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Anakin follows Master Qui-Gon's silent gesture and Padmé's hissing instructions and trails after the small group of Handmaidens as they walk across the landing pad. Coruscant smells of exhaust fumes and cold duracrete and although it is warmer than the ship, that isn't saying a lot. For a place with rainbow coloured billboards stuck to half the buildings, it is very, very grey.
He squeezes onto the end of a bench seat in the blue and orange shuttle and tries not to be in the way, tucking up as small as he can manage. It seems to be all right, he is still pretty small even after his last growth spurt.
"We're going to the Embassy apartment at 500 Republica," Eirtaé explains quietly, walking over to look out of the window beside him. "It's that big building just ahead. When we’re there we can see about getting you properly sorted, all right?"
"Yes Mistress Eirtaé," Anakin replies politely. So far, aside from the initial introductions, the handmaidens other than Padmé have ignored him. He doesn't want to waste an opportunity by being rude.
The older girl's eyebrows rise up into the fabric that covers her forehead, but she doesn't say anything else so Anakin hopes that she isn't offended.
The apartment that they walk into is properly warm, at least, but it is also so fine that Anakin worries that his shoes are leaving dusty, sandy footprints in the clean carpet.
"Follow me, kid," says the red-uniformed guard captain, and Anakin trots to keep up as he strides down a curving hallway and opens a door. On the other side is a bunk room, with beds built three high into the walls, each with a locker at the end, and a scratched table in the middle of the room where three large men are gambling with dice and cards. Two of them are shirtless. Anakin swallows his panic. He knows what happened to the youngest in the men's quarters at Gardulla's Palace, but this is a different planet, so perhaps it won't be the same here?
"We'll stick you at the back," the captain is saying, gesturing to one of the bunks furthest from the door. "So that you don’t go wandering-"
"Captain," an icy voice interrupts him. Eirtaé has followed them. The captain frowns over Anakin's head at her at the interruption and Anakin gives into the instinct to press his back against the wall by the door. "Anakin is nine years old," she points out, her cool eyes sweeping over the bunk room. The men gambling have frozen in place. "It is hardly appropriate for him to room with strange men that are, on average, three times his age. He will sleep in the handmaiden's room tonight, Saché and Yané stayed on Naboo so there's plenty of space."
She gestures Anakin back out of the room before the Captain even finishes responding, which is probably rude but Anakin is too relieved to be ordered out of there to wait. As the door slides closed behind her she looks down at him for a long moment before suddenly kneeling and looking him straight in the eyes, her beautiful dress pooling around her in folds of orange and gold.
"I'm sorry, Anakin," she says, her pale blue eyes searching his face. "Padmé told us a little about you but I confess I haven't really had time to process it. You helped us get parts to fix the ship by winning a race?"
"Yes Mistress," Anakin confirms. "Master Qui-Gon bet on the race, and I won, so he got the parts he needed, and me."
Eirtaé blinks at him. "What? What do you mean, and you?"
Anakin frowns at her. Maybe Padmé had left that bit out of the explanation? "My mother and I were owned by Watto the Junk dealer," he explains. "Master Qui-Gon didn't have the right sort of currency to buy the parts, and he and Padmé were really nice to me, so I helped. I built the fastest ever racing Pod, and I raced it at Boonta Eve. My mother said it was ok!" He didn't want Eirtaé to think that he had been acting without her approval. "Master Qui-Gon did try to free my mother as well he said, but Watto wouldn't agree, so he just got me."
Eirtaé sighs and rubs at her forehead. "And Padmé has been so stressed about the Trade Federation and the Senate speech that she hasn't processed properly either," she says, mostly to herself. "All right. Small steps. Anakin, have you ever had a water shower?"
"No Mistress," Anakin replies promptly.
"All right," she says again, climbing to her feet. "I'll show you how they work, and while you're washing the sand and dust off, I'll go through the wardrobe here and see what we can find for you to wear that's a bit warmer than what you have on."
Anakin follows her further into the apartment, noting at once that it is a lot easier to keep up with Eirtaé than it was when he was following the Captain.
She leads him into a room that is full of white and gold curtains, swooping in graceful arcs up to the ceiling. There are velvet curtains framing large windows, and delicate lace curtains hiding the security control panels on one wall - he can still see the lights through the lace. And at the edges of the room there are three cubbies, each with two small beds in, and there are silk curtains there too, although they are currently tied back so the beds can be seen. There are at least five large bunches of flowers in vases, in shapes and colours that he has never seen before, and the air is filled with their fresh perfume.
The Queen is sitting at a dressing table while Rabé and Padmé dismantle her elaborate black feather headdress and all three women stop what they're doing and turn when Anakin and Eirtaé walk in.
"What are you doing, bringing him in here?" Padmé asks. The Queen just stares at him. Anakin hides a little behind Eirtaé's long skirts, careful not to touch them in case he gets them dusty.
"Anakin needs to room with us," Eirtaé says promptly.
"But-"
"No," Eirtaé interrupts Padmé. "I'll explain while he's in the shower, just give me a minute."
Anakin doesn't want to get Eirtaé into trouble with Padmé or the Queen, but the handmaiden is already striding off towards another door, and following seems like the safest course of action. Eirtaé carefully points out everything in the Fresher while she turns levers and touches the water falling from the ceiling multiple times with her fingertips.
"Towels to dry yourself after - you don’t have long hair so you'll probably just need the one. Soap here, it’s liquid which is probably not what you're used to, just take a little from the pump and it'll lather up. The yellow one is a fruity one, the green is flowers. The white is for your hair, scrub through and rinse well with your eyes closed or it'll sting. I'll get the water started for you… here. Push this lever to stop it once you're clean, don't worry about it running out, ok? Wrap yourself in the towel when you're done and come back out into the main room, I'll have some clothes for you to pick from by then."
"Yes Mistress Eirtaé."
She leaves him alone in the clean tiled room, warm water raining down from the ceiling, and Anakin takes a second to press his hands to his face and hide. Then the sound of falling water prompts him into quick action. Although she had said that it wouldn't run out, he doesn't want to waste it. He kicks his old clothes into the corner, and cautiously sticks his arm into the water. It splatters cool drops unpleasantly over his chest and he quickly gets in entirely, shuddering in relief as his toes start to warm up.
*
Eirtaé closes the Fresher door behind her and is immediately pinned by three sets of eyes.
"He thought the guards were going to rape him," she reveals before Padmé can open her mouth. Her Queen pales, and Rabé drops the hairbrush she's holding.
"Start from the beginning," Sabé suggests, her face now clear of the concealing Amidala make-up.
Eirtaé quickly summarises her conversation with Anakin and what she inferred from his behaviour and body language since his arrival on the ship. "I think you need to delegate his care, my Lady," she finishes, addressing Padmé directly. "You need to be Queen, to focus on the Senate."
"I… you're right," Padmé sighs. "I need to dress for my meeting with the Chancellor, and go through our options."
Rabé bends to pick up the hairbrush, her brows furrowed. "Does he know he's free?" she asks abruptly. "He called you Mistress, on the shuttle, didn't he?"
Eirtaé shakes her head. "I don't know. He has called me Mistress several times… I'm not even sure what distinguishes a Slave from a free person, on Tattooine."
Padmé claps her hands to her mouth. "He mentioned chips," she chokes out around her fingers. "I can't believe I forgot. Explosive chips. We need a med droid, at once. Sabé, requisition one, immediately. If Senator Palpatine doesn't have one, loan one from a clinic or something."
Sabé nearly knocks over the dressing stool as she stands and takes two quick steps away to start wriggling out of the black lace and velvet gown. Underneath she is in leggings and a light shift, so Eirtaé tosses her a linen robe to tie over the top so that she's presentable in the hallways. She leaves the dress in a puddle in the middle of the floor and jogs out of the room.
"He'll have to be told that you're really the Queen," Rabé points out softly. "It's been Sabé the whole time he's been with us."
Padmé's fingers shake a little as she lifts her favourite silk and pearl headdress out of its box and lays it carefully on the dressing table. "That is the least of my worries right now," she says, meeting Eirtaé's eyes through the mirror. "Thank you, Eirtaé. For seeing where I had not. For acting when I did not."
"It is my duty as a handmaiden of Amidala," Eirtaé reminds her with a warm smile. "Rabé, where in the closet should I look to find an outfit for Anakin?"
"Start on the left," the younger handmaid replies, applying white powder to Padmé's face with a steady hand. "The right side is mostly dresses."
*
Qui-Gon appears the next morning to take Anakin to the Jedi temple. It has been a strange morning indeed, the strangest that he has ever had. He woke in his own little cubby, hidden from the room by a silk curtain, to the sound of giggling. He was dressed in too-long leggings that had been rolled so many times that he struggled to fit them into the cuffs of the strange soft boots they had given him, and a linen tunic that had a far finer weave than anything he had ever worn before. Breakfast had been a whole table of strange new foods to share, and the Handmaidens had encouraged him to try absolutely everything, and laughed at some of the faces he had pulled, but not in a mean way at all.
They had even let him help with pinning up their hair! And he'd found out that Padmé was actually the Queen, and the lady who had been playing at being Queen was actually called Sabé and she was the chief lady in waiting. And then after they were all dressed a droid had arrived and scanned him, and then all the ladies had looked very worried, and Rabé had given him an extra piece of the juicy fruit that had been the best part of the breakfast.
Anakin almost didn't want to leave. But he had told Qui-Gon that he wanted to be a Jedi first, and Qui-Gon was waiting to take him to the temple, and Padmé and the other Handmaids seemed to be expecting him to go, and had decided that Eirtaé would go with him. Qui-Gon had arrived in a four person speeder, which was absolutely wizard, and meant that there was enough room for Eirtaé, which was lucky as Qui-Gon hadn't quite seemed to know to expect her.
He didn't let Anakin drive though, which was disappointing. Qui-Gon knew that he was the best driver in the outer rim!
The Jedi temple was huge and full of light. Anakin felt entirely dwarfed by the large columns and high ceilings, and they went in a turbo lift that went so high up so quickly that his ears popped and hurt. Eirtaé had to explain to him how to hold his nose and puff gently to equalise the pressure.
It is cold at the temple though. Colder than at the Embassy Apartment, with its thick carpets, satin pillows and silk drapes, and Padmé had made sure that there was an extra fluffy blanket on his bed just for him, even though she was the Queen. Padawan Kenobi is waiting for them outside the Council chamber, standing in a stream of weak sunlight that makes his hair look like it's catching fire. He also looks confused to see Eirtaé, but he doesn't say anything.
Anakin thought the assessment was going well, until they started asking him questions and he could feel their prickly disapproval at his answers.
"Your thoughts dwell on your mother," the bald Jedi says accusingly.
"I'm not as worried as I was," Anakin answers honestly. Sabé had said at breakfast that once the dispute with the Trade Federation was settled, that she would see if she could find her and free her. Anakin wasn't sure that she would be able to manage it, but any promise was better than no promise at all.
"Too old, the boy is," the small green Master Jedi declares, and then an argument breaks out. Anakin looks around for Eirtaé, who was waiting over by the door. She meets his eyes and frowns a little, seeming to come to a decision, and then walks closer.
"Excuse me," she says calmly, the new voice silencing the argument that had been raging over his head. "Anakin Skywalker arrived on a Nubian vessel, and so Naboo has a duty to see to his care and security while on Planet."
"Questions, you have?" the small Master Jedi asks her. Eirtaé steps even closer and puts her hand lightly on Anakin's shoulder.
"Yes. When Anakin's slave chip is removed, will we need to send a representative to act as next of kin for the operation or will someone from the order take responsibility?" Anakin's eyes widen in surprise. She's talking like it's a given that his chip will be removed, but Master Qui-Gon hadn't said anything about it.
There is silence for a long moment, and then a Jedi with a breathing mask leans forward. "Slave chip?" he questions sharply.
Eirtaé squeezes Anakin's shoulder reassuringly as she glares around the room. "We transmitted the results of his medical scan to you several hours ago," she says tartly. "Were you not briefed on his circumstances before interrogating him?"
Anakin is surprised to find that a lot of the Jedi Masters now look more than a little uncomfortable and ashamed.
"I have a second question," Eirtaé continues calmly. "Should you not admit him to the order, what will happen to him? He cannot be returned into the custody of his mother at this time, she is still enslaved. We are happy to have him at the Nubian Embassy, but any paperwork relating to him currently names Master Jinn as his guardian, as he took over his ownership under Tattooine law."
"This changes things," the masked Jedi says to the small green one and the scowling bald one before turning back. "Master Jinn, this was not in your report."
"That's because Kenobi writes the reports," one of the other Jedi points out. "We all know that." Padawan Kenobi shifts nervously, but doesn’t say that he did or didn't write the report.
Eirtaé takes a deep breath. "Padawan Kenobi was on the ship with us for the majority of the mission. Master Jinn and Handmaiden Padmé went into the town to obtain parts to fix the ship without him. They returned having won the parts and Anakin in a bet with Anakin's former master, leaving his mother behind." She glares at the bald Jedi. "I'd challenge any sentient not to worry about someone left behind under those circumstances, mother or not."
Anakin is slightly worried that he might hurt his neck, he has to keep on twisting it quite quickly to see everyone's expressions. It would be easier if he could move to the edge of the room, where slaves are usually expected to stand when being discussed, but Eirtaé's hand is still on his shoulder.
"It is the will of the Force," Master Qui-Gon says insistently. "The boy must be trained."
The masked Jedi stands abruptly. "I will take Handmaiden Eirtaé and young Skywalker down to the Healers to see about this chip," he declares. "Whether or not the decision is made to make an exception to our usual age admission rules here, or to send him off to Jedha or Corellia, the chip needs to come out, and the sooner the better. Come with me, please."
Eirtaé steers him out of the room and Anakin can't suppress his flinch as an even fiercer argument breaks out behind him.
"My apologies," the Jedi says, his eyes crinkling around his mask. "I am Jedi Master Plo Koon, and I am a Kel Dor. You may call me Jaiah Plo, if you like."
Anakin smiles back at him, feeling a little shaky. "What does Jaiah mean?"
"Teacher," the Kel Dor says simply. "Come along, I shall send word to the Halls of Healing as we walk, so they will be expecting us. Handmaiden Eirtaé, do you have the results of the scan with you by any chance?"
"I did bring a copy," Eirtaé says, reaching into her sleeve and withdrawing a data chip. Pockets in her sleeves! Anakin is extremely impressed. He pokes at the linen tunic he was given to see if there are any hidden surprises in his own outfit, and is immensely pleased to find no fewer than four little pockets sewn into the seams by the time they reach the lift. If he had realised that when he'd gotten dressed he would have snagged a biscuit or three from the breakfast table for later.
Jaiah Plo takes them to a different lift to the one they had taken up from the entrance hall, and Anakin is pleased to find that this one seems to move a bit slower than the first one.
"Jaiah, what were those places you mentioned, um, Jedi and Corellia? Like the Freighters?"
"Jedha and Corellia," Plo corrects gently. "They are places where Force sensitives can receive training. Coruscant is not the only temple, and it is also the strictest, which is why the Masters were arguing so much about Master Jinn wanting you to train here. They think that one of the other places might be more appropriate for you, not that you don't need training at all."
"Oh. I don't know much about how you become a Jedi," Anakin confesses, figuring it's best to be truthful. "Master Jinn made it seem like it would be easier than it has been."
"Qui-Gon Jinn follows the will of the Force above all else," Jaiah Plo said with a little shrug. "Sometimes it gets him into a bit of trouble. Here we are."
*
The younger of the two Jedi - Padawan Kenobi - comes to find Eirtaé as she sits in the waiting area for the Halls of Healing. He is holding two steaming cups of tea and has a paper bag tucked awkwardly in the fold of his elbow.
"I came to apologise," he says after he handed over the cup.
"Whatever for?" she asks, opening the paper bag he set down between them to find it is half full of tiny biscuits studded with dried fruit.
"I did write the report," he shrugs. "I wrote it based off of what I knew and what my Master had told me, which is never very much. I didn't even consider fact checking with Handmaiden Padmé or the child himself before submitting it, even though it is obvious in hindsight that the council would have used it to base their initial judgement on the boy."
"You are not completely to blame," Eirtaé points out, selecting a biscuit and biting in. It crumbles on her tongue and is a pleasant counterpoint to the tea blend he has selected for her. "We did send over the med-droid scan and that was also not taken into consideration. The two should have been considered in conjunction and the discrepancies noted, at least."
"I'll take half the blame then," Kenobi agrees with a small smile, and she nods at him.
They sip at their tea in silence as a group of healers leave the Halls in a chattering group, talking about noodles and deciding which of the two closest refectories they should aim for.
"Do you think he'll be accepted?" Eirtaé asks once the corridor is quiet again.
Kenobi shakes his head. "Unless something major changes, I doubt it," he says honestly. "It would be a fairly major concession, and my Master has a habit of butting heads with the council, he doesn’t have much favour to draw on for exceptions. I think the main regret is that they would have approached the interview completely differently had they known his background. And they would have insisted on having the chip removed first, so that he knew that this was a safe space. He must have been terrified. A bunch of strangers all calling themselves Master and making judgements on him."
"I did think Jaiah Plo had a very different approach," Eirtaé said diplomatically.
Kenobi laughs, and Eirtaé can almost taste the bitterness in it. "Jaiah Plo is one of the best," he says, his casual intonation turning the unfamiliar word into a song.
"I didn’t realise the Jedi have their own language."
"Dai Bendu, it's called," Kenobi reveals. "Another reason for the strict age rules. We all speak it first, before Basic. Not knowing it… will make him an outsider, make it harder to form friendships, to fit in. For a former slave… it will be another thing made difficult through no fault of his own."
"What do you think would be best for him, then?"
Kenobi takes a biscuit and nibbles on it, clearly working through the options in his head, and Eirtaé waits patiently for him to think, pleased that he is taking the problem seriously. Whatever he says, should it be sensible, is the path that she will argue for, she decides.
"I think there are two potential options that will suit," Kenobi says eventually, putting down his cup to gesture. "First, I think Corellia is probably the temple I would recommend, should he be temple raised. He has an interest in ships and mechanics, and that temple is well placed to find teachers in those subjects. The second path would be for him to find a trained Jedi to train him one on one, as the Wanderers sometimes take on Learners. Those trained in that way are able to come to Corellia or Coruscant to take the Knight trials when they feel that they are ready, so they are considered Jedi Knights by the Order, but they are not Temple Trained." He downs the last of his tea and grimaces a little. "I… I worry that when the Council declares their verdict, Master Qui-Gon will take a leave of absence from the order to train him. I… it's selfish, but I'm not sure where that leaves me. He said just last week that he didn't think I'd be ready for my trials yet."
"What do you think?" Eirtaé prompts him gently.
"I think I do need some more experience," Kenobi sighs. "But then, sometimes the best way to learn is just to do. It's hard to stop relying on his advice and guidance when he is always right there. It doesn't help that he feels that I have a poor grasp on the Living Force, which is his specialty. He's not wrong - I'm strongest in the Unifying Force, I just don't think I'm ever going to be all that great at the Living Force, you know?"
Eirtaé did not know, in fact, she had absolutely no idea, but she had ample practice in being a sympathetic ear. "I think people should be measured on their own strengths, not other people's," she says diplomatically. "Just because he is strong in one aspect of the, the Force, doesn't mean you have to be his copy. You're his student, not his clone."
Kenobi smiles at her. "That is a very wise philosophy."
"Perhaps an alternative mission?" Eirtaé suggests. "Rather than pushing for the next step, request a mission with a different Jedi, one who is more experienced but isn't your teacher. You will gain experience and perhaps a new perspective. And if that Jedi feels that you are ready for your… trials, did you call them? Well then their words will have more weight."
"Very wise," the Jedi says again, bowing a little in her direction. "I thank you for your good advice."
"Advice from strangers is often valuable," Eirtaé tells him with a smile. "The distance makes for good perspective."
She is distracted by a group of Healers exiting the halls, and behind them the diminutive figure of Anakin, escorted by a Bothan in light green robes, and by the time she looks back at him Kenobi is retreating down the corridor.
"Not staying to apologise in person then," she mutters to his retreating back, before turning to look at Anakin with a smile. "How did it go?"
The young boy is a charming mix of excited and exhausted, but a tension that Eirtaé hadn't even realised was there has melted away from his slight frame.
"Light food and no exercise other than walking for two to three days," the Healer says, patting Anakin on the shoulder. "He did very well and it's a clean incision, but it was deep. Very deep. Bacta dressing changes twice a rotation." They hand over the bag of medical supplies and Eirtaé slings it over her shoulder.
"Will we need to come here again?" she asks, pleased when the Healer shakes their head.
"Not unless there's a complication. Look out for signs of infection - swelling, heat, redness or discharge," they summarise. "But the bacta should be enough." The Healer crouches a little to look directly into Anakin's face. "You are strong with all aspects of the Force, youngling," they say quietly. "Jedi Healers are always strong in the living force, and the most powerful Healers can use the force to speed healing in themselves. Think positive, healing thoughts and you will find that you recover quickly."
"I'll try," Anakin promises, before stifling a yawn with his fist.
"Let's get you back to the embassy," Eirtaé suggests. "You can have a nap before dinner."
"Yes Mistress," Anakin replies automatically, but he also reaches out to slip his small hand into hers.
"You don't need to call me that," she reminds him, nodding her thanks to the Healer as she guides them towards the exit.
*
Anakin wakes to an argument. It's muffled, and after a few seconds it vanishes to the sound of the door closing, but the raised voices were enough to wake him. There is a rustling noise - someone is in the room with him.
"Ani?" calls Rabé's soft voice. "Are you awake?"
"Yes Mistress," Anakin replies, sliding out of bed at once.
"You don't need to call me that," she reminds him, helping him hook the silk privacy curtain out of the way.
"There's an argument," he says, rather than point out that they keep on objecting to Mistress but don't give him a better title to call them, and he can't very well just call them by their names like they're equals, can he?
"Yes, Master Jinn is back," Rabé sighs a little, not looking impressed. "He and Eirtaé and Padmé are having a, well a disagreement. A loud disagreement."
"Is it about me?" Anakin asks, not really wanting to know the answer. He feels cold all of a sudden, and he hasn't felt cold in the apartment since Eirtaé pulled him out of the guard's room.
"Sort of," Rabé admits, pulling a face. "I think that, well, that they should ask you, but they're too busy disagreeing, so I slipped out to talk to you myself. I thought that, once we had talked, we could interrupt the argument together, if that's ok?"
Anakin nods at her and she smiles back, taking a seat on the floor next to his bed. After a moment of hesitation, he sits next to her on the thick carpet.
"So, Master Jinn wants to train you, but the Council of the Coruscant temple have officially said no now," she begins. "I know that you know that there are other places to train. Eirtaé spoke with Padawan Kenobi while you were in the healing halls, and he said that he thought Corellia would suit you, you'd be able to find teachers in mechanics there as well as in the force. The third option is to find a trained Jedi to teach you privately, and then visit a temple just to take the Knighthood trials when you're ready."
Anakin swallows. It seems like a very big decision, and not one he was expecting to have to make. Master Qui-Gon had seemed so sure when he was talking about it on Tattooine. "Do I have to decide right now?" he asks, swallowing around the lump in his throat. "What, what happens to me if I don't?"
Rabé shakes her head and reaches out to take his hand in both of hers. Their hands are almost the same size, he realises. "You can stay with us," she says fiercely. "I promise you can. Eirtaé has taken a shine to you, as has the Queen. And we can always do with useful, loyal people around, and you're a good Pilot. We don't actually have a dedicated Pilot in the retinue, we usually just borrow someone qualified from the Royal Guard. Padmé was telling me last night that you built a droid as well as a pod racer, so you're good at fixing things, that can be useful too."
Anakin blinked up at her, feeling something like hope warm his chest. "I can stay with you and be a handmaiden? And wear soft fabrics and help with your hair every day?"
Rabé blinks at him in surprise for a long moment, but then she nods, her eyes tracing over his face. "You want to stay here and be an, uh, Apprentice Handmaiden, Ani?" she checks. "More than being a Jedi?"
Anakin bites his lip, but his mother had always told him to be truthful where he could. "It was cold at the Temple," he confesses. "I didn't like it there. The Temple at Corellia might be cold too. I've really liked staying with you."
Rabé shrugs, looking out at the empty room. "You saved our Monarch," she murmurs. "Citizenship has been granted for less. All right, let's go interrupt the argument. I'll tell them that you'll stay with us, and we'll look out for a wandering Jedi to teach you. Perhaps the Temple can send out word that we're looking for a Teacher, once this dreadful business with the Trade Federation is resolved."
She climbs to her feet and Anakin scrambles up, before something very important occurs to him. "Mistress Rabe, if the Temple have decided not to train me, what is the argument about?"
Rabé shakes out her skirts to settle them after sitting on the floor and rolls her eyes. "Master Jinn wants to train you anyway, and Eirtaé pointed out that he is already training Padawan Kenobi and needs to finish training him before he can take a new student. And that she isn't all that impressed with his conduct, or that he makes Padawan Kenobi write his reports. I think she was working up to saying that she didn't trust him to train you. Come on, let's go rescue the others, I'm sure they're tired of listening by now."
Rabé is correct, their entrance does interrupt the argument. The group are all seated at least, rather than standing and shouting in each other's faces. Anakin looks pleadingly up at Rabé as they all look at him, and she rolls her eyes a little but nods at him.
"Ani and I have discussed things," she says clearly into the silence. "And he will be staying with us for now rather than enrolling at one of the other temple sites. I believe that his actions and assistance on Tattooine are more than sufficient for a Naboo citizenship application, and furthermore he has expressed an interest in Royal Service, and has skills that can be useful. Unless my Lady has any objections, I believe that we should process the paperwork immediately to officially add him to the Retinue and provide him with some security. We can advise the temples that we are looking for a Jedi teacher to come to Naboo to train him once the situation with the Trade Federation is resolved."
There is a long moment of silence and Anakin can feel Rabé shiver a little from where he standing close beside her, but he is impressed that her face is so calm, from a distance it probably doesn't look like she's nervous at all. He needs to learn how to do that!
"A very elegant solution, Rabé," Padmé says eventually, her hands folded elegantly in her lap. "Thank you. Master Jinn, I believe that this concludes your business at the Nubian Embassy, for the time being."
The conversation rises up into a wave of unintelligible words that seem to crash against Anakin's ears, and when things calm again the Jedi has gone and Anakin is surrounded at a careful distance by worried faces.
"Are you ok, Ani?"
"What Rabé said, you meant it? You want to join the retinue?"
"Well we could do with a pilot of our own."
"Is he tall enough?"
"Sabé!"
Sabé grimaces apologetically. "Sorry! But I meant it as a serious question, the pilot chairs in Nubian vessels are designed for men, we don’t have a lot of diversity on planet. I know that some of the shorter women have issues with the speeders."
"Maybe that should be my next focus," Padmé muses out loud. "Transport accessibility. It can't be that hard to make things fully adjustable, surely. Other planets must do it."
"Anyway, Ani is good at more than piloting," Eirtaé points out. "He built a droid. Think of what he could achieve with some formal instruction."
Anakin takes a deep breath as the other ladies all give Padmé amused looks. "I do want to stay please," he tells them all. "I want to stay and learn how to be a handmaid."
Padmé reaches out and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We will do everything we can," she promises.