Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [14]
Luminara studied the Ansionians carefully. Slightly shorter on average than humans, the dominant native species of Ansion was much slimmer, wiry and lean, with skin a pale yellow that was almost golden. Both genders were hairless except for a single startlingly dense brush of fur about fifteen centimeters wide and seven or eight high that ran from the top of their foreheads all the way down their backs to terminate in a fifteen-centimeter-long tail. Beneath their warm, well-made clothing the sweep of hair, which varied in color across the entire visible spectrum, was usually kept neatly trimmed. The large eyes with their small black pupils were usually red, sometimes shading to lighter tones of yellow or, in rarer instances, mauve. The numerous teeth were noticeably sharp. Though omnivorous, the Ansionians ate proportionately more meat than humans.
Particularly, she reminded herself, the Alwari.
There was no one in the chamber to represent the interests of the nomads, of course. They shunned the cities and towns, preferring their life out on the immense prairies that dominated much of Ansionian topography. After millennia of constant conflict between nomads and city folk, a tenuous peace had finally been established two hundred local years ago. Now the exigencies of interstellar politics threatened to tear that fragile concord to shreds and drag Ansion out of the Republic entirely.
The nomads wished to remain under the Republic’s protection. Chafing against the weight of regulations and petty rules that seemed to pour forth from Coruscant in a never-ending stream, the urbanites were considering joining the nascent secessionist movement. The result was fresh estrangement between nomads and city dwellers. If they could reconcile these opposing views, Luminara knew, Ansion would probably stay within the Republic. As was ever the case through history, local conflicts threatened to expand beyond their boundaries. It was likely that neither side in this internal dispute truly grasped the far larger issues that were at stake. The intensifying argument between city dwellers and nomads had galactic ramifications.
Not only those who were bound to it through formal pact and treaty, but others, too, were watching to see what happened on Ansion. Due to its strategic location and entanglement of alliances, it was a key world in this part of the Republic. Remove a small plug from a dam holding back agitated waters, she knew, and an unexpectedly great flood can result.
The Ansionian who rose from behind the table gestured a formal local greeting. The other delegates, Luminara noted, did not rise.
“I am Ranjiyn. Like my colleagues, a representative of the Unity, of Ansion’s city and town dwellers.” Most Ansionians used only one name, she knew. His mane was dyed in alternating black and white stripes. He proceeded to introduce his fellow delegates. One did not have to be a master of the Force to note their wariness. When he had finished the introductions, he concluded, “We of the towns and cities welcome you, the representatives of the Jedi Council, to Ansion and extend to you all the hospitality and cooperation of which we are capable.”
Fine words, Anakin thought. Master Obi-Wan had spent much time trying to satisfy his Padawan’s curiosity about politics. One of the first things a student of that odious subject learned was that words were among the cheaper currencies employed by politicians, and therefore one they felt free to spend lavishly.
Meanwhile, Luminara was replying. She certainly was unusual for a Jedi, he thought. In her own way, she could be as intimidating as Obi-Wan. At least she was openly friendly and understanding, which was more than could be said for her by-the-book Padawan Barriss.
“On behalf of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan Kenobi and I, Luminara Unduli,