Free Attack of the Clones by R.A. Salvatore Page B

deadly kouhuns to her forehead.
    “Tidy yourself up,” Jango instructed, and he headed away.
    Zam Wesell turned back to her own waiting speeder and pulled off her veil. Even as she lifted the cloth, her features began to morph, her mouth tightening, her black eyes sinking back into shapely sockets, and the ridges on her forehead smoothing. In the time it took her to unhook her veil, she had already assumed a shapely and attractive female human form, with dark and sensuousfeatures. Even her clothing seemed to fit her differently, flowing down gracefully from her face.
    Off to the side, Jango nodded approvingly and sped away. As a Clawdite, a changeling, Zam Wesell did bring some advantages to the trade, he had to admit.
    The vast Jedi Temple sat on a flat plain. Unlike so many of Coruscant’s buildings, monuments of efficiency and spare design, this building itself was a work of art, with many ornate columns and soft, rounded lines that drew in the eye and held it. Bas-reliefs and statues showed in many areas, with lights set at varying angles to distort the shadows into designs of mystery.
    Inside, the Temple was no different. This was a place of contemplation, a place whose design invited the mind to wander and to explore, a place whose lines themselves asked for interpretation. Art was as much a part of what it was to be a Jedi Knight as was warrior training. Many of the Jedi, past and present, considered art to be a conscious link to the mysteries of the Force, and so the sculptures and portraits that lined every hall were more than mere replicas—they were artistic interpretations of the great Jedi they represented, saying in form alone what the depicted Masters might speak in words.
    Mace Windu and Yoda walked slowly down one polished and decorated corridor, the lights low, but with a brightly illuminated room in the distance before them.
    “Why couldn’t we see this attack on the Senator?” Mace pondered, shaking his head. “This should have been no surprise to the wary, and easy for us to predict.”
    “Masking the future is this disturbance in the Force,” Yoda replied. The diminutive Jedi seemed tired.
    Mace understood well the source of that weariness. “The prophecy is coming true. The dark side is growing.”
    “And only those who have turned to the dark side cansense the possibilities of the future,” Yoda said. “Only by probing the dark side can we see.”
    Mace spent a moment digesting that remark, for what Yoda referred to was no small thing. Not at all. Journeys to the edges of the dark side were not to be taken lightly. Even more dire, the fact that Master Yoda believed that the disturbance all the Jedi had sensed in the Force was so entrenched in the dark side was truly foreboding.
    “It’s been ten years and the Sith still have not shown themselves,” Mace remarked, daring to say it aloud. The Jedi didn’t like to even mention the Sith, their direst of enemies. Many times in the past, the Jedi had dared hope that the Sith had been eradicated, their foul stench cleansed from the galaxy, and so they all would have liked to deny the existence of the mysterious dark Force-users.
    But they could not. There could be no doubt and no denying that the being who had slain Qui-Gon Jinn those ten years before on Naboo was a Sith Lord.
    “Do you think the Sith are behind this present disturbance?” Mace dared to ask.
    “Out there, they are,” Yoda said with resignation. “A certainty that is.”
    Yoda was referring to the prophecy, of course, that the dark side would rise and that one would be born who would bring balance to the Force and to the galaxy. Such a potential chosen one was now known among them, and that, too, brought more than a little trepidation to these hallowed halls.
    “Do you think Obi-Wan’s learner will be able to bring balance to the Force?” Mace asked.
    Yoda stopped walking and slowly turned to regard the other Master, his expression showing a range of emotions that