Probably.

For a wonder, Anakin didn't get himself into any mischief in the time it took Obi-Wan to reach the street and catch up with him. The young Brolf, for his part, continued on his way, apparently oblivious to the fact he was being followed.

Obi-Wan had noted earlier that Patameene District included rich neighborhoods as well as poorer, working-class ones. The teen led them into one of the latter, finally entering one of the units in a slightly dilapidated house ring.

The house ring was a standard Brolfi urban structure, consisting of a circle of houses or apartment buildings built around a central courtyard. The courtyard was designed to be a common recreation area for the ring, but through a gap where one of the houses had collapsed Obi-Wan saw that this particular courtyard had been turned into something that more closely resembled a junkyard.

"Looks like Watto's back area," Anakin murmured, ducking his head to peer inside. "They've got at least three projects going on in there."

"Any of them look like something that would use burn thrusters?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Hard to tell," Anakin said. "The one on the left-"

"Hold that thought," Obi-Wan cut him off quietly. There had been a flicker in the Force..

"Can we help you?" a suspicious voice asked from behind them.

Keeping his hands visible, Obi-Wan turned around. There were three adult Brolfi coming toward them, their simple tunics worn but neat and clean. "No thank you," he said politely. "We were just noticing all the construction work in there and wondering what they were building."

"Why would you care?" the spokesman asked.

"My young friend here used to build Podracers," Obi-Wan explained. "He's always been fascinated with that sort of thing."

"Really," one of the other Brolfi said, looking Anakin up and down. "You know anything about split-X air intakes?"

"Never used them myself," Anakin said. "But I can install them or fix them if there's a problem."

"Really." The Brolf filled his lungs. "Duefgrin!"

There was a slight pause; then the teen they'd been following appeared at the gap in the ring. "Yes, Uncle?" he called.

"Couple of humans here who say they know split-X systems," the Brolf said. "You still having trouble with yours?"

"I don't know," the teen said, eyeing Obi-Wan and Anakin doubtfully. "I just picked up a new compression controller. Maybe that'll help."

Obi-Wan suppressed a grimace. So that was what he and the adult had been doing back in the marketplace. The boy had handed over the stolen burst thrusters and gotten the controller in exchange.

Either that, or he'd stolen the controller earlier in the day. In that case, he might still have the thrusters.

"Only if the split-X doesn't have a back stability problem," Anakin said. "What kind of coupling you have on it? Binary or tertiary?"

"Binary," Duefgrin said. "I couldn't afford a tertiary."

"Let me take a look," Anakin offered, starting toward him. "If that's okay?" he added, looking at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked questioningly at the three Brolf adults. "Sure, go ahead," Duefgrin's uncle said, waving a hand. "The sooner he gets that junk heap working and out of the yard, the sooner the neighbors will quit complaining about it."

"Thanks," Obi-Wan said, mentally crossing the three adults off his suspects' list. If they were willing to let strangers wander freely through the area, they probably weren't hiding any plots. "Okay, Anakin, but make it quick."

"Sure," Anakin called back over his shoulder. Already, Obi-Wan noted, he and Duefgrin were deep into technical talk. "I'll be ready to leave when you are."

"I've heardthat before," Obi-Wan said under his breath as he followed them into the courtyard. Still, Duefgrin himself could be involved with a group of plotters without his uncle's knowledge. It wouldn't hurt for Obi-Wan to take a leisurely turn or two around the house ring while the teenagers worked, stretching out with the Force for any signs of violent intent.

And after that, he would pry Anakin away from whatever it was Duefgrin was building and they would see what kind of luck Lorana was having.

The young Brolf thief, Lorana had noticed, had left the rendezvous at a casual walk, without any indication that he suspected he might be followed or, indeed, any indication that he even cared whether he was or not.

The adult Brolf was another kettle of Giju entirely. He was about as blatantly nervous and suspicious as it was possible to be without actually carrying a sign to that effect. Every dozen steps he threw a quick look over his shoulder, and he crossed and recrossed the street at least once a block. Every block or two he changed directions, sometimes pausing at one of the open-air shops lining the street and pretending to examine the merchandise while actually studying the pedestrians behind him.

It was so ludicrous that it was almost funny. But Lorana felt no urge to laugh. Riske was a professional, with a professional's bearing and subtlety. This Brolf was just the opposite: an amateur conspirator, with an amateur's lack of finesse or ability. And it was the amateur-uncalculating, unthinking, unpredictable-who was often the more dangerous opponent.

Fortunately, it was also the amateur who was the easier to deceive. Lorana had picked up a few tricks about tailing people during her years of Jedi training, and over the next hour she ended up using every one of them. She varied her distance from the Brolf, ducked through alleys and side streets to get ahead of him, and periodically altered her appearance by putting her robe's hood up or down or using a cord to tie her hair back instead of letting it hang free.

Eventually, the Brolf's paranoia seemed to ease, and his convoluted path straightened out as he turned northwest. Lorana stayed as far back as she could, watching the ornamentation and value of the homes and shops around her steadily diminishing as they moved farther and farther into one of the poorer areas of the district. Whereas the richer neighborhoods had waist-high walls or fences to delineate the property lines, here the boundaries were marked off by low, tightly woven hedges or simple rows of distinctive flowering plants. A fair sprinkling of the pedestrians she passed wore tunics with Mining Guild markings, she noted, and many of them paused in their activities to scrutinize her as she passed through their midst.

More than once she thought about calling Obi-Wan and asking for advice or assistance. More often than that she considered simply turning around and heading back to the safe familiarity of the city center, leaving whatever plots and counterplots to be dealt with by those with more wisdom and experience in such matters.