"It was . . . entirely extraordinary," Palpatine said blandly, oblivious to Mace's narrowing stare. "I know next to nothing of swordplay, of course; to my amateur's eye, it seemed that Count Dooku may have been ... a trace overconfident. Especially after having disposed of Master Ken.o.bi so neatly."

Obi-Wan flushed, just a bit-and Anakin flushed considerably more deeply.

"Perhaps young Anakin was simply more . . . highly motivated," Palpatine said, turning a fond smile upon him. "After all, [Dooku was fighting only to slay an enemy; Anakin was fighting to save-if I may presume the honor-a friend."

Mace's scowl darkened. Fine words. Perhaps even true words, but he still didn't like them.

No one on the Jedi Council had ever been comfortable with Skywalker's close relationship with the Chancellor-they'd had more than one conversation about it with Obi-Wan while Skywalker had still been his Padawan-and Mace was less than happy to hear Palpatine speaking for a young Jedi who seemed unprepared to speak for himself. He said, "I'm sure the Council will be very interested in your full report, Anakin," with just enough emphasis on full to get his point across.

Skywalker swallowed, and then, just as suddenly as it had collapsed, that aura of calm, centered confidence rebuilt itself around him. "Yes. Yes of course, Master Windu."

"And we must report that Grievous escaped," Obi-Wan said. "He is as cowardly as ever."

Mace accepted this news with a nod. "But he is only a military commander. Without Dooku to hold the coalition together, these so-called independent systems will splinter, and they know it." He looked straight into the Supreme Chancellor's eyes. This is our best chance to sue for peace. We can end this war right now."

And while Palpatine answered, Mace Windu reached into the Force.

To Mace's Force perception, the world crystallized around them, becoming a gem of reality shot through with flaws and fault lines of possibility. This was Mace's particular gift: to see how people and situations fit together in the Force, to find the shear planes that can cause them to break in useful ways, and to intuit what sort of strike would best make the cut. Though he could not consistently determine the significance of the structures he perceived-the darkening cloud upon the Force that had risen with the rebirth of the Sith made that harder and harder with each pa.s.sing day-the presence of shatterpoints was always clear.

Mace had supported the training of Anakin Skywalker, though it ran counter to millennia of Jedi tradition, because from the structure of fault lines in the Force around him, he had been able to intuit the truth of Qui-Gon Jinn's guess: that the young slave boy from Tatooine was in fact the prophesied chosen one, born to bring balance to the Force. He had argued for the elevation of Obi-Wan Ken.o.bi to Mastership, and to give the training of the chosen one into the hands of this new, untested Master, because his unique perception had shown him powerful lines of destiny that bound their lives together, for good or ill. On the day of Palpatine's election to the Chancellorship, he had seen that Palpatine was himself a shatterpoint of unimaginable significance: a man upon whom might depend the fate of the Republic itself.

Now he saw the three men together, and the intricate lattice of fault lines and stress fractures that bound them each to the other was so staggeringly powerful that its structure was beyond calculation.

Anakin was somehow a pivot point, the fulcrum of a lever with Obi-Wan on one side, Palpatine on the other, and the galaxy in the balance, but the dark cloud on the Force prevented his perception from reaching into the future for so much as a hint of where this might lead. The balance was already so delicate that he could not guess the outcome of any given shift: the slightest tip in any direction would generate chaotic oscillation. Anything could happen. Anything at all.

And the lattice of fault lines that bound all three of them to each other stank of the dark side.

He lifted his head and looked to the sky, picking out the dropping star of the Jedi shuttle as it swung toward them through the darkening afternoon.

"I'm afraid peace is out of the question while Grievous is at large," the Chancellor was saying sadly. "Dooku was the only check on Grievous's monstrous l.u.s.t for slaughter; with Dooku gone, the general has been unleashed to rampage across the galaxy. I'm afraid that, far from being over, this war is about to get a very great deal worse."

"And what of the Sith?" Obi-Wan said. "Dooku's death should have at least begun the weakening of the darkness, but instead it feels stronger than ever. I fear Master Yoda's intuition is correct: that Dooku was merely the apprentice to the Sith Lord, not the Master."

Mace started walking toward the small-craft dock where the Jedi shuttle would land, and the others fell in with him.

"The Sith Lord, if one still exists, will reveal himself in time. They always do." He hoped Obi-Wan would take the hint and shut up about it; Mace had no desire to speak openly of the investigation in front of the Supreme Chancellor. The less Palpatine knew, the better.

"A more interesting puzzle is Grievous," he said. "He had you at his mercy, Chancellor, and mercy is not numbered among his virtues. Though we all rejoice that he spared you, I cannot help but wonder why."

Palpatine spread his hands. "I can only a.s.sume the Separatists preferred to have me as a hostage rather than as a martyr Though it is of course impossible to say; it may merely have been a whim of the general. He is notoriously erratic."

"Perhaps the Separatist leadership can restrain him, in exchange for certain ..." Mace let his gaze drift casually to a point somewhere above the Chancellor's head. ". . . considerations."

"Absolutely not." Palpatine drew himself up, straightening his robes. "A negotiated peace would be a recognition of the CIS as the legitimate government of the rebellious systems tantamount to losing the war! No, Master Windu, this war can end only one way. Unconditional surrender. And while Grievous lives, that will never happen."

"Very well," Mace said. "Then the Jedi will make the capture of General Grievous our particular task." He glanced at Anakin and Obi-Wan, then back to Palpatine. He leaned close to the Chancellor and his voice went low and final, with a buried intensity that hinted-just the slightest bit-of suspicion, and warning. "This war has gone on far too long already. We will find him, and this war will end."

"I have no doubt of it." Palpatine strolled along, seemingly oblivious. "But we should never underestimate the deviousness of the Separatists. It is possible that even the war itself has been only one further move," he said with elegant, understated precision, "in some greater game."

As the Jedi shuttle swung toward the Chancellor's private landing platform at the Senate Offices, Obi-Wan watched Anakin pretending not to stare out the window. On the platform was a small welcome-contingent of Senators, and Anakin was trying desperately to look as if he wasn't searching that little crowd hungrily for a particular face. The pretense was a waste of time; Anakin radiated excitement so powerfully in the Force that Obi-Wan could practically hear the thunder of his heartbeat.

Obi-Wan gave a silent sigh. He had entirely too good an idea whose face his former Padawan was so hoping to see.

When the shuttle touched down, Master Windu caught his from beyond Anakin's shoulder. The Korun Master made a nearly invisible gesture, to which Obi-Wan did not visibly respond; but when Palpatine and Anakin and R2 all debarked toward the crowd of well-wishers, Obi-Wan stayed behind.

Anakin stopped on the landing deck, looking back at Obi-Wan. "You coming?"

"I haven't the courage for politics," Obi-Wan said, showing his usual trace of a smile. "I'll brief the Council."

"Shouldn't I be there, too?"

"No need. This isn't the formal report. Besides-" Obi-Wan nodded toward the clot of HoloNet crews clogging the pedestrian gangway. "-someone has to be the poster boy." Anakin looked pained. "Poster man."

"Quite right, quite right," Obi-Wan said with a gentle chuckle. "Go meet your public, Poster Man."

"Wait a minute-this whole operation was your idea. You planned it. You led the rescue. It's your turn to take the bows."

"You won't get out of it that easily, my young friend. Without you, I wouldn't even have made it to the flagship. You killed Count Dooku, and single-handedly rescued the Chancellor . . . all while, I might be forgiven for adding, carrying some old broken-down Jedi Master unconscious on your back. Not to mention making a landing that will be the standard of Impossible in every flight manual for the next thousand years."

"Only because of your training, Master-"

"That's just an excuse. You're the hero. Go spend your glorious day surrounded by-" Obi-Wan allowed himself a slightly disparaging cough. "-politicians."

'Come on, Master-you owe me. And not just for saving your skin for the tenth time-"

"Ninth time. Cato Neimoidia doesn't count; it was your fault in the first place." Obi-Wan waved him off. "See you at the Outer Rim briefing in the morning."

"Well ... all right. Just this once." Anakin laughed and waved, and then headed briskly off to catch up with Palpatine as the Chancellor waded into the Senators with the smooth-as-oiled-transparisteel ease of the lifelong politician.

The hatch cycled shut, the shuttle lifted off, and Obi-Wan's smile faded as he turned to Mace Windu. "You wanted to speak with me."

Windu moved close to Obi-Wan's position by the window, nodding out at the scene on the landing platform. "It's Anakin. I don't like his relationship with Palpatine."

"We've had this conversation before."

"There is something between them. Something new. I could see it in the Force." Mace's voice was flat and grim. "It felt powerful. And incredibly dangerous."

Obi-Wan spread his hands. "I trust Anakin with my life."

"I know you do. I only wish we could trust the Chancellor with Anakin's."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said, frowning. "Palpatine's policies are ... sometimes questionable. But he dotes on Anakin like a kindly old uncle on his favorite nephew."

Mace stared out the window. "The Chancellor loves power. If he has any other pa.s.sion, I have not seen it."

Obi-Wan shook his head with a trace of disbelief. "I recall that not so long ago, you were something of an admirer of his."

"Things," Mace Windu said grimly, "change."

Flying over a landscape pocked with smoldering wreckage where once tall buildings filled with living beings had gleamed in the sun, toward a Temple filled with memories of so many, man)' Jedi who would never return from this war, Obi-Wan could not disagree.

After a moment, he said, "What would you have me do?"

"I am not certain. You know my power; I cannot always interpret what I've seen. Be alert. Be mindful of Anakin, and be careful of Palpatine. He is not to be trusted, and his influence on Anakin is dangerous."

"But Anakin is the chosen one-"

"All the more reason to fear an outsider's influence. We have circ.u.mstantial evidence that traces Sidious to Palpatine's inner circle."

Suddenly Obi-Wan had difficulty breathing. "Are you certain?"

Mace shook his head. "Nothing is certain. But this raid-the capture of Palpatine had to be an inside job. And the timing . . . we were closing in on him, Master Ken.o.bi! The information you and Anakin discovered-we had traced the Sith Lord to an abandoned factory in The Works, not far from where Anakin landed the cruiser. When the attack began, we were tracking him through the downlevel tunnels." Mace stared out the viewport at a vast residential complex that dominated the skyline to the west. "The trail led to the sub-bas.e.m.e.nt of Five Hundred Republica." Five Hundred Republica was the most exclusive address on the planet. Its inhabitants included only the incredibly wealthy or the incredibly powerful, from Raith Sienar of the Sienar Systems conglomerate to Palpatine himself. Obi-Wan could only say, "Oh."

"We have to face the possibility-the probability-that what Dooku told you on Geonosis was actually true. That the Senate under the influence-under the control-of Darth Sidious. 'hat it has been for years."

"Do you-" Obi-Wan had to swallow before he could go on.

"Do you have any suspects?"

"Too many. All we know of Sidious is that he's bipedal, of roughly human conformation. Sate Pestage springs to mind. I wouldn't rule out Mas Amedda, either. The Sith Lord might even be hiding among the Red Guards. There's no way to know."

"Who's handling the questioning?" Obi-Wan asked. "I'd be happy to sit in; my perceptions are not so refined as some, but Mace shook his head. "Interrogate the Supreme Chancellor's personal aides and advisors? Impossible."

"But-"

"Palpatine will never allow it. Though he hasn't said so . . ." Mace stared out the window. ". . . I'm not sure he even believes the Sith exist."

Obi-Wan blinked. "But-how can he-"

"Look at it from his point of view: the only real evidence we have is Dooku's word. And he's dead now."

"The Sith Lord on Naboo-the Zabrak who killed Qui-Gon-"

Mace shrugged. "Destroyed. As you know." He shook his head. "Relations with the Chancellor's Office are ... difficult. I feel he has lost his trust in the Jedi; I have certainly lost my trust in him."

"But he doesn't have the authority to interfere with a Jedi investigation ..." Obi-Wan frowned, suddenly uncertain. "Does he?"

"The Senate has surrendered so much power, it's hard to say where his authority stops."

"It's that bad?"

Mace's jaw locked. "The only reason Palpatine's not a suspect is because he already rules the galaxy."

"But we are closer than we have ever been to rooting out the Sith," Obi-Wan said slowly. "That can only be good news. I would think that Anakin's friendship with Palpatine could be of use to us in this-he has the kind of access to Palpatine that other Jedi might only dream of. Their friendship is an a.s.set, not a danger."

"You can't tell him."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Of the whole Council, only Yoda and myself know how deep this actually goes. And now you. I have decided to share this with you because you are in the best situation to watch Anakin. Watch him. Nothing more."

"We-" Obi-Wan shook his head helplessly. "We don't keep secrets from each other."

"You must keep this one." Mace laced his fingers together land squeezed until his knuckles crackled like blasterfire. "Skywalker is arguably the most powerful Jedi alive, and he is still getting stronger. But he is not stable. You know it. We all do. It is why he cannot be given Mastership. We must keep him off the Council, despite his extraordinary gifts. And Jedi prophecy ... is not absolute. The less he has to do with Palpatine, the better."

"But surely-" Obi-Wan stopped himself. He thought of how many times Anakin had violated orders. He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend. He thought of the danger Palpatine faced unknowingly, with a Sith Lord among his advisers . . .

Master Windu was right. This was a secret Anakin could not be trusted to keep.

"What can I tell him?"

"Tell him nothing. I sense the dark side around him. Around them both."

"As it is around us all," Obi-Wan reminded him. "The dark side touches all of us, Master Windu. Even you."

"I know that too well, Obi-Wan." For one second Obi-Wan saw something raw and haunted in the Korun Master's eyes. Mace turned away. "It is possible that we may have to ... move against Palpatine."

"Move against-?"

"If he is truly under the control of a Sith Lord, it may be the only way."

Obi-Wan's whole body had gone numb. This didn't seem real. It was not possible that he was actually having this conversation.

"You haven't been here, Obi-Wan." Mace stared bleakly down at his hands. "You've been off fighting the war in the Outer Rim. You don't know what it's been like, dealing with all the petty squabbles and special interests and greedy, grasping fools in the Senate, and Palpatine's constant, cynical, ruthless maneuvering for power-he carves away chunks of our freedom and bandages the wounds with tiny sc.r.a.ps of security. And for what? Look at this planet, Obi-Wan! We have given up so much freedom-how secure do we look?."

Obi-Wan's heart clenched. This was not the Mace Windu he knew and admired; it was as though the darkness in the Force was so much thicker here on Coruscant that it had breathed poison into Mace's spirit-and perhaps was even breeding suspicion and dissension among the members of the Jedi Council.

The greatest danger from the darkness outside came when Jedi fed it with the darkness within.

He had feared he might find matters had deteriorated when he returned to Coruscant and the Temple; not even in his darkest dreams had he thought it would get this bad.

"Master Windu-Mace. We'll go to Yoda together," he said firmly. "And among the three of us we'll work something out. We will. You'll see."

"It may be too late already."

"It may be. And it may not be. We can only do what we can do, Mace. A very, very wise Jedi once said to me, We don't have to win. All we have to do is fight."

Some of the lines erased themselves from the Koran Master's face then, and when he met Obi-Wan's eye there was a quirk at the corner of his mouth that might someday develop into a smile-a tired, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I seem," he said slowly, "to have forgotten that particular Jedi. Thank you for reminding me."

"It was the least I could do," Obi-Wan said lightly, but a sad weight had gathered on his chest. Things change, indeed.

Anakin's heart pounded in his throat, but he kept smiling, and nodding, and shaking hands-and trying desperately to work his way toward a familiar golden-domed protocol droid who hung back beyond the crowd of Senators, right arm lifted in a small, tentative wave at R2-D2.

She wasn't here. Why wasn't she here? Something must have happened.

He knew, deep in his guts, that something had happened to her. An accident, or she was sick, or she'd been caught in one of the vast number of buildings. .h.i.t by debris from the battle today . . . She might be trapped somewhere right now, might be wounded, might be smothering, calling out his name, might be feeling the approach of flames-Stop it, he told himself. She's not hurt. If anything had happened to her, he would know. Even from the far side of the Outer Rim, he would know. So why wasn't she here? Had something . . .

He could barely breathe. He couldn't make himself even think it. He couldn't stop himself from thinking it. Had something changed? For her? In how she felt?