Anakin, sliding away. “Point taken,
Yavid.
”
He certainly hoped so. Anakin’s fierce desire to defeat Durd might be admirable, but it could easily get them in trouble. For all his years of training, his recent war experience, and his newfound maturity, Anakin was still impetuous. Too often ruled by emotion.
Ahead of them stretched a line of long, low buildings. No windows in the back, just blank prefab walls and flat roofing. But before they could reach out with the Force to test for trouble they heard a low grumbling growl. Halting, they turned to look along the nearby cross street.
It was an old, dented groundcar running on buckled wheel rims—not a passenger vehicle but a working machine, cabin and broad, flat carry-tray combined. Its finish was dull and pitted, its windscreen missing entirely. Seeing two strangers, the woman driving it started in surprise, then slowed to a stop beside them.
“Who are you?” she demanded. She looked to be about Padmé’s age, maybe a year or two older, but far more weathered. One hand came off the groundcar’s control yoke and slipped down beside her, as though she were reaching for a weapon.
Obi-Wan stepped forward and bowed. “I am Yavid, once of Voteb. My young cousin Markl, this is. We’re staying with Teeba Jaklin a few days.”
“Oh,” said the woman. Her reaching hand returned to the control yoke and her gaze, running up and down Anakin, warmed in the way that often happened when they met up with females of quite a few persuasions. “Jaklin’s hosting you?”
“She is,” said Anakin. “And we’re to work in the mine later. All nodded at by Teeb Rikkard. You can ask.”
The woman’s dull brown hair was fastened in tiny knots, so it stood up on her skull like a husliki’s bumpy hide and left her face open to scrutiny. She smiled, revealing stubby little teeth. “No need, Teeb. Who comes here to Torbel to cause mischief? Nobody I know. I’m Devi. I mostly work the power plant. I’ll see you both around and about, most like.”
“Devi—” said Obi-Wan, as the woman prepared to drive on. “The charter house. Which way is it?”
“You want the charter house?” She was frowning again. “Why?”
“Teeb Rikkard directed us there,” Anakin said smoothly, treating Devi to his most dazzling smile. “If you could tell us how to—”
“I’ll do better,” she said, melting anew. “I’ll take you.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Climb on.”
So they clambered onto the back of the groundcar and the woman Devi kicked the vehicle back into motion. Obi-Wan took advantage of their unexpected ride to slip once more beneath the surface of the Force, reaching out to feel for danger or a hint of what the future might hold. Beside him, Anakin followed suit. Good. Though his former apprentice’s future-sensing tended toward the erratic—an ongoing frustration—his ability to read the moment was formidable. And these days, with the dark side clouding the Force everywhere they turned, oftentimes
the moment
was all the warning they had.
“No alarm bells ringing,” Anakin murmured under the groundcar’s grumble. “You?”
“No, none.” He gave a pleased nod. “So far, so good.”
As far as he could tell, theirs was the only groundcar on the move. Devi slowed and turned left down the wide street that led, eventually, out of the village. They passed more men and a few women on foot, heading in the mine’s direction. There were called greetings, lots of waving hands. Next Devi turned right and there was the square: more beaten soil, no precious water wasted on greenery or grass, and lining one side of it a row of tiredly important buildings.
“The charter house,” said Devi, pointing. “Here’s where I’ll put you down, Teebs. It’s testy Rikkard gets when the power plant’s unattended for long. Temperamental it is, I’m sorry to say.”
The groundcar rolled to a stop, and they eased themselves back to the street. “Thank
Yavid.
”
He certainly hoped so. Anakin’s fierce desire to defeat Durd might be admirable, but it could easily get them in trouble. For all his years of training, his recent war experience, and his newfound maturity, Anakin was still impetuous. Too often ruled by emotion.
Ahead of them stretched a line of long, low buildings. No windows in the back, just blank prefab walls and flat roofing. But before they could reach out with the Force to test for trouble they heard a low grumbling growl. Halting, they turned to look along the nearby cross street.
It was an old, dented groundcar running on buckled wheel rims—not a passenger vehicle but a working machine, cabin and broad, flat carry-tray combined. Its finish was dull and pitted, its windscreen missing entirely. Seeing two strangers, the woman driving it started in surprise, then slowed to a stop beside them.
“Who are you?” she demanded. She looked to be about Padmé’s age, maybe a year or two older, but far more weathered. One hand came off the groundcar’s control yoke and slipped down beside her, as though she were reaching for a weapon.
Obi-Wan stepped forward and bowed. “I am Yavid, once of Voteb. My young cousin Markl, this is. We’re staying with Teeba Jaklin a few days.”
“Oh,” said the woman. Her reaching hand returned to the control yoke and her gaze, running up and down Anakin, warmed in the way that often happened when they met up with females of quite a few persuasions. “Jaklin’s hosting you?”
“She is,” said Anakin. “And we’re to work in the mine later. All nodded at by Teeb Rikkard. You can ask.”
The woman’s dull brown hair was fastened in tiny knots, so it stood up on her skull like a husliki’s bumpy hide and left her face open to scrutiny. She smiled, revealing stubby little teeth. “No need, Teeb. Who comes here to Torbel to cause mischief? Nobody I know. I’m Devi. I mostly work the power plant. I’ll see you both around and about, most like.”
“Devi—” said Obi-Wan, as the woman prepared to drive on. “The charter house. Which way is it?”
“You want the charter house?” She was frowning again. “Why?”
“Teeb Rikkard directed us there,” Anakin said smoothly, treating Devi to his most dazzling smile. “If you could tell us how to—”
“I’ll do better,” she said, melting anew. “I’ll take you.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Climb on.”
So they clambered onto the back of the groundcar and the woman Devi kicked the vehicle back into motion. Obi-Wan took advantage of their unexpected ride to slip once more beneath the surface of the Force, reaching out to feel for danger or a hint of what the future might hold. Beside him, Anakin followed suit. Good. Though his former apprentice’s future-sensing tended toward the erratic—an ongoing frustration—his ability to read the moment was formidable. And these days, with the dark side clouding the Force everywhere they turned, oftentimes
the moment
was all the warning they had.
“No alarm bells ringing,” Anakin murmured under the groundcar’s grumble. “You?”
“No, none.” He gave a pleased nod. “So far, so good.”
As far as he could tell, theirs was the only groundcar on the move. Devi slowed and turned left down the wide street that led, eventually, out of the village. They passed more men and a few women on foot, heading in the mine’s direction. There were called greetings, lots of waving hands. Next Devi turned right and there was the square: more beaten soil, no precious water wasted on greenery or grass, and lining one side of it a row of tiredly important buildings.
“The charter house,” said Devi, pointing. “Here’s where I’ll put you down, Teebs. It’s testy Rikkard gets when the power plant’s unattended for long. Temperamental it is, I’m sorry to say.”
The groundcar rolled to a stop, and they eased themselves back to the street. “Thank
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