"Obi-Wan,
no one is going to believe we're lovers," Qui-Gon insisted,
"unless you agree to masquerade as a woman." He had not seen his padawan
glare at him like this since he was a boy of fifteen.
"Let them not believe," the younger man said. "Or let
you wear the wig
and the jewels and the three-inch spike heels for a change."
Qui-Gon sighed, adopting his best Put-Upon Master face. "My heart," he
said, "I know it's uncomfortable, and I know it makes you feel
self-conscious, but it's just for the evening. The Kraalae have
unconscionably attacked their neighbors, the Lenesi, with neither
provocation nor explanation. Only by infiltrating their society can we
understand why they felt it necessary to do this -- they wouldn't confide in
total strangers." Obi-Wan continued to glare. "And, happily, their chief
big man's daughter is to be married, and weddings are events to which the
whole community is welcome, and even expected."
"None of this has explained why I must dress as a woman."
"My love, surely you learned in Comparative Cultures that there are some
societies in which anything but male-female pairings are completely unknown.
This must be a social visit, so you cannot appear as my partner or my
student; there is not enough physical resemblance for you to be believable
as my brother or my son; and they
will not believe you are my lover if
they see you as a man."
Obi-Wan sat down heavily and sighed. "And you won't be the woman
because ...?"
"Look at me."
"Oh, fair enough, Master," the apprentice said, exasperated. "But
only
for the wedding."
"Yes, Obi-Wan."
"And we leave as soon as we've discovered their sore point with their
neighbors."
"Yes, Obi-Wan."
"And I don't have to shave my legs."
Qui-Gon laughed out loud. "Very well, my dear one."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes once more, stood and accepted his master's kiss on
his cheekbone, and stalked off to put on his evening gown.
Comments always
welcome!