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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Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith:Savior 9

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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12

John Jackson Miller

“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.