Now the murmurs he heard from the onlookers were of appreciation for the skill of a Jedi Master. Qui-Gon tuned them out. The battle was not over until the final defeat.

Bruck tried a last assault, but the boy was tired. It was not hard for Qui-Gon to knock Bruck's weapon from his hand and lightly touch the end of his own lightsaber to the boy's neck.

"End point, it is," Yoda announced.

The two exchanged the ritual bows and the customary eye contact. At the end of every match, each Jedi showed respect to the other and gratitude for his lesson, win or lose. Qui-Gon had fought many times in this way.

Sometimes, Jedi students could not control their frustration or anger during the ritual bow.

But in Bruck's steady gaze Qui-Gon saw only respect. That was an improvement.

But he saw other things. Curiosity. Desire.

Bruck was going to be thirteen in a few days. He had not yet been chosen as a Padawan. Time was running out. He was most likely wondering if Qui-Gon would choose him.

Everyone was wondering, Qui-Gon knew. Teachers, students, even the Council. Why had he returned to the Temple? Had he come to choose another apprentice?

Qui-Gon turned away from the speculation in Bruck's eyes. He would never choose a Padawan again.

He returned his lightsaber to his belt. Bruck replaced his in the rack where the senior students left their weapons after training. Qui-Gon quickly walked through the dressing and washing rooms and activated the door to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

He felt the coolness of the air with relief. Here in the enormous greenhouse it was always refreshing. The sound of rushing water and the many shades of green soothed a restless spirit. He could hear the trickle of the small fountains nestled in the ferns, as well as the gentle thunder of the larger waterfalls down the paths. Qui-Gon had always found the garden peaceful. He hoped that now it would calm his raging heart.