'Wind,' Anakin said.
She laughed. 'Wrong! That's one of Father's jokes. My real name is Jabitha. Father knows all about Jedi training,' Jabitha said solemnly. 'He told me a year ago that it's very hard to become a Jedi Knight. So you must be special.' She patted a seed. 'They seem to think so. You're popular.' She took a deep breath. 'Seeds are where the boras begin. Each bora creates seeds in the middle of our summer, when the storms whirl out of the south and bring rain. Most of the seeds creep off into the growth, the tampasi, in the old Ferroan language. Boras means trees, and tampasi means forest, but they're not really trees or forests.'
'All right,' Anakin said. The vibrating seeds were a real distraction now. His head was starting to hurt from their jostling.
Jabitha patted a few of his restless seeds, and they made little drum sounds. Her touch seemed to soothe them for the moment. 'The seeds take root in a nursery protected by the oldest boras. Then they go through the forging. That's really something to see! The boras drop-dead limbs and old dry leaves and these special little pellets all over the nursery, until the entire open area is covered. The seeds just dig around and eat and eat and eat for hours, growing all the time. When the seeds are big enough, the oldest boras call down lightning from the sky-just call it down, with uplifted branches. The branches actually have iron tips! The lightning forks down and sets what's left of the nursery heap ablaze, and the seeds kind of cook inside, though they aren't killed. Something changes and they split open. The seeds have a way of expanding outward, almost exploding, making these puffed-out bubbles, shapes with thin walls of tissue- like the lamina, only even more malleable and alive.
'Other boras called annealers have these long spadelike shaping arms that sculpt the exploded seeds. The air is thick with this perfumey smell, like cakes in an oven. . It's very complicated, but when they're done, the seeds become different kinds of boras, and they can move out of the nursery and take up their places in the tampasi.'
'When did the settlers learn to control the shaping?' Obi- Wan asked.
'Before I was born,' Jabitha said. 'My grandfather was the first Magister. He and my grandmother studied the boras and made friends with them-that's a really long story-and they were allowed to watch the changes in a tampasi nursery. After a while, the boras invited them in as shapers-but it took them twenty years to learn the craft. They taught it to my father. A few years later, the rest of the settlers came from Ferro.'
'The image we saw of you in the Magister's house was not a hologram,' Obi-Wan said. 'It was a mental image, projected by some extraordinary will.'
Jabitha looked uncomfortable. 'I guess that's my father, then,' she said. She turned and looked over the basket's railing. 'Those are wild-type boras,' she said. 'We call them rogues. They don't have any nursery affiliations. They scavenge off the communal fields.'
Anakin again saw white triangular flying shapes, as well as many-legged creeping cylinders, bigger than a human, moving in and out of caves in the walls of the valley. Small avians twinkled in the valley shadow like night wisps on Tatooine. Dark tentacles lashed out from the shadows beneath overhangs to snatch at them.
This part of the valley seemed engaged in a much more familiar planetary life cycle-eating and being eaten.
'Do they ever rejoin with the communal boras?' Anakin asked.
'No. They're called lost ones,' Jabitha said. 'Father thinks some of them escape from the burning nurseries and get shaped elsewhere, maybe by other rogues. But they're useful. I think they keep the communes on their toes. Sometimes they fly in and snatch seeds, to eat or to raise as their own. I've even seen clouds of smaller wild-types come in during the forging, before the lightning is called down, and snatch up the branches and scraps and pellets intended for the seeds. There aren't many rogues overall. This part of the valley is pretty thick with them, however.'
'Have you ever shaped anything?' Anakin asked.
'I helped my mother make our house a couple of years ago. We had three seed-partners Mother had bonded with, and I helped her use the carvers and prods. . but that's getting ahead of things!'
Anakin shook his head. 'It all sounds terrific. But I still don't see how you can turn seeds into spacecraft.'
'You have to be patient,' Jabitha said petulantly. She looked at Obi-Wan. 'My father made the first spacecraft when he was a boy. They used the engines from their original colony ship. That was just after my grandfather went looking for more settlers. We wanted all types of people here.'
'We have met only Ferroans,' Obi-Wan said.
'There are others. Quite a few now. They work in the factory valley.'
'Why did your father decide to sell these spacecraft?'
Jabitha ignored Obi-Wan's question. 'Look! We're getting close.'
Sheekla Farrs stepped forward as the airship was pulled into a docking chute and tied down. Jabitha leapt over the railing onto the landing and helped Anakin out of the gondola. Obi-Wan she left to his own devices. Anakin seemed very interested in everything she had to say.
Jabitha could become a distraction for Anakin, but likely a welcome one, Obi-Wan decided. She would take his mind off ships and help him come to a better understanding of social relationships. Anakin's social upbringing, with the exception of his times spent with the other affiliates and auxiliaries, had been piecemeal at best. A few normal encounters with people his own age could be very helpful-and this girl seemed refreshingly normal. When she is actually physically present!
But Obi-Wan was still concerned about so many unanswered questions. They were still no closer to understanding what had happened to Vergere.
The night before, while Anakin slept, Obi-Wan had visited the library, trying to keep his seed-partners from chewing on the texts. The library had told him nothing he needed to know.
Obi-Wan Kenobi hated knots, puzzles, and conundrums. As Anakin-and Qui-Gon-had reminded him so often, he was a linear kind of guy. But he understood something very well.
The Force was never a nursemaid.
