knees. Exhausted. The end was in sight, already in sight.

The Sith was a blackened dervish, whirling in a blur of energy, his yellow-tinged red-rimmed eyes buttoned to the back of his skull. Qui-Gon had been downed by the dark warrior several times already, forced to his knees, forced to retreat. And now he had been separated from Obi-Wan. He reached out with the Force, sensed his Padawan's anxiety at this turn of events, at the uncoverable distance between himself and his master, at the impenetrable barrier between them.

A memory which was half-phantom, warped and misshapen with distance and time, with suffering and loneliness, came to Qui-Gon. It was inevitable, he had seen this before, in a vision, in Iva's vision. The fatal blow. His death throes. He was ready. He wanted it over.

The Sith prowled back and forth like a caged animal before him, out of reach beyond the barrier, itching for the fight. Qui-Gon bowed his head in submission. He was ready to give up his life and give it up now. He called on the Force. Nothing came. He felt nothing. He called on Iva's gods, on Manannon. He prayed for strength, the strength to face his corporeal death, the strength to live on in an undying body, the strength to wait for Iva. His limbs, his hands, his fingers tingled. He felt the power growing inside him.

No!

Obi-Wan's thoughts surged against the barrier Qui-Gon had erected in his mind. No. He couldn't do it, not like this. He had to listen to Obi-Wan. He couldn't give this dark warrior an easy victory. He couldn't let Obi-Wan see him giving up. He owed his apprentice, his companion for twelve long years, his friend, more than that. A Jedi takes advantage of every weapon he has to hand. He would use every resource his body harboured. He would fight on to the end. He had one last gift to bequeath to Obi-Wan. The strength and the motivation to carry on the fight, not just here and now but in the imminent future and all the distant futures to come.

Qui-Gon looked up momentarily, sensing his position, taking in the space and the dimensions of the room before him.

The Sith beckoned with his hand, taunting, teasing. Qui-Gon closed his eyes for again. Ready. Ready for the fight.

The energy barrier cycled. Cleared the way.

Qui-Gon was on his feet in an instant, pushing himself on towards the warrior, his lightsabre an arc of green in the air before him, chopping and parrying. A defensive rhythm. One, two. One, two. Their sabres clashed, red against green, and held. Their faces were an inch apart.

"Come to me, Jinn. Turn to the dark side. And live."

The Sith's voice was like treacle, thick, viscous. His thoughts flowed like ichor from a wound. Too, too obvious.

Qui-Gon resisted it. This was not the way.

"Your boy is trapped. We can take him together and leave."

"No!" Qui-Gon's thought was an explosion in his mind, his voice was a whisper. He pulled his sabre away, stepped back a pace and raised it for another blow.

The Sith mirrored his actions. "Do you really want to die," he taunted.

Qui-Gon knew the answer to that, it was his hope and his salvation. No, he thought, I don't want to die. But I want my child to live. His only wish now was that life blossomed in Iva's womb.

He drew on the light. The light of the Force, the light of the sun, the moon. The hot radiation, the cold reflection. The light in which no evil could survive. He flung it towards the Sith, driving him back, back towards the precipitous drop that offered an unwelcoming infinity in the centre of the room. But the Sith propelled himself on against the momentum of Qui-Gon's sabre thrusts, the dark warrior's arm shot forward, his elbow jabbing into Qui-Gon's chin. His head spun. Dazed, he staggered back.

"Hah, the great Jedi stumbles." The Sith's voice was crowing.

Unexpected mirth wrinkled Qui-Gon's face, twinkled in his eyes. "I am only human, I am only mortal."

The sanguine blade of his opponent fell towards him.

It was coming.

It came.

A dull blow. A small pinprick. A flowering of terrible pain.

- 35 -
Can You Tell Me Where The Fire Goes When The Flames Cease?

The ceiling, arching high above his head, receding into distance, was unravelling in the heavy chill of a high velocity scream. On his back. He was on his back. An ache blossomed in his chest. Movement was impossible.

Somewhere, somewhere there was a music. The zing of energy. The kiss of lightsabre against lightsabre.

His head, he couldn't move his head. The ceiling was crashing down on him. Tilting crazily. His vision Doppler shifted.

Movement, there was movement behind him. Frantic. Frenetic. The onslaught of anger and hate.

"Obi-Wan."

A thought only. Qui-Gon cried out, but no sound came. He fought for air. For breath. His lungs burning in his chest.

Noise. Like water sizzling on a hot plate. Motion.

A scuffle. A scurry. An uncontrolled slide. A moment's silence. The clatter of metal against metal. An echo.

The sense of an infinite drop beneath him. Weaponless. Defenceless.

"No. Stay calm. Be at peace."

He descended into the void. Into chaos. Into disorder.

"Fight it."

***

Obi-Wan hung on the edge of a bottomless pit, an endless drop, an infinite death, his muscles shrieking. He would hold on until the last fibre of his being gave out. He would not accept the end, he knew it didn't await him here.

He had made a mistake. He didn't deny it, he would rectify it. Qui-Gon might be lying there dying but this was not about revenge. It was about justice for the galaxy and freedom for its people. It was part of the eternal war against evil.

He ignored the dark warrior already crowing his victory above him. He focussed on the Force and allowed it to suffuse him. To strengthen him, yes, but most of all to enable him to win this one small battle in the war.

***

Waves of pain. Overwhelming. Breaking on the shores of his conscious mind.

"Hold on. Hold on to reality."

The cogs of doom had turned and brought him here - to the treacherous ground of the dying and the dead. A moment, this moment, all moments, that only revealed the significance of their design now. When it was too late. Lost in the import and the urgency of events. Drawn along in the momentum of forbidden desire. Why? Why Iva? Why had he let her ensnare him? Why had he followed her destiny?

What twist of fate could save him now? None. None that he could see.

"Iva."

His mind kept returning to her image. He saw her outstretched hand reaching for his. Pleading for life. He saw her face. A feral smile that defied beauty. A moment, one moment, right back at the beginning, almost before it had begun. He should have refused her. Turned her away.

He loved her now as he had then. Trapped. Ensnared. Bewitched.

"Yoda. Forgive me. You were right."

An axis. A fulcrum. A nadir.

He couldn't reject her. She was still too precious to him.

The world toppled precariously. His vision was failing. His body shutting down.

Obi-Wan's mind screamed out to him, against the truth, against the injustice. Holding on for dear life.

"My lightsabre. Obi-Wan. My lightsabre."

***

Maul knew this was his moment. The Jedi dead - or dying. The apprentice with but a few moments of his life remaining. The witch, near, so near. And with another Jedi. He had read the thoughts in Jinn's mind so clearly as he struck the fatal blow. A female. As dear to Jinn as the witch was. Another Jedi scalp to add to his trophies. And the witch he would sell to the Hutt as revenge for her petty kindness to him. He relished the thought of her face when she realised her fate. He wouldn't show her any kindness in return. Ah, such bliss.

He struck the ground again with the tip of his blade. The sparks flew, taunting Kenobi.

A rush of air, an intake of breath. Kenobi was gone. His eyes deceived him surely.

Even as he turned a sharp heat passed through him. How?

He had lost all feeling in his legs. What was this?

A Jedi trick. His mind reeled against it. Fought against reality. He fought to stay standing.

He tumbled backwards. Paralysed. One thought, and only one, left in his mind.

"Lord Sidious. My Master. I have failed."

He fell to meet his end.

***

Waves of pain. Hard to breath. Darkness, oblivion, flooding in.

No. Hold on. Hold on to life.

The calm unity of the Force beckoned. But he wanted the moon, the silver scimitar, the blood, the crimson orb of the setting sun. He had been waiting for it for a long, long time.

He screamed for Mananon with all his being. "Heal me."

Nothing. A zenith of silence.

"You healed me before. Heal me now."

The voice came back, deep, haunting. "I am."

"No. I'm dying."

"Death. It is the door. Accept that you are dying. Embrace your death. It is but the beginning."

A gateway. An entrance. To where? To what?

The Force still beckoned. His fulfilment. His unity.

The voice of a being which stalked the forest. "Come with me. Give yourself to me."

Did the urgings of emotion and the spirit of Mananon cloud his judgement here? How could he deny the Force? How could his mind encompass a reality that no living eye had seen, that no body that still drew breath had yet experienced? He was incapable, insensible, of taking in the entirety of it.

His spirit was fleeing his body at last. The Force still beckoned but he flew on past it. On into the dreamscape. To become one with Iva. One with his child. For the last time. And this time he went freely.

A flame. An airburst of blood. Liquid fireworks. A million cells, red with haemoglobin, shimmering in the sunlight.

A slow motion descent into the glorious scarlet sea. A ball of cells. Waiting. Waiting for a soul. Waiting for birth. A doubling. A replication. A spark of life. His.

***

Adi staggered uncertainly from the flight deck to the lounge. The Force was choking her, turning her muscles to jelly, crying out against a terrible wrong. It was Qui-Gon. She knew it was Qui-Gon. It could only be Qui-Gon.

Iva stood in a rictus of frozen shock. Her back arched, her head thrown back, her mouth open. Soundless. Immobile. Her fist clenched, crushing the red scarf she held before her.

Adi froze too. Something, a force field, a barrier of dark energy held her back. She tried to take another step. Forced her feet and her legs forward. But she staggered again.

This was wrong, it was all so wrong, something was amiss.

A flutter caught her eye, a shape was materialising in the space before Ibhormheith. A blue shimmer.

Adi knew what it was before it took form. No, it couldn't be. Not yet. Not that. Not death. Not now.

The electric blue of static incarnate formed itself into the shape of Qui-Gon Jinn. It was too much for Adi. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she couldn't tear her vision away.

Iva's arms were flung out in a welcome, in an embrace.

Qui-Gon, the form of Qui-Gon, rushed forward into that embrace. The air thickened, the room span. The shade of Qui-Gon Jinn slammed into Iva's body, sank into it, disappeared, absorbed, gone.

Iva went limp. Collapsed onto her knees, her hands tearing at the scarf she held, rending it in two. And then a wail of terror and despair issued from her lips and Adi, suddenly free at last, rushed to her.

***

Falling. He was falling. Falling apart.

Hands. Hands on his shoulders. Gentle. Fragile.

"Master?" A whispered voice.

"Obi-Wan, is that you?" No sound came from his lips.

It was all happening so fast.

"Master?"

He could hear the tears behind the word. He forced his eyes to open. The pain of even that small movement wracked his body.

"Obi-Wan. I'm scared. I don't want to..." Words unspoken. Unspeakable. Thoughts unnameable. "It's coming. I'm running. Fleeing. But it's close now."

"It's... It's too late. It's..." Words said. Spoken. Never to be undone.

The world was going dark. Flattening out to an unmarked, unremarkable field of dimming vision.

"No."

He could feel Obi-Wan's denial. The nascence of his beloved Padawan's grief.

"Obi-Wan... Promise... Promise me you will train the boy."

"Yes, Master."

No. Not that. Too quick. A dying wish. A covenant not freely given. He had to make Obi-Wan understand.

One last effort. A raised hand. A final touch. Caring. Loving.

"He is the chosen one. He will bring balance. Train him..."

He was drowning in pain and darkness and the silence of his own words, words which would never now pass his lips.

"Understand me, Obi-Wan." He called on the Force, pleaded, prayed, that one last time, it would come to him, deliver the thoughts he could not speak. "Train him in humanity. Teach him compassion and understanding and love."

Even his thoughts were weak. He was losing his connection with Obi-Wan. His bond.

"Give yourself to me." The voice again, the voice of the forest deeps, the sparkle of sunlight in a darkened glade, the shimmer of foam on an ocean wave, the power of the restless sea.

The Force. It had left him. He couldn't feel the Force.

The hunger and the destruction of death ravaged him.

He let his body die. Went on in the direction that cannot be pointed to.

Words echoed to him in the final moments of consciousness. Iva's voice. "Never forget who you are and where you came from."

The last breath of life hummed and resonated in his chest.

- 36 -
Your Face Has Fallen Sad Now, For You Know The Time Is Nigh, When I Must Remove Your Wings, And You, You Must Try To Fly.

Iva's wail seemed endless. So full of despair was the sound that Adi felt she couldn't comfort her or even touch her. She was at a loss to know what to do beside crouching down beside Iva's trembling form and waiting.

Finally the wailing ceased, to be replaced by sobs. Adi reached out and wrapped one arm around Iva's shoulders. It was all she could think of doing for the moment. As for herself, all she felt was numb.

***

He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

Obi-Wan had not seen a Jedi Master die before but he knew that death meant becoming one with the Force. Their bodies dissipated, didn't they? They disappeared, all the great Jedi, when they died. Their physical beings transferred to the Force. That was what he had been told since childhood.

There was no death, there was only the Force.

Qui-Gon was a great Jedi, true and faithful to the Living Force. If he was still here, then he wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

He couldn't be.

How long had he been sitting here with Qui-Gon's head in his lap? A thousand years? A millisecond? He shook himself alert. He must do something.

Obi-Wan screamed into his comlink. "A medic. I need a medic in the power station. At the melting pit."

***

Sidious clenched and unclenched his fists a dozen times. He was lying on a gurney in Grocelind's lab and the supine position in the presence of others always made him uncomfortable.

"Alright, do it," he spat before he delayed the process once again.

Maul was lost to him, gone forever. Palpatine was crowing his victories, his election success, the death of Jinn, the bounty the Desilijic Hutts had put on the witch's head. As though they were all his. Sidious knew, though, that it was all reclaimable. Everything. Palpatine would regret this. A few days oblivion in the bacta cylinder were appropriate at this moment. He, Sidious, would emerge rejuvenated by the agent from the witch's blood. Young again, strong. Palpatine wouldn't stand a chance against him. And then who in all the galaxy would really notice when he stepped in and took control of it all. Yes. Yes, it would all be his. His rule of iron. His galactic order.

"Do it!"

Grocelind came forward with the equipment. "Yes, sir. This won't hurt. Just a small jab."

Sidious looked in the cowering technician's eyes. "Once you have set the process in motion, your assistants can keep watch over me. Go with Palpatine to Naboo as he has asked. I want a full report when I emerge. Any defections, any betrayal, any fanatical thoughts, his most guarded secrets. I want to hear it all."

"Yes, sir." Grocelind nodded and set to work on his equipment.

Sidious felt the cold spray of analgesic on the skin of his throat. He felt the shunt enter the vein in his neck, just as Grocelind had said, with nothing more than a prick. He felt the heady rush as the fluids that followed its insertion spread throughout his circulatory system. He barely noticed the void that quickly followed.

***

"What are you doing, Yaddle? You're late. The ship's ready for departure."

Yaddle looked up in alarm as Even stormed straight into her rooms without knocking. The beads and trinkets she was stuffing into her small pack fell from her hands to the floor. She was aware her mouth was open in shock and she closed it quickly.

Why should she be embarrassed at discovery? It was he, Even, that should be abashed at his invasion of her space unasked. She grabbed the trinkets from the floor where they had spilled and held them up.

"These are all I need now, Even Piell."

She could see him glance round her room. See him take in the fact that the walls and shelves, where once there had been crystals and stones that sparkled as they caught the light, were now bare.

"Silly woman. What will you do with all those gaudy baubles on Naboo, eh? Qui-Gon is gravely injured, will you shake them over his dying body like his little witch would? Where is she, eh? Leading Master Gallia a merry dance, I'll bet."

"How dare you speak like that? Don't you think she is suffering too? Where is your compassion?"

Even moved closer to her. Stared at her alarmingly. "You don't plan on coming back do you? Where do you think you'll go?"

Yaddle stared back. "You can come with me, Even."

He snorted. "You're planning on going off with Iva, aren't you? Well, not if I can help it."

"It's my decision."

"No, it's not. It's mine too. It's the Council's." His voice dropped. "I love you." It was a mumble. Then his voice rose again. He grabbed her arm and started to pull her from the room. "But we don't have time to discuss this now. We have to leave."

"Alright, Even, I'm coming." She grabbed her pack and went with him willingly.

No, she wouldn't return, not if she could help it anyway.

***

Eirtae approached Obi-Wan cautiously. The Neimoidians were in custody, the people were being freed from the camps and returned to their homes. Her own family were all safe and well. Senator Palpatine, newly elected as Supreme Chancellor, had been informed of the victory and was already on his way for the planned celebrations. But all victories were bittersweet. Her jubilant mood was undermined by the knowledge that lives, many of them Gungan, had been sacrificed. The news of Qui-Gon's grave injury weighed heavily on her. When Amidala had asked that one of the handmaidens go and offer condolences to Obi-Wan, she hadn't hesitated to volunteer.

Obi-Wan sat listlessly on a bench in the medical wing waiting room, his back curved, his arms draped across his knees, his head hanging low. He obviously thought he was alone, unseen. She shuffled noisily. His head snapped up, his body quickly firming into a posture of resolute bravery.

She didn't have any comforting words to say to him. She only sat down next to him and threw her arms about him. His back was ramrod stiff.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. How is Qui-Gon?"

"I don't know," he mumbled. "The medics haven't told me anything."

He didn't sink into her embrace, but neither did he tear himself away. Perhaps he did find some small comfort in her touch.

"They are very good, Obi-Wan. The best. We're not as backward here as some in the Trade Federation seem to think. I'm sure they'll do their utmost to save him."

She didn't know what else to say. She hugged him a little tighter. She stuck to facts. "Governor Bibble has informed the Jedi Council. They are on their way with Chancellor Palpatine. They are bringing healers in case anything can be done."

She could tell from the continuing stiffness in Obi-Wan's body that he thought it was already too late. She said nothing for a long time. For fear, mostly, that her own fragile shell would crack and that she would add to Obi-Wan's pain.

And then Obi-Wan returned her embrace, his arms slowly moving across her back to surround her. She could feel his heart beating in his chest and his shoulders rising and falling as he breathed. She thought he might be crying but, if so, he cried silently. She held him tightly, hoping it was doing him some good and would not later maim either of them all the more.

Eventually, Eirtae pulled away reluctantly. Obi-Wan looked down, saying nothing. She squeezed his hand.

"I have to go, Obi-Wan. I have duties." She hoped that he would understand that. She was one of the Queen's handmaidens, and the people were expecting much of the Queen today. She wished she could stay and support Obi-Wan, but Amidala needed her too. "I'll come back later if you want."

He looked up at her with sad eyes and almost smiled. He nodded. A little love grew alongside the tenderness she already felt for him in her heart.

***

Adi's heart was breaking as she listened to Iva's sobs. She wished she could say something to alleviate the pain, but for all her skills at diplomacy she couldn't think of anything to say that, to her mind, was not a platitude.

It was Iva that spoke finally.

"I'm sorry, Adi. I should never have done it." Her words came in short gasps between her tears.

"Sorry? Done what?"

"I used him, Adi. I took him away from the Force." Iva's hands twisted the remnants of her scarf back and forth between her hands.

"Qui-Gon?"

"I've done a terrible thing. He could have had a good life without me."

Adi took Iva's hands in hers. "He loved you. You made him happy." She tried to make the distraught woman look into her eyes, but she refused the contact.

"Yes. But I was blind. I couldn't see anything else but what the sisterhood wanted. And now he's dead." She started weeping again. "And I'm a terrible person for letting him die."

"Don't say that. We don't know what's happened yet." Adi knew she was grasping at straws.

"I've let him go to his death and I hurt everyone who ever loved him."

Adi squeezed Iva's hands between hers. It was the only comfort she could offer. "You loved him, didn't you?"

"Yes." Iva sobbed again, a long intake of breath caught in her lungs.

"And you believed you and he had a destiny to fulfil?"

Another sob. "Yes."

"Then wouldn't he want to finish it? Wouldn't he want you to finish it?"

A sigh. "Yes."

"Stay there." Adi stood up. She had to find out what was really go on down below on the planet's surface. "Don't move. I'm going to make contact with Naboo. I'll be back in a minute."

- 37 -
After The Frosty Silence In The Gardens, After The Agony In Stony Places.

Awake.

Aware.

Darkness.

No pain.

Silence.

How?

Where?

***

"Iva?"

Adi looked at the woman as she sat on the floor, quiet now, unmoving. She seemed so distant, her eyes dark and empty, her mind a world away. Adi sat down beside her, took her hand. It was cold.

What should she say to this woman? Should she even try? Adi didn't resent Iva, she couldn't. But she herself had on occasion grown close to Qui-Gon and Iva had ended all that, relegated it to a fond memory lost in a past filled with hard work and dedication to the Force. Still, knew she must do something.

"Iva. Listen to me. We don't have permission to land yet. The Security Forces want us to wait until all the fighters are accounted for and the area around the Palace secured. Listen. Qui-Gon was badly injured. Obi-Wan called the medics and the Council are on their way with healers. There may be a chance. They may save him."

"No." There was no emotion in that simple word as Iva spoke it. It simply was.

"What do you mean, no?"

"They're wasting their time. They're too late. It's done now." Iva's voice was flat.

"What's done? Iva, I don't understand what you're talking about."

"He's already gone through." Her eyes stared into an empty void.

"Through what?"

"The gateway. Death." Her words sounded hollow.

"Iva, I want to try and understand. Look at me. Talk to me. Is this something the Baobhan-sith believe?"

Iva's forehead creased into a frown. She looked at Adi finally, as if she only just realised she was there. "What?"

"Is it what you believe about death? That it is a gateway? The Jedi believe we become one with the Force when we die. And... And I felt the Force cry out in anguish. I saw Qui-Gon's spirit form here. I saw him enter you. But his body... He's still here, on Naboo."

Iva stared at her and Adi couldn't tell if it was from incomprehension of her words or terror that she understood all too well. Finally, Iva drew a deep breath, as if she was drawing up the courage to speak.

"You don't understand. Death is not the end for us."

"Then what is it? A gateway? To where?"

"To the life beyond death. To the summerlands."

Was that a belief? In some sort of afterlife? Or was it a real place? Was that possible? Was Qui-Gon there now? But how could that be if medics still worked on repairing his injuries. Perhaps it was a state. A state of being. A state of life. Adi couldn't fathom it, the concept was too alien. What was it that Qui-Gon had said when she had confronted him with the dangers of returning to the worlds of the old Sith empire? About changing one's body chemistry? She didn't like the thought at all.

"Did Qui-Gon do something, Iva? Did you do something to him?"

A look came over Iva's face and Adi knew a revelation was about to come.

"You have midi-chlorians in your bloodstream."

"In all our cells, yes."

"We have something in ours too. It can be transmitted."

"You transmitted it to Qui-Gon?"

"Yes."

"Through your blood."

"Yes." There was an aura of mystery on Iva's face.

Adi sat back. Obi-Wan's tales of Iva as a haemovore suddenly made sense. An incomplete picture became whole.

"So this has prevented him becoming one with the Force. Then what was that I saw? I wasn't seeing things, was I, Iva?"

"His life force. From his current incarnation."

"You believe in reincarnation?" Adi felt she was being talked round in circles. A transmittable disease that meant you could live after death. That didn't accord with what Iva was saying now. It didn't make sense.

Iva bit her lip before she spoke. "Not exactly. Transference of the life force. The spirit. That's what you saw. But each incarnation of the spirit, it has its own personality too. The person you were in this incarnation, your physical form, can pass through the gateway if you have undergone the blood rite."

"So Qui-Gon's life force has been transferred, but *he* is still there on Naboo. And he's dead. Yet he isn't."

Iva nodded. Her eyes were veiled by their lids.

Adi recalled what she had seen. The form of Qui-Gon passing into Iva's body. "I saw his spirit transfer. But there's something I don't understand. He transferred into you?"

"Into his child." Iva's eyes shot open, pleading for understanding.

"Adi, I'm pregnant."

***

The medical assistant leapt back, pulling his probe away from Qui-Gon's body. The instrument clattered to the floor.

The chief medic looked up startled. "Careful! What is it?"

Then she too stared in bewilderment.

The Jedi's injuries were mortal. His life signs non-existent. But they hoped to stabilise the wounds, establish life support and treat him in a bacta cylinder until the Jedi's own healers could arrive.

What she saw now was not possible. Not even plausible.

The air was chill. The room was still.

Splintered bone ossified. Charred organs regenerated. Vessels and nerves rejoined. Open flesh closed. Skin grew.

Breaths were held. Minds were blank.

"What's happening?" Her assistant could barely whisper.

"I don't know," she snapped back, flustered. She turned to the anaesthetist. "Vital signs?"

"Life supports functioning. Breathing and heart rate maintained at normal levels. Blood pressure within acceptable parameters. Still no voluntary control. Zero brain function."

She looked back at the body of the Jedi. There was not a trace of the wound left.

"How is this possible?" The question shot from her lips, she knew there was no answer.

"Do the Jedi..." Her assistant didn't finish the question.

"...have such skills?" She finished for him. And answered. "I don't know."

For the next hour she and her team fought to establish some semblance of life in Qui-Gon's inert form. All to no avail. He remained, to every instrument and every sensor, dead. All their attempts at revival had failed. Their was little, there was nothing, more that could be done.

"Brain status?" the medic asked. She already knew what the answer would be.

"No activity."

A technician stepped forward. "The bacta tank is waiting."

"I don't think that will be of any use now. This man is braindead." She looked at the clock. "Record the time of death."

Resigned to death by her profession, but not uncaring for all that, she made her way to where she knew the other Jedi waited. She liked this part of the job, the breaking of bad news, even less than losing a patient.

***

Obi-Wan was tired, desperately tired, but he could not sleep. The exertions of his battle with the dark warrior had taken their toll on his energy reserves and his constant drawing on the Force had exhausted him further. After hearing the medic's words, the hope in his heart had ebbed away. Now the thoughts would not stop circling in his mind and his heart beat precariously in his throat. He had, though, remained calm and, so far, in control.

Qui-Gon was dead.

He could at least accept it now as a fact. He had broken the news to Anakin and left the boy in the care of the Queen's handmaidens. He had, with Captain Panaka's help, laid the body out. He had sat watching the corpse for... Well, he wasn't sure how long he'd sat there. He didn't know what time it was now, nor even if it was day or night. The curtains of his room were tightly shut against the outside world. Still though, he had sat with Qui-Gon for what had seemed like a long time, an age. He had sat by his Master until Adi Gallia had arrived with Iva and suggested that he ought to rest.

Obi-Wan had looked at Iva's face, but she hadn't seemed to even notice him. He couldn't help himself from blaming her, at least in part, for everything that had happen, but he supposed her grief must be just as bad as his. Worse perhaps.

He undressed, he hadn't had a chance to change his clothes since the fight, and lay on the bed for a while. But he only wasted the time tossing this way and that.

He tried to meditate, but his concentration was fractured into a million tiny pieces. Guilt nagged at him, a Jedi Knight didn't behave this way.

But he wasn't a knight yet, was he? What would happen to him now? What happened to a Padawan whose master died during the apprenticeship? He couldn't remember, he couldn't remember anything.

A knock on the door brought him relief from his self-torment.

It was Eirtae. Carrying a tray. He looked down at himself, aware that he was wearing only undershorts and a thin shirt.

"I thought you might need some company," she said, ignoring his discomfiture. "Is it alright if I come in, Obi-Wan?"

He stepped back and she entered the room. She set the tray down on the table across from the bed.

"It's my favourite dessert," she announced, lifting the napkin to reveal a slice of tart adorned with some deep red berries. "There's a glass of sweet wine too. Though I can bring tea if you prefer."

"I don't think I can eat." Did that sound ungrateful? He didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"That's alright. We can talk if you want. Or we could just sit here. Or I could go away again."

"No, don't go." The thought of her leaving, now that she was here, upset him deeply. "I couldn't sleep. What time is it?"

"Nearly dawn."

Eirtae sat down on the corner of the bed. He took a place near the head.

"Eirtae?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for coming."

"It's a pleasure. I mean... I didn't mean..." She blushed. "Oh, dear. I mean I'm sorry about what happened to Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan had a sudden flash of his master, smiling at him, those blue eyes alive and sparkling, the skin crinkling around them. His body tingled, as if at any moment it would go entirely numb. Strangely, he still expected Qui-Gon to come walking in through that door. He bit back a tear, too late to stop Eirtae noticing. She slid up the bed and hugged him. It was nice, warm and comforting.

"Don't leave me," he begged. What would she think of him? Right now, he needed her. "Qui-Gon is dead. I'm all alone."

She stroked his hair. "You really should try and sleep, Obi-Wan. You look exhausted."

He felt exhausted.

"Lay down," she insisted.

He did as she told him.

A sudden thought crossed his mind and he asked before he could back away from the idea. "Will you stay with me? Please. Just to hold me. Nothing else. I promise."

She smiled. "Of course I will, Obi-Wan. I understand."

And she slipped out of her dress and lay down next to him, encircling him with her arms. He burrowed his head into her shoulder and she stroked his hair until he finally drifted off into a shallow sleep.

***

"Do we know who it is?" Panaka looked at the scope. The echo of a ship was approaching the edge of the Nubian system.

The officer of the watch shook his head. "No contact, sir. We can't raise them on the normal channels."

"Could it be the Republic cruiser?"

"No, sir. Chancellor Palpatine is not expected for another day at least. And this ship's trajectory has brought it in from the galactic rim. Shall I inform Padawan Kenobi?"

"No, leave him to rest. I'll let the other one, Master Gallia, know in due course. This ship may simply be passing through our system. We should wait until we have more information."

***

He was awake. He was aware.

How was he awake? Why was he aware?

He wasn't breathing. His lungs were empty.

No feeling. Only darkness. And stillness.

He tried to sense a heartbeat. Silence. There was none.

Was this death?

This nothingness.

Was it?

- 38 -
He Hath Awakened From The Dream Of Life.

A pleasurable taste passed his lips. A divine softness caressed his mouth.

Obi-Wan pulled himself from sleep to find Eirtae kissing him. She pulled away and smiled as he opened his eyes.

"Sorry. I couldn't resist." She set her face into a sedate neutrality. "I have to go. I'm expected to accompany the Queen to talks with the Gungans this afternoon. Is it OK if I leave you alone for a while?"

He found he couldn't speak. He nodded. He realised Eirtae was already dressed and a profound disappointment overtook him. His body was leading him somewhere that he was now eager to go, somewhere he hadn't wanted to go when Qui-Gon had still been alive...

"Qui-Gon..." He called the name out before he could stop himself.

Eirtae looked at him concerned. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He hugged her. "Yes," he said. "I'd just forgotten for a moment. I shouldn't keep you from your duties and I think I had better spend some time with Anakin."

"Yes, I think he'd appreciate that. He thinks you don't like him, Obi-Wan."

He opened his mouth. He didn't know what to say to that. But she was right. Anakin must feel abandoned now. Obi-Wan recalled his promise and resolved to be all that Qui-Gon might have been to Anakin had he lived.

Eirtae stood up, but before she crossed to the door and left him alone, she bent forward and kissed him on the nose. "Take it easy, Obi-Wan. Don't forget you saved us all from the dark warrior."

***

He was being carried along on a mighty flood. The chains of his life fell away in the raging torrent.

Lost in thought.

Lost in time.

Lost in death.

He *was* dead, wasn't he? He had taken a mortal wound to the chest and fallen in battle.

An hour, a day, a lifetime, an aeon ago, he had crossed the frontier into another world beyond any possibility of recall.

If he was dead, where was the presence of the Force? How was his memory intact without it?

A fading body, an undying memory.

Where? How?

***

The room was circular and ringed with pillars. The martyred dead of Naboo's past looked down from murals painted on the alcoves between the pillars. The body of Qui-Gon Jinn lay in state on a central raised dais. The soft hum of the conditioners keeping the air temperature depressed was the only thing that broke the silence and the stillness.

Ibhormheith, watching over the body, seemed immobile too. Like a statue. Her skin was porcelain white. She hardly seemed to breath.

Qui-Gon's body was cold, but he wasn't dead.

As she stood beside him, Iva remembered each and every moment she had shared with him. The vibrant dreams that had presaged his arrival in her life. Her first glimpse of him, when her heart had threatened to overflow in ecstasy just at the sight of him. When in anger at her people's treatment of him and fear for her own life as well as his, she had stood between him and the mob, protecting him in the face of death. The moment he had hauled her onto his ship in disgust. The moment he had first let down his guard and kissed her. The tenderness and passion he had shown her during their lovemaking. The reserve he had shown as he stood firm against her petulant emotions. His fingers in her secret, sacred places and his hands on her breasts. The times, all the times, they had laid entwined together. And the moments, all the lost moments, they had spent apart.

The tears rolled down her cheeks.

She swallowed hard.

No one disturbed her. She told herself that Adi must be keeping watch, warning the mourners away. She needed privacy for what she was about to do.

She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace she had worn every day for ten years or more. She held the symbol, gold and jade, in the palm of her hand. It's intricate symbols spoke a phrase. Double happiness. Hers. His. For the time being, the only happiness she had was the new life in her belly. That, her sole priority.

She refastened the chain around her neck and opened up her bag.

It wasn't over yet, she told herself. He wasn't dead and gone forever. She was only crying for the pain of the assault that had been made upon his body and the suffering he was now enduring in the limbo between life and the continuation after death which the Baobhan-sith called beo-na-mairbh, the host of the forgiven dead, the strongest and most revered of the Sithiche folk.

Iva knew that if she could get through this day. And bring Qui-Gon back from the brink. If she survived the next nine months. Then, then they might be together again. First, she had to rouse him from the realm of deathly sleep.

She let her amulets clothe her hands in the dark metal of the Sith, those beings who had once walked her worlds. With her ritual knife held at waist height and pointed at the floor, she walked a circle around Qui-Gon, its circumference half that of the room. As she walked, she chanted the words of the lunar cycle.

"Am fuaim mara. Am tonn trethan."
<<I am the noise of the sea. I am an ocean wave.>>

She placed a candle at Qui-Gon's feet and lit it.

"Am dam secht ndirend. Am loch i m-maig."
<<I am a stag of seven tines. I am a lake upon a plain.>>

She let a sprinkle of herbs fall into the flame. It crackled and spat and a thick curl of smoke lent a pungent bittersweet aroma to the chill air of the mausoleum.

"Am gaeth i m-muir. Am der grene."
<<I am a wind over the sea. I am a tear of the sun.>>

She sprinkled the body with water from a jar in which a selenite stone had been set to catch the rays of the full moon.

"Am seig i n-aill. Am cain lubai."
<<I am a hawk upon a cliff. I am a beautiful flower.>>

With a pungent oil, she traced a pentacle on each cheek.

"Am de delbas do chind codnu. Am gai i fodb feras feochtu."
<<I am a god who sets the head on fire. I am a keen spear that pours forth battle.>>

She laid a kiss on his forehead.

"Am he i l-lind. Am bri danae."
<<I am a salmon in a pool. I am a hill of skilled ones.>>

At his head, she positioned a fragment of ianthine crystal.

"Am torc ar gail."
<<I am a boar in battle frenzy.>>

***

"What is it?" It was the end of a second long day cleaning up the mess left over from the occupation, it was almost evening. The sun would soon be setting. Panaka was ready for rest and sleep would take him soon if he did not surrender to it.

"The unknown ship, sir. It has entered geostationary orbit above the city."

"Have we established communication?"

"That's the problem, sir. It's no designation I've ever seen before and we can't raise them on any of the communication channels."

"Keep an eye on the situation. Inform me if there's any change."

***

Iva raised her eyes heavenwards, blind to the ceiling above her. She knew that her sisters had arrived. They had answered her call. They had come to claim Qui-Gon Jinn.

She offered up a prayer. Her prayer was a chant to Mananon.

"Ag siubhal ard nan speur, 's do cheumaib treun air sgeith nan ard."
<<You move in the high heavens, with your valiant steps upon the high void.>>

She rolled a bunch of leaves into a ball, opened Qui-Gon's lifeless mouth and placed the pellet on his tongue. She closed his lips and kissed them tenderly, though they had long been cold and now were unresponsive.

"'S tu laigheadh sios an cuan na dith gun diubhail 'is gun sgath, 's tu 'g eirich suas air stuagh na sith."
<<You lie down in the ocean of want without harm and without shelter, you rise upwards on the peaceful wave.>>

The sepulchre was illuminated from within by the silver brilliance of concentrated moonlight. An edge of adamantine, blue-white crystal flame, flared around the body.

Iva saw. And she knew from that light that her spell had done its work.

"Failte, a grian nan rath."
<<Greetings, sun of the seasons.>>

She waited, and while she waited she filled the space with the lyrical wordless chant of voice music, trusting it would guide Qui-Gon back to her.

***

Music. He could hear music.

Where was the Force? He was cut off from the Force?

Memory.

He had rejected the Force, followed Mananon.

Sensation.

A bitter taste.

There was something in his mouth.

He tried to spit it out but his tongue, his lips, his throat, they wouldn't respond.

Slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes adjusted to the obsidian blackness.

Or maybe he imagined that it lightened.

***

Obi-Wan returned to his room at sunset. He had spent many hours with Anakin and though he was not yet sure that the boy was no danger to the Jedi Order, or that he yet trusted him, a bond had already formed between them. The bond of shared grief.

Obi-Wan had talked with Anakin about Qui-Gon, about his life, his quiet fortitude, his stoic manner, his patient tutoring. It helped Obi-Wan more perhaps than it did Anakin. The conversation had turned, eventually, to the Order. Obi-Wan told the boy about the greatness of the Jedi, their mastery of the Force, their glorious history. And he told Anakin that all that might still be his. He hadn't meant to raise the boy's hopes needlessly, but he had made a promise to Qui-Gon and whatever it took he would keep that promise. He had loved Qui-Gon and would always respect his memory.

Eirtae was already there when he entered his room, sitting under the sheet with her knees pulled up and her bare arms clasped around them. Her dress and underclothes were neatly folded and hanging over the back of the chair.

"You don't mind, do you, Obi-Wan?" she said shyly.

Her shoulders were bare. He knew without asking that she naked beneath the sheet. No, he didn't mind.

***

An alarm sounded in Panaka's room.

"That ship, sir. It has disappeared from our sensors."

He groaned audibly. He didn't need this now. "It landed?"

"I don't know, sir. It's not showing up on any of our scopes."

***

The light was growing.

He was floating, lost and immobile, in a candlelit honeycomb of stained glass.

He heard a voice. A woman's voice.

Words he couldn't make out and couldn't understand.

He drifted towards the sound.

Memory.

Iva's voice. His beloved.

Iva. He wanted to scream. "I'm coming to you."

***

Obi-Wan wondered if Eirtae was too young for him to take advantage of her offer. But no, he thought, Qui-Gon had been older than Iva by twenty standard years at least. What difference did four or five make?

He sat down on the bed and took his boots off. "No, I don't mind," he said. He looked at her and grinned. "I don't mind at all."

He was filled with yearning and hunger.

He was cautious. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She spoke calmly. "There have been many deaths here lately. Not just Qui-Gon, others too. Gungans on the battlefield, men and women who fought back against the droid army when it first landed, some people in the camps, even children, innocents."

She reached forward and covered his hand with hers.

"Sometimes, Obi-Wan, perhaps once or twice in our lives, we should take our chance at happiness when we can, and celebrate life. I don't want you to leave here without my knowing what it was like to make love to you."

Obi-Wan looked at her. She was so wise. He touched her cheek, gently.

Then they were kissing and touching and caressing. And, oh... Her tongue was in his ear. Her hands were all over his body. The sheet fell away and he was fondling her exposed breast.

Soon he was naked too, though he wasn't sure how he had ended up that way so quickly.

Eirtae pushed the sheet down and they were lying together, kissing deeply, limbs intertwined.

He faltered, not quite sure how to push it further.

"You haven't done this much, have you?" she whispered.

He felt flushed. He shivered.

"Don't worry, Obi-Wan," she soothed. "Neither have I. Look, let's take it slowly."

He laughed, the pressure on him to perform like an expert lover relieved.

Eirtae guided his hand between her thighs and worked his finger between her folds of rose pink tissue. She moved it in a gentle circular motion.

"That's nice for a start," she purred.

She took her hand away and he continued to stroke her. Soon they were kissing again. They kissed for a long time. Deeply and sensuously.

He stroked her harder and she moaned in pleasure, her hips pushing up and down on the bed, matching the rhythm of his hand. Their movements gained momentum, faster and harder, until Eirtae squealed out and her whole body trembled.

"Oh, Obi-Wan," she cried.

He was aware his erection was becoming an ache.

He pushed her onto her back and she reached up and pressed her hand hard against his chest, kneading the nipple. He didn't know it could feel so good.

He fumbled a bit as he entered her, with nerves and with over-excitement and with pent-up need, but she helped to guide him in. She laughed as he slid deeper into her, but he didn't mind. He could sense that she did so only with pleasure.

He watched her face as he thrust up and down inside her. She looked like she was lost in another world. A world of joy. He wondered if he looked the same. She smiled at him. Yes, he supposed he must.

The ache in his loins became a fire.

The fire, an explosion.

He was panting with the excitement and satisfaction of it all. So was Eirtae. He was about to roll off of her but she pulled him down onto her and held him close.

A little later he pulled the sheet up over them both and they snuggled together, ready for sleep.

***

A deadly, deathly hush settled over the square near the palace as the Stellar Sweeper set down. The ancient dark technology of fallen Jedi and their Sith alchemists sucked the sound and the light from the city.

Cuimhne and Eilidh stepped from the vessel and threw a silvery-grey ashen dust into the air. As if alive, it swirled and spread around the square, into doorways and along alleyways. It spiralled towards the mausoleum where Qui-Gon lay and Iva watched and waited.

Even as the last rays of the setting sun died, it seemed as though the entire population of Theed had already retired for the night. Parents closed the shutters on their children's windows and grown men and women looked under their beds before they went to sleep. Adi Gallia, still keeping guard before the burial vault yawned once, then fell into a deep, and dreamless, sleep.

Cuimhne turned and called back into the ship. "It is clear, honoured matriarch."

Etain exited the ship and the Baobhan-sith crossed the plaza and entered the tomb.

***

Feelings.

Emotions.

Thoughts.

Senses.

He had them all.

He was lying on his back in a cold place.

A high, pale ceiling arched overhead.

He smelt smoke, fragrant smoke.

Voices, he heard whispered voices.

"Is he ready?" Deep and wise, that one was. Old.

"Yes, honoured matriarch." The voice he loved.

"Wake him."

Something cold touched his chest. High, just below the base of his throat. He felt electrified, enlivened.

His body was stiff. He tried to move. He sucked air into his lungs.

Pain. Agony. Burning.

His back arched in torment. The dry bitter obstruction flew from his mouth. A howl of distress tore from his lips.

A hand stifled his scream. But softly. Another soothed his brow and stroked his cheek. A face was bent low next to his.

"Be still, Qui-Gon. It will only hurt for a little while. You have passed through the gates of death, Mananon has brought you back."

Iva's comforting hands moved away. A drop of warm thick liquid touched his lips. The taste of blood. The life. He licked it greedily. It refreshed him, gave him strength. Iva placed her wrist against his mouth. He sucked voraciously at the vein she had open. The warmth grew and flared throughout his body.

And he was back, back in his undead body. Iva was with him, her presence soothed him. And he knew from her thoughts that sight and feeling, movement and desire, would fully return to him now.

***

"Mesa no know about dis, Annie," Jar Jar complained.

Anakin turned and faced the Gungan. "Sh," he hissed. "Qui-Gon helped us both, didn't he? I want to go see him before they... before the cremation. I don't care what Master Gallia says."

Anakin crept quietly down the street but Jar Jar's padded feet slapped hollowly on the paving stones with every step. The darkness was all-encompassing. Everything was so unnaturally still and quiet that every sound was amplified.

"Try and walk quietly, Jar Jar. I don't want to get caught."

They were nearing their destination and about to enter the square. Anakin ducked down into a crouch.

Jar Jar plonked down against the wall. "Mesa tired, Annie. Mebbe wesa be goin back now, okeydey."

Anakin just shook Jar Jar's arm. "Look," he said. "A ship. We'd better stay here a minute and see what's going on."

Behind him, Jar Jar snored.

***

Qui-Gon was still unsteady on his feet as he walked behind the Baobhan-sith towards their ship. At his side, Iva supported him. He didn't wholly understand this mystery. His thoughts were still confused, his senses still befuddled.

Etain looked at the sky above the horizon. It was lightening, almost dawn. "Come, Qui-Gon Jinn, we must leave now."

Iva stepped away from him. He looked at her. Her eyes sparkled. He realised it was with tears.

"You're not..." He struggled for speech, for words. "...not coming?" His hand, so slowly, so exquisitely slowly, rose to touch her cheek.

"No." She smiled sadly. She took his other hand... "Not yet." ...and laid it on her stomach. "Not till our baby is born." She took off her necklace and, dropping it onto his palm, closed his fingers around it. "Remember me."

He lent over her, one arm around her waist and kissed her slowly before following Etain into the Stellar Sweeper. He turned. Iva was standing very still, her hands clasped before her. He loved her as he always had. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing for certain.

"For ever and always," he promised. "I'll be waiting for you."

- 39 -
Now There's Nothing Left To Cry For And There's Nowhere Left To Go.

Obi-Wan woke to the sight of Eirtae's face. They were still close and their limbs still tangled. He never wanted to move. He wanted it to be like this every morning. It was strange how he had started assuming she was a part of his life so quickly. He hoped she felt the same. It would be hard for them both to continue this relationship, but he wanted to, he desperately wanted to. And he hoped with all his heart that she did too.

Was this how Qui-Gon had felt when he had first met Iva?

Qui-Gon... The thought brought a lump to Obi-Wan's throat. His master wasn't here anymore. He would never be here again.

Why did such sad thoughts encroach on his brief moment of idyll?

Suddenly the door rattled alarmingly, throwing him from his reverie. "Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, sir!"

Beside him, Eirtae shot suddenly awake.

"Stay there," he said to her. "It's Anakin. I'd better find out what he wants."

Eirtae rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "He sounds agitated, Obi-Wan. I hope nothing's wrong."

Obi-Wan jumped out of bed and hurriedly threw on his clothes. He started for the door, but then with a thought turned back to the bed. He bent over and kissed Eirtae briefly but warmly on the lips. "Good morning," he whispered.

Anakin called out again and banged hard on the door.

Eirtae wriggled and stretched lazily. "Good morning, Obi-Wan. Now go." She rolled over and hugged the pillow that his head had been lying on.

Obi-Wan opened the door only a crack and slipped out into the corridor.

"What's up, Anakin? What's happened?"

The boy looked flushed as if he had been running and he was almost jumping up and down with excitement.

"Qui-Gon. It's Qui-Gon, sir. He's not dead. I saw him. He's alive."

A sudden hope overtook Obi-Wan's thoughts. It threatened to overwhelm him. Qui-Gon, alive? If only...

But it was a knife which turned in his heart. No, it couldn't be. He had seen the body, touched it, dressed it. What had once contained his living, breathing, beloved master had been a cold and lifeless husk. Anakin must be mistaken.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, centred himself in the Force, calmed himself.

He went down on one knee and held Anakin gently by the arms. "Slow down, Anakin. Think. Did you have a dream? Did you dream about Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan could see that Anakin struggled to repress his excitement. "No. No, sir. I was in the street, outside the palace. I saw him in the square. Near where they put his body."

"Anakin, it's only just past dawn. Why were you outside?"

"You don't believe me, do you?" The voice of a petulant child cut through the enthusiasm.

Anakin's buoyant mood was diminishing. He looked flustered, a small boy who had done something wrong. Obi-Wan didn't want to frighten or chastise him, but he had to know the truth.

"Anakin. Tell me."

"I wanted to go and see Qui-Gon, sir. To say goodbye. Jar Jar came to see me last night. I took him with me. You won't get him into trouble will you? It was my fault. I made him come."

Obi-Wan sank down onto the floor. His foot had begun to cramp. "It's nobody's fault, Anakin. Nobody's going to get into trouble. I just want to know what happened. When you got there, that's when you saw Qui-Gon alive?"

"Yes, sir. There was a ship in the square. Like a great black bird. And some of those women, the nixies, like Qui-Gon's wife. Qui-Gon got on to the ship with them."

Obi-Wan thought he knew at last what might have happened. It sounded as though the Baobhan-sith had taken Qui-Gon's body. The rest, the confusion and imagination of a small boy on a night-time adventure.

"Is Jar-Jar still there?" he asked.

Anakin nodded. "Yes, sir. I told him to watch the ship."

Obi-Wan stood up. "Let's go and see then, Anakin." He gestured with his arm. "Lead on."

Obi-Wan knew this wasn't such a miracle, perhaps, as Anakin thought it was. A empty hope. A mistaken glimpse in the dark. That was all.

When they got to the mausoleum, the plaza was empty. Anakin looked around, confused and disappointed.

"It's gone. It *was* here, Obi-Wan sir."

Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's shoulder. "I believe you, Anakin. Let's ask Jar Jar. Where is he?"

Anakin led the way to where he had left the Gungan. Jar Jar was tucked into a corner, asleep and snoring softly. Anakin shook him hard. "Jar Jar. Wake up. I told you not to go to sleep again."

Jar Jar shook his bill and a strange vibrating noise emerged from his mouth. Obi-Wan stepped back to avoid the spray of saliva.

"Oh, Annie. Sorry."

"Where's the ship, Jar Jar? Where did it go?"

The Gungan's eyes bulged on their stalks.

Obi-Wan knew Jar Jar would be unable to tell them anything, he had obviously been asleep when the ship had left. "Did you see Qui-Gon?" he asked bluntly.

"Oh boi." Jar Jar covered his eyes with his hands. "Master Quiggon he be walkin onto dat ship. Likken a ghostie. Messa gettin bery bery scared."

That was all he needed. Obi-Wan looked at the pair, a boy prone to daydreaming and a panicky Gungan. It was easy enough to believe Iva would take Qui-Gon's body. It wasn't so easy to believe the Baobhan-sith could raise the dead. And though dead Jedi had been seen again and spoken to their close associates through the intercession of the Force, not even the Force itself had been known to re-animate a corpse.

He'd once called Iva a vampire, but that had been a childish fancy and he'd stopped thinking that a long time ago. Could it, in fact, be true? Was it remotely possible? After all, Qui-Gon's fatal wounds had healed, all trace vanished, after death. No, he wasn't going to entertain that thought again now. Obi-Wan couldn't countenance the fact that Qui-Gon still lived, had known he would still live, even in some dark demonic form, and not come to see his trusted Padawan, not said something to him before. No, he wasn't going to think that. He couldn't bear the thought of that.

In any case, a stolen body was bad enough.

Obi-Wan was determined to be his own person now, no longer under Qui-Gon's sway or guidance. He knew what his duty must be.

"Anakin, you and Jar Jar go back to the palace." Obi-Wan held up his hand before the boy could protest. "No arguments. I know you're not my apprentice, but pretend. A Jedi Padawan never argues with his Master. Go. And don't talk to anyone about this. Make sure Jar Jar doesn't say anything, too. Understand?"

Anakin left obediently enough, though obviously disappointed. Obi-Wan knew he must check the mausoleum first, but he already suspected what he would find. Nothing. He didn't know what rituals the Baobhan-sith practised over their dead, but whatever they were, they intended them for the remains of Qui-Gon Jinn.

He looked around for Adi Gallia. When he found her, as expected by the entrance to the mausoleum, she was asleep too. Obi-Wan began to think the Baobhan-sith had used some sort of sleeping gas. He rubbed his finger across a marble surface and examined it. A fine grey dust, faintly glimmering, covered the tip of his finger. Was this the mechanism that covered the perpetration of their crime?

No matter. He shook Adi by the shoulder.

She seemed alarmed when he woke her and told her of the events that had transpired. And even more so when they found the mausoleum empty as he predicted.

"Damn it," she yelled, shaking her head in irritation. "Where is Iva? What is her involvement in all this? I don't understand her at all."

Obi-Wan stood back as Adi stared frowning at the empty plinth. He still wasn't quite sure what his position was within the Order and he didn't want to seem alarmed at Adi's verbal explosion of annoyance. Nor add to it.

He almost asked Adi why she thought Qui-Gon had not disappeared as other great Jedi had. He suspected, though, that she believed it was because Qui-Gon had sullied himself with the dark side, and *that* he did not want to hear. Instead he broached the other subject which was weighing on his mind.

"Should we go after them?" He offered the suggestion hesitantly. "They can't have been gone long."

Adi span round on her heel and Obi-Wan quickly followed her out if the sepulchral dimness into the early morning sunlight. "No, Padawan Kenobi. There's no time. The Council will be arriving today and the funeral is scheduled for this evening. I don't want this theft common knowledge. Do you think Anakin and the Gungan will talk?"

"I told them not to, Master Gallia."

"Good. Now, I need your help. Follow me."

He did. She led him to the room in the Theed temple, open to the elements on all sides, in which the pyre had been prepared. She turned to him and addressed him in a serious tone.

"Obi-Wan, as far as the Naboo and the Gungans are concerned, there will be a funeral. You must help me in preparing a shell."

"A shell?"

"A holographic image lent solidity by the Force, to give the impression that Qui-Gon's body burns. It has been done before in special circumstances. This is one. Only the Council will have to be told about this violation of the corpse."

***

Panaka checked in with the officer of the watch. "Any movement on tracing that unidentified ship?"

"None, sir. The monitors were malfunctioning last night, but there's no indication it landed. We've been tracking it again since early this morning. It's leaving our system as we speak."

"And the Chancellor's ship?"

"On course as expected. They'll be here shortly after midday."

***

Adi watched Obi-Wan carefully. He was sweating slightly from the exertions of harnessing the energy of the Force to recreate a perfect mannequin of Qui-Gon. She noted that he had done well and followed her instructions to the letter, she was proud of his efforts and she respected his strong affinity with the Force. If he could overcome his tendency to adopt Qui-Gon's traits and idiosyncrasies he would make an excellent Jedi. And that, she felt, was only a question of time.

"It's a good job, Obi-Wan," she said, guiding him from the room.

It was time to set him on the right path.

"You are still a Padawan, for now a masterless one. As the only Jedi in the vicinity, you will report temporarily to me. The Council will discuss your position shortly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Gallia." He nodded.

"Personally, I think you are more than ready for knighthood and you have proved yourself more than capable these last few days. You should be thankful, however, that Qui-Gon kept you as his apprentice for as long as he did, without you the dark warrior may have won and the Sith might have conquered this world."

Obi-Wan looked pleased for a moment at her words, but his face darkened again at the mention of Qui-Gon. This must be hard on him, she thought. She watched as he pulled a metal cylinder from his tunic and handed it to her.

"This was the Sith's lightsabre. Well, half of it. It was double-bladed, like a staff. Perhaps the Council should examine it."

"Yes, Obi-Wan, you are right. Such a weapon has not been seen in battle for many years. There are records of such lightstaffs dating back to the time of the great Sith War and, since they can be very dangerous weapons, we still sometimes use them for advanced training. Thank you."

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "What about Iva? Do you think she went with the other Baobhan-sith?"

Adi didn't know what to think about Iva. After what she had learnt the last few days from Qui-Gon's wife, nothing would surprise her now. But somehow she doubted Iva was gone. A feeling. An inkling. Perhaps a sense of her or her child through the Force. Where she was right now, though, was another mystery. When she found her, Adi didn't know if she planned to punish her or aid her. The less Obi-Wan knew about it the better.

"Do not concern yourself, Obi-Wan. Iva is not your responsibility. Neither is what happened to Qui-Gon. Alright?"

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, Padawan Kenobi." She determined to be firm but fair with him. "I want you to focus yourself and focus on the important issues. As my apprentice, for however short a term, I expect you to carry out the responsibilities I give you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master." Obi-Wan looked back at her evenly. She could see he was no longer anyone's apprentice, though he would obey commands given to him by his peers.

"Now, Obi-Wan, Anakin is your responsibility, as Qui-Gon wished. I want you to give all your attention to him. The Council will have to discuss what happens to him now, but I want you to reassure him and take him with you to meet the ship from Coruscant. It should arrive soon. Tell the Council I will join them in a little while."

***

Yaddle hurried away from her fellow Jedi as soon as she could after landing. As they had all walked to the quarters assigned to the Jedi, Obi-Wan had informed them briefly of events. She sensed there was much he wasn't saying and wanted to find Iva. She had slung her bag, her precious trinkets, over her shoulder and rushed off in search of a local, citizen or officer, who might be able to direct her to the Temple. That, she thought, was where Iva would be. With Qui-Gon.

Her disappointment that she wasn't there was great. And nobody could help her.

She ran as fast as she could to the Naboo Guard's main station near the palace. They seemed startled at her appearance and her barked questions. "Has another ship landed? Where is it?"

They looked at each other. One spoke. "A ship passed through the system yesterday. It's gone now."

"Gone," she cried out. "Left already?" A feeling of failure and abandonment momentarily unsettled her. She took a deep breath. It wasn't too late. "What heading was it on?"

They told her, glancing amongst themselves as if they thought she were a little mad. Perhaps she was. The feelings she had been experiencing since her last meeting with Iva were new to her, but welcome. She'd follow them to whatever end they led her.

Adi's ship, she thought, that was her escape route, and she hurried to find it. It wasn't far away, but an immovable force fell across her path before she could reach it.

"Master Yaddle!"

She pulled herself up short just before she crashed into Even Piell. "Even. What are you doing here?" She tried to dodge round him.

He stood firm across her path. "Looking for you, Yaddle. What are you doing?"

"I'm..." She glanced at Adi's ship, tried again to get past him. "I'm going..."

This time he grabbed her. "Going away? Going away where, eh?"

"The Baobhan-sith, they were here. I have to follow them." She struggled to get free.

A deep smooth voice broke into their argument behind her. "No, you don't have to follow them, Master Yaddle."

She recognised Mace Windu's tones.

"Let them go. You belong with us, Yaddle."

She stared angrily at Mace and then shot a look that she hoped did not entirely reflect the hatred she felt towards Even. "You betrayed me," she accused.

Mace bent down and propelled her away from Even's grasp. "There has been no betrayal here, either yours or Master Piell's. Your presence is needed at the Council meeting, Yaddle. It is about to start and we have many things to discuss."

Yaddle bowed her head and looked at her feet as she trudged between Mace and Even back to the Jedi's rooms. Her desire for freedom had been tamed yet again.

- 40 -
As She Dips And Wails And Slips Her Banshee Smile.

A door had slammed shut with a finality that had cut Iva to the quick. But she had known as she had watched the Stellar Sweeper depart with her beloved Qui-Gon that another one would open in due time. She would be back with him soon, in no time at all from his perspective, nine long months from hers. Between now and then she had plans to bring to fruition. First, she would avenge his death.

So she had watched and she had waited. And she had been rewarded for her patience.

The ship from Coruscant had arrived.

"It's just you and me now," she whispered to the small spark of life in her womb. "We have to pay this man back for what he has done to your father."

As Iva turned away, the air coalesced around her. Her face had taken on a feral look, ferocious, cruel, dark, the eyes hard and dark, the eye teeth long and sharp. The Cailleach stood at her shoulder. All the intensity of maternal instinct, the desire to protect her child, the knowledge that she was both hunter and hunted, the angry despair of a bereaved lover, dominated her actions. She made a pact with her goddess and she sniffed the air to track her prey.

Palpatine. It was Palpatine she sought.

She followed the newly elected Chancellor from the Republic cruiser, slipping through the streets unnoticed, to this block in the Palace which he had entered.

This, all this, her presence here, her unlooked for sorrow, the ache of unwanted separation in her heart, was his doing. She was coming for him, hunting him down. He would pay. Now he would pay.

"Give me the form of the battle goddess," she said to the being beside her, "the harbinger of death." She stood up. "I am the badb badhbh."

She screamed in agony as her form twisted and her body blackened. Her arms became wings, her clothes feathers. Her face grew into a beak and her eyes darkened to black beads. Her toes elongated into talons.

She was the battle crow.

As the crow, she flew up to the sill outside the window of the room where Palpatine rested with his aide.

The man she hated most in all the world seemed to be in pain, he rubbed relentlessly at his eye socket. The shard from a black mirror she knew, inserted there by Qui-Gon many years before. It was justice that he suffered, and she would make him suffer more.

Palpatine's companion bent over him. He offered help.

"No, Piet," she heard Palpatine reply, "but you are kind to ask. It saps my strength, this infirmity, but now that Jinn is dead I am renewed in spirit. Now I can get my hands on the witch. She will be mine."

She cawed in anger. He would not have her, he would never have her. Or her child.

This other man, unknown to her - Piet, Palpatine called him - was momentarily distracted. He looked out at her. Then turned his head quickly away. She knew by instinct not words that he recognised a greater force in her. This one, she knew, was subservient by nature and nurture, he was no threat. He was a slave. When Palpatine was dead, she could let him go.

His freedom would be her penance.

For the present, she was content to listen and to wait. She would need to choose her time for action carefully.

She waited all that night and the next day, perched high above the palace, looking down on the beings who dwelt there, the significant and the insignificant alike. She listened to the music, mournful in the evening, joyful and triumphant in the morning. She watched the skies.

***

Obi-Wan looked at Eirtae, wishing with all his heart she could come with him. But he knew it wasn't possible. His life had changed already and was now changing again. The Council had elevated him to the Knighthood and allowed him to take Anakin as his Padawan. It should be the supreme moment of his life up to now, his happiest.

But it wasn't.

Qui-Gon was dead and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with the situation. Was it himself? Was it Anakin? He didn't know. It could just be the bittersweetness of his parting from Eirtae. Still, he felt the weight of the future pressing down on him. Qui-Gon telling him he was wrong.

He shut his ears to the familiar voice. Qui-Gon wasn't here. Anakin was.

And Eirtae was.

"Get on the ship, Anakin," he said gently, trying hard, oh so hard, to emulate the tones of the familiar voice he had just pushed aside. "I'll be there in a moment."

He turned to the woman he had met only a few days before and had grown to love in even that short time. He took her hand. He could see and sense that she was holding back her feelings for him.

"I can't ask you to wait for me..." he began. He had rehearsed these words, but now they sounded trite. "...but I'll stay in touch, I promise."

Eirtae smiled at him, sadly, but lovingly too. "You don't have to. You're free if you choose to be, I won't hold you to me."

Obi-Wan, shivered though the breeze was warm. Why did she feel the need to offer him a freedom he didn't want and wouldn't accept? She couldn't mean it, could she? No, he knew she didn't. It was a politeness, a gesture made tenderly if regretfully.

"I want to," he said emphatically, wanting her to know how much he wanted to return. "I'll come back. As soon as I can."

She smiled, this time with relief. "Perhaps I'll come to Coruscant. If you wouldn't mind."

"That would be nice," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He hugged her close and kissed her. Then he let her go reluctantly. "I have to go."

"I know." She nodded. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes?"

She touched his arm and ran her hand softly down its length. "Take care of yourself."

He smiled and nodded, then turned quickly and ran up the ramp into the ship. He didn't want anyone to see him fighting back the tears that came unbidden to his eyes.

He would see her again. He would.

***

Iva, rejoicing in the sensation of flight as she soared around the rooftops of Theed, waited until Palpatine and his underling came back to their room. The one called Piet threw the windows wide to let in the warm air and the glorious sunshine and she settled on the sill again to listen.

Palpatine was speaking. She listened, her small, sleek bird head cocked to one side.

"The Jedi Council are already embarking for their return to Coruscant. They can't wait to get away."

There were tones of aversion and superiority in his voice.

"I have informed them I will be spending a few days more on Naboo before going back to Coruscant. Ostensibly to visit my home town, but I wish to ensure these plebeians here are aware of exactly how much it is they owe me."

He turned to his companion, disdainfully. "I'm sure you're happy to spend this time with me too, Piet."

Piet merely nodded.

Iva, the battle crow, took this as her opportunity. She flew into the room through the open window, her squawk loud and harsh, her feathers fluttering against the men's heads, her talons catching in their hair.

"Get it off me."

Arms batted at her wings but she easily avoided them.

It was Palpatine, crying out in cowardice and fright.

Iva laughed, the laugh a grating caw from the throat of the bird. Piet stood stock still, the action of a man long accustomed to accepting unjust punishments.

In the form of the crow, she settled on the floor. In the form of the Cailleach, she stood erect and advanced across the space to where Palpatine had retreated. She flowed, her feet on another plane from that of the floor, no physical hindrance blocking her path.

Palpatine fell to his knees. She knew, though he had not seen this face for a decade, that he instantly recognised the form of the blue-white flesh, the unnatural ashen cheeks, the cyanotic lips, the distorted nostril, the matted strands of scorched hair.

"Oh, my lady," he worshipped. "I knew that one day you would return to me."

He quaked and lowered his forehead to the floor.

"I am here, your humble servant, willing to take your husband's place."

"Stand up." The voice echoed, though the room was not large or the ceiling high.

Palpatine stood up shakily, clutching the wall for support.

In the opposite corner, Piet huddled, denying the sight by averting his gaze.

As the Cailleach, Iva flung one arm outwards in a wide circle. A pentacle of black light was emitted from her hand and spread across the floor, sucking at the air around Palpatine. His hands clutched at his throat. He started to choke.

"Not nice is it..." she snarled, "...knowing you are dying. I hope you have a little sympathy now, knowing what it felt like for Qui-Gon when you sent your thug to kill him."

She raised her arm and twisted her hand in a tight circle. Her wand descended from the spiral of metal that encased her arm, its hilt settling into her palm. The crystal at its tip emitted a harsh blue white glow. "I can let you know what it feels like to be pierced through the heart. I can puncture you right now. It's easy." She moved closer and whispered to his face. "Shall I do it?"

He turned his head away.

"No, no," Palpatine pleaded. "Please. You don't understand. It wasn't me. I didn't kill him, I didn't want him killed. I wanted him on my side. I wanted him to turn to the Dark Side."

"Hurts, doesn't it," Iva taunted. "Pleading for your life. Qui-Gon didn't have a chance to plead for his. Why should you?"

Palpatine's face lightened a little. His gaze intensified. "Revenge," he croaked. "It's revenge you're after. Revenge is a tool of the Dark Side. I can see how you feed on it. Join me. Together we can..."

"No." Iva's arm shot forwards and the blade plunged into his chest, the crystalline light tore his flesh in two, the glare of unearthly light split his atoms apart.

"Revenge," he gasped. "The Dark Side. Listen, it calls you."

Iva's face grew harsher, darker, more monstrous. She heard nothing but the cogs of the universe turning, the buzz of the ether which fuelled the heavens as they span in their eternal cycle. "The goddess is merciful," she said quietly, refuting his words, "but vengeful. She smiles on those who worship her, despises those who spurn her. You killed her consort. Accept your punishment."

"No, no, it wasn't me, I wasn't the one who ordered this." He was gasping for breath and she twisted her wand deeper into his flesh, closer and closer to his heart.

"Pitiful wretch," she snarled. Her mouth opened into a grimace, the parody of a smile. It was a devouring maw. The teeth grew, elongated, became sharp and hollow like a snake's, spitting retribution rather than venom into his face.

She grasped a fistful of Palpatine's hair and pulled his head back viciously. "Meet your death," she hissed, her teeth sinking into his exposed throat. "Your blood will nourish the child of your enemy."

He screamed in pain as she sucked deeply on his life's blood, he moaned in agony as his heart emptied, his veins collapsed and his body failed. He gasped his last breaths as she drained him dry as an arid wilderness. His life, all his hopes and plans, his schemes and machinations, became a wasteland.

"Not me." His last words. "I didn't want this. There's another."

Iva didn't hear. The Cailleach drained him dry. And when every last drop of his blood was gone, the goddess took his life force. Devoured it until his body was a husk and the husk crumbled into dust.

The Cailleach's job was over. Iva stepped back and the remains of Palpatine fell like cinders. A breeze from the window scattered his ashes like dust across the floor.

Iva, a pale woman with sad eyes, turned and looked on Piet. He was looking back at her, uncomprehending, abstracted.

"You," she said, pointing at him. "You should go now. Lose yourself out there among the far suns. Live out an anonymous and unfulfilled life. Never go back to Coruscant. Take your freedom. Be content."

It was all she could offer. It was enough for Piet. He ran. She was neither concerned for his safety nor curious to wonder where he would go.

She had another life to save. A child to incubate and nurture.

- 41 -
It Makes No Sense At All, So Far Away In Just One Day.

Sidious' body bucked and jerked in the bacta, his mind was fighting towards the surface of consciousness, his only thought a scream. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. His arms beat against the transparisteel encasing him, his legs kicked wildly. The cylinder held firm but buckled. He had strength, some considerable strength. More than he had known for years. Not the rejuvenation, then. Something else.

Arms pulled at him from above, hauling his thrashing body from the viscous living liquid. Voices shouted, half in panic, half in command. Lights stung his eyes. He coughed as tubes were pulled from his throat. He pulled down a deep gulp of air into lungs that had a greater capacity than he had known a few short days ago. Oxygen permeated his cells. He was refreshed. He struggled to stand, arms helped him, to rise, he shrugged them off.

"I'm alright. Leave me." He snapped. Even his voice sounded clearer, stronger. His hearing, too, was improved. The deep fatigue and damage that years of Dark Side worship had wreaked on
his body was gone.

He looked around at his minions. Grocelind was not there. "Has Palpatine returned yet?" he asked.

A senior technician in white coveralls looked to his colleague for a moment. Shakes of the head were exchanged.

"There's been no contact with Chancellor Palpatine, Sir."

Sidious tested his Dark Force strength and felt across the skein of the galaxy to find the signature of Palpatine. There was nothing, only a chorus of pathetic lifeforms scurrying about their daily lives. That was it, then. The terrible agony he had felt, Palpatine's life being snuffed out. So be it. He didn't need his clone now. He, Sidious, was young and strong.

"Bring me a mirror," he barked. When one was pushed into his hands, his eyes stared back at him from Palpatine's face. The skin was firmer, perhaps, with fewer lines around the eyes and mouth, but in a few days he could return refreshed from a visit to his homeworld, walk into the Senate and begin his rule.

He threw back his head and laughed. He laughed with victory and maniacal lust for the power he had attained.

***

Iva watched as Adi walked towards her, towards her ship, crossing the flat duracrete floor of the landing station with the confidant stride of a Jedi at one with the world. Iva wished she had such confidence. Determination, yes, she had that. Determination to carry through the Baobhan-sith prophecy, to conceive the child she was destined to bear for the sake of the future. She had done that, but still she was not confident. She was not sure that what she did, what she had done, was right.

Was she truly the bellatrix that the prophecy spoke of? She bore the imprint of the bloodline, that was clear. But she was no warrior. She did not bear arms. No, her strength was in her creed. She had not fought with her hands nor with weapons, but with her spirit, her virtue. She had fought the Jedi for the mind and soul of Qui-Gon, his body too, and she had won.

Still, she felt it had made nothing right. History, if it accorded her any place at all, would not look kindly on her.

She was a cog in the machinery of change, a device that set in motion a tragedy that would encompass them all. She couldn't see how or why, but though she had killed Palpatine, his thread had not unravelled from the tapestry of time future. He remained, and the dark shadow that was falling across all their paths remained with him. The vengeance of her goddess was cold. She hugged her coat around herself, she felt she would never be warm again.

Adi approached her now. The Jedi's face was set into a frown, her coffee skin almost ashen. Her voice when she spoke was blunt. "I said I would stop you if you did anything to Qui-Gon. What happened? Did your order steal his body?"

Iva shuddered with empathy. This woman had been hurt too, they shared a burden. "We saved him. We could not let him burn as you intended. It would have meant his death."

She spoke the truth, but Adi visibly crumpled at the words. "Iva, oh, Iva. He was dead already. What harm could it have done?"

"His soul had fled his body, but his spirit was alive. He was awaiting the call to revive."

"You're trying to tell me you revived him? How?"

"That is our secret, Adi Gallia. There are many things you do not know, things that you could have known if you had accepted our proposal for alignment. You, the Jedi, the Council, left Qui-Gon to accept that alignment alone. He knows our secrets. Those who align with us will be gifted with our secrets. Death is but a door."

"The Jedi could?"

"It is too late now for the Jedi. Only Yaddle saw the truth in time."

"Yaddle? She has always seen things your way. But she has returned to Coruscant."

"Yes, her role is there. She will join us when her time comes."

"Her time? You mean her death?"

Iva knew there was nothing more she could tell Adi. Adi had already taken her steps, her first irrevocable steps, on her own distinct pathway into the future tragedy. Iva kept silent on those matters.

"Is Obi-Wan alright?" she asked instead.

"Obi-Wan? Yes, I think so. The Council deemed him to have passed his trials in the battle with the Sith and they have allowed him to take Anakin Skywalker as his Padawan learner." Adi paused and smiled. "And I do believe he found some comfort with one of Queen Amidala's attendants."

"That's good," Iva said. She was genuinely glad for Obi-Wan, but a small pang for him, for his future of loneliness and isolation, remained. Perhaps such memories would help him through the long years ahead. Yet she still worried about Anakin. She hoped Obi-Wan could teach him the humanity he needed to see him through his fall and his salvation.

Lost in her thoughts, she hardly noticed as Adi stepped past her to gain access to her ship. But the Jedi turned. "Where will you go now, Iva? What will you do?"

"I have a child to protect."

Adi spoke as she climbed up into the vessel. "I promised Qui-Gon that if anything happened to him, I would see that you were safe. For what it's worth, I will honour that promise. Will you trust me? Will you come with me?"

Iva looked up into the Jedi's eyes. She could see no harm in them. "Yes," she said, taking Adi's proffered hand of friendship and climbing up into the ship.

***

The technicians insisted on Sidious staying in the research facility for a day. They assaulted him with a barrage of various medical tests. He had long grown irritated with their ministrations, but he endured it with fortitude. Patience was something he had long practised, even in the face of considerable discomfort.

Finally, they stopped prodding and jabbing him.

"Get me an aircar to Palpatine's official residence," he commanded once they had decreed him fit and healthy. "Ensure the Chancellor's private assistant is in attendance. And no one else, understand."

They left him alone in a recovery room to dress.

As he dressed, he mused on the future. He would have to find a new apprentice. He'd taken so long to train Maul, perhaps someone older this time, someone already corrupted by the Dark Side. This Aurra Sing that Maul had found on Tatooine - she might do. Though perhaps, he thought, she was already too independent of mind. His other clone, Anakin Skywalker, maybe. Yes, that would be justice indeed. Somehow the midichlorians had worked through the woman Shmi to subvert the process and claim the embryo for their own. How ironic if he could reverse the failure now. Turn the boy to the Dark Side just as the Jedi thought they had discovered the Chosen One. He chuckled. A nasty end for the mother. Threats against those he loved and cared for. A failure or two in the field. A few false rumours whispered in the dark to make him doubt his place. Yes, that way was alluring.

Sidious was almost done dressing when he sensed something was amiss. A pain, yet not a pain. A shifting of his internal organs. A cold rod of iron through his guts. He groaned. A twisting of a knife in his belly. Something cold and baneful overcame him, something which threatened to pull him down into hell. Into some depths even he had never plumbed before.

Something must have gone wrong with the rejuvenation process. He rushed to a mirror. His face was still young, Palpatine still stared back at him. He smiled. This feeling in the pit of his stomach was nothing. It could be ignored. He had won.

Yet the worry would not rest quietly in his mind. Had something dreadful gone wrong? Had the witch's cells crippled him irrevocably even as they had rejuvenated him?

The possibility became a shard of ice lodged in his heart. And he could not put it out of his mind.

***

Yaddle looked up, disturbed by movement. The whites of her eyes were reddened by sorrow and tears. They were now almost at Coruscant and still she could not shift the foreboding sense of loss. She had remained silent on Naboo and nobody had dared approach her until now.

"Oh, it's you." She threw the words at Even Piell. "What do you want?"

"I've been thinking," he said quietly.

He seemed chastened. She supposed it wouldn't do any harm to listen to him.

"Go on, then," she prompted.

"It might not mean anything to you at the moment, Yaddle, but I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I do love you. I need you. I've been a fool trying to deny it. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was trying to save you."

"Save me from what, Even? You just don't understand anything."

"I know that. I didn't ask the right questions. I want you to tell me now. Tell me what it all means. I've made a mistake and it hurts to see you hurting like this. These Baobhan-sith. I want to know what you and Qui-Gon see in them that the rest of us don't. I want to understand them too."

"It's a long story, Even. And it means giving in to your emotions."

"I'll listen. I'm prepared for you to convince me that you should go after them if it's not too late. I'd go with you, too, if you asked."

Yaddle sighed, a deep, mournful sound. "It is too late, Even. They are gone."

"Hey, chin up, Yaddle." He sat next to her and put his arm around her. "Maybe it was too soon for you to go with them. Perhaps you haven't finished your work here yet. Perhaps converting me to their cause is your part in this. Maybe you have to tell all the Jedi who and what they are. Spread the word or something."

Yaddle sniffed and nodded. She felt the tears would never end. But she felt this close physical contact with Even was a comfort. She snuggled up to him and he tightened his grip on her.

He continued. "And we still have to investigate this re-emergence of the Sith. If the one Obi-Wan defeated was the apprentice, there may be another one out there somewhere. You can't just run away from that. And perhaps you and I have a part to play in uncovering this plot. Afterwards, then we can go find the Baobhan-sith."

However hard she tried, she couldn't find a flaw in Even's words. Save one.

"How will I find them again? Their worlds were threatened, they're going into hiding. I learnt much from their library but I don't know where it is they will go."

Even nodded slowly, but he did not seem disconcerted to her. "We'll find them Yaddle. After all we're Jedi Masters, aren't we? If anyone can find them, we can."

She laid her head on his shoulder and he moved his hand to stroke her hair. There were still tears in her eyes, but she moved her hand to the hilt of her light sabre. "Yes, Even," she whispered. "Yes, we can."

"But first," he said, "you have to tell me everything you know. Everything."

***

Sidious strode up and down Palpatine's office, luxuriating in his new-found vigour. All last night, he had been perfecting Palpatine's mannerisms and today he seemed to have convinced Palpatine's secretary. The sultry beauty eyed him approvingly, her black hair was loose and she let it fall alluringly across her face. The Chancellor had cultivated relationships wherever and whenever he could, Sidious had chastised him for it on occasion, a danger to the cause, a security risk. But that judgement might have been a bit harsh, maybe keeping one's associates close in that way had benefits too. Sidious was going to enjoy all the perks of being Supreme Chancellor.

He smiled back at her. "Send a coded transmission to Jabba Desilijic Tiure. Let him know he is now free to put his bounty on Caer Ibhormheith, but tell him I want her and her child kept alive."

"Yes, sir, at once. Is there anything else?"

"Inform Jedi Master Jorus C'Baoth I wish to see him tomorrow, at his earliest convenience. That is all for now."

She nodded and turned to leave the office.

"Come back when that's done, will you," he ordered as she closed the door.

***

Obi-Wan felt like a stranger in his own quarters when he returned to the Temple. His room was just as he had left it, but it seemed like someone else's. A child's room, an apprentice's, not a Jedi Knight's. The adjacent rooms had been Qui-Gon's, though the Jedi Master had rarely used them, spending most of his time when on Coruscant with Iva in Finis Valorum's apartments.

Eirtae. He thought again of Eirtae, she had hardly been out of his mind. Would he spend a lot of his time at the Nubian embassy or some other place if she did manage to come to Coruscant? He hoped so. He smiled. Did it really matter where you slept as long as it was close to someone you cared for?

Obi-Wan toyed briefly with the idea of keeping this room and settling Anakin into Qui-Gon's quarters, but it didn't seem right somehow. He decided instead to give his old rooms to Anakin and move his own things into Qui-Gon's. Qui-Gon might not always have been the easiest or most straightforward of masters, but he was the only father figure Obi-Wan had ever known. Qui-Gon had been, and would remain in memory, Obi-Wan's inspiration and guide in the training of Anakin.

Obi-Wan started gathering his small collection of personal affects and spare clothing together, but then stopped and looked at Anakin, who stood waiting patiently near the door. They hadn't had much chance to talk on the journey from Naboo, the Council had taken up much of Anakin's time with assessment of his training requirements. Now they'd have to get to know each other and set up the limits of their Master-Padawan relationship.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, "this will be your room."

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan could see the boy's eyes were taking in the space, it must seem luxurious after being a slave on Tatooine, though the Jedi themselves lived frugally.

"I'll be next door. There's a joining door here, so if you want anything just use that." Obi-Wan wasn't sure how much effort he should expend on making Anakin feel at home. For all his nine years, Anakin had had a mother. Something Obi-Wan had never known. Whatever Obi-Wan did, Anakin's life was very different now. "Would you like me to help you unpack?" was all he asked.

"No, thank you, sir." Anakin shuffled his feet. "Uh, should I call you Master?"

Obi-Wan tried to remember what Qui-Gon had said to him when he had first been taken on as an apprentice. But circumstances had all been so different. Qui-Gon hadn't wanted him at first. He had had to fight together with Qui-Gon before he had been accepted as an apprentice.

But wasn't that exactly what Anakin had had to do?

Words came into Obi-Wan's mind. Words spoken in Qui-Gon's voice. They seemed right here too.

"You would have died for Naboo," he said. "Your courage in destroying the Trade Federation battleship was extraordinary, even for a Jedi. I am honoured to accept you as my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker."

He held out his hand. Anakin took it.

Obi-Wan hoped that his words made Anakin feel as warm as Qui-Gon's had all that time ago.

Anakin simply hugged him. "Thank you, Master," he said. "I hope Qui-Gon knows too, wherever he is."

Obi-Wan felt the Force surge around himself and Anakin. The deep sense of a new bond, in the age-old tradition of the Jedi Order, was forged between a master and his apprentice.

***

"Ah, Master C'Baoth, come in." Sidious motioned across Palpatine's desk towards a chair. "Do sit down."

Jorus gave a slight formal bow before sitting. "Chancellor Palpatine, I wasn't aware you had returned from Naboo," he said. "You look different, you look well. Being on Naboo must have been refreshing for you. It is pleasing to see you in such good health."

"Thank you, Jorus." Sidious smirked. If C'Baoth was fooled, he'd have no trouble with the Senate. Only the stronger Jedi, perhaps, might pick up on the shielding that prevented them recognising he was not who he said he was. But if they did, what could they do? A gene test would prove he was Palpatine.

Sidious waited a moment for Jorus to make himself comfortable. "You have been kept busy in the past with your petty work for the Jedi, haven't you, Jorus?"

Sidious could see the spark of acknowledgement in the Jedi's eyes. He had hit a nerve, as he had planned.

"You are ambitious, are you not?"

Jorus smiled. And nodded.

"The Council has sidelined you, haven't they? They have sent you on trivial missions, exiled you to the outer fringes of power, and expected you to serve the Senate through me." Sidious could see Jorus lapping up his words. "I have a more appropriate task for you, if you wish to accept it. Would you like to hear more?"

Jorus leaned forward, eagerly, with one elbow on the desk that separated them. "Yes," he hissed.

"You believe, don't you, in the superiority of the Jedi? You desire to see them rule the galaxy."

Jorus didn't speak but his communicated volumes.

Sidious continued to dangle temptation. "This Qui-Gon Jinn could have held power if the Council had not held him back. He is a martyr to the cause of independence and authority. There are many Jedi, are their not, who might have followed him?"

Jorus' thoughts were written clear on his face.

"Build a following in the name of Jinn," Sidious said. "Make sure Jedi Kenobi and the Skywalker boy are attracted to your cause. I want them in a position where I can manipulate them both and convert the boy to our cause. Then, together, we will make the Jedi a strength throughout the galaxy." Sidious gazed hard at Jorus. "Are you with me, Master C'Baoth? Will you do this for me?"

***

Adi had added more than a day to her journey ensuring at least a modicum of safety for Iva, providing her with a safe haven to see out her pregnancy. Mace was waiting impatiently for Adi on her eventually return to Coruscant.

"You saw Qui-Gon's wife?" he asked, before even greeting her. "You know where she is?"

Adi felt time pressing in around her. It was time to throw off one set of constraints for another. "If I did, Master Windu, do you think I would tell you now? Qui-Gon is dead, Iva is no longer of any concern to the Jedi Order."

Mace surprised her with his reply. "No, Adi, I don't" he said, his use of her given name indicating a familiarity not indicative of one senior Council member to another lesser one. "I respect your decision, as much for Qui-Gon's sake as for your own. But there are other problems I wish you to address."

Adi was unsurprised, but intrigued. She had been expecting repercussions from events on Naboo. "Tell me," she said to Mace.

"Already Jorus C'Baoth seeks to build a cult of separatism from the Republic around the name of Qui-Gon Jinn. It must be stopped. The Council is proposing to send Master C'Baoth on the Outbound Flight Project to explore beyond the galactic rim. It will get him out of the way at this time of crisis. I want you to deal with matters closer to home. You will make sure all references to Qui-Gon Jinn and the Baobhan-sith are removed from recent records."

"Mace!" Adi gasped, she suddenly found it hard to draw breath. "How can you countenance such a thing? I can't agree, I will oppose you. I'll go back to the Council with this. I'll make sure all the Jedi know what has been proposed."

Mace seemed resigned to her outburst. He sent a wave of concern and sympathy towards her. But he continued on the path he had chosen. "I do not think that would be wise, Master Gallia. It will reveal recent events as a mystery, even to us. With the Sith on the rise, we do not want to expose our weaknesses. And I fear this would be seen as a weakness."

Whatever the truth of Mace's words, Adi couldn't accept it without protest. "But Mace, we must discuss this further."

"No, Adi. We must consider the integrity of the Order."

She could see the resolve in his eyes.

"What about Obi-Wan?" she objected. "We must consider his feelings in this matter."

"Obi-Wan, yes." Mace steepled his fingers, deep in thought. "It is unfortunate for him, but he will understand. He is a resilient man, and dedicated. He will keep silent about Qui-Gon if we explain the risk to the Order. We do not seek to obliterate our *memories* of Qui-Gon Jinn. Only to hide this controversy from prying eyes."

No other avenue but this now seemed possible.

A memory flooded Adi's mind. Iva had predicted it. 'You will strike Qui-Gon's name from the records of the Jedi,' the Baobhan-sith had once said. Adi hadn't believed, hadn't wanted to believe, she could do such a thing. Now she was on her way to doing just that. If Iva had been right about this, would her premonitions of war throughout the galaxy, of a purge against the Jedi, now come to pass too. It was almost too awful to contemplate.

Adi closed her eyes and relented. "Very well, Mace, I will do it."

- 42 -
Lead Me To The Firelight, Lead Me To Another Sigh.

A reverie.

Waiting for her.

...she is an ocean...

Tasting her precious waters.

...losing himself in her...

Loving her.

...passion unfurling into a many-petalled flower...

The fire of separation ripped through his body. The pain of severance detonated in his spine.

A waking.

The light of a moon.

A rose.

Life was like a dream, days passed in a haze. The sun set. The sun rose. The sun set.

He woke at dusk and fell asleep at dawn.

And when awake, he dreamed he ran free through the trees like a king of the forest. A stag.

His feet pounded through the surf on the rocky shore. He stared out at the waves. And the sea stared back.

He had been someone once. Someone with power. Someone with humility.

He had been Qui-Gon Jinn. He remembered. He had been told to remember.

He was waiting. Waiting for the person most dear to him in all the cosmos.

She would come. Soon she would come.

Empty hills stretched in every direction. The shadows of night clung to the land. A single bird transected the sky, soaring to the heavens, only seen as its silhouette obliterated the stars.

The nights slipped by. Unmeasured. Unremarked.

Lingering sunsets met the evening. Long nights kissed the dawn in welcome.

Tamhasg. This place, this world, was Tamhasg. A ghostlight in the night sky of Cair-deil Talamh. Land of the dead. He knew that much.

He was dead.

This passage of time didn't feel like death. Nor did it feel like living. Time was all wrong.

He was waiting. Waiting for Iva. His bride.

Slowly. Little by little. Day by day. The world became clearer to his eyes. Solidity replaced transparency. His senses awakened to the sights and smells and sounds of this strange world.

He was content.

He waited.

Soon his happiness would be complete.

One night, he came upon a plain of stone. A barren field of slabs.

A man sat there, bowed beneath the pressure of the ages. The first person Qui-Gon had seen.

He approached.

He felt that nothing could shock him again. He was wrong.

The man's hair was long, completely grey. It was unkempt. His beard untrimmed. His Jedi robes worn and torn.

Qui-Gon knew him.

Sifa Xiu. A man, a Jedi, long dead, abandoned on the Sith worlds long ago.

Jedi Master Sifa Xiu sat forlorn upon the stone field.

Qui-Gon approached. "Master Xiu?"

The man looked up with empty, unseeing eyes.

"What happened to you? How did you get here?" Qui-Gon crouched down beside him.

"Here?" the man intoned.

"Tamhasg. Ziost."

"This is Ziost?"

"Yes. Do you remember anything?"

"Anything?"

"You were sent to Khar Delba. By the Council. I was sent to find you. I was told you were already dead."

Sifa struggled to remember. "I lost contact, yes, with the Force. My life was slipping away."

"The Baobhan-sith brought you here when you died?"

"Who?" Sifa looked around confused.

"The women."

"The women, yes. Do you know them?"

Qui-Gon smiled and sat beside the old man. Yes, he knew them. Oh, how he knew them.

Sifa looked around. "Where is this place? If only I could remember."

"You've been alone?"

"Alone, yes."

"What have you been doing?"

"Doing? Waiting. Who are you?"

"My name is Qui-Gon Jinn. I was a Jedi. I was sent to find you."

"Find me?"

"Yes. After the Council lost contact with you on a mission to Khar Delba."

"Jinn. Qui-Gon. I know that name. "

"Yes, I was a Jedi Master."

"I remember. Yoda's favourite pupil."

Qui-Gon looked up at the night sky. Yoda's favourite? Not of late, he thought. Yoda had been proved right. The Baobhan-sith had stolen him away from the Force. Well, what of it now? He had wanted to go. Qui-Gon was where he wanted to be.

Beside him, Sifa stirred. A sudden light illuminated his features. "Have you come to take me back?" he asked.

"No, Sifa. I would that that were so. But no. A long time ago I came in search of you. The Council sent me after you. But you were already ... gone."

"I died?"

"Yes."

"But the Force didn't claim me?"

"The Force doesn't have a presence on these worlds." Qui-Gon broke the news as gently as he could. "Sifa, it has been ten years."

"So long, I did not realise." He shook his head. "The Republic, how does it fare? And the Jedi? You must be on the Council now."

"No. That was not to be my path."

"Then you died too. On these worlds."

"No," he replied, "I embraced their culture."

"You didn't go back either."

"Yes, I went back. But I took one of them back with me."

As Qui-Gon talked with Sifa Xiu, time and space drifted around them.

"Yesterday..." Sifa began. "...no, it can't have been yesterday, it seems like years have passed..."

Qui-Gon prompted him. "What were you going to tell me?"

"I feel..." He looked at Qui-Gon as though seeing him for the first time. "What was I saying? I can't stay here talking I must... There's something I must do. What? Yes. The Temple. I must report to the Temple."

Qui-Gon lay his hand on Sifa's arm. "Sifa, you are dead. You can't go back."

Sifa looked at him. "Who are you?" He peered into the darkness of the night that encompassed them. "Where am I?"

The wind sang across the stones. Leaves rustled. A hoof stamped on the ground.

Qui-Gon turned.

Mananon stood behind them.

"He can't remember." The voice was deep. The voice of the universe.

"I remember," Qui-Gon said, standing and facing his familiar spirit. "What is wrong with him?"

"You have been initiated into the blood rite." A simple statement from a god.

"Yes." Qui-Gon knew he must reply, though no question had been asked.

"This man came here without initiation. The Baobhan-sith thought they were saving him."

Mananon paced across the stones and Qui-Gon followed him.

"What happens now?"

"To him?"

"Yes, to him. I know why I am here. To wait for Iva."

Mananon looked down on Sifa. "He waits too. For the final embrace of death. He desires it."

"Why doesn't he accept it, then?"

Mananon gave a shrug. Of indifference perhaps, or maybe arrogance. "He still dwells on his mission. He denies his failure. He needs permission to let go."

Qui-Gon walked back to where Sifa sat. "Why are you still here, Sifa?"

The old Jedi looked up, lost, forlorn.

Qui-Gon touched his shoulder, gripped it hard in his callused hand. "Go now, Master Xiu, and be one with the Force."

Sifa raised his hand to lay it over Qui-Gon's but the old man's corporeal flesh was already fading into electric blue nothingness.

He was already gone.

Qui-Gon bent to touch the abandoned robe.

As he walked back to where Mananon stood, he heard Sifa's voice, insubstantial, one final time.

"May the Force by with you, Master Jinn."

Sifa Xiu's Force presence lingered a moment longer, then was gone.

- 43 -
For The Tree Of Life Is Growing Where The Spirit Never Dies.

Obi-Wan was working with Anakin on a training meditation. He had the boy practising the recall of recent events, some trivial moments, other important items of data.

It had been less than a year since Anakin had become his Padawan learner, but the boy was absorbing his lessons quickly, very quickly. He was a fast learner and retained information well.

When Obi-Wan was sure that Anakin was in a deep meditative state conducive to recall, he took the boy deeper into the past.

"Now, Anakin, I want you to recall something you saw several months ago. Describe what you saw in the plaza on Naboo after Qui-Gon's death."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure he should go there, but it was still preying on his mind, what exactly had happened to Qui-Gon. Especially since Master Windu had impressed upon him the importance of not referring to Qui-Gon or his liaison with Iva ever again.

Anakin's eyes shot open and he looked at Obi-Wan alarmed. The boy was sensitive to Obi-Wan's every flicker of emotion, the bond they had developed was strong.

"Concentrate." Obi-Wan directed. "Breath deeply. Relax. Remember."

Anakin's eyes closed again. "Qui-Gon was with the bo... the ban..."

"The Baobhan-sith, yes. Picture it, Anakin. They were carrying him?"

"No, he was walking."

"Walking. Did he look like..." Obi-Wan tried to imagine how the boy would see a Jedi's Force spirit. "...like a ghost. Translucent."

"No, solid. Like a man. He was flesh and blood, Master."

"Breath slowly, Anakin. Forget where you are. Lose yourself in the Force."

Anakin seemed to slip deeper into a trance, to lose contact with reality.

"Remember what you felt. How did Qui-Gon feel to you? Was his life force strong?"

"No, he was dead."

"Dead?"

"He felt like all the nixie, uh, Baobhan-sith. They were *all* dead."

Obi-Wan sighed. He could see how Anakin would read the absence of a Force-signature around them as indicating death. That meant only that Qui-Gon had been separated from the Force - by some mutation or process that made him like the Taleach. It didn't mean that he was really dead. Perhaps Qui-Gon *was* still alive somewhere.

Anakin touched Obi-Wan's hand. He jumped. Anakin was looking at him curiously, no longer in a deep meditative state.

"He is dead, Master. Sometimes I hear his voice."

Obi-Wan hugged Anakin close, knowing how much the boy missed his mother's care. "So do I, Anakin. But it's just the Force nudging memories of his voice to the forefront of our minds when we need reminding of something important."

***

It was a few days later when Obi-Wan crossed Plo Koon's path in the library.

"Master Koon, may I speak with you." He spoke hesitantly, unsure of his reception.

"Of course, Jedi Kenobi. Sit down. Is there something I can help you with?" Plo's voice was a dull metallic drone through his breather mask and his features were shielded, preventing all eye contact.

Obi-Wan wondered how Qui-Gon had come to develop such a deep friendship with this Kel Dor. He knew they had fought together, but not how they had bonded.

"You were close to Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan began.

Plo chuckled and Obi-Wan was alarmed at the sound.

"I'm not surprised you want to ask about your old master," Plo said. "I don't believe Mace did the right thing in trying to hide Qui-Gon's accomplishments."

Obi-Wan's alarm turned to surprise that a Council member would confide in him this way. Perhaps that was part of the secret to Plo's friendship with Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan was beginning to like the Kel Dor.

Plo jabbed a finger in Obi-Wan's direction and his voice adopted a more jocular tone, as if he had adjusted his breather. "Don't look so shocked, Obi-Wan. Sometimes the Council do *not* agree on things. Master Gallia and I recognise we might have been mistaken in not going to the Council about Palpatine. But it is too late for that, a chain of events has been set in motion and there are people now that need protecting more than Palpatine needs exposing."

Obi-Wan felt more confident now about expressing his doubts. "I don't think Qui-Gon died," he told Plo bluntly.

"But you were there Obi-Wan. You held him as he died. You tended his body."

Obi-Wan pushed a holocron to one side. "I think he came back to life."

Plo leant forward and his voice dropped to a low hum. "The past, Obi-Wan. Why bring it up now?"

"I don't know," he whispered back. "It's playing on my mind."

"Why don't you ask Iva?"

Obi-Wan sat back. "Iva? I don't know where she is. Nobody has seen her."

Plo got up and walked around the table, heading towards the exit. He gripped Obi-Wan's shoulder as he passed.

"I can't help you, Obi-Wan. But Master Gallia might."

***

Adi Gallia wasn't available, away from the Temple, for some weeks. Obi-Wan accosted her as soon as he could after she arrived back. He caught up with her as she was depositing reports and papers from her mission with the Temple clerks.

"Master Gallia, forgive my impertinence, but I need to speak with Ibhormheith."

Adi barely gave him a glance. Her eyes were fixed on her papers. "Why come to me, Jedi Kenobi?"

"Master Koon said you could help me."

She finished her business, thanked the staff and steered Obi-Wan quickly out into the corridor.

"Don't you think, Obi-Wan, that if Iva had anything to say to you, she would contact you."

"I need to know what happened to Qui-Gon. I don't know, I feel he's still out there somewhere."

"Feel, don't think, eh, Obi-Wan?"

"And trust my instincts."

Adi looked at him sharply. Where Plo Koon had been candid, she was guarded. Her face and mannerisms were unreadable. "What do you think you would accomplish?" she asked.

"Closure," he said.

***

Two days later Obi-Wan was with Adi Gallia en route to see Iva. She wasn't sure why she had agreed to this. Perhaps because, as he had said, it would offer him some resolution. The better to put Qui-Gon's absence behind him, to enable him to give Anakin all the attention he required.

"Iva's in the Corellian system?" he asked when she revealed their destination.

"On Corellia, yes. There was a bounty on her head, what better place to hide than in the hub of the galaxy?"

"Why Corellia? It's civilised, but not exactly safe."

"Because it's a centre for piracy? Iva can look after herself, I think. She even had the audacity to steal the Sith's lightsabre. In any case, Corellia's crime record was irrelevant. The Taleach are descended from Corellian stock, Obi-Wan. In a way, it is her ancestral homeland."

"But why...?"

Adi almost laughed. He sounded like a toddler in the Temple Creche. He deserved some sort of explanation. "Why didn't she go back to Khar Delba? That world was ravaged, the Baobhan-sith withdrew from Khar Shian. I promised Qui-Gon I would protect her. On Corellia I can watch her without attracting attention. My family have many contacts in the system, I have every reason to make frequent visits there."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth again.

"You want to know why, if Qui-Gon is alive as you believe, she's not with him. I can't tell you that, I don't have an answer for you. Perhaps, despite your feelings, he *is* dead. Now, no more questions, Obi-Wan. No one else knows any of this but me. Accept that I trust you. Please."

She concentrated on the controls, making the final descent for landing. Obi-Wan would have to be content with that. He would know soon enough the probable reason why he still sensed Qui-Gon's presence in the world.

***

Adi and Obi-Wan reached the grounds of the house late in the day. It was a grand structure, but not ornate, surrounded by high walls and thick hedges. As they approached the building, they were observed. The door opened at their arrival and they were waved inside by a handsome man in early middle age. Though smartly dressed, his clothes had a crumpled looked.

"Jona," Adi said in curt welcome. "Is everything alright?"

The man nodded brusquely and called out down the hallway behind him. "Jai, it's the Jedi." Then he hurried off up the stairs.

A young woman, harried looking, her brown hair pulled back behind her ears, appeared in the hallway. "Oh, Master Gallia. Thank heavens. It's her time. She's being difficult."

A cry of pain emanated from the room behind her.

Obi-Wan darted forward, his hand hovering above his lightsabre. "That's Iva," he yelled, "what are you doing to her?"

Adi followed him. "Wait, Obi-Wan, you don't understand." She entered the room not long behind him.

Iva was on the floor, kneeling over a large cushion, clutching her swollen belly.

Obi-Wan had come to a halt and stared open mouthed. "She's pregnant," he gasped.

"The famous Jedi observation skills," Iva puffed air in and out of her lungs and then hunched forward onto all fours as she cried out again.

Adi moved Obi-Wan to one side. "Have you seen a baby delivered before?" she asked.

"Once," he said flatly. "Qui-Gon helped a woman on ..." His words trailed off. "It's Qui-Gon's baby," he said quietly.

Adi went over to Iva and wiped the hair out of her eyes. The Baobhan-sith had a wild look, strands of her hair were woven around small twigs and leaves and her tattoos stood out sharply on her face.

The contraction passed. Iva sat back on her haunches.

"How is it going?" Adi asked. "Is the baby alright?" She reached out with her mind towards the child. She sensed the heartbeat and a spark of something else, a strange feeling that reminded her of Qui-Gon Jinn. But not the Force, the child did not seem to be strong in the Force. It was something else altogether. Part of the void. Part of the living Force. Something special and unique.

Iva nodded and then gasped again.

Adi stood up. "Obi-Wan, you can help. Come and sit here beside Iva. Let her hold on to you if she wants to. Especially when the contractions come."

"Yes," Iva said, "help me now, Obi-Wan. And one day my child will help you in your hour of need."

Iva gripped Obi-Wan's hand hard and Adi noticed the trepidation in his eyes.

She couldn't worry about Obi-Wan. She addressed Jai. "Do you know a medic we can trust?"

No," Iva yelled through her pain. "No one else."

Jai shook her head. "She won't have one, I tried. She's insistent, no intervention." Jai looked concerned and seemed to be struggling for words. "Adi," she added finally, keeping her voice low. "I'm worried. Iva says that she has seen the future, that I have to look after her baby. She says she has to go away, if the baby is to survive. I'm afraid she... She says she has to die."

Adi glanced round at Iva. "She might be right. About you taking the baby, at least. It might be a better guarantee for its safety."

Adi wondered if she could do that. If she could separate Iva from Qui-Gon's child. The Jedi removed babies and young children from their families all the time, but this, this was different.

"Can she really see the future?" Jai asked. "I know some Jedi can."

"She's seen things before that have come true, yes," Adi replied. "I've no reason to disbelieve her. Will your husband agree to fostering the child?"

"Jona said we have to help in any way we can, but..." She lowered her voice. "It's early yet, Master Adi, but we're expecting our own child next year. I don't know if we can cope..."

Before Jai could finish her reply, Iva cried out again. "Help me up," she screamed. "Hold me."

"Adi!" Obi-Wan sounded panicked.

"Jai, how long has she been in labour?" Adi asked as she moved back towards Iva.

"Uh, six, seven hours, maybe longer. I think she kept quiet about it for a while."

Adi helped Iva to stand. "Do you want to push?"

From the look on Iva's face, it seemed to Adi an irrelevant question. "Obi-Wan," she barked, "Stand behind Iva and take her weight."

Adi took off her head-dress and laid it to one side, then assisted Iva's movements.

Before too long, a new life took its first breath, blinked against the light and cried amidst the bloody birth fluids.

Iva slumped back on the cushion. Adi washed the baby's face and wrapped him in a blanket while Jai dealt with the afterbirth. Obi-Wan watched the crying child, stunned, speechless.

As Adi handed the baby to Iva, she wondered what her next step should be.

"You have a son, Iva. Do you have a name for him?"

Iva stroked the soft mop of brown hair and the child quietened. "Qui-Zhang," she said and kissed his creased forehead. "I promised my foster father I would give my first born his clan name. He'll be Qui-Zhang clann ic Solus. I don't think Qui-Gon would mind."

Adi saw a mother's love in Iva's face and bitter tears in her eyes. Would bonding with her child sway Iva from her proposed course of abandonment? Should she encourage that? But Adi knew, too, that it would not be a safe choice for Iva to raise her child with a future tragedy always in mind. Whatever that tragedy was. Hiding the child with a foster family might be the best solution after all.

Adi manoeuvred Obi-Wan out of the room and left Iva whispering an incantation over her son, while Jai watched over them.

With Obi-Wan's help she set up a data link to the central records on Corellia. Over the next hour, Adi hid so many false strands of data in the records that even Qui-Zhang might not know who he was when he grew up. She downloaded the data to the computers on Coruscant.

When Adi returned to Iva, Qui-Zhang gurgled in her arms, his fist curled around his mother's finger. Iva cried silent tears.

"Do you want to feed him?" Adi asked.

"No." Iva didn't look up, only gazed longingly at her son. "Jai should. I told her to get milk." She struggled to get up and handed Qui-Zhang to Jai. "Look after him for me. Tell him how much I love him and how proud of him his father will be. Keep his true name secret, give him a familiar one of your own." She kissed the baby again and stroked the soft down on his cheek.

She turned slowly to Adi. "Help me get dressed. Take me home please. Take me to Tamhasg. I want to be with Qui-Gon again."

***

"Are you sure this is where you want to be?" Adi looked across a barren plain. The air was thin and cold. There had been buildings here once but it was now little more than acre upon acre of stone, scourged by uninterrupted winds. "This world is dead."

After the birth of Qui-Zhang, she had sent Obi-Wan directly back to Coruscant. Obi-Wan hadn't been happy, but she had reminded him of his duty to Anakin and he had complied with good grace. Then, against her better judgement, she had brought Iva here to Tamhasg. The Ziost of the old Sith Empire. The place made her feel sick, ill and tired.

In the sharp wind of Ziost, Iva hugged her long grey coat around herself. "You don't see it with the eyes of the beo-na-mairbh," she said.

Iva had slept for much of the journey here, and when she hadn't slept, she had cried. Adi had got little out of her, except that the Taleach worlds were a danger to those not born there and she shouldn't stay long. She would stay as long as it took to know that Iva was safe. She didn't understand how Qui-Gon, in any state of life or death, could be here, in this desolate place.

The sun was almost on the horizon, it would soon be setting and Adi feared the night in this land would be harsher than the day. Iva walked across the stony ground towards a circle of low slabs in the distance. Adi followed. The weakness this place instilled in her grew. It was sapping her strength now, burning and tearing at her energy.

The sun dipped below the land and the sky flared an angry red.

Iva seemed to almost vanish in a haze. Adi took another step towards her and came suddenly into a clearing where embers of the fading sunlight broke through the cover of the leaves to fall on a curved stone bench beneath.

Adi, perplexed, could not understand how she had arrived here. "What is this place?"

Iva sat down on the bench. "Go back, Adi. You don't belong here. This is not your world."

She was about to argue when her eye was attracted by a glint of light to the object in Iva's lap. The Sith lightstaff. "No," she said instead. No, she wouldn't leave. No, she wouldn't let that happen.

Iva looked away.

The sky darkened into twilight.

Adi sensed movement, there, to her left, among the trees.

Her hand moved unbidden, she drew her lightsabre.

Iva turned and smiled in welcome.

A figure, tall with powerful stride, stepped out from the darkness between the trees into the shadow of the clearing. He knelt behind Iva and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

Qui-Gon, Adi recognised him. Her heart fluttered. Qui-Gon, but not the Qui-Gon she had known. He was wild and untamed, his hair loose, his pose relaxed, his smile feral. Adi could not tear her eyes away from him.

Iva leant back, her head against his shoulder. Her hand moved to the cylinder in her lap and she lifted it up, pointing it towards her heart.

Adi raised her hand, involuntarily, to her mouth. "No, please, no," she whispered. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Thank you, Adi," Iva said. "Goodbye."

Qui-Gon bent forward to kiss Iva's hair.

And the hot shaft of red energy shot upwards, piercing Iva's breast, stopping her heart with its fire, cutting off her life and filling the clearing with the perfume of the crematorium.

The hilt of the Sith blade fell to the ground.

Iva remained sitting, immobile, for a frozen moment in time and then her body crumpled, falling backwards into Qui-Gon's arms. He lifted her body effortlessly, turned and carried her back the way he had come. Soon he was lost amongst the trees.

Adi tore her eyes away from the spot where she glimpsed his vanishing back. She breathed again. She realised the folly of her standing here. This world *was* dangerous to her.

She turned and fled back to her ship. As she looked back at the surface of the planet far beneath, it became a barren rocky plain to her eyes once again.

Qui-Gon, what had once been Qui-Gon, had not acknowledged her presence.

- Epilogue -
Your Face In Permanence Smiles.

Iva awoke gradually. Her senses coming alive one by one. She savoured first the taste of bittersweet herbs on her tongue. Her nostrils were teased by the smoky incense that she knew must burn nearby. Her skin tingled with the tracings of symbols marked in oil on her body by a loving finger. She heard the crackle of flames in an open fire.

She tasted the blood on her lips, licked at its source greedily, felt its fire ignite her into life, until it pulled away. A hand, large and callused, stroked her face and hair. A voice, compelling and gentle, told her to rest quiet.

She lay still for a long time. She heard movement, and sensed after a while that she was alone. She readied herself to open her eyes. The room was empty.

Her limbs were stiff and her back ached. She stretched. Felt her breast, relieved she was intact. Her hand moved to her throat and she relaxed as she felt the fine chain, its jade ornament. She smiled to herself and opened her eyes.

She was home, this her sith-bhrugh. Stone columns surrounded the doorways, the circular room was large and warm, the ceiling curved overhead. She lay on a bed and was covered with a soft woollen blanket.

She slid her legs off the bed and stood up. She felt stronger than she had expected to. The flagstones felt cool and smooth beneath her feet.

She pulled on a green dress that lay over the end of the bed and walked outside, barefoot. She revelled in the crunch of the leaves and grass between her toes.

All she wanted was to see Qui-Gon again, to feel his embrace, to hear his voice, to breath in the scent of his manhood.

She went in search of him, she knew he couldn't be far.

She wound her way between the trees and found him by the stream collecting water. She bent down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder.

"You're awake," he said. "I thought you would sleep longer."

Nature was all around them. Birdsong and the song of the flowing water. Leaves above and the shadows of leaves on the ground. Twigs and roots beneath, the darting eyes of birds above. The iridescent wings of insects over the water.

A world of illusion. A world of enchantment.

"I dreamed of you, Iva," he whispered, enfolding her in his arms.

"I dreamed of you too, Qui-Gon," she mumbled through his kiss.

Their caresses reawakened the passion they had shared in another lifetime and their love was reignited. There on the river bank, they gave each other the gifts their bodies and minds craved. Their heart's desires.

Afterwards, they climbed the hill and sat with limbs entwined and watched the night sky lighten.

"I called him Qui-Zhang," Iva told Qui-Gon. "He was perfect and so beautiful. I wish that you had seen him."

"Don't cry, mo luaidh," he whispered and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I can see him in your eyes."

A bird of prey flew across the sky above their heads, its call the music of an ethereal piper calling errant souls back to the hollow hills before their gates closed on the mortal day.

Qui-Gon stood up and offered Iva his hand. "The world is turning and it will be daybreak in a few minutes," he said. "Let's go inside. There's a warm fire and a soft bed waiting for us."

She stood and took his hand. Together. They would be together forever.

END

Notes:

• The Galactic Corporate Policy League, a cabal of plutocrats with ties to Palpatine and his New Order vision formed approx. 3 years before tPM, is introduced in the SW RPG: Han Solo and the Corporate Sector Sourcebook.
• Darth Bane's history is related in The Phantom Menace novelisation.
• Obi-Wan's exploits on Melida/Daan are found in Jedi Apprentice 5: The Defenders of the Dead & 6: The Uncertain Path.
• The images on the cards in chapter 6 are based either on those of the Rider-Waite tarot pack or the Celtic tarot.
• Details of the Sith cloaked ship are from Star Wars Episode I Adventures: #3 The Fury of Darth Maul.
• In chapters 11 & 12, Obi-Wan remembers events which occur in the Jedi Apprentice series of novels.
• See Tales of the Jedi: The Fall of the Sith Empire for the story of Empress Teta's battle with Naga Sadow and the use of Sith meditation spheres mentioned in chapter 12.
• The Great Schism mentioned in chapter 20 is referred to in Tales of the Jedi: The Golden Age of the Sith. Odan-Urr's story is told in Tales of the Jedi: The Golden Age of the Sith and The Sith War.
• In chapter 41, Obi-Wan's remembered words are paraphrased from Jedi Apprentice 2: The Dark Rival by Jude Watson.
• Jorus C'Baoth's involvement in the Outbound Flight Project (also chapter 41) is taken from the Star Wars novel Dark Force Rising by Timothy Zahn.

Notes on Gaelic and other names and locations:

• I've loosely based the civilisation that Caer Ibhormheith and the Baobhan-sith hail from on various aspects of Celtic culture, and many of the names in this story are derived from Scots Gaelic or Irish.
  Cut off from the Force and forgotten by the Republic, the Taleach (= tal'ak) people, originally human slaves of the Sith Lords, built a civilisation and developed their own magic on these worlds after the fall of the Sith Empire.
• The planets on which the civilisation developed are those of the Sith Empire explored in The Tales of the Jedi comic books (set 4-5,000 years before Star Wars IV). Tir-nam-bean (pronounce bean like pan with a soft p) is Korriban, the location of the Sith Lord tombs. Cair-deil Talamh (kardjel talu) is Khar Delba, the location of the Sith Alchemist Naga Sadow's decoy fortress. Cair-deach Sithien (kardjak she-en) is Khar Shian, Khar Delba's moon, the location of Sadow's actual fortress. Tamhasg (ta-ask, meaning the apparition of light or a ghost before a funeral) is Ziost, the central world of the Sith Lords. Ruadh (ru'og, meaning red) is Rhelg, the private world of Ludo Kresh.
• Some of the Taleach names in this story are:
  Baobhan-sith, which is pronounced as baavan-shee or simply ban-shee.
  Etain should be pronounced to sound like Edain.
  Cuimhne = coov-nee.
  Caer Ibhormheith = kair with a broad k and a long diphthong (i.e. the ai as the i in high), ivorveth with the first v broad, the second slender, with the stress on the first syllable.
  Mharais = varish.
  The a in Ringan is neutral, thus ring-en.
  See the notes for Dreams Made Flesh for additional annotation or meanings of several of these names.
  Basically, as long as you remember that 'bh' and 'mh' sound much like 'v' and a 'dh' sounds like a very relaxed 'g' (almost a 'k') then you are half-way there.
• An tu a th'ann (is it you?) = en-tu-eh-aun.
• Aingeal (angel) = (ai)ng'gil, emphasis on the (ai), ng as in long, the g like a dull k.
• Dubhagan = the pupil of the eye, the deep part of a body of water (du-gan with the d almost a t and the g almost a k).
• Solus = light (pronounced so that the o sounds like the a in hall).
• Eilidh = ei'li (as in ceilidh)
• Cuchulain = koo'hoo'lin
• Moireach = mor'yak (the k like a ch in loch).
• Bodachan (the o like the a in hall, the a neutral, the ch as in loch) and brolachan (similar pronunciation) are forms of the little old men or brownies that inhabit the Highlands. The bodachan often helped people in the barn, whilst the brolachan was one of the most feared spirits of the Highlands. Normally shapeless, it took the form of whatever it sat upon.
• Brideach a coille, which means dwarf (or little woman) of the forest = brid'jek e koil'je.
• In beo-na-mairbh, mairbh = marv.
  Sithiche (fairy folk) = shee-ich (ch as in the German nicht)
  The other Gaelic in chapter 38 I've provided translations for in the text, you probably don't need to worry too much about the pronunciation. The first chant is from The Song of Amairgen and represents the cycle of the Celtic lunar calendar. I chose this to signify the birth, death and rebirth of the horned god/holly king/oak king. The second chant is adapted from a poem for the summer solstice which represents the peak of light in the solar year.
• Badb badhbh = bov baib (one of the dark side creatures who is an aspect of the hag).
• Zhang in Chinese can mean grow/develop or alternatively block/hinder/obstruct. Iva's clan name Solus means light. (OK, I admit it, I'm trying to be deep here - I don't speak Chinese though so if I've made a mistake I apologise profusely to any Chinese speakers out there.)
• Sith-bhrugh = Si-vru. A sith-bhrugh is a fairy den, the inside of a sithein (a fairy hillock or barrow).