For a moment, Jacen's gaze flickered—too brief, too insignificant for any ordinary observer to spot—and she knew she'd hit a nerve. That was it: conscious of his own mortality, he wanted a son, and there was a little subconscious desire to possess what was Luke's as part of the overthrow of the Jedi dynasty. Now that he had it, and Ben looked to him as a heroic father figure, he had to throw away that prize.

It was an odd sort of love, but if it was powerful enough, it would do fine.

"That's probably it," Jacen said, and looked down at his clasped hands. "And it's hard to kill someone who doesn't deserve it."

"But you don't know how it'll happen."

"Exactly."

"You can't see yourself taking a lightsaber to a fourteen-year-old boy."

"Maybe it won't be so literal. I'm sending him to assassinate Dur Gejjen when he meets Omas to do his deal. It's a job that needs doing, it tests Ben's skills and commitment, it's far easier for a teenage boy to get past Gejjen's security, and . . . perhaps it will put him in real mortal danger." Jacen reached out to the low table nearby, leaning on one hand to stretch and pick up one of the candles in its transparent blue holder. "Now, is that a consequence of the task, or is that why I'm sending him? Am I sending him to his death?"

"Let it play out," Lumiya said. "Stop rationalizing and let it happen."

She stood up to take the candle from him. She could see he wanted to play that brinkmanship game again of how long he could hold his hand in the flame. Some men would do it out of bravado after too many drinks, but Jacen was testing himself, a private struggle rooted in his experience of pain at Vergere's hands and his lingering doubts that he could stay the course and make himself do something he wanted to run from.

"I need your help," he said. "I need you to distract Mara for a while."

"Whatever you wish."

"She's taken the Brisha story to heart. Nothing like killing someone's child to guarantee a blood feud, is there?"

"I thought that story might tie her up and explain my presence. In an ideal world, I would have avoided all contact with the Skywalkers."

"So . . . why did you offer your hand to Luke instead of taking his head off? "

Lumiya was still considering that. She might not have meant Luke any harm, but she didn't have to hate someone to kill him in the line of duty. Did

it matter that he still thought all her actions were dictated by an old romance, and by a trauma that had been her destiny anyway? Why did she feel the need to show him they weren't?

"It certainly had its shock value in the fight," she said. "And killing him would have changed the course of events for all of us."

"And you wanted to put him in his place. Show him he had no leverage . . . that you were over him?"

Jacen sometimes seemed to understand and then he'd say something banal like that, which made her think he had missed the point of passing through powerful emotions to become stronger.

"The Skywalkers are too mired in their domesticity to be effective Jedi, Jacen," she said. "It's a warning to us all. Luke can't see what's in front of him because he thinks my motive is lost love and revenge, because that's the level he thinks at—family and friends. It would never occur to him that I want to see a Sith-controlled galaxy and that the personal issues we had are trivial by comparison."

"You taught me that anger and passion are what make Sith strong."

"There's anger, and then there's being controlled by it—not seeing the forest for the trees." Lumiya had a moment of self-doubt and decided to meditate on it later. "So what about Mara?"

"She's hanging on to that GAG connection she found to track you.

Keep her occupied elsewhere."

"I'll let her find me. That should do the trick. Can you give me a possession of Ben's, something that would prove to Mara that I could get at him easily, without being traceable to you?"

"I'll get you a pair of his boots. He keeps several pairs in his locker, and Mara already suspects a GAG connection." He gave her a little frown of concern, but she felt nothing emanating from him. "What if she actually

catches you?"

"I might win, and anyway—it'll buy you time." Lumiya was still testing herself to see if she resented Jacen for leaving her to die, too.

"I'm expendable, as you've proven. My life's purpose is to enable you to become a Sith Lord, because that secures the stability of the galaxy. The ambition of most beings is just to stay alive, overeat, spend too much, and avoid hard work. I'm happy that I can achieve much more than that. .

. and we all die sooner or later. A death in service of a great ideal is a fine thing."

Jacen gave her a long, blank stare, and she wondered if the idea of an eternal principle being more important than the short confines of his own mortal life was alien to him. He had to pass beyond that. He would.

"When you think of Ben's fate," she said, "think of the legacy you'll leave in years to come, and ask who'll be able to name the Skywalkers, or even the Solos. This is about the fate of trillions upon trillions for millennia to come —not one small family over a few decades."

Jacen got to his feet, but Lumiya could tell he was looking at her without seeing her now.

"I'll keep telling myself that," he said. "The boots will get Mara's attention, for sure."

"I think I'll play up the maternal grief and do something emotional, too. What are you going to do when Mara and Luke come after you—when they find out about Ben in due course?"

"I'll deal with that when I have to."

"It might be sooner than you think. I suggest you make sure you're properly armed."

"I have quite an armory," said Jacen. "And I'll be ready when the time

comes."

"Think laterally," Lumiya said gently. "Luke can still take you in a lightsaber fight."

"I'm already a few steps ahead of him. Trust me."

She had to. The future of the galaxy depended on Jacen. He was the end of chaos and the beginning of order, and—like all forces of change—he would not be hailed by everyone as a savior. Some wouldn't see how necessary he was. Some would try to stop him.

She would do whatever it took to clear his path—even if the price was her own life.

SURVEILLANCE CENTER, GAG HQ, CORUSCANT

Captain Girdun loomed in the doorway, backlit by the light from the corridor. "Showtime," he said. "Niathal's just been designated as acting Chief of State as of midnight."

The troopers on duty in the listening post looked up. Ben detached the bead amplifier in his ear and tried to make sense of that news.

"What's happened to Omas?"

"He's going to be out of the office for a day."

"Oh, I thought—"

"He has to give a little notice to hand over the reins of state to Niathal when he's out of contact—you know, command codes, that kind of stuff. So we have a window for his trip to Vulpter. Tomorrow."

It was all moving too fast. Ben could recall feeling excited by the turmoil of events, but now that he was part of them, they were too fast for his comfort. They brought him closer to his mission. He wasn't relishing the prospect; he knew how he'd felt after killing a suspect he thought was

armed, so he could work out that he wouldn't be any happier after dispatching Gejjen.

I'm an assassin. And everyone else my age who isn't a Jedi is in school.