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“Padwan, there are Mandalorians in Mos Espa.”
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He knew what that meant. “What is left before we can leave?”
“Collect the boy and the parts. The handmaiden can guide you.”
And of course his master signed off before telling him where to meet Padme.
“Couldn’t he try being subtle for once?” Seab-hoc asked plaintively from Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“Qui-Gon has never been subtle a day in his life,” Obi-Wan countered. Which was why his master’s soul had settled on one of the largest, flashiest forms in the whole karking Order.
***
Fortunately, Seab-hoc quickly found Padme on a flyby of the outskirts of Mos Espa and led Obi-Wan to her. Like all the other handmaidens, she kept her soul hidden somewhere on her to make it harder to identify the queen. All of them were young enough their souls might not have even settled yet. Seab-Hoc might have been unusual for settling as late as he did, but fourteen or fifteen wasn’t that late for most human variants.
She was accompanied by a boy whose Force presence was nearly blinding and whose soul was currently in the form of a small bantha. This must be the boy his master was collecting.
Except… “And how old are you, Anakin?”
“Nine!” the boy proclaimed with joy. “And Master Qui-Gon says he’s going to free me.”
Obi-Wan’s heart sank and Seab-Hoc let out a mournful trill. Too old for the Council to accept. Too damaged. Too powerful not to be trained. Qui-Gon was going to do something stupid. Again.
“That’s wonderful.” Obi-Wan hoped he hid his discomfort from his voice. The boy seemed delighted enough, but Padme definitely caught something.
***
At Watto’s junk shop, Obi-Wan met Anakin’s mother, Shimi, and cursed his master vociferously in Amatakka. She definitely understood him, despite the linguistic shift between Tatooine and the worlds he’d been enslaved on.
Watto definitely wasn’t going to give up Shimi. His pride and greed was oozing all over him as he gave Obi-Wan one detinator and not the other.
Obi-Wan considered all the Mando’ade he’d spotted around town on their walk. He’d seen a few in blue and gray, but not all.
Shimi was given leave to say goodbye to her son, a surprising gift from Depur, and she and Obi-Wan left the shop to find Padme and Anakin talking to a Mandalorian.
“We have everything, Anakin?” Obi-Wan interrupted, ensuring their sled was fully loaded then nudging the boy toward his mother. Only then did he approach the Mandalorian. He saw no runi nearby, but while Mandalorians did not do full separation like Jedi, they often learned to range further apart than most races. The better to ambush an enemy.
“May I ask the reason for your interest in the boy?” Because it was definitely Anakin the Mandalorians were focused on.
“You’re taking him offworld, jetii?” The man’s accent wasn’t Mandalore or Kalevala. Concord Dawn perhaps. Obi-Wan hadn’t met many Mando’ade from there during his year in the sector.
“As soon as we repair our ship,” Obi-Wan confirmed. He tilted his head as he spoke to give Seab-Hoc room to land on his shoulder. It was a reflexive move, as familiar as the feel of his soul’s feathers, but the Mandalorian radiated awe even through his beskar.
“Runi jai’galaal.”
Ah, yes, that. Right. Not the first time Obi-Wan had gotten that reaction. “Lek.”
The Mando’ad gave Obi-Wan a slow once over, lingering on his light-saber, but this time also clearly noting the blade in his boot and the bracers at his wrists. “A jetii with a Mando’ad soul. Fascinating.”
While the Mandalorian was looking at Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan took a closer look at the Mandalorian. And finally noticed the man’s runi skulking in the shadows of the nearby alley. “As unusual as a Mando’ad with a mythosaur runi.” Obi-Wan had heard of only one in his year on Mandalore, a man who seemed half myth and less truth. “Mand’alor.”
Oh, the Mando’ad was definitely pleased. “The boy won the Boonta Eve Classic. If he remained here, he would be targeted by any number of… unpleasant people. There is something… special about him.”
“Kara’dral,” Obi-Wan confirmed softly, sliding closer.. “Ori’kara’dral. And old enough the Council will refuse him, no matter how convinced my master is.” This was dangerous to admit, but he could not help but feel the Mand’alor of all people, leader of the scattered True Mandalorians, just might be a useful resource in this situation. “He could use another option.” And a free mother.
“The mother?” the Mand’alor asked in a voice that was barely loud enough to activate his vocoder.
Obi-Wan shook his head. “The master won’t let her go.”
“Depur,” the Mand’alor hissed, the word felt more in the Force than heard with ears. “My people could help with that. Children are the future.”
“This is the way,” Obi-Wan confirmed,sensing the Mand’alor’s surprised delight. “I would be grateful.” In fact, if the Mand’alor was before him and his people about… “Actually, I may have a contract to offer. Or, I could introduce you to someone who does.” He tilted his head toward where Padme was standing by the sled.
The Mand’alor cocked his head in definite curiosity, his runi coming from the alley to show off the shiny unpainted beskar that covered its small form. Small for a mythosaur, anyway. Its body came to the Mand’alor’s hip and head came higher with tusks that would scare off many even without the sharp beskar caps. Not accounting for the impact on anyone who recognized a mythosaur.
“You tempt me, jetii.”
Obi-Wan had gotten that reaction several times since Seab-hoc had settled as a sacred Mandalorian animal while on Mandalore. “I’m not looking for a riduur, Mand’alor.”
“Yet.” Even with his face hidden, the Mand’alor was clearly smirking. “Introduce me to your people with a contract. And I think I will accompany you back to your temple.”
Qui-Gon was not going to approve. Obi-Wan did not care. For the first time since arriving in the Naboo sector, the Force was singing with hope.