| Another Pathetic Lifeform - Part 3 By Marnie Midday sun turned the reception room into a well of boiling gold. The floor was plate silver, the walls gilded. A pirate's hoard of treasures glowed and flashed as the Governor's pacing shape broke up the light. There was little beauty in this astonishing display of wealth, and the dazzle was giving Qui-Gon a headache. Lysander, watching intently from his antique Alderaani love-seat in the corner, was almost invisible - his cloth-of-gold tunic blended so seamlessly with the walls. Cruel, Qui-Gon thought, to make him sit here in silence while the adults fought over him like rancors over a carcass. Cruel to expose him to all this posturing, and all this guilt. "You want to steal my son," the same refrain again, "My only child, my only comfort since his mother died... How am I supposed to bear it?" The Governor had dressed himself in Senatorial robes of richest claret, shimmering with embroidery, which warmed his pale skin and brought out the faint glint of mockery in his frigid eyes. His ebony hair had been bound with a fillet of gold and garnet - which could easily be mistaken for a crown. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to see the picture he was painting for the child: The handsome, kingly, grieving father. The riches he would be leaving behind. And Qui-Gon in the midst of it, with his rough, broken face, his callused hands, his undyed, homespun clothing - offering little more than a life of unremitting toil. How do you argue against such a compelling picture? He offered the truth. "Governor, your son has a talent which demands to be used. To deny him it is like denying an artist sight, cutting out the tongue of a singer, forbidding a priest his religion. There is nothing else in the Universe which can make up for the lack of it." We were wrong not to train the father. Look at the result of *his* frustration. "You know this, Governor. You've felt it yourself." The look of heartbreak was so patently false that for a moment Qui-Gon's resolve faltered. Why the charade to make parting harder on the child, if he meant to let him go all along? He found it hard to believe such needless cruelty even of this man. The sense that he was following a path laid down for him by an enemy increased, and he was tempted to leave without the boy, just to thwart whatever sick game this was. Then he looked again at little Andi. Whatever the father's plan, the boy's innocent of it, and needs help. "I want what's best for him, of course. Of course. Please take him and go - I don't want his last sight to be of me crying." A good excuse not to touch the boy. Not even to say goodbye. *** Lysander's hands tightened painfully on Qui-Gon's hair. Responding to a wave of fear the knight firmed his grip on the boy's ankles, "I won't drop you, Andi, don't worry." "I'm not scared of falling," said a small voice quietly. Lysander wriggled on his mount's shoulders, so he could bend closer and whisper, "It's just...All these children. They're so noisy!" Qui-Gon looked out on the children's gym with a smile. From far across the room, Master Sheedi gave him a small nod to say she'd seen him. She watched the older initiates - frowning intently - go through the 'Three Comets' kata. After correcting stances, and a great deal of arm waving (which he interpreted from afar as some kind of discourse on timing) she left them to run through it again and began making her way across the mats to him. "They are noisy," he agreed, overcome by the concentrated joy of a thousand children having fun, "They're shouting because they're happy. If you relax you'll be able to sense that." The tense form sagged against his neck, a little. "Oh!" said Lysander, awed again, "It's like when you tickled me. It's like the whole room's tickling." "Just like that." In the centre of the gym a large circle of pre-initiates were playing with a sky-blue parachute, fanning it between them into a sea-scape of choppy waves. Some sort of blind chase was going on there, judging from the scurrying lumps beneath it. A rough-and-tumble affair with much shrieking laughter. "So, Knight Jinn, what can I do for you?" Sheedi craned her neck to look up at him. He sighed. Sometimes he did feel inconsiderate, being so tall. "This is Lysander. A great Jedi in the making." He knelt, bringing the boy down to her level. As she reached out to touch him Andi recoiled, cringing, fists tightening once more, legs locking round Qui-Gon's throat. Sheedi ignored it all, though her eyes narrowed, just stroking the skin of one tight hand. Less of a jolt this time, but Qui-Gon still felt her surprise as Lysander's desperation locked on her life-force and sucked. "I see," she said. "Evla? Evla! The boy wants to get down, Knight Jinn." Far from true - Lysander's fear was like an electric current flowing through the locked limbs - but Qui-Gon interpreted it as an order from Master to Knight. "Just relax, Andi. Reach out with your feelings and see how nice she is. Everyone here is nice." They certainly are! The thought caught him by surprise as Sheedi's padawan rose out of the billowing blue fabric like a goddess from the sea, and strode buoyantly to his side, Very nice. No time for that. Honestly! He shook his head at himself and concentrated on easing the fingers that were currently tearing out his hair. "It's all right, Andi. Now please get down. You're hurting me." The plea succeeded where persuasion had not. Lysander climbed off, and scooted straight backwards into the circle of Qui-Gon's arms. The small grip closed round an elbow, imploringly. "What happened to him?" The girl's voice was a soft contralto, strong but sweet, and her eyes were the colour of...of a woodland stream flowing over mossy stone - a captivating play of ever changing shades. Concentrate, you idiot. This is not what you need right now - your emotional life is already over-complicated. And Andi deserves better... "Lysander's father kept him completely isolated. He's a little overwhelmed." He gave the women a quick recap of what he had seen of the boy's home. Evla's face moved through the same stages of shock and controlled anger that he himself had felt. There was a gentle, but formidable spirit there. "I see," said Sheedi again. Standing, she gestured Lysander to walk in front of her. She did not attempt to touch him again. "Well then, let me take you to your room. All you need is a little peace and quiet. Evla will see to the paperwork with you, Knight Jinn." Reluctantly, Lysander followed her, looking back with an expression of such imploring fear that Qui-Gon swallowed. "Can't I just see him settled?" This felt so heartless. Shoving the defenseless boy from one carer to the next. He felt no better than the child's father. Sheedi gave him a stern look he thought he'd left behind with his braid, and he subsided. "Go on, Andi. You have to get used to knowing lots of people now." It was a strange, abandoned feeling, watching the little princeling toddle away. He hadn't realised how attached he'd become. "At least I can visit him." "Actually," the soft voice was apologetic, concerned for him, "That wouldn't be wise." Freed of his armful of child Qui-Gon could take a good look at her for the first time. It confirmed his belief that she was beautiful. The Padawan haircut only emphasised the liveliness in her smooth oval face. The extraordinary hazel eyes showed at first kindness and then a lurking smile. "You see," she said, regretfully, "You've already become a father-substitute for him. If we let that go on he would never heal. He'd simply switch all his dependency from his father to you... I'm sorry Master Sheedi was a little rude with you." "Oh, well, Masters!" he shrugged, "When know everything you do, polite you will not need to be either." She dropped her eyes, grinning. Shy? After Sal-Fina any sign of shyness was extremely attractive. Oh, but this girl deserved better than to be one of three. She deserved to be first in any man's heart. "It'll be hard on the boy." In a short time, Lysander's welfare had become very important to him. It hurt to think he would be giving even the appearance of abandonment. But if visiting would hamper little Andi's recovery... He sighed. I won't be like his father. I won't damage him for the sake of my own comfort. The crèche is the best place for him. I trust them. I *will* trust them in this. "For a little while, yes. But you have no idea how resilient they are at this age." Her smile spoke volumes - she was no frustrated diplomat, relegated to the nursery because she was not good enough for missions. She had already found her heart's path. "In a few months he won't even remember you. He's going to be fine, Knight Jinn, you don't need to worry about him any more." So formal, and such an obvious dismissal. Well, he shouldn't have imagined a girl like that could be interested in him. Given the appalling state of his affairs at the moment, he had to admit she had good judgement along with everything else. He got up, bowed. "Thank you, Padawan...?" "Sovalla." She bowed back, slightly displeased about something, though he couldn't imagine what. "I'm sure with you looking after him, he'll prosper. Maybe I'll meet him again when he's a knight." When he left, he took with him the sense that something was wrong. Beyond the mistaken feeling that he was betraying a trust, he had never found out what the Governor's plan in all this was. And now it looked like he never would. Like the ache of a lost limb the lack of resolution troubled him. Maybe it was just Evla. Evla Sovalla. When he had sorted everything out between Sal and Vernice he could contrive to run into her again. Perhaps that would soothe this vague feeling of something vital that he had missed? Perhaps it wouldn't... Perhaps he would do it anyway. He put the feeling of unease out of his mind, and went to find G'emela. *** "How did he take it?" Sheedi asked, cutting a slice of cake for Lysander, putting it on his bed. She had decided to talk here in his room to fill the place with the aura of people. "Fine." Evla replayed the conversation, nuance by nuance in her head. That was Knight Jinn, was it? He had quite a reputation already, but she'd never met him in person before. "He was very understanding." She hadn't expected the renowned warrior to have such a compassionate spirit. She hadn't expected the way his sheer size made her feel both protected and deliciously overwhelmed. No wonder he already had two extremely glamourous women fighting over him. Was there anything she could do to counter the fact that he was so obviously out of her league...? "So, Lysander," She looked at the boy and had to admit that it would take a special person to find anything likeable about him, he was like a heat-sink for attention. Not his fault. He's the victim here. "You're a Jedi now. Would you like to keep your name or have a new one?" "G'emela called me Lice," the boy said, and scowled as Evla tried not to smile, "She laughed at me. I don't want a name people can laugh at." "A name no-one can laugh at?" Sheedi pulled back the toddler's black hair - which was getting in his milk - and tied it in a tail behind him. "Alright," she smiled, "How about this? Welcome to the Jedi Temple, initiate Xanatos." End |
 |
| If you have enjoyed this story please consider leaving feedback, no matter how short or long. Many thanks! Add Comment |