Moist humidity weighted the air, sticky and cloying. The climate control systems within the palace were off-line for repairs, and Taganor's tropical heat was slowly infiltrating the interior of the fortress, steaming up the narrow transparisteel windows. Tiny droplets of water collected on the consoles where Valorum's fingers wandered, switching back and forth between the small display screens.
Valorum sighed and blotted the sweat on his upper lip with the back of his hand, keeping his eyes glued to the vid screen. Examining surveillance holos was the worst kind of tedium; move too fast, and something crucial might be missed. Too slow, and endless hours crept by without uncovering anything useful. There were only a few holos to view, since the expanded system had only been in use since early that morning, and the thought of adding dozens of new locations made him wince.
With a flick of his finger, the chancellor cycled through the vids, looking for anything unusual. The task was daunting, and incredibly time-consuming, but there was no one on his staff he could trust implicitly to report information accurately. If there were a traitor among them, undoubtedly many of the staff had been bought off with Imperial credits, silenced until the time was right. Even Maul was suspect, despite his position as head of security; Valorum would not risk allowing him access to the security vids.
Activity within the fortress had decreased dramatically since the assassination attempt. Movement was restricted to guards, advisors, and those with necessary business. There were frequent identity checks conducted by the guards posted at nearly every turn. It should have been impossible for anyone to find their way past the heightened security. Despite the myriad precautions, experience told Valorum that a talented killer could find a way. Eventually, there would be another attempt.
Datapads were stacked carelessly on the console to his left, filled with information downloaded from the Imperial network. Valorum selected one from the pile and began to scan through the information, eyes flickering restlessly from the holos to the text every few seconds. His research had been extensive, almost exhaustive. He'd been very careful to leave no trace of his requests for files; if the Imperial authorities discovered what he'd been retrieving, there would be questions he could not answer, and Obi-Wan would be compromised.
A small picture of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared in the top left corner of the screen, surrounded by descriptive text. Valorum scrolled through a lengthy biography. Apparently, the man was wanted by the Empire in connection with a number of instances of sabotage and outbreaks of rebellion on distant worlds. He was one of a core group of Jedi who had been away from Coruscant at the time of the attack, and had escaped to parts unknown. Details of the man's past were sketchy, and Valorum suspected that the destruction of the Jedi records had hampered Imperial efforts to capture the remaining members of that Order. He smiled grimly at the irony of it.
With interest, Valorum studied the picture. It was of a much younger man, a man who no longer bore much resemblance to the tired, thin captive who fascinated the Regent. Mid-length brown hair framed an angular face, and intense blue eyes stared out at the chancellor from the screen. A hint of a devilish smile, just a variation of the resigned, patient smile he'd seen on Jinn's face as he was made to kneel before the Regent for the first time.
He turned his attention back to the text, reading of Jinn's expertise with negotiation, his reputation as a fierce warrior. His proficiency in ancient and modern weapons had been unquestioned among his peers. Valorum noted that Obi-Wan's assessment of the man had been largely correct, in many respects. In the many years since the Jedi had been all but obliterated, Jinn had been seen only a few times, but the number of worlds where a Force-user could safely hide had finally dwindled down to a mere handful.
Somewhere, the remaining Jedi who had escaped Coruscant were hiding. And Jinn probably knew where. Valorum paused to wonder what would happen if he were tortured, forced to reveal information. It could mean the end, not just of the Jedi, but of any hope of breaking free of the Empire. Jinn would escape from Taganor at his earliest opportunity, and perhaps it would be best for all of them if that were to happen sooner, rather than later.
A flash of black caught his eye, and Valorum glanced up, drawn by the sight of Maul stalking across the heir's rooms, bowing low. His jaw tightened, and after a moment, he turned up the audio portion of the holo. Mundane conversation, about Maul's shadowcraft, his ability as a pilot, his work as chief of the Regent's security force. Anakin was naturally curious, and could talk the ear off a Bantha. The heir's distrust of Maul was echoed in his stiff posture, but Valorum believed the boy was safe enough, surrounded by his personal guard. And if Anakin was making progress toward overcoming his fear of Maul, so much the better - it would serve his interests in the long run.
Listening absently to the chatter, Valorum returned the datapad to the stack and picked up another, clicking through the index of personnel, past rosters and cargo manifests, until he came to the property inventory of a particular broker. After a moment, he found the entry he was seeking, and opened the file.
The image was a sensual one, and Valorum found himself entranced. Eyes the color of azurian crystal, fixed on a faraway point, and the fine features of the face reflected a thoughtful melancholy. The slaver had been careful to attire the young man in flattering colors; soft purple gauze draped gently over one shoulder and across the well-muscled chest. A slave collar of expensive metal - no doubt placed for show and removed the instant a sale was negotiated - graced the slender throat. Xanatos' younger self radiated a quiet sadness, and yet, there was a spark in those eyes, something Valorum couldn't put his finger on...
As he made a search of the file, he noted the sketchy details. No historical or biographical information. It was as if the boy had not existed until he was sold into slavery. Records of his training as a personal slave, and his status as a virgin, were sketchy at best. There was no mention of the young man's home world, no particulars about his lineage. It was almost as if he had been a phantom before his arrival on Taganor.
Valorum frowned. Something about the picture was bothering him. He absorbed the tiny details - the long hair, draped down across the chest. The full lips. The ornaments in Xanatos' hair, the jewels at his throat... With a gasp, Valorum realized what was troubling him. The crystals on the collar were not just for show; they were a power source. The collar was a Force-dampener.
But why would such precautions be taken with such a young slave?
Disturbed, Valorum marked the file and set it aside for the Regent to browse. He rummaged for one more pad, still listening to Maul as he answered Anakin's incessant questions. Quickly, he scanned through a list of specialized weapons, including the deadly saber-star, a weapon few Jedi had ever been trained to use. It was difficult to control, once sent on its way, and was regarded as a weapon of destruction. Just before the Empire took form, its use had been outlawed by the Jedi, and hence the Republic. The Sith had adopted its use almost immediately.
"There are no redeemable Jedi, Your Highness. The Emperor has decreed that it is so, and therefore, it is so." Maul's matter-of-fact statement, delivered in his most soft and persuasive tone, caused Valorum to look up, giving his full attention to the holovid.
"That's not the way Obi-Wan puts it." Stubborn resistance creased Anakin's forehead. "What makes you think you know more than he does?"
"I would never presume that I am more knowledgeable, Highness," Maul said smoothly. "I know only what the Emperor has written. He has given us guidelines we are to accept and abide by. His wisdom is the light we must all follow. Even the Regent must bow before him." Maul's robes rustled as he settled back in his chair.
"Tell me more of the Emperor's philosophy." Anakin sounded eerily mature, and so intrigued that a shiver clawed its way up Valorum's spine. He shut off the vid with a click and removed it from the console, adding it to the handful of datapads he'd gathered. Time to brief the Regent.
Qui-Gon lay back against the pillows, stretching out his nude body and moving over to accommodate Ket'al as the other man climbed onto the bed with him. His heart was still reeling from Ket'al's apt observation - that intimacy with Kenobi was no longer a thing he feared, but something he desired. His body warred with his independence, with the will of the Force, with every concept he'd been taught as a Jedi. It was becoming difficult to sort out the conflicting emotions, and the line of his discomfort was shifting, blurring, with every day that passed.
His feelings about the Regent were soft-focus, both dangerous to think of and intriguing. He had been ready to accept the will of the Force, until Kenobi had pushed him away. His sense of the Regent's fear, and Kenobi's underlying need for control, had sent their newly formed bond into chaos. Qui-Gon no longer knew what to expect, or what would come next in the strange dance of their souls.
Ket'al stroked a practiced hand down his body, gentling him almost as though he were a skittish animal, and Qui-Gon centered himself. He'd become accustomed to the lessons, to the touch of the hands of virtual strangers against his skin. His nudity no longer bothered him. Jedi were not self-conscious about their bodies in the conventional sense to begin with, but it had been about much more than disrobing, from the moment the first pleasure lesson began.
The act of removing his clothes had come to symbolize a stripping away of other long-standing barriers, a lowering of his defenses. It had been a signal of his cooperation, and on some level, Qui-Gon still resisted, still resented, still hoped for a way to escape his circumstances.
Kenobi had intended to break him, to remake him into a slave fit for nothing but the Regent's sexual appetites. He could accept the bond - could accept almost anything the Force dictated - but Kenobi pushed him away, closing him off with such anger that he could not break through. He recognized the fear in the Regent; he felt it himself, but it did not change what had come to pass. The bond was formed, and would not be broken. And in its service, he would follow its bidding.
None of that changed his deep pleasure at the strange stirrings of desire he felt when he was taught his lessons, or his guilt that such lessons should wake his body and ignite a fire within that could not be checked. Over and over, he'd told himself that he had complied merely to spare Daro injury, but even that excuse had faded away quietly until it no longer occurred to him as he lay stretched beneath the others, learning, absorbing, becoming.
"You know I won't hurt you, Qui-Gon." Ket'al spoke, breaking Qui-Gon's reverie, and he nodded without speaking, turning blue eyes filled with quiet acquiescence to the other man, who nodded in return. Neither heard the door slide open.
"Ket'al." Spoken low, with authority.
Qui-Gon turned his head sharply toward the sound of the voice, even as a hand dropped to his chest, warning him, restraining him. He obeyed Ket'al's unspoken command, twisting slightly on the bed to stare at the intruder.
Xanatos stood just inside the closed door, arms folded across his chest, slave bracelet glittering. His eyes met Qui-Gon's, then dropped lower, taking a leisurely tour of his former master's body, examining every inch of him with patience and deliberation. Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat as he withstood the detailed inspection, and he quickly masked his astonishment.
Ket'al's expression hardened as he rolled from the bed and approached Xanatos with graceful strides. "Xanatos. What do you want?"
Xanatos met the other slave's eyes with an uncompromising stare, and for a moment, the two men warred with silent glances.
Ket'al folded his arms across his chest, a mirror of Xan's posture; muscles tight and tense, jaw set. Xanatos' unflinching gaze never wavered.
"This lesson is mine to teach." Xanatos spoke softly, simple words, with an implied meaning that raised Qui-Gon's eyebrow.
Ket'al frowned. "The Regent assigned me the task of seeing to these lessons, and you'll have no part in it."
Xanatos, relaxed and confident, stepped closer to Ket'al like a cat scenting its prey. "Do you really think the Regent will deny me anything?" he purred, tone silken and dangerous. "If I wish to prepare this slave for my master's pleasure, in the way he likes best, he will thank me for it. Who better than the master's favorite to teach what remains of these lessons?"
"You've been listening to the gossip of the old women for too long," Ket'al said scornfully. "This slave has learned nearly all that is required. I don't know what you're up to, but-"
"Do you think I will ever account to you?" Xanatos circled Ket'al's nude body, smiling in a way that made Qui-Gon cold suddenly. It was an expression he had never seen on his former apprentice's face, and it caused an unsettled discomfort deep within him. "I know you haven't taught the most important of the lessons, Ket'al. It's your habit to save that for the end, when the slave's inhibitions are sufficiently broken down."
"Why this sudden interest?" Ket'al didn't budge, and only his head turned slightly to follow Xan's movements.
"That's none of your concern." Xanatos wrapped his fingers around the plain silver slave bracelet Ket'al wore, tugging at it, stroking his fingers down the muscled arm; the gesture was gently menacing. "Now get out. Or I'll tell the Regent that your lessons are poorly administered, that you favor this slave, and that you have not taught him properly. I'll make it clear this slave is...uncooperative." The threat was delivered softly, as a lover might speak, low and persuasive, but ice dripped from every word.
"He won't believe that," Ket'al said immediately, striking Xan's hand away from his arm.
"Take that chance, and Daro will pay the price for your arrogance." An unpleasant smile curled Xan's lips.
Ket'al paled. "Why bring him into this?" Qui-Gon sensed distress, and genuine concern, and knew Xanatos could sense it as well; there was a shiver of sensitivity across the remains of their long-ago bond, enough to make Qui-Gon sit forward instinctively.
"Because his fate is unimportant to me." Xanatos stopped his circular prowl, raising his head to look directly into Ket'al's eyes. "Leave us."
Ket'al turned to Qui-Gon, as if to speak, but the Jedi cut him off with a small smile of reassurance. "I'll be all right."
After another moment of hesitation, Ket'al retrieved his clothes and tugged on his trousers, glowering at Xanatos, who watched him impassively. With his soft red tunic in hand, he shrugged past Xanatos, stopping at the door to speak, quietly. "Qui-Gon. It will be a part of life here, one that can't be avoided; you will be shared with those who won't care for your welfare. Do as he says, and he will teach you what you need to know. I'm sorry."
"No apologies." Qui-Gon used a subtle push with the Force to reassure Ket'al, and repeated, "I'll be fine."
Ket'al smiled slightly, and as Qui-Gon returned the smile, something sad passed across Ket'al's expression. "I hope that's true, Jedi." With a last glance toward Xanatos, he opened the door and slipped through.
Xanatos turned to his former master, amusement in his eyes, demeanor much more relaxed. "He's very fond of you. It's easy to see."
"You took pleasure in threatening him," Qui-Gon observed, crossing an arm over his stomach and turning on his side. "Was that necessary?" His displeasure was evident in his tone.
Xan looked faintly surprised by the question. "You don't understand the politics of the seraglio. I have a position to maintain. I had to make him yield his control to me, or I would be seen as weak, Qui-Gon. I can't permit that." When Qui-Gon said nothing, Xan continued his explanation. "If I showed no interest in you, they would pounce on that as a sign I was no longer in favor, or concerned about retaining the Regent's favor. By asserting my power here, I've made it clear that I won't tolerate the threat you represent."
"Am I a threat to you?" Qui-Gon spoke the words before he could call them back, or reason them through. They came from a place too instinctual to be logical, too basic to be intellectual.
His question struck Xan like a thunderclap shattering the peace of a clear blue sky; the other man's brow darkened, his eyes turning stormy. "I have no reason to doubt the Regent's interest in me," he said quietly, almost reverently.
"Do you intend to teach me?" Qui-Gon asked, purposefully blunt. The thought stirred strange fires in him, flames of desire and curiosity that leaped and licked at his judgment, battering at him, warring with his shock and dismay. To be in such a position - to be taught carnal skills by a man he'd treated like a son, raised and nurtured to be something he could never be - the thought of it plunged him back into turmoil. He closed off his feelings, crimped them into the back of his consciousness, concealing them as best he could.
Xanatos turned and regarded him with those breathtaking eyes; Qui-Gon had never failed to notice their clear beauty as the boy was growing to manhood beside him. "I will have to teach you. I cannot send Ket'al back to you until you have the knowledge, or he will wonder at my motives." His head tilted, and his eyes flickered appraisingly across the naked body displayed before him.
"He wonders already," Qui-Gon pointed out, none too comfortable with that second, lingering look. "None of them trust you, Xanatos. They think you are hungry for power, too fond of your position here."
"They are perceptive." Xan's voice lowered to a soft growl, and the sound of it raised goosebumps on Qui-Gon's skin. "I must begin the lesson, for Ket'al is sure to return, and I haven't much time to properly instruct you."
"This is..." Qui-Gon struggled to find the words to express his confusion, but Xanatos hushed him.
"You mustn't think, Master. Only feel. I will teach you, and once done, we will forget this took place."
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