Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [43]
It was not merely beautiful out on the endless prairie that covered much of Ansion’s landmass: it was magnificent. At least, Luminara thought so. Barriss agreed with her, while Obi-Wan was impressed but noncommittal. As usual, Anakin wished himself elsewhere, but refrained from saying so more than once a day.
“A year ago he would have been bemoaning his situation two or three times a day,” Obi-Wan pointed out that evening to Luminara. “I suppose it’s a sign that he’s maturing.”
Nearby, Kyakhta and Bulgan were busy with the camp, preparing food and making tea. Behind them, a ways off, the six splendid suubatars had been set down for the night. Their legs folded beneath their powerful, slender bodies, the graceful steeds busied themselves browsing the grasses and grains that grew in abundance all around them.
The prairies of Ansion were not all unbroken fields of grass. Rivers cut erratically through the yellow-green flatlands while rolling hills occasionally interrupted the monotony of the terrain. There were clumps of forest filled with strange, intertwined trees and brachiating fungi. Higher ridges were the bones of old volcanic vents and plugs. It was a strange landscape, an odd combination of different geologies jumbled together in a way Luminara had not encountered previously.
“Why is he so stressed all the time?” Leaning up against the viann of the saddle that the guides had un-cinched and removed from her ruminating mount, she chewed on the stick of nut-flavored nutrient and waited for her tea to get hot.
The central campfire was reflected in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Anakin? As is common in such instances, there’s more than one reason. For one thing, he feels obligated to excel. This is largely a product of his difficult upbringing, so different from that of the average Padawan. Also, he misses many things.”
“Anyone who trains to become Jedi knows they will have to give up many things.”
He nodded in agreement. “He fears he will never see his mother, whom he loves very much, ever again.”
“That was a terrible mistake. Force-sensitive infants are removed from their families before they can form such dangerously lasting attachments.” She sounded momentarily wistful. “I sometimes wonder what my own mother is doing, even at this moment, as we sit here discussing such things. I wonder if she is thinking the same thing about me.” She looked away, off into the darkening prairie. “What about you, Obi-Wan? Do you ever think of your parents?”
“I have too much else to think about. Besides, every Jedi who is given charge of an apprentice has become a kind of parent. Being one leaves me with no time to think of my own. When such feelings do intrude, I find myself thinking of my teachers or Master Qui-Gon, and not my birth parents. Sometimes—sometimes I wonder if it isn’t a flaw in Jedi training to take infants from their families.”
“The proof of the truth lies in the success of the system. That, no one can doubt.”
“I suppose,” he replied. With a slight smile he added, “No Jedi would be a true devotee who didn’t question the system, along with everything else.”
She looked to her right, to the other side of the camp. “Your Anakin may be subject to many flaws, but an unwillingness to question things certainly isn’t one of them. Will he ever see his mother again, do you think?” she asked thoughtfully.
“Who can say? If it were up to him, he would. But it’s not up to him, any more than the direction of my future travelings are up to me. We go where the Council sends us. Better to ask such questions of Master Yoda than me.” Again the sly smile. “Ask him if he thinks of his own birth parents.”
She had to laugh. “Master Yoda’s parents! Now we are talking of ancient history indeed.” Her tone grew serious again. “Master Yoda has, so it is said, more important things on his mind these days.”
He smiled thinly. “Always. This fermenting secessionist business foremost among them. Shifting, unpredictable alliances in the Senate itself. As for Anakin, there are other things occupying his