A dim green light dropped like thick syrup from the end of the tunnel. The river had settled into a smooth, gently roiling flow as the cavern widened. Gann guided the boat with a few sure, deft stabs of the pole. They glided behind a natural ledge festooned with green and red tendrils. An open space atop the ledge had been kept clear, and Gann and the two attendants slipped ropes to two older Ferroans in black and gray.
The boat was snugged in and bobbed against the dock's buffers like an animal nuzzling up an old friendship.
Obi-Wan walked forward and saw that his Padawan had fallen asleep. The long, restless night had finally taken its toll on him. Anakin lay in deep slumber, surrounded by his seed-partners, all still. His face was beautifully blank, brows straight, lips parted in slow and shallow breath, a simple and profound work of living art. Jabitha sat near his head, her hand brushing at the boy's silky hair, and looked up at Obi-Wan, with her lower lip between her teeth.
'He's very pretty,' she said. 'Should we just let him sleep? There's time.'
Anakin slept like a baby in the girl's presence. That was significant. Obi-Wan was well aware of the boy's frequent nightmares. He seemed much younger, asleep. Obi-Wan could easily bring back in memory the nine- year-old who had become his apprentice, now grown two hand spans taller-the same pleasant broad features, the nose a little larger.
He misses the female. Thracia Cho Leem knew that.
Obi-Wan reached out, then hesitated. He felt a strong urge not to wake the boy, to let him sleep like this forever, to forever anticipate a great adventure, forever dream of personal triumph and joy. This feeling held too much sentiment and weakness to be allowed, but he allowed it nevertheless. This must be how a father feels, looking down on his son, worried about an uncertain future, Obi-Wan thought. / would hate to see him fail. But I would hate far more to lose this boy. I would almost rather freeze time here, and freeze myself with it, than face that.
Someone familiar seemed to stand at his shoulder, and lost in this un-Jedi emotion, self-critically, wonderingly, Obi-Wan murmured, 'He is no more special than any other child, is he?'
Like a whisper, in reply, 'To you, he is. And now you know.'
Obi-Wan swung about and saw Gann approaching. The voice had not been Gann's.
'Time to move on,' Gann said, searching Obi-Wan's drawn and startled face. 'Something wrong?'
'No.' With a small shiver, Obi-Wan gripped Anakin's shoulder and gave him a single gentle shake. Anakin, as always, came from deep sleep to instant alertness. His seed- partners stirred and reattached themselves to his tunic and pants.
Obi-Wan's seeds crawled up to his shoulders and chest, and together, master and apprentice climbed out of the long boat. Gann and Jabitha followed.
'I dreamed I was with Qui-Gon,' Anakin said. 'He was teaching me something… I forget what.' The boy smiled and stretched his arms. 'He said to tell you hello. He said you're so hard to talk to.' Anakin ran for the ramp and stepped up onto the ledge of stone.
Obi-Wan stood as if stunned by a blow, then set his jaw and followed his Padawan.
Drums and the music of plucked strings drifted down the shaft. Behind this music came a number of deep male voices engaged in a strong, grunting chant.
'They're waiting,' Gann said anxiously. 'The forging is about to begin!'
Jabitha walked in step beside Anakin. 'Are you excited?' she said.
'Why should I be?' he asked with bravado.
'Because you're the youngest client ever,' she said. 'And because if you succeed, your ship may be the best ever made.'
'All right,' Anakin said, taking a deep breath. 'That's pretty exciting.'
Jabitha gave him a broad smile and put her arm around his shoulders. Anakin's face stiffened in youthful dignity, and Obi-Wan detected a flush on his cheeks, even in the dim light. As they climbed, they passed two choruses of Ferroan men, all holding small drums and stringed allutas. Lit by electric torches, they chanted, their voices following the party of four all the way to the top of the shaft.
'Aren't they grand?' Jabitha said.
'If you think so,' Anakin said.
Chapter 35
This is the head of the factory valley,' Gann said as they reached the top of the last long flight of steps. Anakin's extra brace of seed-partners felt particularly heavy after the climb. Jabitha had run ahead, reaching the top before they did, and now rejoined them, her face wreathed in a smile.
Anakin looked up at the high, arching branches of boras densely interlaced over a hundred meters overhead, forming the roof of an immense hall. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting a dreamlike, green-tinted light over a causeway of stones. The causeway extended for several kilometers between straight walls comprised of long, close- packed, octagonal columns of lava.
Tumbled brown boulders had been caught in these walls before they solidified, interrupting the regular fence-post arrangements. Some of the boulders, as big as Anakin's room in the Temple, had cracked open, revealing hollows in which brilliant orange and green crystals were packed as tight as needles in Shmi's knitting cushion. All along the walls, thick black tendrils striped with red thrust up between the regular, octagonal basalt paving stones of the causeway, pushing them aside, and reaching for dozens of meters to join with the trunks of the boras. Smaller green-striped tendrils forked from the big ones and curled within the hollow boulders, as if resting before some final effort.
The air beneath the canopy was dense and moist, blood- temperature, not easy to breathe. It was filled
