A very dark look crosses Qui-Gon's face.  He strokes his goatee.

"How impaired would she be by the loss of all her slaves?  Assume we free them somehow, even if she isn't willing to gamble all of them.  Would she have enough left to rebuild?"

"She has other fortunes - and bounty hunters on her payroll, and clan members, and ships with weapons - but she wouldn't be able to buy or capture a whole bunch of new slaves in a hurry, and she might get killed by other Hutts before she can get her footing again. She'd have more trouble if we also messed with her computers and stuff."

Or just killed her outright. And Jabba. And every other crime lord on this forsaken rock.

"Queen Amidala," Qui-Gon says, "would you and Miss Skywalker mind discussing what she knows of the situation on Tatooine alone for a time?  I'd like to speak to my new friend in private, if that's all right with her."

Shmi nods, firmly. 

Anakin eyes Qui-Gon. "Okay."

He stands.  "After you."

She leads him out after a moment, into the winding alleyways used by the slaves, into a little side place - it'd be a garden somewhere else, maybe, a little lot turned over to nature. Here, there's carefully smooth stones in a soothing pattern, and a broom for sweeping sand (that Anakin ignores), and odd little statues about the edge, larger ones in the corners, and shade from the thick walls around it, and privacy - it's barely visible from the alley, only if you really look - and two stone benches facing each other, their edges worn smooth. Anakin sits on one.

Qui-Gon sits opposite her.

"I want to make clear," he says somberly, "that regardless of our wager, I don't intend to leave this planet while Gardulla retains the ability to ever acquire slaves again.  Not after what you've told me today, certainly."

She curls into herself a bit.

"Why change what you're saying you'll do?"

"I believe that killing every slaver in this city will make it more difficult to end slavery on Tatooine in the long run," Qui-Gon says gently.  "Often, even if it is worth doing something violently, it is still advantageous to do it peacefully, and that is why I prefer to act without violence when I can.  But what Gardulla did to you, and to everyone else who this planet's laws considered her property, was horrific even by the standards of slavers.  Taking a life is not an act without cost, even the life of a deeply evil person.  But if that's what it takes to stop Gardulla, I am willing to pay that cost."

"I worry," he continues slowly, "that I have done wrong by you today, by not making it sufficiently clear that I am appalled by what the criminals on this planet are doing.  If I believed killing them were the best way to stop them, I would not hesitate to do so."

She eyes him.

"You're strange," she says, after a long pause.

"May I ask in what way?"

"Adults usually don't care if they make sense or are fair."

"I'm sorry to hear that has been your experience," he says; and, as his face almost-but-not-quite breaks into a sad smile, "Many of us are rather unreasonable about that, yes."

She nods. "Being weird's good," she says after a moment.

"I do my best."

Grin. "I'm gonna be the weirdest adult."

"I look forward to seeing it."

Heh. "You're neat."

"So are you, if I may say so."

She grins. "Was there other stuff?"

"Not unless there's anything else you'd like to discuss with me away from prying ears," he says.

She hesitates. "I don't know who Gardulla has in her gardens right now... I don't think I want to talk about those in front of - everyone, though, and - we need to get people out of them..."

"I'm happy to discuss them in private, if you'd like," Qui-Gon says.  "Or we can work out another solution if you need to."

She bites her lip. "I can tell you about them..."