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Lucia was no expert in the subtleties of politics, and she couldn’t tell if Obba was simply a compassionate soul expressing real sympathy, or an expert negotiator trying to put the princess emotionally off balance by mentioning Gerran.

“My tragedy is mirrored by your own,” Serra replied in the formal tone of a practiced diplomat. Whatever the Jedi’s intentions, his words had no visible effect on her demeanor. “Allow me to apologize on behalf of the royal family for the unfortunate passing of Medd Tandar.”

The Ithorian’s head dipped in acknowledgment. “I grieve for his death. And it is of critical importance that we learn the identity of the person or persons responsible.”

Lucia felt her heart skip a beat, though she gave no outward sign of her anxiety.

“I understand,” Serra assured him. “The authorities on my world are doing everything in their power to bring those responsible to justice.”

“I want to believe you,” Obba replied, “but you can understand if I have my reservations. Medd was killed during an attack on your enemies. There are some who believe your father-in-law was behind the attack.”

“That makes no sense,” Serra objected. “The king wants to improve our relationship with your revered Order. That was why he agreed to let Medd come to our world in the first place.”

“There are some who believe the king used Medd to help find his enemies,” Obba countered. “They claim that was his plan all along.”

“Medd’s death was a tragic coincidence, not a part of some devious plot to exploit the Jedi,” the princess insisted. “He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for the king, he had no knowledge of the assassination whatsoever. I give you my word.”

“Unfortunately, your word will not be proof enough to allay the fears of those in my Order.”

“Then let them use logic,” Serra argued. “My father-in-law is not a fool. If he wanted to use the Jedi to seek revenge, he would have been smart enough to cover his tracks. He would have waited until after Medd had left before ordering the attack.”

“Sometimes when we are blinded by grief, we aren’t able to look past our immediate desires,” the Jedi noted.

“Is that what you really believe, Master Obba? Or are you just looking for someone to blame for the death of your former Padawan?”

The Ithorian sighed. “I admit my own judgment in this may be clouded by my personal feelings. That is why I must trust in the Force and allow it to guide my thoughts and actions.”

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” the princess remarked.

“You have studied our Code.”

“Only informally.”

“I should have suspected as much,” the Master told her. “I can feel the Force is strong in you.”

Lucia’s eyes popped open in surprise, though Serra took his observation completely in stride.

“I fear I am too old to be recruited into your Order, Master Obba,” she said with a faint smile.

“Even so, the words of our mantra can serve you well,” he admonished her. “You must be ever wary of the temptations of the dark side.”

“Like the talismans Medd was sent to find?” Serra countered. “That is what this is really about, isn’t it?”

The Ithorian nodded gravely. “As much as I grieve over his death, I must put those feelings aside and focus on the purpose of his original mission.”

Lucia was impressed. So far the encounter had gone almost exactly as Serra had predicted. During their preparations for the meeting, the princess had told her the Jedi cared more about ideology and the battle of light and dark than about living people. She had planned to exploit that knowledge to turn the conversation away from discussions of who had hired the assassin … with a little help from Lucia.

The Jedi love to feel superior, Serra had explained during the shuttle ride. They consider it their duty to educate and inform the ignorant masses. If you ask one of them a question, they can’t help but answer it. We can use this to our advantage during our meeting.

“Forgive my interruption, Master Obba,