The Mark of the Crown

4

Legacy.

The word struck a chord in Qui-Gon. He needed time to consider why it had lodged so deep within him. He took the exterior stairway to the gardens below.

Obi-Wan would no doubt make his way to their quarters.

Trees were bursting with fruit, or were in blossom within the palace walls.

Qui-Gon recognized a few—muja and tango. Masses of white, red, purple, and yellow marked the flower gardens beyond. The palace was famous for its extensive gardens. Qui-Gon knew that every plant, tree, and flower native to Gala was represented here. He strolled in the orchards. The muja trees were in blossom, and every sudden breeze sent a shower of pink petals drifting to the grass below.

The Queen had spoken of her legacy. Dying, she considered what she wished to leave behind. Her first thought was for her son. She even felt a bond with a stepchild she had never known. The Galacians were a people of strong family bonds. Jobs and land were often passed down from parent to child. Marriages were carefully chosen to strengthen the family.

Qui-Gon had given up family and children for the life of a Jedi. He had chosen freely. No Jedi was bound to the life. He could choose to leave it at any time.

Yet he knew he would not.

Qui-Gon leaned down to pick up petals from the grass. He let them drift through his fingers, to be carried by the wind. This would be his life, he thought. He would wander the galaxy. He would risk his life on behalf of strangers. What would he leave behind?

Qui-Gon’s wandering took him to the kitchen gardens. Signs of planting surrounded him—shovels and rakes, careful rows of tiny seedlings taking root in the dirt. He looked down at the ground, almost surprised to see his own foot prints there. Wind and rain would soon wash them away.

Elan had chosen to live apart from society. She followed a set of laws that belonged to no government, no world, only her fellow travelers. She was like him, he realized. He had never met her, but he knew her.

“Qui-Gon?”

He turned at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. The boy looked hesitant, afraid to disturb him.

“You disappeared,” Obi-Wan said. “I didn’t know where to look.”

Qui-Gon could not share his thoughts. Obi-Wan was young, just starting out on his journey as a Jedi. He would not understand thoughts of legacies, of what he would leave behind. Not yet.

“Why did you agree to our not leaving the palace without an escort?” The question seemed torn from Obi-Wan’s lips. Obviously, the boy thought Qui-Gon should have resisted Giba’s suggestion.

“It is better for now that they think they can control us,” Qui-Gon answered.

“Do you think the Queen is telling the truth?” Obi-Wan asked. “Does she really not want her son to win the election? And what does she want with Elan?”

“It could be as she says,” Qui-Gon said slowly. “Or it could be that she wants us to lure Elan back here in order to kill her. Any Council member who was alive when the King was young knows that Beju is not the true heir. I would guess that Giba knows, for example. That is why he is afraid of us. There is always the danger that the secret will be exposed. Of course, if the Queen is lying about her intentions, she could be in league with Giba and their disagreement was staged for our benefit. If they can get rid of Elan, Queen Veda could call off the elections and appoint Beju King.” Qui-Gon paused. “Or she could be lying about Elan for some other purpose we haven’t discovered.”

“Well, what do you believe?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to keep the confusion and impatience out of his voice.

“I think there are more secrets here,” Qui-Gon answered thoughtfully. “Yet I think we should proceed as though the Queen is telling the truth. I am going to the hill country to find Elan.”

“But our mission is to oversee the election!” Obi-Wan protested. “You can’t do that from the hill country.”

One corner of Qui-Gon’s mouth shifted in a half smile. “You are sometimes a bit too fond of the rules, Obi-Wan. Things change. A mission is not clear-cut. Sometimes the direct road is not the one to take.”

“But the safety of Gala is in our hands,” Obi-Wan argued. “We were sent to be guardians of peace, not to go chasing long-lost daughters.”

“You may disagree with me, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said mildly. “That is your right. But I will go.”

“We’re not allowed to leave the city, or even the palace without an escort,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “You were the one to agree to it! Giba and Prince Beju will be furious. Can’t we allow the Queen’s messenger to contact Elan?”

“Elan will not listen to a message,” Qui-Gon replied. “She will have to be persuaded. She will have to see the truth in my eyes, or she will not come.”

“You talk as if you know her!” Obi-Wan exclaimed.

“I do,” Qui-Gon said quietly.

He walked closer to Obi-Wan and rested his hand gently on his shoulder for a moment. “Don’t worry, Padawan. You can handle the mission here until I return. Be alert for palace intrigue.” Qui-Gon’s keen gaze swept the palace. “Trust no one here. There is a disturbance in the Force. I don’t know where exactly it lies.”

Obi-Wan looked at him, frustrated. “But what will I tell them when they ask where you are?”

Instead of answering, Qui-Gon strode through the half-planted gardens back to the trees. As he walked, he reached up and swiped a piece of ripe fruit from a branch overhead. Without turning, he tossed it over his shoulder. He didn’t have to turn. He knew his Padawan would catch it.

“It’s simple,” he called behind him. “Tell them I’m still here.”