Riding the Wheel of If

Episode Fourteen

 

 

Dawn on Corsant.

 

Humming happily to himself, Quigon Jinn puttered around his tower room, watering his plants. Alone, as usual, the tall man with collar-length, silver-shot hair was dressed in a comfortable, patched dressing gown. Once, that gown had been a rich, dark blue, but now, after years of washing, it was a light sky blue. The large room he was in was much like the robe he wore, comfortable and worn, not exactly dirty but cluttered with strange objects, both mechanical and biological. Had Quigon realized he was happy being by himself, it would not have surprised him very much. He considered himself something of a hermit and eccentric, and preferred the company of his plants and the castle's cats and dogs to people.

 

It was a lovely day, and his bird feeders were all full of beautiful, multi-colored birds chattering amongst themselves. The sun shone through the windows, making the dust motes dance over his books and sparkling off the faceted crystal ball in the stand near the center of the octagonal room. Still humming, he finished the last of the watering, then spent some time pinching off dead leaves and murmuring gently to the ficus tree that grew in the big pot by the southern window.

 

A strange noise outside made him turn towards that window. The sound intensified, driving the birds from the feeder in a sudden flurry of wings. It seemed to be a voice, wailing or screaming, getting louder and louder until it ended with a sudden "OOOoomph!" as a body hit the coarse net he had strung out from the low turret. Astonished, he draped himself out of the window to examine his net and found he had caught himself a person.

 

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. The body, whoever it was, showed no inclination for movement after a moment, so Quigon cleared his throat and called out. "Hello? Are you all right there?"

 

Shaking its hooded head, the person stirred finally, reassuring Quigon that it was alive at least. Gingerly, it pushed itself up and began looking around. "Over here," Quigon called, "it's the only way in. Carefully now... this net is strong but it will tip you if you're not cautious. Where DID you come from?"

 

As the person crawled carefully towards the window, the hood fell back and Quigon blinked. It was a lovely young man he had somehow caught, a young man dressed in a brown, hooded robe and cream tunics and trousers, evidently carrying a backpack of some kind, judging from the bulge under the back of the robe. As the young man made it to the window, he helped him inside and steadied him, staring at him curiously.

 

Not tall, he was nevertheless quite handsome, with tawny hair and blue-green-gray eyes. For some reason, he reminded Quigon of someone, but he couldn't think who. Removing his steadying hand, Quigon frowned at him. "My gracious," he said. "I can't think how you came to be caught in my net! You don't show any evidence of a flying contraption. Just who are you, young man?"

 

Smiling a little, the young man spoke, his voice beautifully accented. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm sorry to have... ah, dropped in on you like that. Your residence is evidently set a bit lower than the Temple."

 

"The what?" Quigon asked. "The Temple? There's no temple around here. My castle is the only habitation for a mile." Abruptly remembering his manners, he stuck out his hand. "Oh, I'm Quigon Jinn."

 

"It's a rather long story," Obi-Wan said wryly, shaking his hand, "it involves traveling amongst the dimensions or realities. The last place I left - the Jedi Temple - was at quite a bit higher elevation." He looked, bemused, out the window. "This must be what primordial Coruscant was like before it was covered with buildings."

 

Intrigued, Quigon invited the young man to sit. "This sounds fascinating, Mr. Kenobi, please sit and tell me more."

 

"Call me Obi-Wan," was his reply, as the young man removed his cloak and backpack, placing them on the floor as he sat on a chair.

 

"Well then, Obi-Wan," Quigon pronounced the strange name with care, "I'm Quigon. Now, please, tell me how it is you happened to fall from a clear sky into my net."

 

Quigon listened carefully as the young man began to speak, his beautiful voice hypnotic. The tale was strange indeed, filled with wonderful things like a Corsant covered with buildings and its sky filled with machines, traveling between worlds with hyperdrives on spaceships, and Jedi Knights fighting with laser swords. At one point, Obi-Wan pulled out his 'saber - the working one - and thumbed it on. The humming blue-white blade quite astonished Quigon, and Obi-Wan had to stop him from touching it.

 

"It would take your hand off," he said wryly, killing the power and replacing it on his belt.

 

"But... you said you would disappear," Quigon said, puzzled.

 

"Oh, that's not the 'saber. I keep that one clipped to my back, so that I don't accidentally trigger it." He twisted a bit to show the other hilt attached to the back of his belt.

 

"Fascinating," Quigon murmured. "It sounds quite madly fantastic, and if it weren't for the fact that I saw you fall myself, not to mention that sword made of light, I would think you quite insane."

 

"Well, there are times..." Obi-Wan said, his mouth in a wry grin. "It's been a very strange trip, and sometimes I wonder whether the Force truly has a purpose to controlling me."

 

"The Force," Quigon murmured. "What exactly are you talking about here?"

 

"It's the unseen energy," Obi-Wan said slowly, groping for words. "That which binds us all, everything in the universe, together. I serve the Light, the greater good, but the Force itself is neither dark nor light, and can be used for evil by those who are dark. The Force helps me do things, like build my 'saber, like influencing those with lesser intellects, or understanding things that are beyond my ken."

 

"Then this... Force... is like magic?" Quigon asked, intrigued.

 

Shrugging, Obi-Wan said, "Any sufficiently misunderstood science can be called magic. My Master and I have been accused of using magic on less... civilized worlds."

 

"Like Corsant," Quigon guessed, smiling. "This Master of yours, you've referred to him several times. Where is he?"

 

The young man's smile dimmed. "He's... he's dead. He died a few months ago in an accident. I think that's what put me on this road. I hope to find a reality where he still lives and we can be together."

 

"I'm sorry," Quigon said softly. The sadness emanating from the young man was palpable. "What is - was - his name? Perhaps he lives here as well."

 

Smiling a bit sadly, Obi-Wan turned his head away from Quigon, staring out the window at the bird feeders and their noisy occupants. After a long moment of silence, he replied quietly, "Oh, you wouldn't know him. I'm pretty confident he doesn't exist... here."

________________________________________

 

 

Quigon spent the morning talking with the stranger who had fallen from his sky, happily absorbing unbelievable information and showing the young man his inventions. It wasn't long before they were fast friends, which rather astonished Quigon; a loner, he had never been one for quick friendships. But with Obi-Wan, he felt somehow connected, comfortable.

 

When Obi-Wan asked why there was a net hanging from the tower, Quigon blushed and showed him the flying contraption he had invented. "It doesn't work perfectly yet, and so I have to be careful to test it only over the net." Obi-Wan had laughed - he had a truly beautiful laugh, Quigon noticed - but had examined the device thoroughly.

 

Before long, rumbling in his stomach reminded him he had not broken his fast. Abashed, Quigon invited the young man to the kitchen for breakfast. "I'm forgetting my manners. I don't get many visitors here, you see, I guess I'm something of a hermit. The folk in the village think of me as some kind of wizard." He snorted as they descended the stairs from the tower room. "Superstitious peasants. My parents were Dominars over this fiefdom, before the revolution anyway. Now that there is no King anymore, the people pretty much rule themselves and of course anarchy is the game of the day. Lucky for them there are no bandits to speak of in this area, because I simply am too old to even try to defend them. And I'm talking too much."

 

Obi-Wan grinned at that, as they walked through the large manor house. "Not at all, Quigon. You've already said you don't get many visitors."

 

"Well, no, I don't," he replied, grinning in turn. "My house is not a castle, although it is referred to as such... It's not. I've seen real castles. My moat consists of a reedy pond and the only monster therein is a rather vicious catfish. And I have no servants any more, well, aside from Silla. She comes in from the village every other day to see to my needs and bring me food and such. Not much for talking, actually. Here, this is the kitchen. I suppose were I still Dominar I'd be eating in the grand dining room, but it seems rather silly to me. And anyway, Graymane the cat has staked out that territory."

 

The kitchen, like the rest of the manor, was stone-walled and comfortable. A large gas stove and wood burning fireplace dominated the room, and there were other amenities, including a cold-box. Quigon pulled bread, cheese, cold meats and juices from the unit, setting them before Obi-Wan. "I have a generator in the basement for some limited electricity; I reserve it for the most important things, like the cold-box. Twice a year a man from Corsantium comes out with fuel to sell me... some day I suppose I'll run out of money and have to do without. But not for a while yet."

 

The two men set to eating heartily, still chatting. Quigon found it very easy to talk to the young man, and didn't even feel embarrassed about discussing his wildest ideas. After an hour or so, a noise at the postern door made them turn to see a lovely young woman dressed in homespun and carrying a large pack enter. Obi-Wan's eyes widened when he saw her.

 

Her hair was long and red-gold, done in a braid down her back and covered with a blue kerchief. Large, blue-gray-green eyes were set in an oval, flawless face; she was shorter than Obi-Wan but well proportioned and gently curvy under the clean, worn dress she had on.

 

"Silla! There you are. Here, let me help you with that." Quigon stood and took the pack, setting it on the table. Then he did a classic double take between the two young people and struck his forehead with his hand. "Of course! That's why you look familiar, Obi-Wan! You look just like Silla. And... wait. Your last name, it's Kenobi? You two must be related! Silla, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He, uh, 'dropped in' on me this morning."

 

The young woman dropped a quick curtsy and murmured "Pleased, I'm sure," while reddening prettily. Her eyes were focused on the pack she was opening with nimble fingers, removing foodstuffs and clean linens.

 

Quigon frowned as he watched her, then reached out to gently stop her movements. One of his large hands swept back the loose sleeve of her dress to expose a large, nasty bruise on her upper arm. Silla winced and reddened further at his scrutiny. "Oh, Silla," Quigon said, examining the bruise gently. "Not your father again?"

 

Gulping, she nodded. Obi-Wan stood and moved around the table to also look at the mark. "Here," he murmured. "Let me help." Calling the Force to him, he stroked the bruise with his hand, willing the damaged blood vessels to heal and soothing the traumatized muscles. Shortly, the bruise was gone and both Quigon and Silla looked at him in amazement. "Is that better?" he asked.

 

"You, you're a magician?" Silla breathed.

 

Quigon's eyes were intent on the now-pristine flesh of Silla's upper arm. "THIS is what you were referring to, isn't it. Your 'Force.' Right?"

 

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered, then looked at Silla. "No, I'm not a magician. What I just did you could do too, if you learned how."

 

Abruptly she shot a look of consternation to Quigon and ducked her head again. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that," she mumbled. Quigon frowned at her.

 

"Silla. How long are you going to let that... that... barbarian do this to you? Please won't you come here to live. This old house is more than big enough for us."

 

"Oh, sir, I couldn't. Please. I've got to take this laundry upstairs. 'Scuse me, please, sirs." Hastily, the mortified young woman left the kitchen.

 

Sitting down with a thunk, his face a study, Quigon said, "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Obi-Wan. But I'm glad you were able to help her. That poor child..."

 

"She doesn't look very much like a child to me, Quigon," Obi-Wan said gently.

 

Frowning, Quigon turned to Obi-Wan. "No, I guess not. She's been taking care of me for years now. I caught her hanging around the garden long ago, when she was about ten. Turned out she could read, and spent a long time raiding my library." He chuckled. "I'm sure she doesn't understand a tenth of what she reads, but she's enthusiastic about it."

 

"I'd wager she understands more than you give her credit for," Obi-Wan laughed.

 

"You think? Well, perhaps. How do you suppose she's got your last name? Kenobi is fairly uncommon... could she be your sister in this reality?"

 

"I suppose it's possible," Obi-Wan said guilelessly. "So her father mistreats her?"

 

"He's a drunken lout," Quigon said heatedly. "I've had words with him on more than one occasion. I live in fear... she takes such good care of me. I wish she'd move here, there's servants' quarters that are quite extensive and comfortable. I don't know why..."

 

They sat in silence for a moment, Quigon's expression thunderous and Obi-Wan 's intrigued. Finally, Quigon pushed himself away from the table. "I've got to go take care of the animals. I've got rabbits and dogs, a couple of goats and an elderly horse...my peer!... out back, and of course all the cats..."

 

"You keep saying cats, but I've yet to see any," Obi-Wan commented dryly. "Are they hiding from me?"

 

"Probably," Quigon laughed. Lord Graymane rules them with an iron fist... I mean, paw. Once he figures out you're okay, he'll let them come inspect you. The dogs are mostly outside in the kennel, but I let them in when the weather's bad. Care to come along?"

 

"Um... actually, I'd love to get a peek at your library, if you don't mind," Obi-Wan demurred.

 

Beaming, Quigon said, "Of course! Just up the big staircase. First door on the right. You can't miss it. The books in my workroom are just those I can't live without, the library is where the real stuff is."

________________________________________

 

 

Finishing her upstairs chores, Silla walked into the library as usual, but was startled to find the young man from the kitchen already there. Turning, she started to leave, but his voice stopped her. "Please stay, I didn't mean to startle you." He had a perfectly gorgeous voice, she thought, fingering the spot on her arm that still tingled from his miraculous healing.

 

Reluctantly, she turned back and stepped into the room shyly. Dropping a curtsy, she said softly, "Sorry, Sir, I didn't see you."

 

"Oh that's all right," he replied soothingly. "And my name's Obi-Wan. After all, we're kin, right?"

 

Curiosity winning out over her natural shyness, Silla said, "That's what his Lordship said. Are you really a Kenobi? I don't have any brothers..."

 

"Yes, I'm really a Kenobi," he said, selecting a book and paging through it randomly, not looking at her. That made her feel a little better, somehow, so she took another step into the room. "And I don't have any sisters. But that doesn't really mean anything, since I'm from... uh... quite a long ways away."

 

"Oh," Silla said, not really knowing what to say to that. "Then... then will you be visiting with his Lordship for a while?" she finally managed to get out.

 

"For a day or so, I think," was his reply. Taking the book he was holding to a chair, he sat down. "He's got quite an impressive library, doesn't he?"

 

"Oh, yes," Silla enthused, stepping even further into the room. "I've read a lot of them, but there are still so many... I could just live here. I mean..." she blushed.

 

"Well, I understand that," Obi-Wan said blandly, still not looking directly at her. "I love books too. Nothing like curling up with a good book, especially on a dismal day. I don't suppose you can take any of them home to read, though."

 

"Well, I did once," she said sadly. "Da burned it. I was so embarrassed, but his Lordship was very nice about it." She looked longingly at the books. "It would be nice to read before bed, but Da says women don't need to know things. So I can only do it here."

 

"Ah." Turning the page, Obi-Wan said softly, "Then why don't you move into the manor with Quigon? I heard him ask you, and he's obviously asked you before."

 

"Oh.." she ran one finger down the spines of the books she had come to think of as 'her friends' while she tried to answer that patient, gentle question. "It's... well, I just... it's complicated."

 

"You're unmarried, and he lives here alone," Obi-Wan murmured. "The gossip would be ferocious and your reputation ruined, undoubtedly. Your father is probably upset that you won't marry as it is, but you have a good reason for that, don't you," he finished, and Silla found her eyes filling with tears for some reason. It was almost as if the young man could read her thoughts.

 

Choking back sobs, she bowed her head. Suddenly a warm hand was on her shoulder, turning her. "I'm sorry, Silla," he said huskily. "I didn't mean to upset you."

 

Surprising herself, Silla wrapped her arms around this kind stranger and let her tears out. He simply held her loosely and patted her back, making soothing noises until the storm passed. Sniffling, she finally stepped back and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. "I-I'm sorry," she gasped.

 

"It's quite all right," Obi-Wan smiled gently at her. "You love him, don't you."

 

One hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in dismay. "Oh, no... how...?"

 

Hedging, he said slowly, "Well, um... I'm sure he doesn't know, but I can... well..."

 

"You ARE a magician, aren't you?" she asked breathlessly.

 

"If it makes you feel better to think so, then yes," he answered, grimacing. "But that's really a very inaccurate term for me. I'm a Jedi Knight."

 

"A... a Knight? Like in the old days, that rode chargers and fought in wars?" she asked, puzzled.

 

"Not exactly. But close. Silla, I really think you should move in here, and not worry about what the village says. He cares for you. And wouldn't it be better to be settled here than to be separated from him by force for some reason?"

 

Dropping her eyes, she sighed. "I-I just don't think I should. It, well, it wouldn't be right. Especially..."

 

"Especially given how you think of him?"

 

Mute, she nodded.

 

"I understand. I really do. But I still disagree." Sitting back down, he waved to a nearby chair, inviting her to join him. Taking one more swipe at her eyes, she did. "How long have you been working for him?"

 

"Oh, many years now. Since I was about sixteen. I helped out before then..." Her voice drifted off as she looked around the room again. "I was ten. The boys in the village had been chasing me... I was out berry-picking. I ran... I' m a very fast runner... and wound up here. None of them would chase me further; his Lordship is famous for keeping vicious dogs." She smiled at him. "I know better now, of course. They're all loves. But at the time, I didn't know that.

 

"I hid in the apple orchard, and one of his dogs, Barabas, chased me until I climbed one of the trees. All he wanted was a pat, dear thing, but I didn't know that. His Lordship came and rescued me." Her eyes dreamy, she reminisced. "He was so tall, so handsome and distinguished. His voice is so beautiful and his eyes... He lifted me down from the tree and showed me that Barabas was really just a big puppy then we both laughed as the dog just licked me half to death. When he found out I could read some, he showed me some of his books and invited me to come back any time.

 

"Mother left Da when I was very young, and I've never fit in, in the village, not really. I've always felt... I don't know, different, somehow. And then his Lordship invited me to come to his castle any time to read his wonderful books, and he seemed so sad when he said it... I just wanted to make him happy. The day he caught me trying to read something that was a little hard for me, he sat down and showed me how to read better. Then he showed me how to make letters, and do sums. As I got older, I started doing little things for him, like cleaning the kitchen for him, and baking bread, trying to make up for all the things he had done for me.

 

"Finally, one day he just showed up at home and made a deal with Da. I would come out every other day, clean the castle, cook for him and such, and he would pay Da. Of course Da agreed, it keeps him in liquor." Silla looked down at her hands as she said that last. Her voice was bitter. "But it means I can spend as much time as I want, almost, here and have a good reason for it." Looking up again, she smiled at Obi-Wan. "He's the best ma n I have ever met. So good, so kind. It makes me happy to see him well-cared-for."

 

Studying her for a moment in silence, Obi-Wan's face wore an inscrutable expression. Finally, in a neutral voice, he said, "But how long can this continue, Silla? What did you and your father argue about last night?"

 

Flushing, she looked back down at her hands. "He-he wants me to marry. The blacksmith is a widower and wants a wife to look after his brats." She looked back up, her eyes bleak. "I'd sooner die."

 

Obi-Wan had no answer for that, merely continued to study her, silent.

 

After that, they spent a pleasant hour in the library discussing books instead of relationships, until they were interrupted by a large, supercilious gray cat who came marching into the room as if he owned it. Silla smiled and said, quite seriously, "Good day, your majesty," to the cat, holding out one hand. Pausing only briefly to rub gently against her fingers, the cat moved to sit on his haunches directly in front of Obi-Wan. In the doorway hovered at least four other feline faces, giving Obi-Wan the distinct impression he was on trial.

 

"Don't move, Obi-Wan," Silla stage-whispered to him, grinning. "His regal majesty Lord Graymane is inspecting you."

 

"What happens if I don't pass?" Obi-Wan whispered back.

 

She shuddered theatrically. "Oh, let's not go there," she said, chuckling.

 

Silla watched as Obi-Wan gently extended his fingers to the large cat. A smile hovered about his eyes, but his expression was perfectly serious as he addressed the animal. "Greetings, your majesty," he said, leaving his fingers where they were. "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I'd love to be considered your friend."

 

The only thing that moved on the cat was the tip of the tail as he examined the young Knight. Finally, the head moved almost infinitesimally and Obi-Wan found himself being rubbed. As if that were the signal, suddenly the room was filled with five or six or more cats; it was hard to tell since so many of them were gray.

 

"I think I passed," Obi-Wan said to Silla, who chuckled.

 

"Yes, you did. Sweet Graymane, he was my first friend when I began coming here. He seems so mean, but he's really just a big baby." The big tomcat glared at the girl over his shoulder and stalked out of the room, tail high. "Oops, I think I gave away a secret," she laughed.

 

The two young people petted cats for a while, until the deep voice of the huge old clock in the main hall sounded. Silla looked up quickly. "Gracious, it's that late? I have to get dinner on for his Lordship. And for you too," she amended shyly, smiling at Obi-Wan.

 

"Thank you Silla, but you needn't..." he began.

 

"Oh, it's what I do. I come to cook three days a week, and make sure there' s enough left over for him the rest of the time. Now let me hurry, Cuddles," she said to the cat on her lap. Before she left the room, she turned to Obi-Wan. "Thank you," she said softly, blushing again.

 

"You're most welcome, Silla," he replied. "Can you tell me, where would Quigon be?"

 

"Oh! Come with me. He'll be out back in the postern yard."

________________________________________

________________________________________

 

 

Out the back door from the kitchen was a large, enclosed and shady courtyard, partially cobbled. A stable was at the far end with dog kennels and a rabbit hutch attached, and a small kitchen garden was fenced off in a more open, and therefore mostly sunny, corner. A large pinoak shaded a well near the middle.

 

Quigon was sitting under the tree, two dogs draped over him, three cats looking down on him from the branches and a big, elderly chestnut gelding snuffling in his silver-brown hair. When he saw Obi-Wan, he called out and waved to the young man, but did not get up. Strolling over, Obi-Wan ended up on the grass near Quigon's feet, and was promptly claimed by a greyhound.

 

"This is my peer," Quigon said, reaching a hand up to rub the silvery-red nose still nuzzling his hair. "Postlethwait Redsun Windswift, but we just call him Sam. Sam, say hello to Obi-Wan."

 

The big horse looked up briefly and snorted, then took a couple of calm steps away and began grazing. "Sam was my companion when I was your age," Quigon said fondly. "We had some pretty wild adventures. But he always managed to see me through."

 

Obi-Wan chuckled, then leaned his head back, rested his weight on his elbows and looked at the sun, shining through clouds and leaves. "It's lovely here, Quigon," he said softly. "You have an excellent life for yourself."

 

"Well, I like to think so," Quigon replied modestly. "I suppose it gets a bit lonely sometimes, but for the most part..." he shrugged, rubbing at the ears of the brindle hound whose head was in his lap. "What company I do have is most excellent."

 

"I would think a house like this should have children... a family."

 

Not willing to meet the younger man's eyes, Quigon said, "Well, you would, I guess. I was an only child, and my parents died in the purge after the revolution. I always expected someday I'd marry, settle down, raise a family, continue the line and all that... somehow, it just never happened." He looked at the sky himself, leaning his head back against the tree. "Never met the right person, I guess."

 

"And yet, there's a lovely young woman in your kitchen right now," Obi-Wan murmured, his eyes closing in the dappled sunlight.

 

"Silla? Wh.. but... but she's just a girl," Quigon said, reddening. "I really don't think..."

 

"How long have you known her?" Obi-Wan interrupted him softly, keeping his eyes closed.

 

Quigon puffed out his cheeks as he sighed gustily. "Oh, my. I don't even know. Ten years? Twelve? She was a bit of a thing when I first met her, treed in the orchard. Barabas... bless his heart, he died just a few years ago... Barabas had treed her and was baying to me so excitedly you would have thought he had treed a dragon. But it wasn't, it was just a little freckle-faced redhead, shaking in fear over old Barabas the coward.

 

"I helped her down and got her used to the dogs and found out she could actually read. What a shock! There used to be a government-run school in the village but it closed down after the revolution and now only a very few can actually read anymore... a pity. But she has such a quick and keen mind. I helped her select harder and harder books and watched her blossom in intelligence. Teaching her has always been a joy, it's just a shame she has nowhere to use it." Quigon's eyes grew misty as he remembered his past with Silla.

 

"As she got older, she started doing little things for me. I'd come down in the morning to find a fresh loaf of bread waiting for me, or a pile of clean linens. One rainy day she just showed up and proceeded to clean the entire kitchen... I don't think it had been properly scrubbed in maybe six years, but she made it sparkle. And then one day, she appeared with a fat lip and a black eye, and I knew I had to do something." Quigon's voice was angry and one hand curled into a fist.

 

"That idiot father of hers. He got drunk and hit her for 'not taking care of him better.' At first, she wouldn't tell me what had happened, then finally began to cry and the whole story spilled out. I fixed her up as best I could, and the next day, while I knew she was reading in the library, I rode into town and just raised holy hell with that idiot." Bitter satisfaction now shone from Quigon's eyes. "I told him if I ever found out he raised his hand to her again I'd beat him to a bloody pulp. Then I told him I was hiring her as a part-time maid, every other day, and if he didn't like it, he could go eat it. Oh, he liked my money well enough, so he had no objections. And she's been here, taking such wonderful care of me, ever since."

 

"And so you think she does it solely for the money then?" Obi-Wan asked, his head still tilted back.

 

"Well, no," Quigon said slowly, frowning. "But why else would such a lovely child want to spend all her time inside, cleaning for and taking care of an old man?"

 

"Not a child," Obi-Wan said, still softly. "A woman. A woman who cares deeply for you, you know."

 

Quigon gaped at the young man sitting across from him. Silla? Cared for him? "Th-that's not...How...?" Beautiful, intelligent Silla cared for him?

 

Slowly Obi-Wan's head came back down and serious gray-green eyes bored into him. "You're going to have to trust me on this, Quigon," he said. "But that young woman thinks the world of you, and that's primary reason why she won't come to live here with you."

 

With an effort, Quigon closed his mouth and stared, appalled and abashed, at Obi-Wan. "I-I never..."

 

"She's well beyond the age for marriage in her village, and yet she remains unmarried. Why? It's not because she loves her father, I'll wager. He's been pushing her to marry a widower who is probably your age if not older. And it's not because she has no suitors." Obi-Wan's eyes continued to stare right through Quigon. "Perhaps it's because she's already given her heart to someone else. What do you think?"

 

"H-how do you... I-I don't know what to say. I need to think." Abruptly, Quigon rose, displacing the hound in his lap and almost ran into the house, through the first available door, which happened to lead to the kitchen.

 

Silla was standing at the stove, tending a bubbling pot. The delicious aroma of fresh bread came from the oven, and the herbs she was adding to whatever was in the pot smelled mouthwatering. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her graceful movements and listening to her hum tunelessly as she cooked. // She takes such good care of me, // Quigon thought to himself, his emotions careering all over the place.

 

Something must have alerted her to his presence, for she abruptly turned. They both froze, staring at each other across the expanse of the kitchen floor, which seemed to suddenly encompass acres. He was certain his face was as red as hers... and he couldn't tell if hers was red from embarrassment or the heat of the stove. Wisps of her hair had pulled away from her braid and were escaping the kerchief to curl around her face. She had never looked lovelier.

 

The tableau was suddenly broken by the appearance of Lord Graymane, who stalked into the room, briefly rubbed up against Quigon's pants, then sat down in the middle of the kitchen and looked between the two of them, rather smugly. Quigon swallowed heavily, then made his escape quickly.

 

Turning back to the stove, Silla stirred the pot absently, not noticing Graymane rubbing against her feet. // I hope Master Jinn is all right, // she thought. // His face looked so strange.// Master Jinn, Quigon she called him in the depths of her heart, was such a good man, a kind and gentle man, easily given to hurt although he tried to hide it. What Master Obi-Wan had gotten her to confess in the library scared her, for she knew exactly how much she loved Quigon and exactly how impossible such a love could be.

 

But... Obi-Wan didn't seem to think it was such a stretch for a little no-account village girl like her to love a great Lord of a manor. He seemed to think that perhaps her... fondness... was returned. Could that be?

 

Abruptly she came back to herself, noticing she was about to salt the stew again, which would not have made it very palatable. Turning her attention back to her cooking, she never noticed the young man who stood in the doorway, smiling at her gently.

________________________________________

 

 

By the time the savory stew and hot bread were ready, the clouds had amassed and were threatening a storm. Silla stood in the doorway and nervously rubbed her hands in her apron as she watched the blue-black sky. "I should have left a half hour ago," she muttered.

 

Quigon appeared at her side, also assessing the clouds. "That's going to break shortly. Can dinner wait, Silla? I need to close up the stable and reel in the net... and, oh, my, the windows are open upstairs..."

 

"I'll help, Quigon," Obi-Wan said from the kitchen behind the pair. "Just tell me what to do."

 

"I will as well, Sir," Silla said shyly.

 

Smiling in relief, Quigon squeezed Silla's shoulder, not noticing the flush of pleasure his touch brought her. "If you two could get upstairs and close the windows, I'll take care of the animals and the net. Thank you."

 

Letting Silla lead, Obi-Wan followed her through the warren of corridors, closing windows and fastening shutters. They finished in the tower room, and could see Quigon just finishing reeling in the net as the storm broke, all sound and fury.

 

"Oh! He's going to be soaked..." Silla gasped. "We need to get some towels and his robe."

 

Meeting the older man back in the kitchen, they all laughed at the bedraggled appearance he presented. He took the towels from Silla gratefully, then started to walk, dripping, across the kitchen floor.

 

"Stop!" Silla cried, surprising herself. "Don't track mud on my clean kitchen floor!"

 

Abashed, Quigon struggled to remove his soaked boots, spraying water from his hair as he did so. "I'm sorry, Silla," he said, conciliatory. "I didn' t mean to..."

 

But Silla's hand was to her mouth and her eyes were huge. "Oh, gracious," she muttered, beet red, then turned and dashed out of the room.

 

Quigon looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. "What was that all about?" he asked.

 

Grinning, Obi-Wan helped Quigon with his boots. "Haven't a clue. Women.. you know."

 

"Silla's not like that!" Quigon said, adamant. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm NOT going to mess up her kitchen floor," Quigon said, setting his boots aside. "But I am going to change for dinner. I'll only be a few minutes and I'm starved."

________________________________________

 

 

By the time Quigon was dry, a very quiet Silla had returned. She seemed confused as the men sat at the large plank-wood kitchen table, and asked meekly, "Ah, don't you want to eat in the dining room, Sirs?"

 

"What in heaven's name for, Silla?" Quigon asked reasonably. "It's much more comfortable here, and anyway, His Lordship would peel me with his claws if I disturbed his domain."

 

Clearly uncomfortable, Silla set two plates out with condiments and drinks. "Where's your place, Silla?" Obi-Wan asked softly.

 

"Oh... I couldn't..." she began, blushing again.

 

"Oh, you could, and you will," Quigon said firmly, rising and setting her place himself. "The storm looks to be a wild one, and I'll not have you starve while you're here. Actually..." a peal of thunder that rocked the house drowned him out for a moment and he grinned, sitting back down. "Actually, I think you're going to end up staying here tonight. I don't think it's fit out there for man nor beast."

 

"I couldn't, I promised Da," she said, her eyes wide.

 

"Silla," Quigon said gently, taking her hand in his. Quigon felt very peculiar as he looked up earnestly into her young eyes from his seated position. "Silla. I would never forgive myself if I let you go out into this storm and something happened. I'm sure your father would agree. You' ll have to stay here tonight. It's not as if I don't have adequate guest rooms..." he finished wryly.

 

Clearly unconvinced, Silla nodded and swallowed. Gently, reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his and set their dinner before them; a savory stew with fresh hot bread bathed in churn butter, cheese, salad greens, ale and cold water. The cats drifted in as they ate, shamelessly begging for scraps that were few and far between. Silla noted with pleasure that both men had two helpings.

 

"That was spectacular, Silla," Obi-Wan said, finally pushing his plate away through sheer force of will. Quigon echoed him, mopping up gravy with the last of the bread.

 

"My Silla is a wonderful cook, isn't she," Quigon murmured, staring at the young woman fondly.

 

Swallowing, Silla looked back at him, surprised to once again find her small hand engulfed in his large one. Quigon reflected that he had never noticed how beautiful her eyes were, such a lovely shade of blue-gray-green, ever changing with her mood, and at the moment, wide with wonder. She nibbled on her lower lip with her teeth, an endearing gesture that made him smile.

 

She smiled back, tentatively. "Thank you, Sir," she whispered. "I'd... I'll always give you the best that I can," she continued, still lost in the joy of his eyes. How handsome he was, she thought, and wise, and so kind...

 

Another peal of thunder made all three jump. Quigon abruptly came back to himself and looked across the table at his guest, who had an insufferably smug expression on his face for an instant. It was quickly replaced with bland interest. "Let me help with the clean up," Obi-Wan said, and when Silla protested, he waved her off. "No, no. I'm a Jedi, you see. We have a Code we follow. And one of the tenets of the Code is, whoever cooks does not do the dishes. You just sit still and let me."

 

"And me," Quigon said, reluctantly releasing the tiny hand he still held. "I promise, I won't drop any dishes or dirty up your kitchen," he laughed, standing.

 

"Oh, Sir, it's not MY kitchen," Silla protested, hanging her head in shame.

 

Darting a glance at Obi-Wan, Quigon turned back to the young woman, kneeling at her side. "Is that was all that was about? Oh, Silla. Who else would own this kitchen? Me? I can barely boil water for tea. No, the person who owns my... this kitchen... sits before me." He brought one of her hands up to his lips and kissed it gently, trembling ever so slightly.

 

Silla felt the tremble and looked at him, amazed. Could Obi-Wan be right, she wondered...could it possibly be? Greatly daring, she lifted her other hand to stroke his softly bearded cheek. Yes, he was definitely trembling, nearly as much as she. "Thank you Sir," she whispered again, just coming to realize what she really meant when she said that.

 

"All these years, Silla, just you and me... please call me Quigon. Please?"

 

Swallowing, she smiled tremulously and said, "Quigon."

 

"Thank you," he said huskily, brushing a wisp of hair off her face. A clatter of dishes brought him to himself. They both blushed, but didn't take their eyes from one another.

 

"I should make up the guest room for Master Obi-Wan," she said quietly.

 

"Two guest rooms, Silla," he corrected her gently. "One for each of you. I was thinking the blue room for you, and Obi-Wan can have the brown."

 

"But Sir..."

 

"No buts. And Quigon." Now that he had gotten her to say his name, he was not going to give up the ground he had won, Quigon decided firmly. Rising, he helped her to her feet and watched as she glided out of the room with her customary grace. Then he sighed and went to help his guest with the dishes, not feeling at all guilty for some reason.

 

"That's quite a young woman there, Quigon," Obi-Wan said, handing him a towel and a wet dish.

 

"It's funny... I believed I always knew how dear she was to me, but now..." Thoughtfully, he wiped at the dish in his hand. "It almost seems as though your coming was a catalyst. Why hadn't I ever noticed how... how beautiful she is, how wonderful, before now? I had always thought of her as a child."

 

"Sometimes," Obi-Wan said, thoughtfully scrubbing away, "sometimes we don't see the things that are right under our noses. Master... My Master used to say that one shouldn't look for happiness, it is usually right under one's feet. The obvious I guess just isn't that obvious."

 

After a moment of silence, Obi-Wan continued. "Well, now that you've realized it, what are you going to do about it?"

 

"Hmm? Oh. I-I don't know. She's still so very young, Obi-Wan, and I'm, oh, so much older..."

 

Stopping his scrubbing motions, Obi-Wan leaned against the sink and briefly closed his eyes. Quigon looked at him curiously; the young man seemed to be muttering something under his breath. "Beg pardon?" he said, puzzled.

 

"Nothing," Obi-Wan replied after a moment. "Love knows no age limits, Quigon. I happen to personally know of a man who let his age interfere with his love of a younger person. He - he died, and the younger person never knew how much he had been loved. So I don't want to hear any nonsense about that. And I think that plate is dry."

 

Looking down at the plate he still held, Quigon chuckled. "I think you're right, it is. And I think you're right about something else. I-I guess, I guess I'm a little nervous."

 

Shooting Quigon a look from the corner of his eyes, Obi-Wan grinned. "What' s there to be nervous about? It's only a life-changing, nerve-wracking, terrifying thing you're undertaking. I wouldn't worry too much about it."

________________________________________

 

 

Silla sat in the window alcove of the blue room, her legs drawn up under her chin, and pondered. She knew the blue room had been his Lor-Quigon's mother 's room, and felt distinctly uncomfortable. But it was not a pretentious room, and in fact was quite comfortable. No, she admitted to herself, it was not the room that made her feel off-balance. It was Quigon. All the fantasies, all the hopes and dreams she had ever had...

 

// Father won't let me marry him without a bride-piece, // she thought to herself as she watched the storm. // And the old biddies in the village... well, forget them. I don't care what they think. // It suddenly dawned on her what she was contemplating, and she laughed out loud. // This must be a dream, // she thought, still chuckling.

 

A tap on the door and she called out, "Come in!"

 

Both Quigon and Obi-Wan were at the door, carrying something between them. She rose with automatic deference, but her curiosity was intense. She could see what they held was a large trunk.

 

"This was Obi-Wan's idea," Quigon said quickly, blushing slightly. "We, I mean, he thought it would be a good idea for you to have something else to wear." Popping the latch, he opened up the trunk to reveal rich folds of fabrics. "My mother was very thorough, and always had several of these trunks packed in case she needed to go somewhere in a hurry. I think you'll probably find everything you need in here."

 

Silla was instantly on her knees before the trunk, lifting heavy gowns out and gasping in delight and wonder. "Oh, Sir, these are simply too rich for me!" she protested, even while she was caressing the fabric with her fingertips.

 

"Nonsense," Quigon said roughly, pleased at her reaction. "These were just upstairs gathering dust. It's about time someone used them. And I can think of no one better than you, Silla."

 

Hugging one of the satiny gowns to her tightly, Silla stood and looked up at Quigon with shining eyes. "Oh, thank you S-I mean, Quigon. I'm... I'm so..."

 

They stood very close, and Quigon could smell her, the faint scent of soap and bread and spices. He reached a hand out to caress her cheek. "Say my name again, Silla," he murmured, looking deep into her eyes.

 

"Quigon," she whispered, leaning into his caress.

 

"I love you," he said softly, frantically, as if frightened of the reaction saying it would provoke. Her eyes grew very wide and filled with tears.

 

"I-I love you too," she gasped, seeking oxygen in a room suddenly devoid of it. "I have ever since I was a little girl and you lifted me out of your apple tree then let me read your books and... and..."

 

Then they were kissing, and Quigon was drowning in her lips and her body and wanted it to never stop, never ever stop, and her arms around his neck locked tightly promised to never let go.

 

Distantly, behind him, Quigon heard the soft latch of the door as it closed.

________________________________________

 

 

The storm left everything fresh and clean and a bit worse for the wear, but neither Quigon nor Silla cared, much. Early the next morning, they set out, hand in hand and trailed by Obi-Wan, to Silla's village. Quigon brought with him, at Obi-Wan's suggestion, a bride piece of ten gold dactares, a very significant sum for the village but no where near what he felt Silla was really worth.

 

Quigon stopped at the village Magistrate's office, allowing Obi-Wan to continue on with Silla to her home. Her steps grew slower and slower as she neared the ramshackle hut, and Obi-Wan finally stopped her, giving her a concerned look. "What is it, Silla?"

 

Trembling, she clasped her hands together tightly, scuffing her feet in the dirt of the road. "I'm... I'm afraid, Obi-Wan," she said. "He's not going to like it. What if he doesn't give permission?"

 

Gently, Obi-Wan tipped her head up so she had to look at him. "It doesn't matter, Silla," he said softly. "Remember, I'm your distant cousin, and if necessary, I'll grant permission over him. And don't think I won't," he added, firmly as she started to object. "Do you want this?"

 

"Oh, more than anything," she whispered, taking a deep breath.

 

"Then be strong. You are worthy, Silla. Remember that. Always remember that. You ready now?" Taking a deep breath to calm her trembling, Silla squared her shoulders and nodded. "Then let's go."

 

Silla's father was hungover and furious that his daughter had not come home the night before. He bellowed at her as she walked into the house, making her wince. When he spotted Obi-Wan, his eyes grew wide. "Who the hell is that?" he yelled at her.

 

"He's... he's a..."

 

"My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir," Obi-Wan slid in smoothly, not offering his hand. "From... from Corsantium. Distant kin."

 

Narrowed, bloodshot eyes glared at him. "Whaddaya want? I ain't got no money."

 

"Da!" Silla cried, appalled. "He's kin. He's not after any money that we don't have anyway. Will you listen to me? I-I have something to tell you!"

 

Glowering, he crossed his arms and looked at his daughter. Her chin quivering slightly, but with a stubborn, defiant look in her eyes, Silla said, "His Lordship has asked me to marry him. And I've said yes."

 

Eyes widening slightly, the florid man became even redder, if that were possible. "Then why isn't that namby-pamby son of a bitch here to ASK me FIRST?" he roared.

 

"I am here, Kenobi," a quiet voice said behind Obi-Wan. Silla whirled and gratefully smiled at her intended. "And the young woman in question is quite old and capable enough to make her own decisions." Quigon smiled back at Silla.

 

Roaring in rage, Kenobi charged at his daughter, intending mayhem, but he never even got close. Suddenly, he found himself flung against the far wall by invisible hands, where he sagged, his eyes wild. Quigon gaped at Obi-Wan in shock, but the young man's expression was equally stunned, before being carefully schooling it back to normalcy. Blinking in surprise, Silla dropped the arm she had unconsciously raised to defend herself.

 

That ended the situation decisively. Gathering up her meager belongings, they made their way back to the Manor, Silla in the protective circle of her husband-to-be's arm. To Silla's surprise, several of the matrons in the village expressed delight - instead of the anticipated derision - at her good fortune, and as it turned out, Quigon expansively invited nearly the whole village to the wedding, which was to be the next day. Bemused, Obi-Wan overheard one older matron say to the other, "Well good for her, I say. Silla's a fine young woman - despite her father - and it's about time we had some wee ones up there in the castle."

 

So it was the next day that the manor house was filled with light and laughter and music. All invited brought a dish, and several women took over the kitchen, delighted to have a real place to cook for a change. As the ancient, sonorous clock struck the hour, Silla descended the grand staircase on Obi-Wan's arm (her father not having been invited, to the delight of the village gossips), wearing Quigon's mother's wedding dress - while his regal majesty lord Graymane purred in affirmation and smug happiness from his seat on the second floor balcony . She looked a vision, radiant in the traditional pale green gown, and smiling at her husband-to-be with intense, exquisite joy.

 

She quite took Quigon's breath away, and for the thousandth time that day he berated himself for waiting so long. Then they faced the magistrate, spoke their vows - his voice trembling, hers steady but tiny - and turned back to their friends as husband and wife.

________________________________________

 

 

The sun hadn't been up very long before Quigon went looking for Obi-Wan. The young man had not been in his room, but Quigon found him in the tower room watching the sun come up and drinking tea. He looked at the older man and smiled.

 

"You're up early for a newlywed, Quigon," Obi-Wan said. Quigon flushed and smiled.

 

"Old habits die hard," he explained. "Silla's up too, actually. Same with her. We'll be tossing out the last of the drunks shortly, then having breakfast. Join us?"

 

Looking into his cup, Obi-Wan said, "I... don't think so. I should be moving on. Something tells me I've done here what I needed to do."

 

"Get us together," Quigon said softly, and the younger man chuckled and nodded. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, Obi-Wan," Quigon said, sitting on the windowsill. "About what you told me of your travels, and what you haven't told me. And something you said, about finding your Master sometimes... and finding yourself sometimes... made me wonder."

 

Obi-Wan sat and looked at him, smiling mysteriously. "Anyway, I've come to a few conclusions," Quigon said, very slowly, examining the young Knight who sat before him. "One is that you and Silla are not - or would not be - brother and sister. She's you here, isn't she." It wasn't a question, so Obi-Wan merely took a sip of tea. "And if she's you, that means... that means I am your Master." Quigon studied the silent young man across from him for a long moment, then cocked his head, his expression at once sympathetic and amazed. "You are a stronger man than I, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he finally said. "But I am richer for having met you. Are you certain you need to leave?"

 

"Yes. I should. I would only be in the way here. You have a life, a family to start Quigon," Obi-Wan said, draining his tea. "But I am going to need your help."

 

Looking at Obi-Wan blankly for a moment, Quigon suddenly slapped his forehead. "Of course! You need to get higher! You'd probably show up underground or something if you left from here. I'll get my flying apparatus together, if you'll set the net."

 

It wasn't easy, and Silla wasn't happy about it, but finally Quigon was able to lift the young man high into the sky. At a certain elevation, Obi-Wan drew his 'saber and signaled for Quigon to release him. With a sad smile and a hug, the older man did so. Obi-Wan fell slowly, under the influence of the Force, for a few feet, then powered his 'saber and disappeared with a bang.

 

Quigon slowly sank to the ground, his flying apparatus for once working flawlessly, and into the arms of his anxious wife, who held him tightly.

 

"We're going to have to talk about that invention of yours," she said seriously, wiping away a tear or two.

 

"Yes, my love," he answered, and kissed her soundly.

 

 

 

MrsHamill

 

 

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