The atmosphere within the chamber was thick with dust. Dust sifted from the ceiling, puffed from the outer halls as ceilings collapsed elsewhere in the ruin. Tendrils on the floor moved with deliberation toward Jabitha, encircled her. Sekot itself would protect the Magister’s daughter. In some fashion Anakin could not yet fathom, the figure before him regarded the Magister’s children as brothers and sisters. “You are the Jedi apprentice,” the image said. Anakin nodded. “And your master is elsewhere, fighting the new invasion.” “I feel him out there,” Anakin said. “How I would love to learn the secrets of the Jedi! What can you teach me?” “Who are you?” Anakin said. Like Obi-Wan, he was now finding mystery and delay to be a real irritation. “I don’t know for sure. I’m not very old, but my memories go back billions of turnings. Parts of me saw the pinwheel grow in the sky.” Anakin thought of Vergere’s message contained within the seeds. “You’re the mind I sensed, aren’t you?”
