Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [122]
Glowpoles showed the way to the meetinghouse. Not candles or oil lamps but modern illuminators brightened the interior. The visitors arranged themselves before the council. A few of the elders had changed positions from where they had been seated previously. Whether that had any significance or not, Luminara did not know. Kyakhta and Bulgan might have been able to shed some light on the seating switch, but the guides were not here.
Once again, in confronting the Ansionians, the Jedi were on their own.
The senior female present began cordially enough. “All this day we have been considering your request. From what we have heard, and from our conversation with you, we of the Borokii believe that the word of the Jedi can be trusted.” Luminara allowed herself to feel a modicum of accomplishment.
“We therefore,” the female continued, “have decided to accede to everything you ask. We of the Borokii will make this peace with the city folk of the Unity, and Ansion will remain within the Republic.”
Nearby, Luminara could see Anakin nudge Barriss expectantly. Both Padawans could not keep themselves from grinning joyfully. Obi-Wan’s expression, on the other hand, never changed.
“In return for this, we ask only that you do one thing for us,” the female said.
“If it is within our ability,” Luminara replied guardedly.
The senior male took up the dialogue. “You have already shown that you are quick and skilled, with abilities that exceed those of even the most skilled Borokii. The Jedi are known, even here, as supreme fighters.” When he leaned forward, she noted that what remained of his mane was entirely gray. “Our traditional enemies, the Januul overclan, are encamped not far from here. Help us deal with them once and for all, and you will have earned the friendship and concordance of the Situng Borokii forever! This is our price for doing what you ask of us.”
The smiles vanished from the faces of the two Padawans. Had she been standing, Luminara would have been rocked back on her heels. Of all the requests the Borokii might have put to them, of all the challenges and demands, they had chosen one that the Jedi could not possibly grant. It was absolutely forbidden for Jedi to take sides in an internal dispute among individual ethnic, clan, family, or political groups. If the Order was ever seen to be favoring one or another on matters that were no province of the Republic as a whole, its vaunted reputation for evenhandedness would be lost. There was no way they could help the Borokii fight and defeat these Januul—no way under the sun. Any sun.
But if they said as much, then the Borokii would refuse to enter into the carefully crafted agreement with the Unity of Ansion’s urban dwellers. Seeing nothing ahead for them within the laws of the Republic but continued conflict with the peoples of the plains, the delegates of the Unity, in turn, would likely vote to secede.
It was an impossible conundrum, impossible. A glance showed that Anakin and Barriss realized it as well.
Obi-Wan, on the other hand, was nodding solemnly. “Of course we agree. We will be glad to help you to deal with your traditional enemies.”
Anakin’s lower jaw dropped as he gaped at his master. As for Barriss, it was the first time in her apprenticeship that she had ever seen Master Luminara shocked.
The Borokii council was visibly pleased. “Then it is agreed.” The elders rose, some more slowly than others. A few had to be helped to their feet. “The bond is forged. We march tomorrow.” One by one they filed out of the meetinghouse. When the last had departed, the visitors followed.
They were barely out of the building when Luminara and the Padawans crowded close around Obi-Wan.
“What are you thinking?” a disbelieving Luminara asked him. “How could you promise that? You know we can’t take sides in this kind of dispute.” Her voice was tight with frustration and confusion. “We don’t have time for this!”
The Jedi