A WA-2 droid scuttled up as they chose a booth overlooking the street and sat down. "Welcome to Panky's," it said, its electronic voice somehow managing to convey both courtesy and the fact that it was being severely and unfairly overworked. "What may I provide for you?"

"I want a tarsh maxer and bribb juice," Anakin said eagerly.

Obi-Wan suppressed a smile. Anakin had discovered bribb juice on his first trip as a Padawan, and ever since then he'd ordered it every chance he got, whether it really went with the rest of the meal or not. "Same maxer for me, but make my drink a Corellian noale," he told the droid.

"I'll take the bribb juice, but with a prisht-fruit salad," Lorana said. She gave Obi-Wan a hesitant smile. "After all, Barlokdoes produce the best specimens."

"So I've heard," Obi-Wan said, studying her. She was about medium height, with dark hair and striking gray eyes. She had an intelligent face, a nice smile, and that sense of global awareness that came from knowledge of the Force. To all appearances, she seemed well on her way to becoming a typical Jedi.

And yet, there was something about her that felt odd to him, something that didn't quite ring true. Her air of dignity and confidence felt strained, like an accessory she put on every morning instead of something that was truly a part of her innermost being. Her smile had a similarly tentative edge to it, as if she was afraid it would get her into trouble.

On the surface, she had everything down just right. Beneath it all, she was still a Padawan learner with a lot of work yet to do.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone before who was trained by Master C'baoth," he commented as the droid bustled away. "What's he like to study with?"

The corners of Lorana's mouth compressed, just noticeably. "It's been a valuable learning experience," she said diplomatically. "Master C'baoth has a depth and strength in the Force that I can only hope I'll someday be able to approach."

"Ah." Obi-Wan nodded, his mind flicking back to his last conversation with Master Windu. She might be right, or it might also be that C'baoth wasn't nearly as deep into the Force as she thought. Possibly even not as deep as C'baoth himself thought.

But discussing a Jedi with his Padawan was considered poor form, particularly in front of another, younger Padawan like Anakin. "I'm sure you'll make it," he told her. "In my experience, a Jedi can gain as much depth in the Force as he or she wants."

"Within his or her limitations, of course," Lorana said ruefully. "I don't know yet where that line lies for me."

"No one does until the line is reached and tested," Obi-Wan pointed out. "Personally, I don't believe thereare any such limits."

Another droid bustled up with their drinks balanced precariously on a tray. Obi-Wan leaned back, ready to reach out with the Force to rescue the glasses if it became necessary, but the droid set them down without spilling a drop and bustled away. Picking up his drink, Obi-Wan sent a slow look around the room.

Small, unassuming places like this, he knew, were usually passed over by casual visitors looking for flash and sparkle. Sure enough, most of the patrons were locals: hornskinned Brolfi in varying shades of yellow and green, plus a counterpoint sprinkling of the more delicate arboreal Karfs from the vast tisvollt forests that edged the city on two sides.

But there were also a few other species represented, including three more humans. Perhaps the guide card recommendation was actually having some influence on the visitor trade. His leisurely gaze drifted to the genuine duskwood bar at the far end, where a skinny, mostly yellow-skinned Brolf was serving drinks.

He frowned. "Lorana, that human over there-black vest, gray shirt, talking to the bartender. Have you ever seen him before?"

She turned to look. "Yes, he was in the group waiting outside the negotiating chamber when the talks ended yesterday. I don't know his name."

"You know him, Master?" Anakin asked.

"Unless I'm mistaken, that's Jery Riske," Obi-Wan said. "Former bounty hunter; currently top enforcer for the magistrate's office of the Corporate Alliance."

"What does an enforcer do?" Anakin asked.

"Pretty much anything Passel Argente tells him to," Obi-Wan said. "Bodyguard, investigator, and probably extra muscle if there are bad debts to be collected. I wonder which of those roles he's performing here."

"Probably the bodyguard one," Lorana said. "Magistrate Argente's leading the Alliance's negotiating team."

An unpleasant sensation crept up Obi-Wan's back. The head of a powerful, galaxy-spanning organization such as the Corporate Alliance hardly had the time to deal personally with a minor contract dispute like this.

Unless the Barlok dispute wasn't as minor as everyone seemed to think.

He looked back at Riske. The man was still talking with the bartender, both of them leaning slightly over their respective sides of the bar, their heads close together. "Anakin, you see that dish of quartered nuts on the bar near Enforcer Riske?" he asked, setting down his drink. "Go and grab a few of them."

"Sure," Anakin said. Sliding out of his seat, he started threading his way between the rows of tables.

"What are you doing?" Lorana asked.

"Giving myself an excuse to go over there," Obi-Wan said, watching Anakin's progress across the room and judging his timing. One more table. . now. "Wait here," he added, standing up and heading off after his Padawan. Focusing his attention on the conversation at the bar, he ran through his Jedi sensory enhancement techniques.

He got within eavesdropping distance just as Anakin reached the bar, squeezed himself in between an Aqualish and a Rodian, and started helping himself to the nuts. "-centered in Patameene District," the bartender was saying in a low voice. "But that's just a rumor, mind."

"Thanks," Riske said. His hand brushed over the bartender's, and Obi-Wan caught a glint of metal as the bartender straightened up, his closed fist dropping casually behind the bar. The Brolf's eyes shifted to Obi-Wan, the hornskin puckering a little as he frowned. Riske caught the change in expression and turned, his right hand dropping casually to his belt, the fingertips dipping inside the edge of his vest.

"That's enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, keeping his voice light but firm as he came up behind Anakin and took casual hold of the boy's shoulder, carefully keeping his eyes away from Riske and the bartender.

"Just one more?" Anakin asked, turning and holding up a large tashru.

"All right, but forafter your lunch," Obi-Wan said firmly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Riske's hand drop the rest of the way to his side and sensed both his and the bartender's suspicions fading. "You don't want to spoil your appetite."