Текст книги "Savior "
Автор книги: John J. Miller
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L o s t T r i b e o f t h e S i t h # 4
S A V I O R
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Also by John Jackson Miller
Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Precipice Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Skyborn Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Paragon
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L o s t T r i b e o f t h e S i t h # 4
S A V I O R
JOHN JACKSON MILLER
D
L
BALLANTINE BOOKS • NEW YORK
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Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith #4: Savioris a work of fiction.
Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
2010 Del Rey eBook Edition
Copyright © 2010 by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved. Used Under Authorization.
Excerpt from Star Wars®: Fate of the Jedi: Alliescopyright © 2010
by Lucasfilm Ltd. & ® or ™ where indicated. All Rights Reserved.
Used Under Authorization.
Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
DEL REY is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Star Wars®: Fate of the Jedi: Alliesby Christie Golden. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
ISBN 978-0-345-51941-2
www.starwars.com
www.delreybooks.com
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Chapter One
4975 BBY
“Children of Kesh, your Protectors have come home to you. Again!”
Korsin waited for the clamor from the crowd to die down. It didn’t. Commander Yaru Korsin, Grand Lord of the Tribe of Sith on Kesh, stood atop the marbled platform and looked across the churning sea of ecstatic purple faces. Behind him rose the columns and domes of his new home. Once a native village, Tahv was now a Sith capital.
The buildings had been raised quickly on the site of the old Circle Eternal for this day, exactly a quarter century in standard years after the Sith arrival on Kesh.
Korsin had been determined to make that anniversary one to celebrate, rather than lament. With today’s ded-ication, Korsin signaled his people’s intent to live among the Keshiri for good.
Now, years after the crash, it was clear that nothing more could be done to repair Omen.There was no reason to live in their lofty temple at the crash site when such beauty existed below. Korsin cast his gaze upward, toward the cloudy peak on the western horizon. A skeleton team of Sith and Keshiri workers was mill_9780345519412_2p_all_r1.qxp:8p insert template 2/25/10 1:27 PM
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there, wrapping up affairs on the mountain. Sealed safely in its shrine, Omenwould be there if they needed it.
Korsin knew they wouldn’t. It was a charade. No one was coming for them; he’d known that as soon as he saw the transmitter’s melted guts. The planet Kesh was nowhere near anywhere, or Naga Sadow would have found them by now. Them, and his precious Lignan crystals.
He wondered about Captain Saes and the Harbinger.
Had they survived the collision that had sent Omenastray? Had the fallen Jedi won the glory that should have belonged to the Sith, after a victory at Primus Goluud? Or had Naga Sadow slain him for his incompetence?
Does Sadow even live?
Idle thoughts, Korsin knew. But he had to keep these questions alive in his people, so long as any remembered where they came from. Stability demanded it.
It had required an elegant balancing act. Sith facing a future onlyon Kesh would forever fight for status—meaning more days like the one, years before, when he and Devore had dueled. He looked at the Sith standing at attention on either side of the wide slate stairs leading down the platform. So many people, so many ambitions to manage. It was why Korsin had allowed them to think that he had indeed activated the emergency beacon once, before it failed. The prospect of departure had the power to unite; so did the specter of the arrival of a punishing superior power.
But he also had to make sure any hoped-for escape always ran second to their realjob: reshaping Kesh as a Sith world. What had happened to Ravilan’s people was partially due to Korsin’s failure at managing that, though he didn’t mind the result. Unlike his wife, he had nothing against the crimson-skinned Sith, but factions threatened order. A homogeneous Sith people was easier to rule.
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His wife.Marrying Seelah had been another nod to stability, a bridge between Omen’s crew and its mining-team passengers. There she was, across the dais, greeting the dignitaries the Keshiri were allowed to have.
Greeting, that is, without actually touchingany of them. Korsin never touched her anymore, either. It was a shame: she wasgorgeous now, black hair cascading in ringlets around flawless dusky skin. He didn’t know what dark sorceries her team of experts had wrought, but she looked scarcely a day over thirty-five.
This move was her idea. She’d hated the sterility of the mountain retreat; their new home was warmer, both in temperature and in appearance. The Keshiri artisans and Sith designers had learned much from one another. There was stone, yes, but thorned dalsa flowers scaled the exterior walls. Gardens appeared here and there, beside gurgling aqueduct-fed pools. It was a place for life.
Not all Keshiri cities had been places for life, Korsin thought as he acknowledged the elders hobbling past.
He could’ve lost the people entirely, years before. The mass deaths at the lake towns had been effectively ascribed to the residents’ lack of faith in the Tribe’s divinity. They’d even made a show for the doubters: a known Keshiri dissenter was trotted onto the Circle Eternal to proclaim against the “so-called Protectors,”
only to fall, seemingly choking to death on his own words. Korsin himself was able to appear benevolent and shocked—but the message was clear. Plague and pestilence awaited the defiant.
Gloyd had thought up that little stunt. Good old Gloyd. More old, now, than good. The stern Houk stood behind, lightsaber drawn, as Korsin’s ceremonial bodyguard—but the onetime gunner now looked like heneeded the protecting. He was the last nonhuman left from the original crew. An age would pass with him.
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“The Daughter of the Skyborn, Adari Vaal,” Gloyd announced. Korsin immediately forgot all about archi-tecture and clever Houks. Adari, their native rescuer of old, stepped mildly before them and bowed.
Korsin watched her cold welcome from Seelah. If they weren’t in front of half of Kesh, it would be colder still. He always marveled when he watched the two together. There wasn’t any comparison. Seelah was attractive, but she knew it—and never let anyone forget it. She found the Keshiri ugly: more proof her judgment was never to be trusted.
As a Keshiri, Adari was so much less than Seelah—and yet so much more. She wasn’t touched by the Force, but she had a nimble mind, grappling with things far beyond her people’s obvious limitations. And she had the will of a Sith, if not the beliefs. Only twice had he seen her strength fail her—most important, the first time, when she had agreed to keep Devore’s death a secret. That had made so many things possible—for both of them.
Stepping before him, Adari regarded Korsin with her dark, probing eyes, full of mystery and intelligence. He took her hand and smiled. Forget Seelah.
Twenty-five years. He’d saved his people.
This was a good day.
You can read my mind. Don’t you know how uncom-fortable this is for me? Don’t you care?
Adari pulled her hand free from Korsin’s and managed a smile. Seelah’s “greeting” had only given her a mild shiver. But Yaru Korsin always looked at her like a cart he was about to buy at half price.
She tried to step back and continue down the receiving line, but Korsin pulled at her arm. “This is your day, too, Adari. Stand with us.”
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gaze, unsure if Korsin’s body would be enough to block it. But at least this was a discomfort she’d learned to cope with on a daily basis. Public spectacles, like this one, she’d never get used to.
And they had all gone so well for her, whatever her age or status. Right here on this site, she had stood accused as a heretic. And then, days later, she’d stood fêted as a hero—no matter that she had just brought a plague upon her people in the form of the Sith.
Now that the old plaza was buried under this new edifice, she was here again, looking out across a sea of ignorance. The Keshiri blithely celebrated their own enslavement, ignoring their countless brothers and sis-ters who had died since the Sith arrival. Many had per-ished in the lake-town disaster—but many more lives had been lost at hard labor, attempting to please their guests from above. The Sith had twisted the Keshiri faith so none of that mattered. Every vain hope the masses ever had was invested in the Sith.
Even Adari wasn’t immune. She thought back to her poor son Finn—bloodied and smashed. He’d insisted on joining the work crews on reaching his teen years.
No child of the Daughter of the Skyborn needed to work, but Zhari Vaal’s youngest had rebelled exactly on schedule, haring off to a work crew.
A scaffold, hurriedly erected, had given way. Adari had failed that day, too, flying her broken child to the temple and Korsin’s feet. Korsin had immediately come to Finn’s side, working his Sith magic; for a moment, Adari had found herself hoping that Korsin could actually return life to her son. But of course, he couldn’t.
She already knew they weren’t gods.
Korsin had earned a fight with Seelah that day—healing was herdomain—but Adari hadn’t given a thought to consulting her medics. The Sith doctors had been interested in the Keshiri only long enough to learn mill_9780345519412_2p_all_r1.qxp:8p insert template 2/25/10 1:27 PM
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that their diseases posed them no threat—and that they could bear the Sith no children. Maybe that was why Seelah tolerated Adari’s companionship with Korsin.
But that friendship was never the same after that day.
Adari had enjoyed learning from Korsin, but Finn’s death had woken her conscience. She’d meant one thing to her people. Thereafter, she’d mean something else—as the leader of the Keshiri underground resistance movement, made up of others who had come to their senses.
And now, after a dozen years, they were finally ready to act.
From the south, a thunderous rumble sounded. The Sessal Spire had been feeling its volcanic youth lately.
Safely remote, it nonetheless disrupted the perfect formation of uvak-fliers hovering over the procession.
Adari looked up at them—and then hard at Korsin, hair now slate gray. She’d learned to hide her thoughts from him by maintaining a steady, emotionless manner.
She needed that now, more than ever.
She managed a smile. Korsin had called to her for deliverance, years before. Soon, she would deliver her own kind.
I’m not the bargain you think I am. Neither is Kesh.
Seelah watched as the flight of uvak landed on the clearing below. Theirs had been a sloppy approach; not enough to ruin the day, but enough to call attention where it didn’t belong.
It principally did notbelong on the lead rider, now dismounting and stepping toward the staircase. For her twentieth birthday, Yaru Korsin had made his whelp of a daughter head of something that didn’t exist: the Skyborn Rangers. It was little more than a club of Sith hobby riders, useful only for public displays like this.
Nida Korsin had just shown it wasn’t even much good at that.
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That Nida was also herdaughter was a detail of genealogy. The child’s outfit was an abomination against fashion. Seelah imagined the uvak-leather vest and chaps were supposed to make her look rugged and active, but stepping up to the receiving line, little Nida simply looked comical. Seelah recognized her own eyes and cheekbones in the girl, though not much else; short-cropped hair and colored face paints made waste of whatever natural beauty Nida may have inherited.
The girl would never have made it through one of Seelah’s infamous inspections.
“She’s the child of the Grand Lord,” Seelah rasped to Korsin as their daughter stepped past. “What must the Keshirithink?”
“Since when do you care about that?”
Nida shuffled off the stage with barely a nod from Korsin. It was time for the real show.
Shrieks came from the crowd—first of surprise, then of joy. From locations within the multitude, two dozen costumed merrymakers in ceremonial Keshiri masks leapt high into the air, tearing their cloaks free as they did. Landing on ground cleared of bystanders by firm Force pushes, the black-clad acrobats stood revealed as the Sabers, the Tribe’s new honor detail. Crimson lightsabers danced as they performed intricate exercises.
The final flourish resulted in an explosion of delight from the Keshiri, followed by an announcement from Gloyd: “High Lord Jariad, of the line of Korsin!”
The lead Saber strode robustly up the central staircase to the dais, stealing Keshiri breaths with every res-olute step. Ebon hair and beard perfectly coiffed, Jariad made every pause a pose for history. The wild child of Devore Korsin and Seelah had come of age.
Lightsaber still ignited, Jariad stood before Yaru Korsin. Nephew and stepson, Jariad was nearly a third of a meter taller—a fact not lost on anyone watching.
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An icy look passed between them. Suddenly Jariad knelt, holding the lightsaber centimeters above the back of his own tanned neck. “I live and die at your command, Grand Lord Korsin.”
“Rise, High Lord Korsin.”
Seelah watched with relief as her son rose to a warm embrace. The crowd cooed. For all his title and family connection, Jariad was not Yaru Korsin’s heir to power any more than Seelah was; Korsin had long kept his succession plans private. The seven High Lords he had appointed were mere advisers. But if Jariad was a public favorite, Seelah knew, Sith and Keshiri alike would recognize his claim—one way or another. She was pleased: Jariad had acted just as she had advised. Yaru Korsin’s moment was due, but this was no place for it.
Jariad greeted the others, giving special attention to Adari. The Keshiri woman backed away immediately and looked down. It wasn’t modesty, Seelah knew—though the insufferable bore had much to be modest about. Ever since her son grew into his late father’s looks, Seelah had always caught stray thoughts from Adari whenever Jariad was around. She’d wondered about it for a long time. Had Korsin bragged to his strumpet about killing Devore? Would that be enough to cause such a strong reaction?
Eventually, Seelah found the answer, deep in her own thoughts. She had rifled through Adari’s mind years earlier when they had first met in darkness on the mountain. Then, Seelah had been searching for any hint of rescue. But on contemplation, Seelah had realized that the sea of stones and purple faces in the witless alien’s mind included something else. Something half seen, but shocking to Adari—and, at that time, recent: a body, thrown from the precipice into the raging sea.
Adari Vaal had seen Yaru murder Devore Korsin.
And so, at last, had Seelah.
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Jariad returned to his mother’s side and gave her a knowing glance. “Soon,” she whispered.
It required care. Korsin had friends, most from Omen’s permanent crew. But many Devore Korsin partisans remained. Whispered tales of the commander with-holding information about their marooned situation won other allies. She’d see that everyone was in the right place at the right time.
The crowd roared again as Korsin took her hand and turned toward the steps leading up into their new home. Seelah smiled.
Twenty-five years. She’d saved all her hate.
The end was coming.
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Chapter Two
Korsin recognized the sound immediately. Lightsabers clashed in the gallery of the capital, right outside the hallway to his office.
Whirling across the glossy floor, Jariad charged at three attackers clad in Saber black. Their blades weren’t tracing harmless circuits in the air this time.
Jariad’s assailants lunged at him, only to be driven back by his angry riposte.
One by one, Jariad bested his opponents—driving one underneath a falling statue, hurling another through a brand-new pane of smoked glass. The third saw his lightsaber skitter down a hallway when Jariad separated his gloved hand from his wrist.
Korsin stepped from the hall, lightsaber—and severed hand—in hand. “Are you sure you want to call this group of yours the Sabers? They seem to be without.”
Jariad deactivated his weapon and exhaled. “This is what I wanted to show you, Grand Lord. They were too quickly disarmed.”
“You shouldn’t take that word so literally, son,”
Korsin said, tossing the hand to its wincing owner on the floor. “We don’t exactly have a modern medlab here.”
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“There’s no quarter for incompetence!”
“It was an exercise, Jariad, not the Great Schism.
Take a breath and come outside.” Korsin sighed.
Despite his feelings about his late half brother, he had tried to provide guidance for Jariad. It just wasn’t taking. Jariad had too many of the same self-absorbed traits that had ruined Devore. Either he did nothing—or he overdid it. It was a good thing there weren’t any narcotics on Kesh,Korsin thought; Jariad might have picked up where his father left off.
Korsin stepped out into the failing sun. The volcano had ruined a lot of nice days lately. A Keshiri servant materialized, bearing refreshments.
“Things are no good here,” Jariad said, emerging.
“There are too many distractions here in this city.”
“They are distracting,” Korsin said, casting an eye into the courtyard. Adari Vaal had arrived.
Jariad ignored her. “Grand Lord, I request permission to remove the Sabers to the Northern Reaches for a training mission. There, they can concentrate.”
“Hmm?” Korsin looked back at his nephew. “Oh, certainly.” He took the second cup from the tray.
“Excuse me.”
Korsin had thought Adari was looking up at him.
Joining her in the garden, he found she was actually staring at a relief sculpture being carved into a triangu-lar pediment on the building above. “What—what is that?” she asked.
Korsin squinted. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a depiction of my own birth.” He took a drink. “I’m not sure how the sun and the stars are involved.” Everywhere he’d looked in this palace, the Keshiri had plastered something depicting his divinity. He chuckled to himself. We’ve really done a sales job.“I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“We’re neighbors now,” she said, idly taking the glass.
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“With a place this size, we’re neighbors with half of Kesh.”
“And the other half’s inside the house, cleaning the floor—” Adari stopped abruptly and looked him in the eyes. Every so often, she’d flirted with crossing the line. Korsin laughed heartily. She always made him laugh.
But when leathery wings swooped overhead, Korsin saw the real reason for Adari’s visit. Tona, her surviving son, rushed from an ornate exterior structure to catch the bridle of a landing uvak. Nida Korsin had returned from her morning ride.
Korsin had named Tona the traveling stable master for Nida’s group just after its founding. The young man seemed amiable enough, if not particularly sharp. And Nida seemed fond of him. Adari took her son aside and exchanged quiet words.
Adari turned back to Korsin. “I’m sorry, but I have business in town.”
“Will I see you again?”
“What, today?”
“No, I meant, ever?” Korsin laughed again. She’s uneasy,he thought. He wondered why. “Of course, today. We’re in the same city now, aren’t we?”
Adari rolled her eyes at the colossal building behind them. “That’s a lot of effort just to have me around more.” She managed a smile.
“Well, just know that I won’tbe here tomorrow,”
Korsin said. “Seelah’s medcenter is moving here from the temple. I’ll head up in the morning to inspect the whole place before we close everything down. It’s only for a day.”
Absorbing his words, Adari touched his hand. “I should be going.”
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Jariad and his humbled combatants marching deliber-ately to their own mounts.
And Tona, he saw, was watching her.
“Your son should be careful, Adari,” Korsin said.
“He’s been spending a lot of time with Nida.” He smirked. “It’s that Korsin charm that keeps you Vaals around.”
“Well, not today, Your Grand Lordship,” Adari said, gesturing to her approaching son. “Tona’s coming with me. Family business.”
“I understand,” Korsin said. Family business.
Watching Jariad fly off to the north, he wished he had less of it himself.
Years before, Izri Dazh had been her tormentor.
Inquisitor for the Neshtovar, Dazh had branded Adari Vaal a heretic for not hewing to the legends about Kesh’s creation—and the role in it of their gods from above, the Skyborn.
Dazh was long dead. But now his sons and grand-sons sat silently across from Adari in Dazh’s candlelit drawing room. Adari’s resistance movement had met in various places over the years, from beneath an aqueduct to the back of an uvak stable Tona ran in Tahv.
But seldom had they met in such luxury—or what had been considered luxury, before Adari brought people claiming to be the Skyborn into their midst to reshape the Keshiri’s standards. Now, in the dwelling that had once temporarily housed Grand Lord Korsin himself, Neshtovar and heretic together decided the fate of the Keshiri people.
“This will work,” she said. “What you’ve taught me about uvak—what we’ve arranged for your people to do. This will work.”
“It had better,” rumbled the eldest male. “We’re giving up a lot.”
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“You’ve alreadygiven up a lot. This is the only way back.”
Adari knew she’d taken a chance by bringing members of the Neshtovar into her circle. But it had to be done, while the older Neshtovar still remembered what had been taken from them by the Sith. The memory of the benefits her old society had unfairly heaped on the uvak-riders had gained their cooperation now.
Adari had recently realized that the uvak were the key. The Sith were powerful; one, acting alone, could keep scores of Keshiri at bay, perhaps even an entire village. But they had to reachthe village first. And here, Kesh, with its sprawling landmass, worked against them.
The Sith numbered nearly six hundred now, almost double what they had arrived with. But the villages of Kesh were more numerous still. Maintaining order required the Sith to make frequent uvak-flights to the hinterlands. Neshtovar fliers of another era had united the continent by surmounting the many natural barri-ers. Now the Sith used the same strategy, dispatching circuit riders to make appearances and consult with local bureaucracies, mostly staffed by onetime members of the Neshtovar.
But while they were the Sith’s lieutenants on the ground, the Neshtovar were now also grounded.
Though the Sith had taken the strongest uvak for themselves soon after their arrival, that still left teeming thousands of domesticated beasts to the Keshiri. Most had been employed as animal labor, but the Neshtovar were still allowed to fly uvak on visits to the Sith mountain retreat, among other administrative chores.
That had ended after the disaster at the lakes. Uvak-riders were the Keshiri’s traditional news bearers, but the Sith wanted no word spread but theirs. Former riders not reduced to police work were now keeping the mill_9780345519412_2p_all_r1.qxp:8p insert template 2/25/10 1:27 PM
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stables, nurturing creatures they would never be allowed to ride. Their uvak belonged to Sith probably still in the crèche. Adari had been allowed to keep Nink so that she could continue to visit Korsin, but she was the only one.
“Korsin is going to the mountain temple tomorrow,”
she said. “Seelah is there—and Jariad has left for the north.”
The Neshtovar men nodded to one another. “Very good,” the eldest said. “We have adequate numbers in place everywhere, if your head count is right.”
“It is.” Her movement included Keshiri aides to many of the major Sith. Tilden Kaah had been counting heads among Seelah’s retinue; she had other people close to Korsin and Jariad. Her son was even keeping track of Nida’s flying performers. “Noon tomorrow.
This will work.”
She thought about Korsin as she stepped into the torchlit alleyway behind the dwelling. Summoned—by Seelah?—Korsin wouldn’t go alone to the temple, no matter how mundane the matter. She double-checked the figures she’d marked on her hand. Yes, she’d have enough people there, just among the stable hands closing up shop.
Tona appeared from the darkness. “I’ve been waiting.”
“Sorry,” Adari said, looking up. “They wanted to go over everything again.”
She could see her son’s flickering disappointment as he stepped into the light. She’d always thought both her children favored their father; now, in his late twenties, Tona surprised her with how much he was looking like her.
“I should have been with you, Mother. I’m of the Neshtovar, too.”
“They’re just being careful, Tona. The fewer people who know the details, the better.”
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“I want to ride with you tomorrow,” Tona said.
“You’ve got your own job to do here,” Adari said.
“And you’ll see me when you’ve succeeded.” She touched his cheek. “You shouldn’t be away from Nida and her people too long. Tomorrow will be busy. Get some sleep.”
Adari watched as he turned into the night. Sweet, simple Tona. She hadn’t told him everything—but then, how could she? Her late mother had never understood her heresy—or her canonization. How could her son accept her martyrdom?
The golden age had begun, Seelah thought as she surveyed her empty wardroom. And she was responsible.
They’d done good work here in the years she ran the Tribe’s medical staff. All local maladies had been iden-tified and controlled. With Keshiri aid, Seelah’s biolo-gists had scoured the countryside, indexing botanical remedies useful to humans. The Force-healing skills of her staff, far from atrophying, had increased. So had the survival rate of amputees.
The Tribe was a purer people, too—thanks to her attention to eugenics. Before too many generations, the blood of the Sith on Kesh would be fully human. She was sorry she wouldn’t live to see it.
Or would she?A pleasant thought.
But the Sith were already more pleasing to lookat.
She’d instilled in the younglings a respect for their bodies, a lust for physical perfection. The Sith Lords they’d left behind were atrocious role models: most of them a barbarian jangle of baubles and war paint. Seelah’s Tribe would have none of that. Tattoos were labels for slaves. A Sith of Kesh was already born a work of art.
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stir the most independent-minded Sith with thoughts of family. Out in the courtyard, Seelah saw the Tribe’s leading hedonist, Orlenda, enormously pregnant.
Wonders never ceased.
“That’s everything,” Orlenda said, propping herself against a rickety cart of supplies about to leave for Tahv. The younger woman looked down nervously; Korsin was to arrive any minute. “Do . . . do you want me here for this? I can’t fly, but I can ride down on this cart with the breakables.”
Seelah bit her lip. Seeing Orlenda at Seelah’s side when he arrived would put Korsin at ease. But if something went wrong here, Orlenda could make sure Seelah’s policies lived on. “Go,” she said, sighing. “But hurry. They’re arriving.”
Orlenda rattled off behind Keshiri bearers. Besides uvak, they were Kesh’s only beasts of burden.
It was time.Seelah hurried toward the plaza formed by the domiciles and Omen’s shrine. Korsin’s entourage landed at the far end. Right on schedule, for a change.
Korsin and Gloyd’s four bodyguards took their positions as Keshiri attendants walked the uvak away.
Their stables would be the very last thing to close.
Korsin studied the plaza around him.
“Ah, Seelah. There you are.” He stepped toward her.
Out in the open.
“Yes. There you are.” She closed her eyes and concentrated. Now, Jariad!
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