Star Wars || Shadows Rising

CHAPTER V

Qui-Gon could hardly believe his ears. A Jedi having a servant, someone to complete tasks he thought beneath him? The very idea bordered on ludicrous!

"Servant to me," he echoed in disbelief.

The girl – Nesah – nodded fervently, and once more he examined her tiny frame and odd little face that somehow managed to stay grave and stern even while bright with awe. He wondered what use he could possibly have for one so young to do his bidding – and what she possibly thought she could do for him.

What madness had overcome her? She owed him nothing for what he had done; in saving her he had not gone beyond what was expected of him. But while that was the essence of the Code he had sworn to uphold, the cultural differences between him and Nesah meant it was unlikely her mind worked in the same way.

It would be best to learn more about her side of things and what she had meant before those differences could lead to any frustration or confusion.

"I have no need for a servant. That is not my way," he said.

Nesah made a ritual gesture and shook her head fervently. "No, no, gods demand it! I am... I am in..." She frowned. "In debt of you. Till death, yes."

Qui-Gon bit back a sigh at her piety – evidently the bothersome source of all this – but forced calmness. "Then I hereby absolve you of that debt. Now go on, go back to your people. I have other matters to attend to, and I must not delay."

He turned and stalked off through the undergrowth without another word. He remembered the geophysical readings and other minutia extracorporeal vision had allowed him to study from the droids' screens while aboard the landing craft; he knew the contributions these details had made to course calculations for the march toward Iziz. When paired with his fairly good sense of direction, he would have no trouble getting back to the capital.

But whether he would arrive in time to help was another matter entirely.

Worry that Obi-Wan had not yet tried to make contact with him crept up on him suddenly once again. Upon their departure from the Jedi Temple, every Master and Padawan was given a set of comlinks interlinked by a single channel on a unique frequency. Signals such as these could rarely be interrupted unless an exceptionally powerful jamming frequency was at work, but still there was no activity from Obi-Wan's end of the comm channel to speak of.

Qui-Gon had seen no evidence of foul play thus far, and despite the risks they were taking, he had sensed no serious danger to the boy. There had to be another explanation. Perhaps his Padawan had run into some unforeseen delay and was unable to comm him until it was past. Or maybe his landing craft was taking a different route to Iziz and hadn't touched down yet, and any transmissions he tried to make off it ran the risk of being detected.

Either way, Qui-Gon had to find him.

"Master!" Nesah yelped suddenly and scrambled after him with surprising lightness and silence – the mark of one very used to the jungles, and leaving as little sign of her passing as possible. "Master, you're hurt!"

Qui-Gon ignored her. He had picked up on her desperate longing to adhere to tradition before, and this was no doubt another attempt to go about accomplishing that. He felt no physical discomfort, and he did not sense anything was amiss...

But then he swayed, and stumbled back against a tree. He frowned deeply as his head spun, and began searching for the cause. Before long, he remembered the spiky vine that had probably caught his leg hard enough to draw blood. But the cut itself couldn't have been large at all – Nesah must have a keen eye.

"Poison from astara vine," the girl explained, as though having heard his thoughts. "Master be in Anru'up within a... a suneri." She shut her eyes briefly before smiling triumphantly, though whether at having found a reason to make him stay or merely found the word to conclude her statement, he couldn't tell. "An hour. They be singing funeral chants in an hour, yes."