'And so, my young Padawan, they have finally given you an assignment,' the Chancellor said with a wide and warm smile, the way a father might talk to a son. 'Your patience has paid off.'
'Your guidance more than my patience,' Anakin replied. 'I doubt my patience would have held, had it not been for your assurances that my Jedi Masters were watching me, and that they would trust me with some important duties before too long.'
Palpatine nodded and smiled. 'You don't need guidance, Anakin,' he said.
'In time you will learn to trust your feelings. Then you will be invincible. I have said it many times, you are the most gifted Jedi I have ever met.'
'Thank you, Your Excellency,' Anakin replied coolly, though in truth, he had to consciously stop himself from trembling. Hearing such a compliment from one who did not understand- like from his mother-was much different than hearing it from Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. This was an accomplished man, more accomplished, perhaps, than anyone else in all the galaxy. He was not an underling of Yoda or Mace Windu. Anakin understood that a man like Palpatine would not throw out such compliments if he did not believe them.
'I see you becoming the greatest of all the Jedi, Anakin,' Palpatine went on. 'Even more powerful than Master Yoda.'
Anakin hoped his legs wouldn't simply buckle beneath him. He could hardly believe the words, and yet a part of him did believe them. There was a strength within him, a power beyond the limits the Jedi seemed to place upon him, and upon themselves. Anakin sensed that clearly. He knew that Obi- Wan didn't understand, and that was his biggest frustration with his Master. To Anakin's thinking, Obi-Wan's leash was far too short.
He had no idea of how he might answer Palpatine's continuing compliments, so he just stood in the center of the room and smiled for a bit, while the Chancellor stood by the window, looking out at the endless streams of Coruscant traffic.
After many moments had passed, Anakin worked up the courage to move around the desk and join him following the Supreme Chancellor's gaze up at the traffic lanes.
'I am concerned for my Padawan,' Obi-Wan Kenobi said to Yoda and Mace Windu as the three walked along the corridors of the Jedi Temple. 'He is not ready to be given this assignment on his own.'
'The Council is confident in this decision, Obi-Wan,' Yoda said.
'The boy has exceptional skills,' Mace agreed.
'But he still has much to learn, Master,' Obi-Wan explained. 'His skills have made him… well, arrogant.'
'Yes, yes,' Yoda agreed. 'It's a flaw more and more common among Jedi. Too sure of themselves, they are. Even the older, more experienced Jedi.'
Obi-Wan considered the words with an assenting nod. They certainly rang true, and the current conditions among the Jedi in this time of mounting tension were a bit unsettling, with many off on their own far from Coruscant. And had not arrogance played a major role in Count Dooku's decision to depart the Order, and the Republic?
'Remember, Obi-Wan,' Mace remarked, 'if the prophecy is true, your apprentice is the only one who can bring the Force into balance.' How could Obi-Wan ever forget that little fact? Qui-Gon had been the first to see it, the first to predict that Anakin would be the one to fulfill the prophecy. What Qui-Gon, or anyone else for that matter, had failed to explain, was exactly what bringing balance to the Force might mean.
'If he follows the right path,' the Jedi Knight said to the two Masters, and neither of them corrected him.
'Attend to your own duties, you must,' Yoda reminded, drawing Obi-Wan from his distracting contemplation as surely as if he was reading the Jedi's mind. 'When solved is this mystery of the assassin, other riddles might be answered.'
'Yes, Master,' Obi-Wan replied, and he held the small dart he had taken from the dead Clawdite up before his eyes.
With gentle hands, Shmi Skywalker Lars lifted the dull bronze chest piece up to the wiry droid, setting it in place. She smiled at C-3PO, and, though his face could not similarly twist, she could tell that he, too, in that curious droidlike way, was pleased. How often he had complained about the sand blowing into his wiring, chipping away at the silicon coverings, even breaking through and causing jarring jolts on a couple of occasions. And now Shmi was taking care of that problem, was finishing what Anakin had started in building the droid.
'Now?' she managed to ask aloud, through lips caked with dried blood. No, she realized, it was not now. She had covered C-3PO all those days ago-or was it weeks ago, or even years ago? — when Cliegg had taken her to the moisture farm. Yes, there were spare coverings to fit the protocol droid in the garage area, against the wall, under an old workbench.
She remembered that, so clearly, but she had no idea of when it had been.
And now… now she was… somewhere.
She couldn't open her eyes to look around; she didn't have the strength at that moment, and the blood on them had dried, making any flutter of her eyelids painful.
She thought it curious that her eyelids were the only place where she actually felt any real pain at that moment. She thought she was injured.
She thought. .
Shmi heard something behind her. Shuffling footsteps? Then some mumbling.
Yes, they were always mumbling.
Her thoughts went back to C-3PO, poor 3PO, who still needed his battered wiry arms covered. Gently, she lifted the covering. .
She heard a sharp sound-or she knew it was a sharp sound, though she heard it only distantly-then felt a brush across her back.
