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Except for what Palpatine said.

That made too much sense.

“This puts me in mind of an old legend,” Palpatine murmured idly. “Anakin—are you familiar with The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”

Anakin shook his head.

“Ah, I thought not. It is not a story the Jedi would tell you. It’s a Sith legend, of a Dark Lord who had turned his sight inward so deeply that he had come to comprehend, and master, life itself. And—because the two are one, when seen clearly enough—death itself.”

Anakin sat up. Was he actually hearing this? “He could keep someone safe from death?”

“According to the legend,” Palpatine said, “he could directly influence the midi-chlorians to create life; with such knowledge, to maintain life in someone already living would seem a small matter, don’t you agree?”

A universe of possibility blossomed inside Anakin’s head. He murmured, “Stronger than death …”

“The dark side seems to be—from my reading—the pathway to many abilities some would consider unnatural.”

Anakin couldn’t seem to get his breath. “What happened to him?”

“Oh, well, it is a tragedy, after all, you know. Once he has gained this ultimate power, he has nothing to fear save losing it—that’s why the Jedi Council brought him to mind, you know.”

“But what happened?”

“Well, to safeguard his power’s existence, he teaches the path toward it to his apprentice.”

“And?”

“And his apprentice kills him in his sleep,” Palpatine said with a careless shrug. “Plageuis never sees it coming. That’s the tragic irony, you see: he can save anyone in the galaxy from death—except himself.”

“What about the apprentice? What happens to him?”

“Oh, him. He goes on to become the greatest Dark Lord the Sith have ever known …”

“So,” Anakin murmured, “it’s only a tragedy for Plagueis—for the apprentice, the legend has a happy ending …”

“Oh, well, yes. Quite right. I’d never really thought of it that way—rather like what we were talking about earlier, isn’t it?”

“What if,” Anakin said slowly, almost not daring to speak the words, “it’s not just a legend?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What if Darth Plagueis really lived—what if someone really had this power?”

“Oh, I am … rather certain … that Plagueis did indeed exist. And if someone actually had this power—well, he would indeed be one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, not to mention virtually immortal …”

“How would I find him?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say. You could ask your friends on the Jedi Council, I suppose—but of course, if they ever found him they’d kill him on the spot. Not as punishment for any crime, you understand. Innocence is irrelevant to the Jedi. They would kill him simply for being Sith, and his knowledge would die with him.”

“I just—I have to—” Anakin found himself half out of his seat, fists clenched and trembling. He forced himself to relax and sit back down, and he took a deep breath. “You seem to know so much about this, I need you to tell me: would it be possible, possible at all, to learn this power?”

Palpatine shrugged, regarding him with that smile of gentle wisdom.

“Well, clearly,” he said, “not from a Jedi.”

For a long, long time after leaving the opera house, Anakin sat motionless in his idling speeder, eyes closed, resting his head against the edge of his mechanical hand. The speeder bobbed gently in the air-wakes of the passing traffic; he didn’t feel it. Klaxons blared, rising and fading as angry pilots swerved around him; he didn’t hear them.

Finally he sighed and lifted his head. He stroked a private code into the speeder’s comm screen. After a moment the screen lit up with an image of Padmé’s half-asleep face.

“Anakin—?” She rubbed her eyes, blinking. “Where are you? What time is it?”

“Padmé, I can’t—” He stopped himself, huffing a sigh out through his nose. “Listen, Padmé, something’s come up. I have to spend the night at the Temple.”

“Oh … well, all right, Anakin. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” He swallowed. “I miss you already.”

“We’ll be together tomorrow?”

“Yes. And soon, for the rest of our lives. We’ll never have to be apart again.”

She nodded