Obi-Wan held his silence and his expression for a long moment-before breaking out into a wide grin. 'Not only did you not violate any rules, Padawan-you did exactly what you should have done. You had no way of knowing your colleague's condition. Under such circumstances, to assume that she might need assistance is always the wisest course. Better to be berated by a live friend than absolved by a dead one.'
For a moment, Anakin looked uncertain. Compliments from Obi- Wan were as rare as snow-crystal on Tattooine. When he realized that it was meant, and that both Barriss and Luminara were also smiling encouragingly at him, he finally relaxed. Anyway, he did not have much choice. It's hard to stay tense when one is dripping wet. Something about being soaked to the skin, with one's clothes hanging limp as seaweed from sodden limbs, is desperately debilitating to one's dignity.
'I just wanted to help,' he muttered, unaware that had been his mantra since childhood.
'You can help yourself,' Obi-Wan told him, 'by getting out of those wet clothes and into your spare set.' Turning, he regarded the line of waving grass that marched to the edge of the riverbank. 'The wind's no warmer here than on the other side, and I'd rather you didn't get sick.'
'I'll try not to, Master.'
'Good.' Obi-Wan stood squinting at the cloudless sky. 'We don't have time to waste on illness, no matter how educational the experience.'
Stripping off their clothes while their Masters unpacked their small personal kits, Anakin and Barriss dried themselves in the sun. The two guides attended to the patient suubatars and studied the visitors with academic interest.
'Haja,' exclaimed Bulgan softly, 'just look at them. They have no proper manes. Only a little fur on top of their heads.'
'They have no true biting teeth,' Kyakhta added. 'Only those short, chisel-like white chips.'
Bulgan stroked the snout of a resting suubatar. It snuffled appreciatively and pushed its muzzle harder against the guide's ministrating hand. 'Look at their fingers. Too short to do any real work. And their toes-utterly useless!'
'And there are too many of them,' Kyakhta noted. 'Five on each-almost as many as on a suubatar! To look at them, one would think them more closely related to such animals than to thinking beings.' He shook his head in an odd, sideways fashion. 'One feels sadness for such deficiencies.'
Bulgan sniffed through his single nostril. 'It may be a good thing. The Highborn of the Borokii cannot help but pity them. The perception of pity is always a good place from which to begin negotiations.'
His companion was not so sure. 'Either that, or they will see them as abominations against the natural order and give orders to have them killed.'
'They had better not try anything like that!' His one good eye blinking, Bulgan waxed indignant. 'We owe these visitors, or at least the one called Barriss, for the restored health of our minds.'
'Not to mention the fact,' Kyakhta added as he rubbed the place where his artificial right arm joined his own flesh, 'that if they die prematurely we will not get paid for this journey.' Still eyeing the aliens, he wondered whether he and Bulgan might have time enough to dig in the beach for some vaoloi shells. Poached vaoloi would make a wonderful supplement to their supper.
Bulgan grunted and adjusted his eye patch. 'I would rather sacrifice all our pay than the life of one friend.'
Kyakhta's heavy eyelids closed halfway. 'Bulgan, my friend, perhaps Barriss did not complete her Jedi healing on you. Perhaps you would benefit from seeking another treatment.'
'It doesn't matter.' Giving the suubatar he had been caressing a fond chuck under its sharp chin, Bulgan let the reins dangle down to his hand and started to lead it toward the best grass. 'No one on this trip is going to die, anyway. We journey with Jedi Knights.'
'That much cannot be disputed.' But even as he agreed, Kyakhta thought back to how easily the one called Barriss had been dumped into the water by the aggressive gairk, and found himself wondering just how resilient and tough the aliens he and his friend were guiding were.
'They've left, you know.'
Ogomoor relaxed in the chair. It was a fine apartment, ex pensively decorated and furnished. An apartment suitable for a long-term stay by a visiting dignitary. Its present owner poured himself a tall glass of something cold and lavender. Inwardly, Ogomoor shuddered. What perverse desire explained the human affection for iced liquids?
The member of the Unity delegation gestured with the bottle. 'Can I offer you a glass? This is a fine vintage, properly fermented.'
Ogomoor smiled in the human manner and politely declined. He could feel the chill from the bottle from where he sat.
With a shrug, the human put down the bottle, raised the glass, and drank. Ogomoor felt his insides shudder in sympathy.
'I know they've left. We all know. They've gone to try to make an agreement with the Alwari. What do you think of their chances?'
'I think they're as good as dead already. They've been gone for several days, with no word.' He shifted uncomfortably in the human chair that made no allowance for his short tail.
'It's in the nature of Jedi not to open their mouths unless they have something significant to say. Speaking of which,' he added as he sat down on the couch opposite, 'why are you here?'
'In the interests of expediting a decision that is critical to the future of Ansion. My future. Your future. Every citizen's future.'
The human delegate sipped at his drink. 'Go on.'
Ogomoor leaned forward, feeling relief as his tail popped out from beneath his backside. 'The Unity Council
