The Mark of the Crown(11)
Whistling through his teeth, Mali first took some crumbs from the cakes and inserted them into a scan grid.
“Cake” he pronounced after a moment, reading the data. “Sweetener, rnuja, meal, coagulate…”
“Nothing else?” Obi-Wan asked.
Mali licked the residue off his fingers. “It’s delicious.” He popped the rest into his mouth.
Obi-Wan sighed. “Try the liquid.”
Mali poured a drop from the vial into a scan grid. Seconds later, the grid flashed a graph with numbers and symbols.
“Ah,” Mali murmured, straightening. “Fascinating.”
“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning forward.
“Tea,” Mali said.
“And?” Obi-Wan prompted.
“Waten” Mali answered.
“And?” Obi-Wan asked.
Mali squinted at him. “Young impatient man, you must tell me what I am looking for. There are herbal compounds here, some acids, some tannins. But nothing I can tell is out of the ordinary. Unless you tell me what out of the ordinary event you are suspecting.”
“Poison,” Obi-Wan said reluctantly..
“Well, there you are! Always better to say what you want at the outset. Otherwise, we waste time. No poison in the cake. A good thing, eh? I ate it!” Humming, Mali stared at the graph again. He pressed a few keys on the analyzer. Another graph appeared, then a stream of numbers and symbols.
“Well?” Obi-Wan asked.
“Interesting,” Mali said. “There
is
one
substance
that’s
not identifiable.”
“Is that unusual?” Obi-Wan asked.
He shrugged. “Yes, but not too. It’s just a matter of searching other data fields for chemical compounds with the same structure. But that takes time.”
“I don’t have time,” Obi-Wan said grimly.
Mali looked at the vial. He let out a whistle through his teeth.
“Ah. I see your point. I still have to search, impatient young man. But for another credit, I will search fast.”
Obi-Wan handed him the credit. He started for the door, then turned. “Can’t you tell me if it could be poison?” he asked. “Just your educated guess.”
“It’s possible,” Mali admitted. “I can tell you this, young man. Whatever it is, it doesn’t belong in tea.” Before finding Jono, Obi-Wan found a secluded back alley to use his comlink to contact Qui-Gon. He didn’t want to risk using the comlink in public. And he felt safer contacting Qui-Gon outside of the palace walls.
He waited for long minutes. But Qui-Gon did not respond. He was out of reach.
Obi-Wan was on his own.
He trudged back to the community center. Jono was sitting on top of the wall that circled the plaza. His eyes were closed, his face tilted to catch the warming rays of the sun. The sun shines for such a short time during the Galacian day that Galacians take any opportunity to sunbathe.
“Sorry to take so long,” Obi-Wan told Jono. “There were a few problems. Nothing major.”
Jono jumped down from his perch. “I knew you would return. It’s all right. I am used to waiting. I have waited for a friend for a long time, Obi-Wan.”
***
The Queen had not exaggerated the difficult journey to find the hill people. At first, the roads had been clearly marked. Qui-Gon had found a ride in a speeder to the outskirts of the city. A kind farmer had taken him far on a turbo cart, a young teenager on his speeder bike. But as the roads grew worse and the landscape more desolate, there were no more rides to be had.
The hills rose before him on the third day. They were rugged and steep, climbing through dense forests. Occasionally he would come to a clearing and be met with the eerie sight of a group of large standing stones. The harsh beauty of the land grew as he traveled higher. The short days ended in sunsets thatJturned the sky to blazing colors. Then the three moons rose, casting a silvery glow over the pate rocks and twisted trees.
His comlink no longer worked. Qui-Gon hoped that Obi-Wan would not get into trouble back at the palace. He was anxious to find Elan, anxious to get back to Galu.
He reached the summit of the first range of hills. Snow dotted the peaks. The only way through was a series of narrow passes. Qui-Gon felt exposed and vulnerable as he hiked through the narrow gorge.
As he traveled, the sky darkened. The temperature dropped, and he unpacked his thermal cape from his survival pack. He could smell snow in the air. A storm was heading this way. He would have to find shelter soon.
Perhaps it was because his eyes were constantly moving, searching for shelter. Perhaps it was because the eerie silence pressed on him, the dark sky like a lowering curtain. Because Qui-Gon might not have caught the flicker of movement to his left if every sense hadn’t been on alert. It could have been no more than a shadow flickering on a rock, or the stir of a leaf. But the movement had caught his eye and prepared him just a few quick seconds before the attack came.