Qui-Gon thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose there is any chance of persuading you to leave Absolute headquarters right now.”
“None at all,” Tahl said.
“Then I accept the compromise. And may the Force be with us.”
His Master’s words seemed heartfelt, no mere matter of formal blessing. His worry lay over them like a heavy fog. Obi-Wan could tell that Tahl was annoyed by it. Without another word, she headed back toward Absolute headquarters. Qui-Gon turned to watch her until she was swallowed up by the dark.
CHAPTER 12
Qui-Gon found a guesthouse where they could spend the night. His Padawan fell deeply asleep, but he lay awake. He could not decipher what hung on his heart. He could not fathom why he felt so angry at Tahl. He had lost his calm judgment. He had never felt less like a Jedi.
His vision had disturbed him, yes. But he had thought this gnawing feeling would settle once he had found Tahl and embarked on a path to help her. It had not. What was he overlooking?
He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and turned on his side. There was a small window set high in the wall. Through it he could see one of New Apsolon’s three moons. Tonight it was full and brilliant, with a slight pinkish cast. Qui-Gon meditated on its beauty while he tried to empty his mind. He tried to eliminate thoughts of tomorrow and what it would bring, tried not to think of Tahl in the midst of those fanatical followers.
He turned again.
“Qui-Gon? Is everything all right?”
From the sleep-couch in the opposite corner, Obi-Wan’s sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts. He was disturbing his Padawan. And they needed rest.
“Nothing. Go to sleep.”
Qui-Gon willed his body to stillness and asked his mind to obey. His stubborn mind defied him, and sleep did not come. Instead, he stared at the moon.
If Obi-Wan noticed Qui-Gon’s haggard looks the next morning, he did not mention it. His Padawan silently took the responsibility for their morning meal, disappearing and bringing back tea, bread, and fruit.
Qui-Gon was as grateful for Obi-Wan’s silence as his consideration. They dressed, shouldered their packs, and set out for the address that Tahl had given them.
Manex, the brother of Roan, lived near the residence of the Supreme Governor. His home was vastly larger, built not of the gray stone they had come to know but of dazzling white and black stones arranged in patterns. The home was more like a palace, trumpeting its size and sheer audacity between its somber, stately neighbors.
“He certainly doesn’t mind advertising his wealth,” Qui-Gon remarked as he activated the chiming device to announce their entrance.
A protocol droid with a highly buffed, black metallic body answered the door. Qui-Gon announced their names and that they were Jedi. He saw no need for concealment now. Both the Absolutes and the Workers knew that Jedi were on New Apsolon. Tahl felt certain that her identity was secure. If they worked fast, they would not endanger her position.
Manex received them in a small room with walls, floor, and a ceiling of black stone. Thick green carpets were scattered on the gleaming floor, and the room was filled with overstuffed benches and seating areas, all upholstered in different shades of vivid green. Large pillows the color of new grass were thrown about on the floor. Thick emerald curtains hid the windows.
A tall, plump man was lying on one of those pillows, propped up on a long, low sleep-couch. He jumped up when they entered the room. His black, curly hair was cut short and covered his head like a cap. His eyes were blue and friendly.
“Welcome, Jedi. How nice of you to call. I’m delighted to see you.”
Qui-Gon bowed. He felt a bit overwhelmed by the room and the effusive greeting. He had not expected it. He’d imagined Manex to be a cool, ruthless businessman.
“I was just doing my morning meditation. I understand you do the same.” Manex’s eyes were merry. “I meditate on all the beautiful things I must have. No doubt my process is different from yours.”
“Yes,” Qui-Gon said.
Manex noted Obi-Wan’s fascination with the room. “Green is my favorite color. I can afford to indulge all my pleasures. Aren’t I lucky? Sit, sit!”
Qui-Gon took a seat on the companion sleep-couch across from the one where Manex now lolled. He sank down into the plush upholstery. Obi-Wan sat next to him, trying to keep his spine straight. It was difficult on such a luxurious piece of furniture.
Manex gestured to a gold tray with sweets arrayed on it. “I have the best pastry chef on New Apsolon. Try one.” He popped a fruit tart in his mouth.
Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan eye the beautiful sweets hungrily, but his Padawan did not take one.
“What can I do for you?” Manex asked, dusting crumbs off his gold robe.