Star Wars_ The Approaching Storm - Alan Dean Foster [44]
“Ah.” Reaching down, she picked up the self-heating tumbler of hot Ansionian tea. It was black and sweet, with a distinctive tang of the open plains. Everything here tasted of the prairie, she was coming to realize. “Given so much powerful self-denial, do you really think he can become a full Jedi Knight?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. But I promised Master Qui-Gon that I would try my best to make it happen. To that end I have disagreed, before the Council, with Master Yoda himself. Yes, I have my doubts. But a promise is a promise. If Anakin succeeds in overcoming his own internal demons, he will make a great Jedi, and Master Qui-Gon’s judgment will be vindicated.”
“And you? What of your judgment, Obi-Wan?”
“I try not to make judgments.” Rising, he dusted off his robe. “Anakin knows he has problems. I teach, I advise, I offer a sympathetic ear. But in the end, only Anakin can decide what Anakin will become. I think he knows that, but refuses to accept it. He wants me, or someone else, to make everything right, from his mother’s condition to the condition of the galaxy.” The smile widened slightly. “As you may have noted, he can be very headstrong when there is something that he wants.”
“I would prefer to think ‘resolute.’ ” She lowered the tumbler from her lips. Steam rose from the container, snaking slowly up in front of her face, blurring the distinct outlines of the tattoos on her chin. “What’s the biggest problem? His mother? The deliberate pace of his education?”
“If I knew that, I would try to cure it. I think it is buried much deeper. So deep he isn’t even aware of it himself. Someday it will come out.” He turned and started to walk away. “When it does, I have a feeling it will make for some interesting times.”
“Is that a feeling that emanates from the Force?” she called after him.
“No.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiled one more time. “It’s a feeling that emanates from Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
She was alone only for a moment. Holding her own tumbler, Barriss sat down beside her. The Padawan’s gaze followed the retreating Jedi. “What were you and Obi-Wan discussing, Master?”
Luminara leaned back against the comforting, supportive arc of the viann. On the other side of the camp, a suubatar bayed at one of the two half-moons that hung in the sky like the stolen earrings of an abdicated queen.
“Nothing of significance to you, my dear.”
Unsatisfied with this response, but understanding that it meant she should probe no farther, Barriss tilted back her head to study the night sky. Brilliant with distant, steadily shining stars, it was unmarred by cloud or corruption. Unlike the aging, stumbling Republic, she reflected worriedly.
“So many stars, Master. So many planets, many with their own individual sentient species, cultures, attitudes. Some part of the Republic, others independent, still others as yet unexplored or undiscovered. I look forward to visiting as many of them as possible.” Her eyes dropped to meet those of the older woman. “It’s one of the main reasons I enjoy being a Jedi.”
Luminara laughed. Her laugh was not soft and subtle, as one might have expected, but robust, even startling.
Barriss turned more serious.
“Are you lonely, Master Luminara?”
Soft sipping sounds came from the other woman’s dark-stained lips as she swallowed the invigorating tea. The charming, inquisitive Barriss had never been one to hide her curiosity behind the veil of false subtlety. “All Jedi are lonely to one degree or another, Padawan. You’ll learn that soon enough. The difference lies in the degree. There are those who are more comfortable with an ascetic lifestyle than others. Within the rules, there is some flexibility. You simply have to seek it out.”
Barriss looked to the other side of the fire. “Is that what Anakin is trying to do? Find flexibility?