Summary: A nomad is offered an unusual gift at a banquet
concluding a successful trade.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Ruth, Layna, Lilith and Rachael
Sabotini, who all dived in with help and comments at varied
points and made it a much better piece than I would have
thought possible as a result.
Disclaimer: Duh, um, they're not mine, but then after what I've
done, I think they're not anyone's. They're their own men :)
Archive: MA, all others please ask.
Qui-Gon Jinn was uncomfortable. He disliked crowds, he disliked
buildings and most of all he disliked his host.
But he wasn't here from his own choice, but because necessity
dictated that someone had to deal with the town dwellers for
trade purposes, and this year, that someone was him.
At the head of the table, his host belched again. A leading
member of the merchant's guild, Jabba looked the part, his
immense bulk clothed in sumptuous fabrics, the rings that
covered his fat hands nearly hidden in folds of flesh.
Qui-Gon's nose wrinkled slightly in distaste as he looked at
the scantily clad girl who cowered next to her master, trying
to conceal her repulsion and terror as he caressed her and
occasionally fed her. Slavery was another thing that Qui-Gon's
people didn't believe in. They roamed free across the plains
with light tents, fast horses and herds that provided their
wealth, never settling long in any one place.
Jabba and his ilk were noted for their accumulation of material
goods, including human flesh. Qui's hosts debauched tastes were
legendary, as were his feasts, and Qui wondered queasily
whether he would be subjected to some of Jabba's
"entertainments" which were infamous throughout the region.
Briefly he wondered if Jabba had noticed his distaste when the
corpulent merchant barked something at his translator, who
clapped his hands. From behind the couch when Qui-Gon reclined,
a slim figure came forward and knelt in front of the couch,
head bent, and proffering a silver bowl full of lightly
steaming fragranced water. Hastily he glanced at the other
guests, watching them all dip their hands in similar bowls that
were being offered, then watched as his host carelessly dried
his hands in his kneeling slave's hair.
Jabba grinned at Qui-Gon, a smile without humour or good
nature. He said something to his translator.
The translator leered at Qui-Gon. "The mighty Jabba thought
this amusing - a body slave indeed?"
Qui-Gon looked down at the slender youth whose eyes were firmly
averted. Eye contact, he remembered, was considered aggressive
in a slave, and most quickly learnt not to look directly at
their masters. As he removed his hands from the bowl, the youth
smoothly lowered it and bent his head in closer in an
unmistakable gesture.
Qui-Gon glanced across at the merchant. Jabba's jowls were
shaking slightly as he avidly watched the nomad's reaction to
this invitation. Qui-Gon gazed back at his host, as he lowered
his hands to the bristly hair in front of him, and gently
caressed the bowed head. Jabba grinned, as though Qui had
passed a test, and yanked on the chain attached to the slave
girl's collar. She made no resistance as he fondled her body,
her face an impassive mask at the public humiliation.
Qui-Gon looked down at the boy who knelt before him. The folded
body and the slave's reflex to be inconspicuous couldn't hide
that the youth was on the verge of manhood. He gently slid his
hand around the boy's face and tilted towards him.
Hazel eyes stared briefly into his own before the boy
remembered himself and focused on a distant point behind
Qui-Gon's shoulder. The boy's grace was matched by the beauty
of his face, thought Qui, who despite himself, discovered he
was blatantly admiring the slender lines of the body crouched
before him. At least the lad is wearing clothes, he thought,
although the deep blue silk of the loose pants and sleeveless
top clung to his form, showing what it ostensibly concealed.
Silver cuffs adorned the youth's ankles and wrists, and a heavy
silver collar, engraved with the letter "J", sat on his
delicate collarbone.
J for Jabba, thought Qui idly, feeling a pang for the life this
obvious pleasure slave was forced to endure. Everything about
the boy indicated that his sole function in Jabba's household
was sexual, pleasuring his master or whoever his master chose
to gift his body to. A few pleasure slaves became the beloved
of their masters, but Qui-Gon knew that Jabba's property was
more likely to die during one of their master's
"entertainments" or be sold to a brothel. Either way, they did
not live long.
He gently stroked the youth's cheek in a gesture of reassurance
before deliberately looking away and towards his grinning host.
But Jabba was paying less attention to him now, and was clearly
more interested in the writhing girl. A quick glance around the
room established that an orgy was definitely beginning, as the
guests openly fondled their attendants.
Qui-Gon coughed gently and Jabba looked up and grunted again at
the translator.
"The hour is getting late and my camp is outside the town
walls," commented Qui. "I must thank you for your most gracious
hospitality, but I must leave."
Jabba barked an order. A guard grasped the boy by the bicep and
led him away. Qui-Gon felt a pang of regret as he watched him
leave the room.
"And you nomads never sleep in a town, do you?" Jabba chuckled,
through the translator. "Your horse is being prepared."
He shifted his bulk from the dining couch to a sedan chair,
impatiently tugging at the chain as the girl hurried to stand
beside him, then indicated that he would accompany his guest to
the courtyard. Qui-Gon walked slowly beside the chair,
listening to the interpreter, as Jabba indicated assorted
treasures along the way.
It seemed as though an oppressive burden left the nomad's
shoulder when the party reached the courtyard and he saw his
horse there, ready saddled. He turned to his host to offer
insincere thanks for the banquet when a movement attracted his
attention.
The boy was being led out and as Qui watched, long chains were
attached to his wrist cuffs and then clipped to the saddle.
Jabba laughed.
"The noble Jabba is pleased with the profitable trade you have
concluded and gifts you this slave in gratitude."
Qui opened his mouth in automatic protest then shut it again as
he looked at the boy who was trying to hide his fear as he
stood next to the horse.
Jabba leaned forward and patted Qui confidentially on the back.
"You will be the first. The lad is a virgin. He's schooled
though, and I warrant you'll be doing some hard riding soon."
He pointed at the youth's collar. "J for Jinn, eh?"
The merchant guffawed at his own joke as Qui-Gon took formal
leave of him and swung into the saddle. As the nomad left the
courtyard, looking straight ahead, yet acutely aware of the man
chained to his horse, Jabba's laughter seemed to follow him
through the streets until he left the town walls behind him.
Outside the town walls, Qui-Gon reined his horse in and looked
behind him thoughtfully. The boy had stopped and stood quietly,
looking down at the ground as if it was the most fascinating
thing he had ever seen in his life. Instinctively, Qui-Gon
followed his gaze and noticed bare feet. He was camped a couple
of miles away from the town - too far to ask a barefoot slave
to walk.
He reached back and unclipped the chains, then gently tugged on
them.
"Come here," he said, and waited until the youth stood beside
his stirrup. Qui-Gon gestured behind him on the saddle.
The boy looked blankly at him.
"Can you ride?" asked the nomad, before he realised that he
probably couldn't be understood. But he was, as the slave shook
his head.
Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly. "Well then," he said, easily
swinging from the saddle. "Let's help you up."
The boy flinched once when he was touched by the large hands
but quickly understood and allowed Qui-Gon to make a stirrup
for his knee and give him a leg up into the saddle. He sat
stiffly and awkwardly as the older man swung up behind him and
reached past him to grasp the reins.
The horse moved on, Qui relaxing in the saddle with the ease
born of long familiarity, while the boy sat up straight, his
hands resting nervously on the horse's neck. When Qui-Gon urged
the horse into a trot the hands clutched at the mane as he was
jolted around by the motion.
Taking the reins into one hand, Qui wrapped his arm diagonally
across the boy, pulling him back into his chest.
"You'll scare her if you jolt like that. Relax and the ride
will be much smoother."
It took a couple of moments for the boy to react then he leaned
further into Qui-Gon's body, moulding his spine to the man's
chest. One hand continued to hold the horse's mane, but the
other sneaked around and braced itself on the horseman's thigh,
pulling him deeper into the saddle and closer against Qui-Gon's
torso.
Once he was satisfied the youth was suitably secure, Qui-Gon
urged the horse into a canter. For the relatively short
distance to his tent, pitched beside a small stream, he knew
the added weight would not pose a problem for the mare, and he
preferred to get back before night finally fell. The evenings
were long and mild at this time of year, but blundering around
in the dark was never fun.
When he finally arrived at the camp, he helped the boy down off
the horse and indicated his tent before leading the horse off.
It took some time to untack the animal and settle it for the
night, tethered on a long picket line, before he could return.
By the time he did, he was ready for bed.
He stripped off his tunic outside and splashed some water over
his body, as much to wash away the smell of Jabba's banquet
hall as the dirt, then ducked under the flap of the tent, which
though small, was tall enough for his considerable height.
What he saw inside stopped him dead. The boy had carefully
taken off his clothes - one part of Qui-Gon's logical mind
noticed them folded in a neat pile in the corner - and now
knelt nude and submissive at the end of Qui-Gon's sleeping mat.
The collar and cuffs that he still wore only served to
highlight his graceful body and the curve of his neck.
Qui-Gon squatted on his haunches, keeping clear space between
him and the youth and gently reached out to him, cupping his
face and tilting it up. The boy looked straight into his eyes
then shut them and rubbed his cheek against Qui's hand in an
unmistakably erotic gesture.
The older man gulped then gently pulled his hand away.
"Get into bed, lad," he said in a kind tone. "You'll have to
share with me, the nights are too cold for either of us to
sleep without covers. You can sleep safe here."
He wondered how much the boy really understood, when those
striking hazel eyes looked up again and caught his own. So he
pointed at the sleeping pad, and the youth obediently climbed
onto it, and sat there, looking back at him.
Qui-Gon leaned over and pushed his shoulder down, indicating
the boy should lie down. He turned his back to strip, suddenly
aware that he was being intently watched, and feeling shy about
his lack of sleep wear. A thought suddenly struck him and he
reached for one of the quilts, wrapping it around the boy's
body, ensuring that they were not sleeping skin to skin, before
doing the same for himself and pulling the remaining covers
over them both. He lay down with his back firmly to the youth.
He was aware of the boy's gaze on his shoulders before he too
lay down and curled up to sleep.
No-one had ever said that Qui-Gon Jinn was a quiet sleeper.
Even in tight quarters, those who knew him well gave him a wide
berth, preferring, as someone once put it "to wake up warm and
without a black eye". Qui-Gon pretended deep offence at this,
usually protesting his innocence and his generosity when it
came to bedclothes, but knew himself that all too often he
awoke cold and sore, having kicked away his bedding and rolled
halfway across the room.
This time he wasn't woken by the cold or by the light. Pleasure
coursed through his body as he woke and climaxed
simultaneously, howling with his orgasm as he drove forward
into heat. He fell back trembling, then felt the presence of
another body beside his. As he sat bolt upright in shock, the
pale cold light of dawn was sufficient to see the boy falling
back, wide- eyed with fear.
The boy ducked his head and said nothing, although a creamy
drop of semen on his cheek showed clearly why Qui-Gon had come.
The remnants of his orgasm spattered his own stomach.
Qui-Gon stared incredulously at the boy. "Why did you do that?"
he demanded, in a rough voice. "What on earth made you think
that I would..." Words failed him as he stared at the lad, who
continued to avoid his gaze, although it became noticeable that
he had begun to shake from a combination of fear and cold.
Feeling slightly ashamed of his anger and still shocked by his
climax, Qui-Gon reached for the boy, who crept into his arms,
although he continued shaking.
"It's okay," soothed the nomad as he wrapped the quilt around
the trembling body, hoping his calm manner would mean that he
didn't transmit his confusion to the boy. "You don't have to do
things like that."
The youth's head rested on Qui-Gon's shoulder for a moment,
then ducked towards the older man's stomach as he began to lick
at the drying semen splattered there. He was gently but firmly
restrained and pushed back on the bedding, where he immediately
parted his legs, and reached a hand towards Qui-Gon's crotch.
It was all too much for the startled trader. "I'll clean
myself," he muttered, and hurriedly ducked out of the tent,
snagging his tunic and leggings as he did so.
A plunge into the cold water of the stream woke him up and
helped clear his mind a bit. His teeth chattered as he
scrambled into his clothes and went about his early morning
tasks, getting breakfast together and feeding the horse. As he
worked, he considered the situation.
There was no point in letting the boy return to the town.
Vulnerable as he was, he would be preyed upon by the first
flesh trader who met him, even if he managed to escape Jabba's
inevitable wrath. He didn't seem capable of coping on his own,
so the logical solution was to take the boy back to Qui-Gon's
own tribe where he could at least be cared for.
But slave or not, it was only fair to ask him first. Which
meant getting him to talk.
As he re-entered the tent, he wondered how much the youth
actually understood.
The subject of his musings was still naked on the bed, but was
cocooned in a pile of quilts. He sat up and began to push them
away, but stopped when Qui-Gon shook his head, and squatted on
the bed opposite him. He set a bowl of food in front of him and
indicated he should eat, while settling down to his own meal.
They ate in silence, and Qui-Gon removed the bowls before
returning to his original position, all the while watched
intently by the slave.
He cleared his throat nervously. Time for interrogation.
"How much do you understand?" Qui asked the boy, who looked at
him. He tried again. "Do you know what I'm saying?" Frustrated,
he resorted to the poor linguist's efforts and spoke clearly,
slowly and louder. "Do. You. Understand?"
The boy nodded slightly and raised one hand to indicate "a
little". Looking at the space between the forefinger and thumb,
Qui-Gon concluded he understood very little indeed. Still, they
could start with the basics.
He pointed at the boy. "What are you called?" he asked.
A blank look. He tried again.
"What is your name?"
This provoked a better reaction and the boy whispered
"Obi-Wan".
Qui-Gon smiled and pointed at himself.
"Qui-Gon."
The boy continued to look blank.
"My name is Qui-Gon" he tried.
The boy shook his head slightly.
"Master," he said decisively.
Keeping busy, Qui-Gon decided, was the best solution. It was
obvious that in-depth conversation would have to wait until a
translator could adequately explain Qui-Gon's intentions to
Obi-Wan.
An attempt at communication had already ended badly. Through a
combination of perseverance, signs and slow speech, Qui-Gon had
succeeded in conveying the question "What do you want?" to
Obi-Wan.
Instantly the boy had transformed. The angles of his body
flowed into smooth graceful lines and his previous expression
of wide-eyed anxious concentration became a sensual pout. A
slender arm snaked into Qui-Gon's lap as Obi-Wan looked up
through his eyelashes, the perfect image of a practised whore,
and murmured "Master".
Qui-Gon leapt back as though scalded, an action mirrored by
Obi-Wan who sank into the same position the nomad had
discovered him in the night before.
"It's okay," said Qui-Gon, carefully keeping his distance.
"Don't be scared. You surprised me, that's all."
He continued to talk in a steady, quiet voice, hoping to
reassure the youth. He explained that he only wanted to know
what Obi-Wan wanted for himself. He explained that he couldn't
possibly exploit Obi-Wan, it was against both his nature and
his beliefs although he hoped Obi-Wan would understand that it
wasn't because he wasn't attracted to Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan
was indeed, a most attractive young man, and in a different
hypothetical situation, were they both exercising their own
free will and with no philosophical, moral or commercial issues
to consider, and of course, it all being dependent on Obi-Wan
being of an age where one would generally agree that he could
give informed consent, well then, Qui- Gon could possibly
envisage a situation where...
He stopped abruptly. Obi-Wan still knelt on the bed, a tear
drying on his face, and Qui-Gon realised that his speech had
calmed the terrified slave. Unfortunately the directions of his
ramblings had done nothing to soothe his own emotions.
He could feel a blush rising to his face and hurriedly left the
tent. Two minutes later, he re- entered and handed Obi-Wan's
clothes to him.
"Get dressed. We're leaving."
It didn't take long to strike camp. Obi-Wan's attempts at
helping were kindly rebuffed as Qui-Gon, watched intently by a
pair of bright hazel eyes, packed the light tent and equipment
and carefully loaded the horses. He considered loading Obi-Wan
on the pack horse, but the saddle was hardly suitable for a
rider.
He went down to the riverbank to check that he had left
nothing, and returned to find Obi- Wan waiting beside his
horse, holding the chains. As Qui-Gon approached, the boy bowed
his head and offered them with the word "Master".
Biting back on the irrational anger that flowed through him,
Qui-Gon took the chains from Obi-Wan and thanked him. Then he
bundled them up and threw them as far as he could towards the
town, before turning around and helping Obi-Wan up onto the
horse. He tethered the packhorse to the saddle, then mounted
and firmly turned his back on the town.
They rode in silence for a while, until it became clear that
both were dangerously uncomfortable. Qui-Gon desperately tried
to avoid touching Obi-Wan, while Obi-Wan's entire body was
rigid with misery. It was only when he nearly fell off the
horse for the third time that Qui-Gon relented and pulled him
back into his arms. Obi-Wan nestled there comfortably, one hand
again resting on the rider's thigh and his head cradled against
Qui- Gon's shoulder.
To distract himself from the warm body pressed against his,
Qui-Gon began talking. It was a habit he'd picked up with
nervous horses, just rambling on about any subject that crossed
his mind, from the weather to the entire moral and
philosophical basis of his tribe. The tone of his voice was a
gentle one, designed to soothe young animals, and after about
an hour, when he looked down, he discovered that it worked on
humans too. Obi-Wan was asleep.
For the first time, Qui-Gon could look at the youth in his arms
without seeing an extreme reaction in response. Asleep Obi-Wan
looked unworried, his breathing regular. Apart his exotic
clothes, asleep he could have been one of a dozen youths
Qui-Gon had watched grow up. But this one had a different
upbringing, and Qui-Gon's heart bled to think of it.
He suspected that Obi-Wan's "virginity" was merely physical.
The boy's actions to date had proven that he was skilled at
giving sexual pleasure, and presumably had been taught how to
do so. His cowed demeanour and the way he flinched at any
vehement expression gave Qui-Gon a pretty good idea of the
brutality of that training, and of his life to date. For a
moment Jabba's lewd grin sprang to mind and Qui-Gon shuddered
involuntarily at the thought of Obi-Wan with the obese
merchant.
His slight movement woke the boy who blinked and looked
straight into his eyes.
"Master?" he asked quietly.
Qui-Gon pulled him in closer. However worrying Obi-Wan's
reactions might be, an hour's quiet introspection had persuaded
him that he was taking the right course of action. He could do
nothing about the boy's past. But his future was as open as the
steppe they rode across, and Qui-Gon was determined to ensure
that no clouds loomed on the horizon. As for the attraction he
felt, Obi-Wan didn't need to know about those, and Qui-Gon was
confident of his ability to dissemble.
"It's okay," he soothed. "Just a little cold."
They paused at noon to eat, and resumed their journey out into
the open plains, watching the light changing as the sun
progressed around them. Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan his long robe to
wear, and the boy wrapped it around himself gratefully before
leaning back into the nomad's long arms. Soon quiet even
breathing indicated he was asleep again.
Qui-Gon rode on in silence, as the shadows lengthened around
him. In the distance, something caught his eye. He nudged
Obi-Wan and pointed towards the horizon, where the red of
campfires could be seen against the darkening sky.
"Home," he said.
It was dark by the time they actually reached the nomad
encampment. Obi-Wan sneaked quick curious glances around him as
they rode past the tents, although when Qui-Gon looked down at
him, he suddenly became fascinated with the horse's neck again.
Qui-Gon grinned. Quiet or not, at least the boy had a sense of
curiosity. He wondered how often he had been observed without
his knowledge over the day.
Instead of heading straight for the horse lines, Qui-Gon
skirted around the edges of the camp until he was closest to
his own abode. As he swung down from the horse, a dark figure
greeted him.
"Qui-Gon! You took your time."
"Mace. Good to see you." He turned back to help Obi-Wan off the
horse, and Mace came forward to grab the reins.
"What have you done now, Qui-Gon?" the dark man asked in an
amused voice.
"Mace, this is Obi-Wan. He was, um, well, he was a gift."
"A gift?" Mace's voice was suddenly less amused.
"Yes. From Jabba." Qui-Gon's voice had taken on the same
serious tone.
"And you accepted?"
"There was no way to say no." Qui-Gon sighed. "Mace, I know it
looks terrible, it sounds even worse, but I'm tired, he's
exhausted and there was no way I was leaving him there. Can we
talk about this in the morning?" His shoulders slumped, and
Obi-Wan quietly moved beside him to offer support.
Mace looked at the pair thoughtfully.
"I'll take care of the horses. Go and get some rest. The
Council will want to talk to you about this."
"Well I want to talk to them about it too. So we'll all be
happy in the morning. In the meantime I need some sleep. It's
been a long ride."
Mace nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, my friend."
Qui-Gon thanked him and headed for his tent with a sense of
relief, followed closely by Obi- Wan.
This tent, at least was larger, and bore signs of permanent
residence. Possessions were sparse - when living on the move,
accumulating goods was neither sensible nor desirable - but the
tent had a decided "home" feel to it. A pot steamed on a low
table in the centre of the room and a few lamps had been lit to
provide a warm light.
Qui-Gon peered inside. "Supper. Someone must have seen us
coming."
He gestured to Obi-Wan who stood just inside the entrance to
the tent. Hesitantly the boy approached and sank to the floor
beside Qui-Gon. He looked around, in quick glances.
"Home?" he said to Qui-Gon.
"Home," confirmed the older man.
They ate quickly and then Obi-Wan was put to bed. He sat up
again, confused, when Qui- Gon left the tent.
The older man stuck his head back in for a moment. "Sleep," he
ordered, gesturing that Obi- Wan was to lie down, and he
watched to ensure that he was obeyed.
Outside the tent, Qui-Gon stretched for a moment, then glanced
around. There was still light in the tent that he was looking
for, although the camp as a whole was growing dark as people
turned in for the night. He quietly walked over and coughed
outside.
A woman's head peered out.
"Gossip travels fast, you know. I thought you'd be calling
round."
She came out to join him carrying a lantern.
"Anakin's asleep, so we'd be better off heading away from the
tents."
Qui-Gon followed Shmi to the edge of the horse lines where they
could talk without disturbing anyone. She shone the light in
his face, critically looking at it.
"I've missed you, Qui-Gon" she said.
"Me too," he replied, pulling her into a hug. "How's Ani?"
"Exhausting as ever."
"And you?"
"Exhausted!" she laughed. "No, I'm fine. But I think you want
to talk about someone else? Mace dropped by and said you'd been
given a present."
Qui-Gon nodded. "A boy."
Shmi fell silent for a moment, and a shadow crossed her face,
reminding Qui-Gon of the past. Her own story hadn't been much
different - an abused slave, she had a six-year-old son when
Qui-Gon saw them for sale in a marketplace and acted on
impulse. She'd happily lived with the tribe ever since, raising
her son to be a free man.
There had been much speculation about her and Qui-Gon,
especially when it became clear that young Anakin regarded him
in the light of a father, but both parties made it clear that
nothing would happen. They treasured their close friendship,
though, and each would seek the other's counsel at times of
stress.
"How bad is it?" she asked gently.
"He's a pleasure slave. He doesn't know anything else. He..."
Qui-Gon flushed again and broke off the sentence.
"He tried to do what he's been trained to do?" asked Shmi
gently. Realisation dawned. "Oh. And how did you react?"
"Not well. And I don't speak his language, while he only
understands a few words of mine. I can't explain to him. And,
Shmi, he looks at me."
She nodded understandingly. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Let him
rest tonight." The conversation over, she rose to return to her
home.
"I'd offer you a bed for the night, Qui-Gon but I think you
should return to him."
Qui-Gon gawped at her. "How can you, of all people, say that?"
"He's scared, he's among strangers and he can't speak the
language. He's confused about what's happening, and the sole
constant in the turmoil of the past two days has been you.
There can be a security in slavery. Don't take that from him as
well. Right now, as far as he's concerned, you own him. So
don't reject him."
He stumbled beside her. "So you're saying I should treat him
like a slave."
Shmi stopped again. "Qui-Gon, I remember when you brought me
here. I remember that you had the sense to keep your distance
from me, and the heart to be a father to Ani. I remember that
you were always there when I needed you and away when I needed
to be alone. You taught me what it meant to be free, and I am
eternally grateful to you for it. Is it so hard for you to do
it again?"
Qui-Gon swallowed. "But Shmi, you never tried..."
"To fuck you? I should have done, I'd certainly been taught to.
You can deal with that. It's hardly as though the boy is going
to rape you. A look won't hurt."
"Shmi, I..."
"Qui-Gon. Go home. Go to bed and get some sleep. I'll call
around in the morning and talk to him. What's his name?"
"Obi-Wan."
"Well then, I'll come around and see Obi-Wan and I'm sure it
will all be fine."
Qui-Gon nodded despondently and turned towards his tent. He
undressed quickly in the dim light of the one lamp he had left
burning. Obi-Wan stirred slightly and murmured something in his
sleep as Qui-Gon sat down on the bed to pull off his boots,
before crawling under the covers.
A warm body curled up beside him and Obi-Wan snuggled in with a
contented mutter of "master".
It all seemed too much trouble to push him away and Qui-Gon
gratefully settled back into sleep, sure that it would all be
sorted out in the morning.
The Council were not being very understanding. Sometimes
Qui-Gon wondered if they were deliberately so.
For the fifth time that morning, he explained how he had
acquired Obi-Wan. Eventually Mace sat back.
"And where is he now?"
"With Shmi. Probably in my tent."
Mace placed his hands together and regarded Qui-Gon
thoughtfully.
"Can Shmi help?"
There was a general air of approval around the council tent.
"I hope so. At the very least, I hope she can talk to him."
Mace rose and left the tent. Qui-Gon could hear him calling
someone and some muttered instructions. He returned.
"I've sent for Shmi. I don't doubt you, Qui-Gon, but we have to
be sure."
The silence that fell was broken by Ki-Ai-Mundi.
"Was the trading successful?"
Qui-Gon nodded. "We can complete deliveries and be away within
the week."
The older man nodded. "Good. I do not like this place."
Qui-Gon turned his head as Shmi entered the tent, closely
followed by Obi-Wan whose air of trepidation was replaced by
relief on seeing Qui-Gon. He quietly moved over to stand behind
the taller man, watched intently by the Council.
Mace turned his attention to Shmi.
"I understand you've been talking with him. Do you speak his
language?"
"Of everything. But a little less of Qui-Gon, I think."
The Council's attention returned to Obi-Wan who was shooting
anxious glances at Qui- Gon.
"Shmi, will you ask him what he wants, please?"
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan and asked him a short question in a
strange language. The youth answered her quickly, and lowered
his head.
"He says he wants to please his master."
She turned to Obi-Wan again, and rephrased the question.
Obi-Wan's discomfort palpably increased and he answered her
with a single word. He edged closer to Qui-Gon and began
shivering.
Without thinking, Qui-Gon put his arm around the boy who
gratefully leaned against him.
Shmi turned back to the Council who were all fascinated by the
by-play.
"He doesn't understand what you mean." She looked over her
shoulder at the pair. "As far as he's concerned, his sole
existence is to please his master, and he was told that Qui-Gon
is his master. I'd also guess that he was told to please his
master or die, and he's been doing his best to fulfil the first
part of that order. It's probably his only skill and it's
certainly how he judges his own self worth."
She swallowed and continued. "If you really want my opinion on
this, leave him with Qui- Gon. We all know he'll be safe there.
You can't just break someone's world apart and expect them to
adapt instantly. He needs time and Qui-Gon can give it to him."
Mace looked around the tent. "Well?"
Ki-Ai-Mundi spoke again. "If we had a choice, I would not leave
him with someone he expects to serve as a slave, but we have no
choice. Nor do I think it is fair for Qui-Gon, but again, we
have no choice. Qui-Gon must agree to this too."
Most of the Council members nodded.
"Then it's agreed. He stays with Qui-Gon, and we offer help in
any way that's needed. Qui- Gon?"
Qui-Gon looked up from Obi-Wan.
"Yes?"
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough. He's staying with me, right?"
Mace smiled. "It looks like it. Will you be okay with that?"
"Once Shmi has explained a few things, I think so."
"And is there anything else you need?"
"Some help from Adi would be appreciated."
An elegant black woman stood up. "What help?"
"He needs to lose these." Qui-Gon pointed at the collar and
cuffs that Obi-Wan still wore.
Adi nodded. "I'll come and find you later today after the
meeting has finished."
Qui-Gon formally bowed to the Council and left, followed by
Obi-Wan. About five minutes later, Shmi joined them.
"Hungry?" she asked.
"Ravenous," he replied. She touched his arm and smiled at
Obi-Wan.
"Come on," said Shmi. "Don't worry. It will all be fine."
The day was not so much busy as full. The three of them had
spent most of it in the small clearing that separated Qui-Gon's
and Shmi's homes. Shmi had been the most busy, rummaging around
in both tents for old clothing, finding her sewing kit, and
measuring Obi-Wan, who had stood patiently for fittings,
glancing every now and then at Qui-Gon for reassurance. Qui-Gon
himself had kept his distance from the pair.
At about noon, Adi Gallia had come by with a toolkit
accompanied by Shmi's son, Anakin, who was her constant shadow.
Obi-Wan had sat quietly at her feet as she probed the bindings
of the heavy collar around his neck and talked to Anakin,
showing him how she forced the lock. She repeated the action on
three of the cuffs, and then let Anakin, his face scrunched
tight with concentration, open the fourth.
Obi-Wan blinked once as the last cuff came off and looked
across at Qui-Gon.
"You're free," said Qui-Gon. When the blank expression failed
to change, Shmi gently translated. Obi-Wan still seemed
incapable of comprehension.
Catching the tension in the air, Adi hurriedly gathered her
tools together.
"These are silver, Qui-Gon. What do you want done with them?"
"Melt them down," he replied, never taking his eyes away from
Obi-Wan. "I don't care what you do with it, as long as it is
never used for those purposes again."
She nodded, and left them. Anakin paused and looked at his
mother, then stared at Obi-Wan with obvious curiosity.
"Run on, Ani," said Shmi. "In fact, I'm coming with you for a
moment. I need to talk to Mace about boots."
She glared at Qui-Gon as she passed him. "He won't bite, you
know."
Qui-Gon sat back and watched Obi-Wan, who seemed fascinated by
his bare wrists. He carefully reached up to the nape of his
neck and rubbed it. Qui-Gon wondered just how long Obi-Wan had
worn the signs of slavery, and how heavy the collar had felt.
The boy looked more vulnerable than ever now, as though
something tangible had been taken from him. Of course, the
weight must have become familiar over time, thought Qui-Gon.
He called Obi-Wan who obediently settled down between Qui-Gon's
spread legs, and leant forward. Qui-Gon began to gently rub the
boy's neck, smoothing the red indents where the collar had sat.
Obi-Wan began to move his neck, practically purring as Qui-Gon
carefully massaged the tight muscles. He leaned back closer
against Qui-Gon, resting his arms against the taller man's
raised knees, as though he was sitting in some grand throne.
After a while, Qui-Gon ceased his massage, and just sat there
in the sunshine, his face buried in the younger man's hair,
enjoying the contact and the sense of safety, blissfully
unaware of the picture they presented to the returning Shmi.
She stood at a distance and watched for a moment, a wistful
smile curving her mouth until jolted back to reality by a stick
connecting with her leg.
"Standing there, you are?" demanded a querulous voice. "Not
much good is that, hmmm?"
Shmi looked down to see the tribe's healer glaring up at her.
Yoda was the smallest man she had ever met - her own son was
already taller than him.
"So where is this boy of Qui-Gon's?" demanded the old man.
"Came to see him I did."
Shmi pointed at the two men over by the tents.
"Hmm," said Yoda. "Well, carry my bag, you will?"
He brushed past her and waddled over to the two men. As she
followed, Shmi watched Qui-Gon greet Yoda, with his arms still
wrapped around Obi-Wan, oblivious to the image he presented,
then realise and rapidly separate himself from the boy.
Yoda ignored Qui-Gon and said something to Obi-Wan that made
both him and Shmi laugh.
"What?" demanded a disgruntled Qui-Gon.
Shmi continued grinning. "Never you mind."
Qui-Gon glared at his friend, but stopped when he realised that
he was being totally ignored. Yoda's full attention was on
Obi-Wan who was looking more assured than Qui-Gon had ever seen
him before, answering Yoda's questions with quiet confidence.
At several of the questions he gave a long answer, to which
Yoda nodded solemnly.
Once he paused, and looked behind him at Qui-Gon, before
replying. Yoda looked across at Qui-Gon then repeated the
question. Obi-Wan replied again, more vehemently and Yoda
nodded. He turned to the pair standing a few paces away.
"Fine he is, healthy too. Lucky he was to meet you, Qui-Gon."
To Shmi's amazement, Qui-Gon blushed again.
"Take care of him, you will? And teach him. Horses and our
ways. Not long will it take him, I think, to relearn our
tongue. Good it is to have a lost one return."
He took his bag from a dumbstruck Shmi and waddled off,
ignoring the consternation he had created.
"Lost one?" asked Qui-Gon.
Shmi shrugged. "We could ask."
Inevitably, there was no more time that day. Between one thing
and another, Shmi and Qui- Gon were in demand. Obi-Wan had at
least been found new clothes, so that Qui-Gon's shadow was
longer dressed as an expensive pleasure toy. He still looked
like one in the way that he moved, as curious glances from
tribe members proved.
It was only that evening, long after dusk, that the three found
themselves alone again. A wide-eyed Anakin had been firmly put
to bed and the trio sat comfortably around the fire. Thinking
he was unnoticed, Obi-Wan had inched closer to Qui-Gon until
either could have reached out and touched the other.
"Shmi?" asked Qui-Gon quietly. "Can you ask Obi-Wan what he
told Yoda this afternoon?"
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan, who began talking again, much as he had
done to Yoda. In response to some agitated gestures, he slowed
down his speech, while Shmi listened intently. Eventually
Obi-Wan fell silent, and Shmi turned to Qui-Gon.
"He doesn't remember much of when he was little," she said.
"Not much more than his name, in fact. He remembers grass and
horses like here, and voices like yours, speaking the same
language. His first really strong memories are of blood and
screaming and darkness, then he woke up somewhere else. He
thinks he remembers being sold, but it didn't seem to matter
very much. His head hurt too much."
"How old was he?" asked Qui-Gon.
Shmi turned to Obi-Wan.
"Not very old. He's not sure. About Anakin's age, he thinks."
Qui-Gon unconsciously reached a hand towards the younger man.
"Anyway," Shmi continued in a matter of fact tone, "Obi-Wan
says that the people he wound up with were kind. He always had
clothes and enough to eat and he worked around the house. He
spent a lot of time learning how the household was run. He
seems to have been the only child there, and his mistress liked
him and trusted him."
She looked directly at Qui-Gon. "Her trust was very important
to Obi-Wan. He felt safe there."
"What happened?"
"The soldiers came."
Qui-Gon's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's. The youth shivered a
little, then moved closer to the older man.
"Obi-Wan says they... well he knows now that they raped his
mistress, but he didn't know what they were doing at the time.
Just that she screamed a lot and there was blood and then she
didn't scream anymore. They made him watch because he'd tried
to fight them to protect her. And then one of them started
touching him, but stopped when another man hit him."
She paused.
"He ended up at Jabba's - he thinks he was about 13 at the time
- and spent about two years there running errands and keeping
his head down."
"What happened?"
"Jabba strangled one of his slaves with her own hair, and
Obi-Wan and a couple of others were sent to remove the body.
The other two left, Obi-Wan didn't. That was about three years
ago. He's not sure exactly."
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan in tighter. "Shmi, it's not important to
me the way Jabba thought it was, but he said Obi-Wan was a
virgin. Can you ask him if he was..."
Shmi stared at him. "I don't need to ask him that. Jabba gets
his pleasure in other ways. He physically can't..." She bit her
lip then got up and hurried away.
Qui-Gon sat there, feeling like a fool living in paradise. For
all his so-called help with Shmi, he realised he knew very
little about what happened in society outside his tribe. He
looked at Obi-Wan who was by now curled in against him, gazing
into the fire as if his story was nothing special.
Shmi returned a few minutes later, her tanned skin pale.
"Shmi, I'm sorry, I..." stammered Qui-Gon.
She smiled sadly at him. "It's okay, not your concern. It's the
past, and not worth dwelling on." She reached out and gently
stroked Obi-Wan's cheek. "But like it or not, he is your
concern now."
Qui-Gon put a protective arm around Obi-Wan who sighed and
began stroking the nomad's chest. Qui-Gon pulled back and
Obi-Wan immediately stopped and bowed his head again.
Shmi cleared her throat. "That's another thing. Obi-Wan doesn't
understand what you mean by 'free'. If you reject him, well
that means that anyone who wants him could take him."
"But I'm not rejecting him!" protested Qui-Gon. "I just don't
want him to..."
"Qui-Gon, it's all he knows how to do. He was given to
you for your pleasure and if you don't want that, then why
should you protect him?"
"But... but you're not really suggesting that I should...?"
"Don't be absurd. But stop acting like a scalded cat every time
he touches you. He'll understand eventually. But you can't just
take away his purpose in life. Give him a new one."
Shmi sighed in exasperation at Qui-Gon's expression. "Teach him
some useful skills. He can't feel like a free man unless he can
work like a free man, and right now the only work he's
qualified for is on his back or his knees. Like it or not, he's
got some pride in that, because he knows he's good at it. So
teach him to be good at other things and then maybe being a
good whore won't matter so much to him. But in the meantime,
don't let him think that he's bad at that too, because that
will shatter what little confidence he has."
"But Shmi..."
"Hold on a moment." Qui-Gon was completely ignored as Shmi
talked to Obi-Wan again. The boy nodded solemnly, then said
something that sent Shmi into peals of incredulous laughter
before she replied. She was still chuckling when she turned to
Qui-Gon again.
"What did he ask you?" he demanded.
"He thought I might be your wife or concubine because of the
way I talked to you," she explained. "Because a mere slave
would never dare to use that tone of voice to her master." She
grinned. "Poor lamb. I remember when I thought like that."
Her voice took on a more serious tone. "Anyway, I told him that
you're temporarily not having sex."
"You WHAT?"
"For religious reasons. And that you think he's very beautiful
and you want him very much, but you don't want to break your
oath and you worry that if he touches you too much that you
won't be able to resist. So that he shouldn't touch you too
much because you'd be very upset if you broke the vow."
Qui-Gon made a small choking noise at the back of his throat.
"And this is supposed to help me how?"
Shmi smiled beatifically. "Obi-Wan feels safe because he knows
you want him and you feel safe because he won't push you too
hard. And you can get on with teaching him some more acceptable
skills, and by the time he understands you properly, fucking
won't seem so important anymore. I'd talk to Yoda if you want
more advice. He understands."
She stood up. "Anyway, I'm going to bed. I suggest you do too,
and that you let Obi-Wan share with you."
She carefully covered the fire with sods to ensure that she
could rekindle it in the morning, then turned to her own tent.
"By the way," she added, "Obi-Wan says he's very sorry about
the blow job. If he'd known you had taken a vow, he'd never
have done it."
Qui-Gon was left open-mouthed in a rapidly cooling clearing.
Obi-Wan curled up against him once more.
"Master?" he said in an interrogative tone of voice.
"Come on," said Qui-Gon, standing up and reaching down for the
boy's hand. "Time for bed."
Damn Shmi, thought Qui-Gon as he stalked through the
encampment. If I get my hands on her, I'll...
His train of thought broke again as he was once more
approached.
"Morning, Qui-Gon" said a jovial Mace. "Good to see you and
Obi-Wan. I'm sure he'll be fine in the company of such a
religious man."
Throttling's too good for her, thought Qui-Gon, as he continued
on his way, ignoring giggles and greetings. Behind him, Obi-Wan
looked up at him anxiously.
"Master?"
"It's okay, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon suddenly remembered the boy's
lack of vocabulary and thanked whatever deity he didn't believe
in that at least he was spared the embarrassment of explaining
what everyone was so amused by.
He stopped and smiled at the boy. "Everything's fine," he
repeated in a calmer tone of voice. He reached out and touched
Obi's shoulder reassuringly.
Obi-Wan smiled uncertainly, and nodded trustingly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Councillor Depa's jaw
drop in an "O" of astonishment before she collected herself and
went on her way. No doubt that little snippet would do the
rounds of the camp before long too.
It was all thrice-damned Shmi's fault. Of course it was too
good a joke not to share. Tell everyone that Qui-Gon was under
a "religious" oath not to have sex. To a tribe who had no
taboos on the subject, provided it involved consenting adults,
the idea was exquisitely funny. Qui-Gon's only solace was that
everyone could be trusted to ensure that Obi-Wan wasn't hurt.
But Qui-Gon was fair game, and it seemed to be open season.
Obi-Wan seemed oblivious to the smirks around him. He was
looking happier than Qui-Gon had seen him to date. He also
seemed to be coping well with the idea of Qui's "vow" of
celibacy, a matter of relief to Qui-Gon who was only too aware
how disastrous the whole situation could have been.
*
Earlier that morning, Qui-Gon had woken up to discover that
during the night, he had tangled Obi-Wan up in the bedclothes
and the youth had slept half-buried underneath him. The second
thing he had discovered was that they both had erections.
Just as he was trying to find a way to disentangle himself
without waking Obi-Wan, the boy had woken.
"Master," he had drawled sleepily, smiling, and stretching as
much as he could with Qui- Gon's body weight pinning him to the
bed. He had seemed utterly unconcerned by their mutual
condition.
Qui-Gon had hurriedly moved off Obi-Wan, who in turn had
nonchalantly rolled off the bed and pulled on his new clothes,
before disappearing outside. The nomad's jaw dropped at the
display of independence, before Obi-Wan returned, carrying some
food and followed by Shmi, who grinned at Qui-Gon.
"Still asleep? Typical," she teased. "Just as soon as you get
someone to get breakfast for you, you think you can lie in bed
all day." She turned back to Obi-Wan and pointed at a few
things in the tent, then watched approvingly as he assembled
the meal.
"You could put some clothes on," she commented as Qui-Gon sat
there. "I may have told him to get some food, but I certainly
didn't suggest that he dress you as well."
A blushing Qui-Gon had begun to wrap a blanket around his hips
when Obi-Wan quickly came over with his tunic and leggings.
Qui-Gon quickly wriggled into his clothes under Shmi's grinning
scrutiny and joined her at the small table in the centre of the
tent.
"Shmi" he hissed, purple with embarrassment. "What on earth did
you tell him to do?"
"Look at him," she murmured back. "He's got something to do and
he's feeling useful. Now make sure you thank him and he'll be
perfectly happy this morning. Otherwise, I'll just have to
suggest that he does start dressing you, and you don't want
that, do you?"
She smiled sweetly at him. "Although I think you might enjoy
it."
She turned to Obi-Wan who was bringing over the last dish. "One
more thought, Qui-Gon. Things would be so much easier if he
could understand you. Why don't you help him?"
"Yes, Master," muttered Qui-Gon as she left the tent, still
smiling beatifically. A puzzled Obi-Wan looked over at him.
"Joke," commented Qui-Gon laconically.
Obi-Wan clearly didn't understand, but shrugged his shoulders
and began filling a plate, which he handed to Qui-Gon. The
older man promptly handed it back, with the instruction "Eat",
before filling another plate for himself.
The meal was punctuated by Qui-Gon pointing to assorted
foodstuffs and naming them. His actions initially confused
Obi-Wan who attempted to serve the food to Qui-Gon, but the
youth quickly realised what he meant, and obediently repeated
the words. Some of them he said before Qui-Gon had a chance to,
and Qui-Gon nodded his approval.
He was careful to thank Obi-Wan after the meal, and was
rewarded by a dazzling smile as the boy began to tidy up the
tent. Qui-Gon left him there making the bed, while he returned
Shmi's dishes.
"Are there any more surprises in store for me?" he demanded as
she took them from him.
Shmi turned her most innocent expression up to Qui-Gon.
"Surprises?" she inquired artlessly.
"You know what I mean," said Qui-Gon. "Suddenly there's a
beautiful young man sleeping in my bed on what promises to be a
semi-permanent basis, and he fetches breakfast. What
next? Have you told him to scrub my back if I take a bath?"
Shmi delicately sniffed the air. "I wish I'd thought of that
sooner," she commented. "You do stink of horse." The
desperation evident on Qui-Gon's face made her relent. "I told
him that he was to stay with you and watch what you did, since
he was going to learn how to help you."
"And that's all?"
"Would I lie to you?" she asked.
It was obvious now, as he took Obi out to the horse lines, that
Shmi's definition of not lying was rather narrow. Qui-Gon
wondered just how much she had told the rest of the tribe about
his alleged vow. The sight of the horses quickly dispelled his
worries and he soon found himself engrossed in his work.
Obi-Wan watched carefully as Qui-Gon worked his way through the
horse lines, checking on each animal. Qui-Gon tried to explain
that he helped with sick horses. Obi-Wan seemed to grasp the
idea better when Qui-Gon pointed out several ailments, and
helped when Qui- Gon selected a few horses to take away from
the herd for further examination.
Yoda joined them as Obi-Wan was leading a horse to and fro, and
looked at the animal critically.
"Healed, that leg wound is," he commented. "Good, you are."
"I should be," commented Qui-Gon, looking down at the tiny man.
"You taught me everything I know."
They both watched Obi-Wan silently. "Good you will be with him
too, I think," added Yoda.
Qui-Gon sighed. "If only..."
"If only...? queried Yoda. He craned his neck to look up at
Qui-Gon. "Ah," he said, as comprehension dawned.
Qui-Gon sat down on the grass beside the old healer.
"Not easy, is it?" asked Yoda. "Heard about your vow, I did.
Clever, Shmi is."
Qui-Gon sighed.
"Patience," cautioned Yoda. "Always important patience is in
cure. Look at him. One day, and happier he is already."
He watched Obi-Wan for a little longer. "Teach him," he said.
"Help himself he must. Strong, defence will make him. When
strong he is, then maybe to you he will come."
"Yoda," hissed Qui-Gon. "I've only known him two days. It's
absurd."
"Absurd?" asked the healer. "Since when is it absurd? Seen how
you look at him, I have. Enough, two days can be. Now time you
need."
Yoda's words haunted Qui-Gon for the next few days. Obi-Wan
seemed cheerful enough, following him around the camp like a
shadow, but the anxiety he tried to hide every time he was
separated from Qui-Gon was obvious to everyone. The jokes about
the "vow" soon dried up, especially when it became clear that
Obi-Wan was comprehending more each day. Surreptitiously,
Qui-Gon's closest friends were watching him for signs of strain
as Obi- Wan's blatant devotion became clear.
No strain seemed apparent. In fact, it soon became clear that
Obi-Wan was not the only one upset by any separation. Qui-Gon
dealt with it better, but the way he reacted to Obi-Wan's
presence made it obvious to all that the boy was becoming
increasingly important to him. He was scrupulous about the
relationship, refusing to take advantage of Obi-Wan, although
the temptation of just leaning over and kissing the boy was
growing stronger.
Yoda, he reflected, had been right. The overwhelming sense of
pity that had characterised his first interactions with Obi-Wan
had been replaced by confusion. He knew that the boy shouldn't
be sleeping in his bed, he knew that he shouldn't wake up in
the mornings with Obi-Wan in his arms and a raging hard-on
demanding his attention, yet the idea of the situation changing
was rapidly becoming unbearable.
The sole factor that was keeping him sane was Shmi's ridiculous
"vow". More than once he had been woken by Obi-Wan firmly
pushing him away and saying "No" in a determined voice. To his
shame, Qui-Gon had realised that he had been caressing the boy
in an obvious prelude to sex. Obi-Wan had not been unaffected
either. Breathing heavily, and with a flushed face, he had got
out of bed and dressed clumsily, his fingers slipping as he
fumbled with buttons and ties.
And that, thought Qui-Gon, had made it worse than ever. He knew
Obi-Wan's reaction was a schooled one, which meant that it was
unlikely that Obi-Wan would be interested in true consensual
sex. He knew Shmi valued her celibacy, that the freedom to
refuse was the most valuable one she possessed. Qui-Gon saw no
reason why Obi-Wan should be any different.
In fact, he reasoned, as soon as Obi-Wan realised he was free,
it was probable that he would be anxious to separate himself
from all reminders of his slavery, including Qui-Gon.
Better to make the break sooner rather than later, Qui-Gon
thought, as he watched Obi-Wan assemble a meal. Any attempts at
helping Obi-Wan in what he perceived as his assigned duties
were inevitably rebuffed, so Qui-Gon resigned himself to being
served whether he liked it or not.
The way Obi served him now was very different to their first
encounter. There were no more bowed heads, no sense of fear,
just a calm Obi-Wan competently preparing food and setting it
out. The only thing that could have indicated any imbalance in
their relationship was that Obi-Wan persisted in referring to
Qui-Gon as "Master".
The boy was soaking up knowledge like a sponge. Shmi was
beginning to refuse to translate for Qui-Gon, pointing out
instead that it was more sensible for the two to attempt to
communicate directly with each other. And it was working.
Obi-Wan was not so much learning the language as remembering
it, and was falling naturally into their pattern of life. There
would be time enough, as Yoda and the Council advised, to learn
what trade he would like to follow. In the meantime, his de
facto apprenticeship with Qui-Gon was proving most successful.
Language and riding lessons were combined in the early evenings
when Qui-Gon and Obi- Wan would take a couple of horses and
roam the wide steppes. Sometimes others accompanied them - Adi,
Mace, Anakin and even occasionally Shmi - but mostly they rode
alone, often in companionable silence. Obi-Wan's natural grace
had translated well to the saddle and he sat comfortably and
confidently on his mount.
It was these times that kept Qui-Gon safe. There seemed to be
no barriers between himself and Obi-Wan, no uncomfortable
sexual tension, just the sky, the wind, the horses and the wide
plains. Obi-Wan was at his most loquacious then, although he
still spoke little, and mostly in reply.
Inevitably it was one of these rides that triggered another
crisis for Qui-Gon. They were nearly back at the camp, when
Obi-Wan had plucked up his courage.
"Master?" he asked shyly.
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"Your vow. How long?"
Qui-Gon looked across at Obi-Wan, trying to decipher the
expression on his face. The half- light of approaching night
hindered his attempt.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
Obi-Wan digested this information in silence, then spoke again.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon looked up.
"Do you want me?"
"Of course I want you, Obi-Wan," answered Qui-Gon. "We all do."
The problem with Obi-Wan's halting words was that he understood
and comprehended far more than he was capable of saying, with
the result that his speech tended to be blunt.
"Not that, Master," he clarified. "Do you want to fuck me?"
Qui-Gon reined in his horse. A few paces ahead, Obi-Wan circled
his mount until he was facing Qui-Gon, their legs nearly
touching.
"I don't know," admitted Qui-Gon. "It's complicated."
Obi-Wan reached out and touched Qui-Gon's face, a gentle
gesture that reminded Qui-Gon of his earlier attempts to
comfort the youth.
"Not complicated," said Obi-Wan as he pulled the older man to
him for a kiss. "Not complicated at all."
The kiss wasn't long, but all the sweeter for that. Qui-Gon
parted his lips to Obi-Wan's gentle assault, and for one brief
moment allowed himself to surrender to the sensation.
He could almost fool himself that Obi-Wan truly wanted him,
maybe even loved him. What he most wanted in the world was on
offer and within reach. Briefly he kissed back, his tongue
probing Obi-Wan's mouth.
But only a fool lived in a fool's paradise. And Qui-Gon was no
fool.
It tore at his heart to pull back from Obi-Wan but he managed
it, with the knowledge that he was right small consolation for
the thousand regrets that assaulted him.
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan nervously.
"Not now," said Qui-Gon brusquely. "It's late." He urged his
horse into a canter. Obi-Wan followed a moment later.
Qui-Gon avoided meeting the younger man's eye as they returned
the horses to the lines. Obi-Wan followed him back to their
tent and paused at the entrance, but Qui-Gon crossed over to
Shmi's fire. After a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan followed him.
He approached Shmi and began speaking to her in a low voice,
glancing over at Qui-Gon every now and then.
Shmi listened intently and said something that seemed to
reassure Obi-Wan. Then she stalked over to Qui-Gon with an air
of determination about her that made his heart sink.
"What happened?" she demanded in a voice of extreme
displeasure. "What did you do?"
"Why did I have to do anything?" responded Qui-Gon. "If
you must know, he kissed me."
"Oh yes, and Obi-Wan would have just kissed you out of the
blue."
Qui-Gon flushed. "He asked me about the vow. The vow, I might
add, that you invented."
"I had my reasons. And how did you answer?"
"I said I didn't know."
"And then?"
"He...," Qui-Gon looked up imploringly, but Shmi was
implacable. "He asked me if I wanted to fuck him."
"And?"
"I said it was complicated."
"Hmph."
That seemed to be all Shmi was likely to say. She returned to
Obi-Wan and began talking again.
Qui-Gon watched the pair, their heads together, talking in low
voices, and realised miserably that he was their topic of
conversation. He hunched his shoulders and stared at the fire.
Raised voices shook him from his reverie. If he didn't know
either of them better, Qui-Gon would have sworn that Obi-Wan
and Shmi were arguing. He watched with interest as they
continued, both of them obviously convinced they were right.
Eventually Shmi appeared to concede and Obi-Wan left the
campfire for Qui-Gon's tent.
Qui-Gon turned from watching Obi-Wan pass to discover Shmi
scowling at him.
"I hope you're happy," she said.
"What?" asked Qui-Gon helplessly.
"He's worked out that if there was a vow in the first place,
it's certainly over by now. He's expecting you to wander in and
fuck him at your leisure. Just one more man to abuse him."
Qui-Gon's jaw dropped. "You told him that?"
"Of course I didn't," Shmi near-screamed. "I tried to persuade
him that he didn't have to. But he wouldn't listen." She broke
down into sobs and Qui-Gon awkwardly comforted her.
"I won't do it," he said. "You know me, I wouldn't do it."
Shmi shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He says he wants you
to."
"What? He couldn't possibly."
Shmi straightened up. "Qui-Gon, that boy is expecting you to go
in there and fuck him. And as much as I hate to say it, I think
you'd better do so."
She turned to leave, then turned to make one final comment.
"Don't go in there and fuck him. Go in there and make love, and
maybe something can be reclaimed from this whole sorry mess.
Let him see what possibilities it offers. And maybe one day
he'll find someone to love properly."
She contemptuously threw some sods on the fire, leaving Qui-Gon
sitting in the rapidly cooling night, feeling as though she had
punched him in the guts. He looked over at his tent, only to
see Obi-Wan move around, silhouetted by the lamp within, and
realised that his options had run out.
At least Obi-Wan was clothed. Qui-Gon didn't think he could
have coped with a repetition of their first night together. The
contrast between the two Obi-Wans was staggering. This one
smiled hopefully when Qui-Gon entered the tent, with virtually
no image of the naked youth who had knelt awaiting his master's
pleasure. If what Shmi said was right, Obi-Wan was now seeking
his own.
Qui-Gon refused to believe that. False hope was worse than no
hope at all, and Obi-Wan had been a slave for too long and a
free man for too short a time.
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan shyly. "Do you want...?"
Master. The word in itself indicated that Obi-Wan still
regarded himself as someone's property, to be used at that
person's whim. The idea repulsed Qui-Gon as much as Obi-Wan
attracted him. For one wild moment, he wished that Obi-Wan's
self-esteem was not so tightly linked with his sexuality and
that this beautiful youth was offering himself to Qui- Gon
because he truly wanted him. He didn't doubt that Obi-Wan
wanted him, but he doubted Obi-Wan's reasons. Whatever the
reason might be though, Qui-Gon knew he had a duty to Obi-Wan.
He just wished his duty was less linked with his pleasure and
his desires. For some reason it made it all the more difficult
to respond.
Obi-Wan still looked up at him hopefully, although a certain
nervousness crept into his demeanour as he waited for Qui-Gon's
response. That alone decided Qui-Gon's course of action. Live
in the moment, he thought.
"Oh yes," said Qui-Gon, pulling Obi-Wan close. "So much."
Obi-Wan sighed with contentment and rested his head against
Qui-Gon's shoulder. He began caressing the older man's chest
through his tunic.
"Master," he murmured.
Qui-Gon bent his head and pulled Obi-Wan into a long kiss,
pouring all his desire and longing for the youth into the
meeting of their mouths. Obi-Wan's hands snaked lower and began
tugging at the belt of Qui-Gon's tunic. Qui-Gon covered
Obi-Wan's hand with one of his own, and helped him to remove
the belt, then the tunic.
Obi-Wan seemed fascinated by Qui-Gon's broad muscled torso and
explored it with mouth and tongue and hands in a way that soon
had the older man gasping with pleasure. Then Obi-Wan dipped
his hands to the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings and bent down
to undo them.
"No," said Qui-Gon gently. "Let me."
He quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off and turned to
Obi-Wan, who had sucked in his breath. Gently kissing the boy
once more, Qui-Gon began to carefully undress him. First the
tunic was removed, baring a slender chest, then the leggings
lowered, revealing lean flanks and a tumescent penis. Qui-Gon
used his mouth to follow his hands, skirting Obi-Wan's cock.
The boy gasped and staggered slightly, placing his hand on
Qui-Gon's shoulder to steady himself.
Qui-Gon pushed him down to sit on the end of the bed then knelt
down in front of him. Obi- Wan blindly reached towards him, but
Qui-Gon clicked his tongue in admonition, then began removing
Obi-Wan's boots and leggings, while gently caressing the boy's
thighs and flanks and stomach, careful never to touch the penis
that strained upwards begging for attention. By the time he was
finished, Obi-Wan had shut his eyes and was begging in a faint
voice.
"What do you want, Obi-Wan?" asked Qui-Gon slowly.
"You," moaned the youth. "Please, Master, now."
Qui-Gon leant forward again and recaptured Obi-Wan's mouth,
before pushing him back on the bed and covering him, enjoying
the sensation of lean body against lean body. It had been a
while since Qui-Gon last had a lover, and he took his time in
reacquainting himself with the sensations.
Obi-Wan squirmed beneath him, trying to touch Qui-Gon back, but
Qui-Gon growled his disapproval.
"Lie still," he ordered. "This is for you."
Obi-Wan complied, but soon found it difficult to obey as
Qui-Gon explored his body with an experienced touch. There was
a touch of sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes as he watched Obi- Wan's
face contort with pleasure. From the way he was reacting,
Qui-Gon doubted anyone had ever concerned themselves with the
boy's pleasure before. He wondered if Obi-Wan actually knew
what the things he had been forced to do felt like for the
recipient.
Qui-Gon dipped his head and engulfed Obi-Wan's cock in his
mouth. The younger man gasped in pleasure at the sensation and
arched upwards, thrusting into the warm heat. He tangled a hand
in the long hair that fell about his crotch, hiding his view of
Qui-Gon as he sucked and licked and teased Obi-Wan's cock.
Obi-Wan reached out his other hand, and Qui-Gon caught it in
his, effectively preventing Obi-Wan from doing anything except
concentrate on his own pleasure.
All too soon, it seemed, it was over. Obi-Wan moaned and thrust
forward while Qui-Gon swallowed deep and licked the boy clean,
before crawling up beside him.
"Good?" he asked.
"So good, Master," murmured the boy as he curled over into
Qui-Gon's arms. "Wonderful."
His hand crept down to Qui-Gon's cock.
"It's okay, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon gently. "You don't have to."
Obi-Wan propped himself up on one elbow. "You want to fuck me,"
he said bluntly.
"I don't want to hurt you." I don't want to own you, he
silently added.
"You won't." Obi-Wan's reply was assured and Qui-Gon wondered
briefly how to interpret that statement. Then logic departed as
the boy leaned over and kissed him. Obi-Wan pulled Qui-Gon's
hand down to his crotch.
"Still hard for you," he hissed, then moved their hands over to
Qui-Gon's cock. "And you for me. Fuck me, Master."
He reached out to the bedside and brought back a small bottle
of oil. "Please?" he asked.
Qui-Gon's hands shook as he opened the bottle. He leaned over
and kissed Obi-Wan again, then carefully and liberally coated
his fingers with oil. Obi-Wan moved onto his back, parting his
legs, and gazed up at Qui-Gon with a mixture of desire and
trust that nearly choked the older man. It frightened Qui-Gon
that Obi-Wan so obviously trusted him and he leaned over for a
tender kiss of reassurance before turning to his task.
The first finger was the hardest to insert. Obi-Wan was
virginally tight and Qui-Gon's hands were not small. Obi-Wan
tensed in reflex the moment Qui-Gon's finger began probing and
the older man realised that however much the boy might claim to
want this, he was still frightened by the prospect of
penetration.
Qui-Gon removed his finger and crouched down between Obi-Wan's
legs. He trailed his tongue down the youth's perineum until he
reached the tightly puckered ring behind it. Obi- Wan froze
when he felt the first stroke of Qui-Gon's tongue, then
squeaked in astonishment as he was slightly penetrated by the
warm, slippery organ. He squirmed as Qui-Gon tasted him
intimately.
"Master," he said in a shocked tone of voice. "Master, not your
place."
"Mmmm?" Qui-Gon continued despite Obi-Wan's disapproval.
Obi-Wan was too distracted by the new sensations to truly
object. He scarcely seemed to notice when Qui-Gon replaced his
tongue with one long finger that probed deeper. Obi-Wan gasped
when Qui-Gon brushed against his prostate and arched his hips
in the air in a silent plea for more.
Qui-Gon continued, carefully watching Obi-Wan's face for signs
of reluctance or pain. But there were none. He rapidly
established a rhythm and watched the contortions of the boy's
face as he thrust, adding a second finger and then a third to
gently stretch Obi-Wan. He finally stopped when Obi-Wan began
to feel much looser and knelt in front of the boy for a moment,
catching his breath and overwhelmed by the experience.
Obi-Wan tenderly took the bottle from Qui-Gon's unresisting
hands and coated the older man's cock with oil, then turned
over onto his stomach. He looked behind him at the dazed
Qui-Gon.
"Master, please?" he asked in a pleading tone.
He hissed as the bulky head of Qui-Gon's penis pushed its way
past the tight ring of muscle. Qui-Gon froze for a moment, but
the boy began bucking against him, urging him in deeper. He
moaned loudly when Qui-Gon brushed against his prostate again,
then began panting in unison with Qui-Gon when he began
thrusting. Despite the preparation, Obi-Wan was almost
painfully tight as his muscles clenched around Qui-Gon's
driving cock, pulling him in deeper. The boy began whimpering a
quiet litany of "pleasepleasepleasemasterpleaseplease".
Nothing mattered any more to Qui-Gon as he drove into Obi-Wan's
willing body. He was lost in the moment, in the passion and
desire, in the gift of trust that Obi-Wan had given him. It was
a poor substitute for Obi-Wan's love, but in the absence of
love, it would serve.
He reached down and possessively grasped the boy's penis,
although he doubted whether Obi-Wan needed any help in coming.
Obi-Wan twisted his head back for a savage kiss, then howled
out his orgasm a moment before Qui-Gon, too, shuddered and
came.
"Mine," gasped Qui-Gon as he collapsed on the bed.
"Yours," said Obi-Wan with satisfaction.
Qui-Gon slept solidly until awoken the next morning by Obi-Wan
returning with food. The boy grinned happily at the
sleep-tousled man and moved the table to the end of the bed
before climbing back on it to serve breakfast.
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan into his arms for a kiss before they
both turned to breakfast.
"Shmi is angry," said Obi-Wan. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," replied Qui-Gon. "She's angry with me."
Obi-Wan looked thoughtfully at Qui-Gon, and the older man
wondered if he was about to say something.
Then the boy shrugged. "Not important. I don't know the words."
And that seemed to be it. Far from being troubled by the events
of the night, Obi-Wan seemed at his most confident, smiling
spontaneously at Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon wished he felt the same. His heart sank at the prospect
of facing Shmi and the Council. Neither would be very forgiving
of the night's events.
"Master?" asked Obi-Wan shyly.
Qui-Gon jerked out of his reverie to find Obi-Wan watching him
apprehensively.
"It's fine," he soothed the boy, reaching out for a reassuring
touch. Obi-Wan looked unconvinced.
"We should have a sword lesson," continued Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master," said the boy obediently.
Shmi avoided them as they left the tent in search of a suitable
practice ground, although Qui-Gon caught her looking after them
speculatively. She turned away when she caught his eye.
Contrary to speculation, Obi-Wan had proven to be an excellent
student with the sword, working his way through the forms with
grace and speed. Sometimes they were joined by others, offering
alternative opponents for Obi-Wan. He fought them all with a
detached courtesy, which worried Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan seemed to
approach fighting as though it was a performance, a dance for
an invisible audience. There was no aggression visible in any
of his actions, and Qui-Gon despaired of ever persuading the
boy that the training was for his own defence. Non-aggression
seemed to be ingrained in Obi-Wan's psyche, and Qui-Gon feared
that the youth would allow another to abuse him rather than
defend himself.
"No way of knowing," said a voice at Qui-Gon's knee.
"What?" Qui-Gon settled himself on the ground, the better to be
able to converse with Yoda who was intently watching Obi-Wan
spar with Mace.
"Know what you were thinking, I was. Scared you are that
Obi-Wan will not defend himself. No way of knowing, think I,
and why worry? Need may never arise."
Qui-Gon sighed. "I hope you're right."
"Always right am I," chuckled Yoda. "Was right about you and
Obi-Wan. Not absurd at all, was it?"
Qui-Gon blushed furiously.
"Nothing will Council say. Approve they do not, but understand
they do."
Mace tried a tricky manoeuvre to disarm, but the boy
unexpectedly blocked him and laughed before disarming the black
man whose jaw dropped in surprise before he joined Obi-Wan in
laughter.
The youth looked over to Qui-Gon for approbation and beamed
when a few words of encouragement and congratulation were
called out. Obi-Wan turned back to Mace and handed him his
practice sword.
"See?" said Yoda smugly. "Confident he is. Happy he is."
"Are you suggesting that I keep Obi-Wan like some kind of pet?
Feed him, clothe him and fuck him to keep him happy?" hissed
Qui-Gon.
Yoda hit him with his walking stick. "Fool you are," he
snapped. "Biggest and blindest fool in camp. Such low opinion
of Obi-Wan have you?"
Qui-Gon blinked. "I don't. But it's wrong... he's only..."
"Because 'Master' you are?"
Qui-Gon ducked his head miserably. "Yes."
"Chose he did, to stay with you. And understand the choice he
did." Yoda punctuated him comments with taps of his walking
stick. "Slave he might be, but free will he understands.
Vehement he was."
Qui-Gon thought back to Yoda and Obi-Wan's first conversation.
"But is he choosing to exercise it?"
Yoda shrugged. "Knows he does that safe he is here. Chose he
still did, to stay with you. Trust you he does. In everything."
"But why would he want to...?"
"Fuck?" asked Yoda, as bluntly as Obi-Wan was likely to put it.
"Trust you he does, said I. Many reasons there are for making
love. Enjoy it, did he?"
Qui-Gon wished the ground would open up and swallow him. "Yes,"
he muttered, now beetroot red.
"Pleasant associations has he now?" Yoda was as blithe as if
they were discussing the weather, while Qui-Gon squirmed
miserably beside him. "No fool, Obi-Wan is. When on a whim your
life depends, read characters you do or die. Survive he did.
Now maybe choose he does to do more than survive."
Yoda pondered for a moment. "Shmi he knows?"
"Of course."
"Scared of strangers she is. Scared of many things. Scared of
living sometimes. See this maybe Obi-Wan does? Chooses another
path, he does?"
The wizened man sighed at the incomprehension on Qui-Gon's
face. "Obey you blindly does Obi-Wan?"
"No," admitted Qui-Gon.
"Night you met him, obey you did he?"
"Yes."
"So now choice is Obi-Wan making. Finding who he is. Helping
him you are and will be. Trust and faith he has." Yoda
considered Qui-Gon. "And maybe love."
"And if this isn't all true?"
"Then pet you have and kind you must be."
Time unexpectedly became at a premium later that day. After
considering the season and the weather, the Council decided it
was the perfect time to move to winter pastures, and both
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan found themselves busily helping to
dismantle the camp for packing. It was a rush to get everything
done before dark and there was no time for talk while they
worked. Both men were ready to sleep by the time night fell,
and Obi-Wan wrapped himself up in the blankets they would carry
on their horses and dozed off immediately after supper.
Shmi returned from the one large tent left standing, where the
children and elders would sleep that night and during the
journey, to find Qui-Gon waiting for her. Pointedly she took
her bedroll to the other side of the fire and lay down with her
back to them.
Qui-Gon was not the only one who noticed. Mace and Adi both
observed, and each reacted differently. Mace frowned sternly,
whereas Adi offered a small smile and shrugged philosophically.
Nothing was said. It was neither the time nor the place.
Suppressing a sigh of frustration Qui-Gon lay down beside
Obi-Wan, keeping the boy between himself and the fire. With a
low murmur, Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep to move closer to the
older man. A faint smile danced across his lips as firelight
lit his sleeping face, and Qui-Gon reflected that at least one
person seemed to be reasonably content. It was a start, he
supposed.
They rose before dawn, and in the chaos of preparation, Qui-Gon
had no chance to speak to either Shmi or Obi-Wan. He spotted
them every now and then, sometimes separately, sometimes
together, but all were anxious to begin moving before the sun
had risen too high. Eventually Ki-Ai-Mundi announced that it
was time to mood, and Qui-Gon returned to his horse to find
Obi-Wan waiting for him.
Adi came hurrying up, with a bundle. "They want some people
armed on the edge of the group, just in case," she said, and
handed Qui-Gon a sword. "You're to ride near the head."
She turned to Obi-Wan with another one. "Lucky I finished this.
You're to go with him."
Obi-Wan took the sword gingerly and turned it carefully,
looking at the blade. "Thank you," he said.
A flash on the hilt caught Qui-Gon's eye and he turned
interrogatively to Adi.
"I used some of that silver," she said by way of explanation.
"It seemed appropriate. Oh, and there's some on your sword too,
because the hilt needed work."
It looked like a weak excuse to Qui-Gon. Adi grinned
unrepentantly at him.
"I thought it was appropriate," she said.
"Is that your new word?" he asked sarcastically.
She nodded enthusiastically and left them. It seemed that
whatever else happened, one of the Council was on their side.
Qui-Gon just wished he knew what "their" side was.
"Master?" Obi-Wan was already mounted, the sword safely lodged
in a sheath on his saddle pack. "Time to go."
Qui-Gon nodded and swung into the saddle.
It was twenty days' journey south to the winter pastures and
the tribe moved at the pace of its slowest member. Mostly it
was a rambling affair, with a slow core and faster activity
around the edges as herding duty was swapped and those at the
front took their turn at the rear, rounding up stragglers and
bearing the brunt of the dust and muck churned up by the
tribe's herds.
Sometimes they moved much more slowly, keeping rigidly together
in places of danger. No stragglers were permitted then, and the
weaker members of the tribe were firmly shepherded to the
centre. The presence of Obi-Wan was a firm reminder of previous
losses by other nomadic groups, and this one was determined to
lose none of its people.
Obi-Wan throve on the journey. He was losing the last traces of
his indoor pallor and his body was losing some of the sharper
angles of near-starvation. The observant noticed the difference
in his eating habits. He was no longer hesitant about food
offered him, nor did he gulp it ravenously. Instead he ate
healthily, with an appetite honed by long days in the saddle.
He smiled much more, genuine grins of happiness and affection,
rather than tentative grimaces. He was still cautious of
strangers, but no longer pulled back behind Qui-Gon when
meeting them, and now was obviously comfortable in the company
of those he had known longer. He still kept with Qui-Gon
whenever possible, but seemed utterly relaxed if he had to be
elsewhere. No-one watching doubted that Obi-Wan was expressing
his preference, rather than a compulsion.
Mace and Adi had engaged in a couple of brief arguments, the
contents of which had flown around the camp. Mace was still
dubious about the long-term benefits of keeping Obi-Wan with
Qui-Gon, arguing that it only enhanced the youth's dependence
on the older man, while Adi stuck to her guns that Obi-Wan was
choosing to remain with Qui-Gon of his own free will. Obi-Wan's
persistence in referring to Qui-Gon as "Master" disturbed them
both.
Ironically enough it was Shmi who noticed the real shift in
power in the relationship.
She was still furious with Qui-Gon for his perceived abuse of
Obi, yet found herself unable to stay away from them. After a
couple of brief vicious spats, Shmi and Obi had agreed to steer
clear of the topic of the two men's relationship and were
uneasily reverting to their former friendship.
Similarly Shmi was avoiding direct interaction with Qui-Gon
most of the time, but tolerated his presence at her campfire.
Her lips had pursed intolerantly the first time a shyly hopeful
Obi-Wan had held his hand out and led Qui-Gon away from the
camp, only to returning in darkness an hour later, reeking of
sex. Her demeanour towards Qui-Gon grew stiffer and more
distant as these incidents were repeated until the night she
noticed, that although visibly tired, the older man had hidden
all traces of exhaustion in front of his younger companion and
acquiesced in the unspoken request for sex. She said nothing
that night, but the next morning she rode up beside Qui-Gon
when Obi-Wan was out of earshot.
"You don't free one slave to make another," she said without
preamble.
Qui-Gon slumped wearily in the saddle. "Shmi, please, not
again."
"I'm not talking about Obi-Wan, you fool. I'm talking about
you."
Qui-Gon rode on in silence.
"You talk about the need for Obi-Wan to decide for himself, but
you no longer do so, do you? Remember 'no'? It's a useful
word."
"Shmi," began Qui-Gon. "I... I was taking your advice. If I say
no..."
"You might get a good night's sleep."
"I don't think I can," blurted Qui-Gon. "I'm scared..." He
pulled his horse out of the group and rode a few paces before
stopping. Shmi followed him. Further ahead, Obi-Wan looked back
and circled, approaching at a trot.
Shmi said nothing as Qui-Gon struggled to control his emotions.
"It's just that I..."
"That you love him?" she asked quietly.
Obi-Wan was much closer now, concern etched on his face. There
was a flash of anger on his face as he looked at Shmi.
Qui-Gon nodded. Shmi reached out and gently took his hand. "I'm
sorry for things I said before. I didn't realise," she said
gently.
"That makes two of us," said Qui-Gon with a touch of black
humour. "I won't do anything to hurt him, you know that.
Just..."
He paused, then started again. "I won't do anything to keep him
with me beyond when he needs me." He spoke with determination.
Shmi nodded. "You didn't even need to say that. I know you.
Whatever I may have said, I do know that."
She pulled back as Obi-Wan approached.
"Master?" he asked anxiously.
Qui-Gon smiled. "It's okay."
Obi-Wan turned to Shmi. "If you are going to make him sad,
leave him alone," he ordered.
Shmi opened her mouth to respond, then shut it again as a new
thought crossed her mind. She turned her horse and rode back to
the main group, a smile creasing her face as she thought out
the implications of what she had just seen. Behind her, she
could hear Qui-Gon feebly protesting that it wasn't Shmi's
fault, really, while Obi-Wan expressed himself on the subject
of people who upset Qui-Gon. For someone who was still
learning, he had a remarkable grasp of the language, she
thought. Most eloquent. She wondered briefly how eloquent he
would be when it came to expressing other things to Qui-Gon and
for the first time since Obi-Wan had arrived at the tribe felt
confident about the future for both of them.
The tribe's route south bypassed towns and villages, but
fifteen days into the journey, Qui- Gon and Obi-Wan were part
of a small group that broke off and headed for a large town
that sprawled across a major trade route. They brought an extra
horse with them. Qui-Gon had explained the detour to Obi-Wan
when he invited him to go.
"We're going to collect Amidala from her cousin Palpatine. He
invited her to stay when we moved up in spring. Her father was
from the town but joined us years ago, and after her parents
died, 'Dala wanted to see what it was like. So we'll swing in
and collect her, and then rejoin the tribe south of the town."
Obi-Wan nodded.
"Are you sure you want to come? It's only two days and I
thought that towns..."
Obi-Wan nodded confidently. "Not scared of towns."
"Or people?" asked Qui-Gon quizzically.
"Not with you around," said Obi-Wan with such trust in his face
that Qui-Gon's heart leapt. "I'll stay close to you, and I'll
be safe."
Obi-Wan wasn't the only one staying close as they rode through
the gates. None of the accompanying nomads were happy with
confined spaces and the entire party felt claustrophobic as
they rode down the narrow winding streets.
They were stared at curiously by passers by, and Adi, the sole
female member of the party, was openly ogled. A few bolder
souls called out to her, but backed down when she turned her
steady gaze on them. There were few women on the streets and
those that were wore heavy veils and were accompanied by men.
"Qui-Gon, Mace," she asked in a low voice. "Do you know where
we're going?"
Qui-Gon shrugged and Mace replied.
"Palpatine is a merchant. I was going to ask directions."
"Then I suggest you do so? I do not like this place."
Mace nodded and stopped his horse in front of a passer-by.
After a brief conversation he turned around.
"He lives near the central square. A large house with a red
door and two black lanterns. Apparently it's easy to find."
Adi nodded and moved on ahead, accompanied by Obi-Wan. Mace
pulled back beside Qui- Gon. "How much do you know about
Palpatine, Qui-Gon?" he asked in a low voice.
"Not much," murmured Qui-Gon. Ahead of them Adi and Obi-Wan
were carefully watching their progress. "He seemed a pleasant
man when he visited us, and as Amidala's sole surviving blood
relative, it seemed right that she should get to know him. He
said he dealt with the traders that came through the town. Why
do you ask?"
"That man I asked for directions. He asked me if Adi was for
sale."
"What?" Qui-Gon's hissed response made the two in front turn
around. "Are you sure?"
Mace shrugged. "I thought so, but the accent is so strange I'm
not sure."
Qui-Gon looked at him dubiously. "Even if it was what he meant,
it doesn't mean it has anything to do with Palpatine."
Mace shrugged. "I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."
The house was indeed easy to find, located in a large square
that bore all the signs of being a busy market place on fair
days. A servant answered the door and looked at the nomads
curiously.
"We're here to see Amidala," said Mace.
The servant looked blankly at him.
"Palpatine's cousin," added Qui-Gon.
The servant nodded recognition at the name and ushered them
into the hall before scuttling off to find his master. The
quartet surveyed their surroundings with curiosity. Palpatine's
public rooms were plainly but expensively decorated with
materials that had been brought a great distance.
"He's a trader," commented Adi, looking at some ironwork with a
professional eye. "Of course he'd acquire foreign curiosities."
"Indeed I did, dear lady," boomed an affable voice as a kindly
looking older man appeared in the hall. "And if I remember
correctly, you are Adi Gallia, the smith, are you not?"
Adi smiled and nodded. "I was admiring the ironwork of the
torch sconces."
"Ah yes, they came from the west, I believe. Inevitably one
deals in barter and some items are just too beautiful to let
go. Please do feel free to examine them further."
As Adi smiled and turned her attention to the ornate work,
Palpatine beamed at the three men. "Mace Windu, Qui-Gon Jinn
and, I believe I don't have the pleasure of this young man's
acquaintance?"
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon hurriedly. "My apprentice."
Palpatine nodded at Obi-Wan and concentrated on the two older
men. "My humble abode is honoured by your presence. Two Council
members and the esteemed healer, Qui-Gon Jinn. What brings you
to our small town?"
"Amidala," said Mace. "We are heading south for the winter and
we have come to collect her as promised."
"My delightful young cousin?" said Palpatine with a touch of
surprise. "I had no idea it was so late in the year already."
Mace merely inclined his head.
"But where are my manners? You must be thirsty from your long
ride. Let me offer you some refreshment."
He clapped his hands and another servant appeared, ushering
them into another elegant room furnished with formal couches.
The four sat uncomfortably facing their host while an array of
minions scuttled around proffering drinks and food.
"Alas," said Palpatine, his broad smile sinking into a more
serious expression once his guest had been served. "I have some
news to confess about Amidala."
"Yes?" asked Mace directly.
"It is, I am sure, upsetting news for you, although it gladdens
my own heart. The dear girl has expressed a preference for our
urban way of life and would rather remain living in my custody
than return to your tribe."
He paused and looked directly at Adi.
"Of course, I said that no such decision could be made without
the assent of the tribal elders, since she is still so young,
which is why I am so glad to see you here, dear lady."
Adi looked at him in surprise.
"It is our custom in this town that ladies of, shall we say
gentle breeding, tend to restrict themselves to the domestic
sphere, as protection from the more sordid aspects of life.
Amidala is very aware that social acceptance in this town
therefore prohibits her from entertaining men from outside her
immediate family circle and is most anxious that she does not
breach town etiquette. But your arrival means that she can
convey her wishes to the tribe with perfect propriety and thus
all parties are satisfied."
Adi exchanged a startled look with the others.
"That certainly does seem to be a major change in sentiment for
Amidala," she ventured nervously.
"Indeed it does," agreed Palpatine. "But consider the poor
girl's recent trauma, losing both parents to illness within the
space of a year. Surely fear for her own health in the rough
life of the tribe must have contributed to this decision?"
"That might be the case," conceded Adi. "Although I would not
consider our life to be any more unhealthy than that in a town.
Still, we will not oppose Amidala's decision one way or the
other. May I go and see her?"
"Of course you may," beamed Palpatine. He clapped his hands and
a middle-aged woman appeared.
"One moment," said Qui-Gon as Adi prepared to follow the
servant out of the room. "Is there any reason that Amidala
would not be permitted to see a male cousin?"
"That would depend," mused Palpatine. "How close a relative?"
"Her mother's brother's son," said Qui-Gon smoothly. "He joined
us recently from a related tribe. Obi-Wan has never met his
cousin before and I know he was anxious to make her
acquaintance. If Amidala is intending to remain here, would you
permit him to be introduced to her?"
Palpatine looked at the blandly innocent faces of the three
men. "Certainly, I see no problem." He turned to Obi-Wan. "I
did not realise you were a relation by marriage, young man. I
am indeed delighted to make your acquaintance. One of the
Kenobis, eh?"
Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded.
"Admittedly a very shy Kenobi," said Mace, hurriedly covering
for the youth's confusion. "Go along with Adi and pay your
respects to your cousin, Obi."
Obi-Wan had the wit to stay silent as he followed Adi from the
room. As they followed the servant down a long corridor towards
some stairs, Adi pulled at Obi-Wan's sleeve.
"Stay alert," she murmured. "If Qui-Gon wants you to come
along, he's worried about Amidala."
Obi-Wan nodded.
"I'm worried about her too," continued Adi. "It just doesn't
sound like her. I always felt she came here because Palpatine
put so much pressure on her, and I fear he's making her stay. I
don't trust that man, he's too smooth."
"Adi, I...," Obi-Wan broke off as they arrived at a set of
double doors. Adi shot a warning look at the youth as the
servant turned around to them.
"These are the young mistress's quarters," she said severely.
"I will see if she will receive you."
The pair were left there for a moment.
"Adi," Obi-Wan tried again.
"What?" she asked, her mind mostly on thoughts of Amidala.
"Adi, I've seen that man before."
Early in the proceedings, Qui-Gon had lost Mace to their host's
library. The tribe's scribe had been fascinated by the
collection of books and scrolls on display and a laughing
Palpatine had insisted that he stay and explore.
"And from what I know of your interests, I believe I have some
livestock that may interest you, Qui-Gon Jinn," said the
merchant. "Most exotic creatures."
"Palpatine? But how could you know him?" asked Adi, puzzled.
Palpatine led Qui-Gon across a small courtyard. "I'm afraid my
humble abode does not compare to that of other, more successful
merchants," he commented. "But it is home, and home, of course,
is where the heart is."
Qui-Gon nodded polite assent and followed Palpatine through a
heavy door that a waiting servant had unbolted. "It seems most
sumptuous to me," he offered. "But then we live a frugal life,
constantly travelling."
"Although I understand you indulge in some luxuries," commented
Palpatine.
"We're not monks," commented Qui-Gon wryly.
"No, so I had heard. Ah, here, we are." Palpatine pushed open
another door. "The treasures of my collection."
"I saw him at Jabba's. He went there regularly." Obi-Wan's low
tone was urgent. "Adi, he's a slaver."
"Are you sure?"
"He bought slaves that Jabba didn't want anymore. I'm sure,
Adi. It's the same man."
They both turned as the double doors opened.
"Lady Amidala will see you now," said the servant.
The overwhelming sense was of flesh. Vast quantities of young,
nubile flesh. On a second look, Qui-Gon realised that there
were about twelve young people in the room, eight boys and four
girls. A third look established that he was right to regard
them as juvenile - none seemed to be out of their teens, and a
couple seemed to be barely on the edge of physical maturity.
Palpatine beamed proprietarily.
"I wouldn't have taken you here, but Jabba mentioned that you
seemed most pleased with his gift. It surprised me, I must
admit, but it's pleasant always to find a kindred spirit. I
suppose the lad is out at your camp? A pity that, I should like
to have seen him. Jabba trains his pets well. I've purchased
more than a few from him over the years. I'm sure he's bringing
you great pleasure."
Palpatine's voice trailed off and a smile crossed his face as
though he was remembering something particularly pleasurable.
He recalled himself to his location. "Please be my guest," he
said to Qui-Gon who was trying to hide his shock and repulsion.
"If any of them take your fancy, they will obey your wishes."
A dark-eyed boy moved closer to Qui-Gon and Palpatine and
regarded his master with lustful kohl-rimmed eyes. Palpatine
reached down and caressed his head, cupping the boy's face in
one hand.
"You're such a good pet for me, aren't you?" he crooned at the
youth in a way that turned Qui-Gon's stomach. "Such an obedient
pet." He gestured towards Qui-Gon. "Now show what a good pet
you are and be nice to my guest."
The boy crawled over to Qui-Gon with long, fluid movements
reminiscent of a big cat stalking its prey. His oiled skin
sparkled with a glittery substance that highlighted his every
move.
"Master," he purred, settling his head against Qui-Gon's thigh.
Qui-Gon fought back the urge to recoil in distaste and reached
down to the boy's head. Palpatine watched with pleased interest
as Qui-Gon mimicked his earlier action and tilted the boy's
face towards him.
"There's nothing he won't do," said Palpatine conversationally.
"Superbly trained - one of Jabba's boys, of course - and he
knows he's getting a bit long in the tooth for here."
"Why?"
"I don't normally keep them when they lose that wonderful
flexibility of youth. I prefer them fresh. So this lad will
move onto one of my brothels soon and start earning me a pretty
packet. Time to pay me back for the luxury he's lived in since
he came here."
The boy had continued to press his body against Qui-Gon's leg
and now began to caress his thigh, creeping closer to his
crotch. Qui-Gon reached down and stopped the boy's hand before
it crept too close. Immediately the youth hung his head in a
way painfully reminiscent of Obi-Wan's earlier reactions to
Qui-Gon.
"Doesn't he please you?" asked Palpatine in surprise. He looked
at the boy speculatively. "Do you think he might not be as
successful as I anticipated?" The boy grimaced as Palpatine
roughly pulled his head back by the hair.
"No, no," said Qui-Gon, desperately trying to change the
subject. "I... I'm just not interested at the moment."
"If it's girls you prefer," began Palpatine, indicating the
quartet in the room.
"No," Qui-Gon assured his host. "He's beautiful. I'm just not
interested right now."
"Ah." Palpatine was vaguely puzzled. "Perhaps you'd care to
join me for a drink while we wait for the others."
Qui-Gon nodded gratefully, but found his discomfort was not
over. At a nod from Palpatine, the boy followed them to another
room and served them food and drink, before settling down on
the floor between their chairs.
"As I was saying," said Palpatine, "I have a chain of brothels
- and I constantly need new stock for them. But it's a perk of
my business that I get the cream of the crop. And business
always gets a fillip when one of my treasures comes on the open
market, you know."
Palpatine idly tore a peach open with his fingers and fed some
to the boy, who licked clean the juice that dripped from the
slaver's fingers.
"It's a virtuous cycle, as I like to say, from vice." He
laughed at his own joke and Qui-Gon mustered a weak smile.
He sat there in growing horror as Palpatine detailed the
complexities of his trade - a series of brothels, each catering
for a different market, from the luxurious and expensive
bordellos patronised by the town's elite to the rough barns
where travellers could find fast relief. The larger the
operation, the easier to run.
The boy seemed unconcerned as Palpatine, patting his head as he
spoke, used him as an illustration, explaining how the slaves
trickled down through the system, moving to the cheaper
establishments when they failed to meet standards at their
existing one until their use was gone.
"I no longer run the individual businesses on a day-to-day
basis," added Palpatine. "Instead my junior partner takes much
of the strain from me, leaving me to enjoy the fruits of my
labour." He chucked the boy's chin and looked into his eyes.
"Yes," he said contemplatively. "Time for a change, I think."
"Junior partner?" asked Qui-Gon, horrified by Palpatine's story
and doubly appalled at the fate the other man had just
condemned the boy to.
"Yes," said Palpatine. "A very enterprising young man. His name
is Maul."
"His name is Maul," said Amidala in a flat, emotionless tone.
"And we are to marry on midwinter's eve."
"That's ridiculous," said Adi. "You're too young."
Adi glumly reflected that "ridiculous" seemed to be her latest
word. Everything she had heard since she entered the room - and
before, considering Obi-Wan's sudden revelation - seemed to
belong to a dream. They had been greeted by an elaborately
costumed Amidala whose face was hidden behind a mask of formal
makeup as stiff as her manner. She had been polite but distant
to Adi and barely acknowledged Obi-Wan, while displaying no
curiosity about their alleged relationship. Since Adi was well
aware that Dala was more usually open and friendly and
downright curious, and furthermore knew Adi well, this change
in behaviour was disturbing.
The presence of the servant was an obvious inhibitor. She
watched Amidala like a hawk. Adi wracked her brains desperately
trying to think of a way of making the woman leave them alone,
but she came up with a blank. There seemed no way of having
private conversation with Amidala, and for all that she was
only fourteen, this painted doll was intimidating. Nor did Adi
feel comfortable about the servant, who she increasingly
regarded in the light of a gaoler. Fear for Amidala kept Adi
from asking Amidala anything outright.
It was Amidala herself who found the chance to signal. Turning
to the servant, she commented, "It is rather hot in here. Would
you open the windows while Obi-Wan is here to help you? I know
that they're too heavy for you on your own."
The servant shot a suspicious glance at Amidala who returned a
blank look of innocence, and then glared at Adi, who seemed
fascinated by the tea they had been served. Seeing nothing
unusual, she grudgingly went to the heavy window shutters,
followed by Obi-Wan.
Amidala leant forward, urgently. "Help me," she mouthed at Adi,
before returning to her previous impassive pose. The servant
returned to her seat, watching the pair carefully.
Adi continued with the stilted chit chat for a while more
before getting to her feet.
"We shall certainly abide by your wishes, Amidala," she said.
"And may I wish you all the best for the future? I am sure
things will turn out for the best."
Amidala shot her a look of gratitude as she leant forward to
formally kiss Adi on the cheek. "Thank you, Adi. I knew you
would understand."
She turned to Obi-Wan. "It was a pleasure to meet you, cousin."
Obi-Wan bowed slightly and took Amidala's proffered hand. "And
you too, my lady," he replied formally, before following Adi
out the door.
The servant ushered them out then led them back to the public
parts of the house.
"Stay alert," murmured Adi to Obi-Wan. "Amidala's not happy. We
have to get her out of here."
Obi-Wan nodded solemnly as they were shown into the library.
Mace looked up in surprise.
"That was quick," he commented.
Adi looked at the shelves of books. "More likely that you've
lost track of time."
She turned conspiratorially as the servant left them. "Mace, we
have to get Amidala out of here. She's frightened."
"Then why isn't she with you?" asked Mace, puzzled. "Surely
she'd just join you?"
"It's not that simple," said Adi. "She's terrified. And
apparently Palpatine wants her to marry someone called Maul."
"Don't be ridiculous," replied Mace. "She's only a child."
"Exactly!" Adi almost shrieked with frustration. "And she wants
out!"
"Then why doesn't she just say so?"
Adi sighed. Mace was always a bit distracted after finding new
books. "And there's more. Obi-Wan says that Palpatine is a
slaver."
Mace gave Obi-Wan a sharp look. "Are you sure?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "I saw him before." He looked around the room
nervously and jumped as the door opened. Palpatine entered,
followed by Qui-Gon who looked relieved on seeing the trio.
"Mace, distract him," murmured Adi. Mace promptly engaged their
host in conversation as Qui-Gon turned to Adi and Obi-Wan.
"Everything okay?" he inquired in a conversational tone.
"Fine," said Adi, noticing that Palpatine was eavesdropping on
them.
"That's good," said Qui-Gon awkwardly.
Behind them, Mace managed to persuade Palpatine over to the
bookshelves where he enthused at great length about the volumes
on display.
Adi took advantage. "Qui-Gon, we have to get her out of here.
She's virtually a prisoner."
Qui-Gon nodded. "Our host is certainly not as pleasant as I
thought." He broke off and looked at Obi-Wan.
"He's a slaver," completed Obi-Wan quietly. "He used to come to
Jabba's. I've seen him there."
"Would he recognise you?" asked Qui-Gon.
"No," said Obi-Wan after a moment's thought. "The only one who
saw me there was his partner Maul."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I suppose we can't just ask for 'Dala - we'd
never get out of here. We have to do this fast." He pondered
the matter for a moment, then spoke again.
"Adi, we'll get the horses ready, then you remember that you
left something up with 'Dala. That should give you a chance to
get her out and we'll just have to run for it."
Adi nodded. "Let's do it then. It will be sundown soon and the
gates will be closed."
She crossed the floor to Mace and Palpatine. "I'm sorry to
interrupt," she said, directing a dazzling smile at Palpatine.
"But we really must be leaving if we are to rejoin the tribe
when expected."
Palpatine bowed graciously. "It has, as ever, been a pleasure
to see you, my dear lady," he beamed at her. "And fascinating
to discuss their passions with your associates."
He ushered them to the hall and watched them mount their
horses.
"Goodbye," he waved cheerfully as they prepared to leave. He
paused when Adi reined in her horse and circled back to the
door.
"I am a silly fool," she said to Palpatine. "I was showing
Amidala a bracelet given to me by my mother and I forgot to
take it back when I left her. Would you mind if I just ran up
to retrieve it?" She smiled sweetly as she spoke.
"Don't bother yourself, my dear," said Palpatine. "I'll get one
of the servants to run up for you."
"Nonsense," said Adi briskly as she dismounted. "I'll do it in
half the time." She deftly slipped past Palpatine and
disappeared through one of the doors.
Qui-Gon circled around and caught her horse's reins. "Impetuous
as ever," he smiled apologetically at Palpatine who was plainly
thrown by Adi's actions. "Still, she'll only be a moment. Tell
me, what is that building over there?"
He deliberately pointed at one out of direct view, forcing
Palpatine to move away from the door.
"Ah, that's the Corn Exchange," said the merchant, who
proceeded to name other buildings at Qui-Gon's request.
A scream from the house, followed by the sound of running feet,
made him turn around. He was roughly pushed aside by Mace
pulling the spare horse into position as Amidala sprinted out
the door, followed closely by Adi, who in turn was pursued by a
stocky muscular man. The two women scrambled onto horses and
kicked their animals into a fast gallop out of the square,
followed a moment later by Mace and Obi-Wan.
The stocky man leapt at Qui-Gon, attempting to unseat him. The
horse shied, nearly tipping the fighting pair onto the ground
as they struggled, half in and half out of the saddle, both
trying to reach Qui-Gon's sheathed sword. A lucky blow knocked
the assailant into the dust of the square. As the nomad wheeled
and followed his companions in their dash from the town, he
caught a glimpse of a contorted face, near purple with fury,
and heard a hoarse curse follow his departure.
They rode hard, not slowing until the heaving sides of their
horses alerted them to the length of their race. Night was
falling and their progress south was soon indicated by the
stars, rather than the fading glow in the west.
Eventually they slowed their horses to a walk, realising that
their pace had outstripped any potential pursuers and that the
light made it difficult to ensure that there were safe
footholds for their animals. They grouped in closer together to
discuss their next move.
"They won't attack," said Adi confidently. "If we make it back
to the camp, we're safe. They can't risk making enemies of the
tribes. It would disrupt all their trade routes."
"But we have to get back," said Amidala. "If they find us out
here, we are in danger." Her voice shook.
"How are you, Amidala?" asked Mace gently.
"I'm fine," she sobbed. "I feel like an over-dressed doll, and
the first thing I want to do is wash my face, but I'm fine."
Mace and Adi rode in closer to her. "Do you want to ride with
one of us?" asked Adi.
Archive 