The Way of the Apprentice

Prologue

Not in living memory — not even among the oldest Jedi Masters — could they remember a Padawan who was as gifted as Anakin Skywalker. He could have advanced through his Temple training in half the time it had taken him. From the beginning, he had been far beyond his classmates in lightsaber skills and mastery of the Force. Yet in matters of the heart and mind, he still had much to learn, as Yoda continually pointed out.

His teachers had known how gifted he was, but they gave him the same drills and assignments as the other students.

They knew he was bored at times, but it was important not to single him out, not to treat him as special.

But Anakin was special, and they all knew it. The trouble was that he knew it as well.

He had been a unique case from the moment he entered Jedi training at the Temple. For one thing, he had been allowed to enter despite having passed the usual age. For another, he had been chosen as a Padawan by Obi-Wan Kenobi from the start. While the other students wondered when they would be chosen, and by whom, Anakin's destiny was assured.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin's progress with an eye that was both loving and careful. In one hand he held Qui-Gon's faith; in the other he held Yoda's caution. There were times it was hard to balance these two powerful influences.

On the morning of Anakin's thirteenth birthday, Obi-Wan had presented him with his Padawan gift. It was the gift that Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan on his own thirteenth birthday, a Force-sensitive river stone. Obi-Wan was ashamed to remember how he'd been disappointed by the gift. He had been so young. He had wanted something significant, something like the gifts other Padawans had received — special hilts for their lightsabers or cloaks made from the lightweight, warm wool from the planet Pasmin. Instead, Qui- Gon had given him a rock.

Yet that present had turned into his most valuable possession. The smooth black stone glowed with heat against his heart. It had warmed his cold hands on many planets. It had nestled inside a tiny pocket his friend Bant had sewn in his tunic, close to his heart.

It was hard to give it up. But somehow he knew Qui-Gon would want him to.

Unlike Obi-Wan's first reaction, Anakin's face showed deep appreciation. Then his expression clouded. "Are you sure?"

he asked. "This was given to you by Qui-Gon."

"He would want you to have it, as I do. It is my most treasured possession." Obi-Wan reached out and closed Anakin's fingers over the stone. "I hope it will be with you always to remind you of Qui-Gon and me, of our deep regard for you."

Anakin's smile lit his face. "I'll treasure it. Thank you, Master."

In many ways, Anakin was more openhearted, more generous than he had once been, Obi-Wan thought. Though there was a great weight on Anakin due to the prophecy, he was sure that Anakin would do well.

Now Anakin was fourteen. He was an able Padawan who had already proven himself on several important missions. Yet there was one thing that nagged at Obi-Wan. Anakin was liked by the other students, but he had no close friends. He was not loved.

Obi-Wan told himself that Anakin's gifts naturally set him apart. But in his heart, he grieved for Anakin's loneliness.

He was happy for Anakin's skill and growing command of the Force. But he wished a simple thing for Anakin. It was something he could not give his Padawan. It was not a gift he could hand over, like a well-loved river stone. He wished for a friend.

Chapter One

Anakin made his way down an alley deep below the gleaming surface of Coruscant. His Padawan braid was tucked inside his tunic, his lightsaber hidden in the folds of his cloak.

The Jedi were treated with great respect everywhere on Coruscant — except here. Close to the planet's surface, there were those who matched their contempt for good society with their need to hide from it. Everyone was equal here.

Equally despised.

Even air taxis didn't descend this far. It had taken him over an hour to walk down the descending ramps, since the lift tubes were often nonfunctional. If only he had an airspeeder! Then these raids could be done in half the time.

But Jedi students didn't have access to their own speeders.

Not even Padawans. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be outside the Temple at all, not without Obi-Wan's permission.

"Technically" is just another way of saying you are breaking the rules, Obi-Wan would say. Either you obey a rule, or you do not.

He was devoted to his Master, yet sometimes Obi-Wan's earnestness could really get in the way. Anakin didn't believe in breaking Jedi rules. He just wanted to find the spaces between them.

Anakin was well aware that his Master knew of these midnight jaunts. Obi-Wan was amazingly perceptive. He could sense a shift in emotion or thought faster than an eyeblink.

Thank the moon and stars that Obi-Wan also preferred not to hear about his midnight trips. As long as Anakin was discreet and didn't get into trouble, Obi-Wan would turn a blind eye.

Anakin didn't want to trouble Obi-Wan, but he couldn't help himself. As the night wore on and the Temple quieted, as the Jedi students turned off their glow rods and settled down for night meditation and sleep, Anakin just got restless. The lure of the streets called him. There were projects he had to complete, droids he was building or refining, parts to scavenge, rusty treasures to uncover. But mostly he just needed to be outside, under the stars.

Only those of us who have been slaves can really taste freedom, he sometimes thought.

His favorite scavenger heap was down here, in the dark underbelly of the city. The glow lights were seldom repaired and the glittering lights of the city above didn't penetrate down this far. This was where the junk dealers dumped their unwanted heaps — the stuff even they couldn't sell. It was left in smoking, stinking gray piles for the lowest of the low to pick over.

Fights often erupted at these scavenger heaps. Anakin had been lucky to avoid the squabbles that could end in violence. In addition to the desperate, there were bands of Manikons, a tribe from a planet lost long ago to a civil war so devastating it had caused the small band of survivors to flee to Coruscant. Now the Manikons survived by their wits and their weapons. They were perfectly willing to fight to the death over a rusty hydrospanner.

Anakin slipped among the smoky piles. Normally he avoided this particular junkyard, but he had a difficult tech problem with a malfunctioning droid, and he had exhausted all his other venues for finding what he needed. He knew that his Master looked at his tinkering with droids and tech devices as a waste of his time. Maybe it was. Anakin didn't care. He had come to realize that he needed to occupy his mind in order to stop the voices in his head. The voices that doubted he'd ever be a great Jedi Knight. The voices that told him he'd abandoned his mother. .