Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: The Collected Stories

by John Jackson Miller

  She tried to help him sit up—and remembered in a flash doing the exact same thing with Jogan on Point Defiance, days earlier. Too many days earlier. Quarra rose, staggered by a realization. “I’m out of time, Edell! I have to go.”

  Edell coughed loudly. “What … are you talking about?”

  “I’ve got to warn people—don’t try to stop me. Then I’ve got to go! It’s been ten days since we left the ship. Even on uvak it’ll take two days to get back to Meori Cove and the Mischance.” She tried to help him stand. “Please come with me! If we don’t get back, your crew will kill him!”

  The High Lord doubled over in pain. Quarra struggled to keep him up, but failed.

  “I’ll go alone if I have to—”

  “No, stay, Quarra. This … is important. Stay to help me …”

  “I can’t!” Quarra rose and looked toward the stairs. “I have to go!”

  She was to the bottom step when she heard him call out. “Quarra—they’re not there!”

  “What?”

  “I only told you Mischance remained so you would guide me here,” Edell said, struggling to sit up. “I sent them home.”

  “Home?” She ran back to his side. “Home where?”

  “To Keshtah. To our continent.”

  “With Jogan?”

  “If he lived.” Edell wheezed. “He sure wasn’t going anywhere on his own. They left as soon as you and I reached shore.”

  “Blast you!”

  Quarra turned back to the stairway—and halted suddenly. There were footsteps up there. Did Bentado have people hidden above? And now there were voices in the dark hallway.

  Behind her, Edell struggled to get to his knees. She still had his lightsaber. “Quarra, they’ll kill us both. Then everyone loses!”

  Quarra froze for a second, unsure of what to do. She stepped back toward Edell, who fell against her. Feeling his weight, she looked urgently at the doorways—and then at the tapestry right behind her. Adari Vaal looked down on her, silent as ever as the clamor outside and on the stairs grew louder. She called out, “Rock of Kesh, save your daughter!”

  She felt a tremor through the Force—slight, almost like a gust of wind, coming from the direction of the tapestry.

  Quarra’s eyes widened. Yes! With no time to fear historic disrespect, she pulled the fabric aside—and looked into the darkness of the hidden room beyond. Placing Edell’s arm over her shoulder, she plunged recklessly with him into the void.

  14

  For the second time in two weeks, Quarra cared for an injured man while Sith stalked nearby. But the location could hardly have been more different. She was not at Jogan’s signal station or on the deck of a ship; she was in the greatest sanctum of all Alanciar: the library of Adari Vaal.

  The Sith remained outside beyond the tapestry, and noisily so. There had never been fewer than three voices out there at once in the long hours since she’d entered. There was no going outside, but there was still a chance to warn her people. For two hours, she’d reached out to other thoughtcriers through the Force, uncaring of whether the Sith sensed her presence. The Force was one communications system the Sith couldn’t compromise—

  —or so she thought. Between the anger emanating from the Sith and the near-toxic levels of fear that had developed among the Alanciari over recent days, calling into the Force felt like death by drowning. There was no way anyone could make out what she was trying to say. She was too tired—and too fearful herself.

  And angry. For more long hours, she’d glared at Edell as he slept, recuperating from his ordeal. He’d lied to her the whole way. She knew the rugged southern coast. There weren’t many settlements or fortresses: the snowcapped mountains were their own defense. Mischance could put out to sea unmolested. But with autumn in the south, Alanciari mariners avoided the Southern Passage because of its rocket-fast polar currents and the spread of ice. Did an inexperienced crew have a chance of reaching the eastern ocean? And would Jogan warn them, or would he remain silent, willing to founder with them if necessary? If he did warn them, would they even listen?

  Quarra had realized with a start that she didn’t really know what Jogan would do. She’d imagined she knew his private thoughts, but what she actually had was a stack of messages and a few hours at his side. And she’d nearly upended her whole life for him.

  And what of Edell? He and his people had upended her entire world. And yet she’d saved him, even after knowing he had lied. Why? She went over the scene in the worldwatch. Edell did seem different from Bentado. A murderer, to be sure, but Edell was a builder, not a fighter. He seemed to be interested in something larger. Still, were Sith ever interested in anything larger than themselves? Didn’t that defeat the point of being Sith?

  She didn’t trust him. But she hadn’t been able to abandon him, either. What was happening to her?

  Quarra slept fitfully, often waking to hear the voices outside. But they came no closer—and in the morning, light entered the room from a diagonal shaft overhead. The concrete tunnel narrowed too much at the top to serve as an exit, but the illumination provided the chance to do something while the High Lord slept. She reached for a book.

  She’d read the same Keshtah Chronicles everyone else had. The transcribed interviews with the freedom-fighting geologist about her former life were mandatory as soon as children learned to read. They were the basis—loosely, of course—for what appeared in the plays. But it was known that Adari Vaal had produced other writings during her exile in Alanciar. Some were biographical works about the Sith; others provided a detailed description of her continent. A sizable body of her work compared and contrasted the minerals of the two continents; even the most devoted Vaal scholars had trouble getting through that material. Her support for the theory that the Ancient Cataclysm severed access between Keshtah and Alanciar was the only thing of much interest there.

  But the book Quarra held now was something different. The pages were not in calligraphy but in someone’s scrawl. Adari’s own hand? It didn’t seem possible to Quarra, who now took extra care leafing through the pages. But whether the document was original or a handmade copy from centuries later, it was something she had never seen: Adari’s personal memoirs.

  Eagerly, Quarra skimmed the writings, feeling all the excitement she had always gotten when reading missives from Jogan. There were many regret-filled sections about Adari’s sons; particularly Tona, who had been left behind. There were a few tart passages about Adari’s mother, Eulyn—and not much at all about her first marriage to Zhari. But, turning the page, she saw the writer’s hand quicken, the letters slant. It was about Yaru Korsin, the captain of Omen and first Grand Lord of the Tribe.

  Korsin had touched Adari’s mind from afar long before their first meeting, and she mentioned that sensation more than once. It had been unnerving then, and every time he did it after that. Quarra understood Adari’s unease, for she had felt it when trying to communicate mentally with other Keshiri not attuned to the Force. She didn’t do it often because it didn’t always work, and there wasn’t any practical need for it anyway. As a thoughtcrier, she’d only communicated with other Force-users. But she’d tried to reach out to her husband telepathically, and the response had been a sickened expression from him. Was that what Adari felt, the first Keshiri ever to be contacted through the Force? Quarra imagined her discomfort.

  And that discomfort lived on every page after that, where Adari described the jealousy aimed at her by Seelah, Yaru’s wife among the humans. Mental vitriol, broadcast at her every time Yaru wasn’t immediately nearby. Not that he ever stopped Seelah when he was around; Adari wrote that he enjoyed seeing the two of them set against each other. This behavior wasn’t Sith, Adari wrote; this was male. But what aggravated Adari was that she had willingly placed herself in that position, and not just to gain intelligence for her resistance movement:

  Yaru has a sharper mind than anyone I have ever met. Fencing with him verbally was like one of his lightsaber fights; I felt co
mpletely awake and alive. Even now, decades later, I remember waking up in the morning and wanting the next conversation to begin. Walking with him as other Keshiri and Sith knelt down was like being at the center of the world.

  But I can never forget the other feeling. The way I felt that first day at the mountain, when Seelah and her kind ripped at my mind. Yaru is smart, clever, and charming, and uses those things to rule the others—and me. But he is also a chief among Sith—and that means he is vain, ruthless, and sadistic. This is a man who killed his brother for the sake of convenience. If Yaru yet lives, he has probably done worse still. This is an animal.

  As a young woman, I was part of a match made for advantage. The problem is that it defines you as unequal before it even starts. Let any woman who considers a Sith beware: strong women do not walk alongside animals. Not without a leash …

  Quarra shut the book, suddenly chilled.

  She understood now why no one had ever seen the memoirs, when so much else about Adari Vaal had been required reading. The leader of the Sith had tempted her. And the Rock of Kesh had faltered.

  She looked over at Edell, shifting in his sleep. She still had the lightsaber. She could remove one threat, a threat to her people and possibly to herself. She didn’t love him, but she didn’t hate him, either—not yet—and he would always play on that. He’d already started that, all along their journey. She had a chance to stop it now.

  But she also had a question.

  “Wake up,” she said quietly, jostling him.

  Edell let out a muffled groan. “Are they still out there?”

  “Yes. Three or four, I think. Can you take them?”

  He sat up on his elbow and winced. “No. But maybe we can.” He saw his lightsaber in her hand. “Getting to know that?”

  “I have a question,” Quarra said, face serious. “You said more people are coming. And that you and they serve someone else. Is this person as bad as that Bentado is?”

  Startled by the question, Edell looked closely at her. “No. No, he is not. The Grand Lord is old—but wise.”

  “You like him,” she said, surprised at what she was sensing. “He’s your friend.”

  Almost in spite of himself, Edell smiled weakly. “Yes, I suppose he is. If you had to live under a Sith, you’d rather live under him—and me—than Bentado. Trust me, we’ve had much worse.”

  “The aqueducts. You said they’d fallen apart. They fell to ruin because of some of your leaders?”

  “And some who wanted to lead. There was a thousand years of chaos, Quarra. If Alanciar believes in building things, like I do, you can’t let that start again,” he said. “You’ve got to help me.”

  She studied him—and reached a decision. Adari was right, but I’m right, too. Some animals are better than others.

  “Okay,” she said, rising. “But get something straight. I’m not helping you for you, or for me. I’m going to stop Bentado—and put things right. I’m doing this for my people.”

  “That’s the same as doing it for you,” he said, smirking. “But we’ll discuss Sith philosophy later. There’s work to be done. We have to cut off Bentado’s communications—but if we try to go to your people, they’ll cut me to pieces. Which they’ll also do if you go alone for help and they find me here. If we still had your ballista, we could shoot out the fireglobes on the signal tower—”

  “That would take forever!”

  “—and then both sides would cut us to pieces.” He sighed. “I assume you’ve already tried to reach for help through the Force?”

  She nodded.

  “Which means the only way to stop Bentado … is to stop Bentado.” Edell clasped his hands, deep in thought.

  This is his normal mode, she realized. Calculating, not fighting.

  Golden eyes opened a second later—and looked up. “Okay, I’ve got it. We’ll still have to fight, though. Too bad we only have the one weapon.”

  Quarra stood up. “No problem. If this is where they moved Adari Vaal’s archives, there’s supposed to be another lightsaber around here.”

  “If there is, then she stole it.”

  “Good for her, then.” She winked. “And better for us. I always wanted to try one out.”

  15

  “An airship has arrived,” Squab reported. “Off the western coast, near Port Melephos.”

  “The first of the wave,” his master said. White teeth ground as Bentado pulled glass shavings from his own arm. “Have the Keshiri fired on it?”

  “No, milord,” the aide squeaked. “The vessel is kilometers out. Uvak diamond-flak teams are heading to engage.”

  “Tell them to signal when they bring it down. Strike-on-sight command is given to all positions up and down the line. We left Hilts with sixteen airships. Here’s hoping he sent them all!”

  Edell winced as he watched the Sith pull out another bloody sliver. He could almost feel Bentado’s pain up here in the shaft looking down on the worldwatch. Edell had realized on seeing the diagonal tunnel leading upward from the secret archives that the concrete bunker, where so many Keshiri expected to live and work for days at a time, had to have a ventilation system. Since quite a lot of the facility was under either the brick house or the signal tower on the surface, the ducts for some rooms necessarily traveled diagonally, intersecting others. He’d seen it in some of the ancient buildings of Tahv. The Alanciari had used concrete in this modern construction, but their thinking wasn’t much different from that of the Keshiri architects he knew back home.

  There was no escaping the duct in the secret room at its narrow top, but hoisting Quarra into the space revealed to her a slot a meter square leading down in a different direction. A comfortable-enough crawl space, it slanted upward and downward as it met junctures above barracks and supply rooms. A vile stench told them when they were over the War Cabinet room. And now they were over Bentado’s sanctum, looking down separately from parallel shafts.

  “Where’s the word from Port Melephos? What’s taking so long?”

  Edell saw Bentado’s scarred dome directly beneath, as the man looked over the map surface.

  Here goes nothing!

  His feet braced against the grating, Edell reached down through the Force and knocked several of the miniatures over. Startled, Bentado bent over to recover them—just as Edell brought his legs together, smashing through the wooden lattice with his boots. One High Lord slammed into the other, driving Bentado’s head into the map surface. Edell rolled across the fake countryside, igniting his lightsaber even as, meters away, Quarra smashed down, startling little Squab.

  Edell turned to see a black-suited crew woman dash to Bentado’s defense. Edell shoved her back through the Force, but the distraction gave Bentado the chance to recover. The massive Sith snared Edell’s ankle and sent him smashing downward, back-first.

  From the side, Quarra lunged, holding the ancient purloined lightsaber before her like the bayonets she’d trained with. Bentado ignited his lightsaber and deflected hers in a windmill motion, made awkward by his stance half standing in a mountain range. Edell rolled backward off the map surface—and into the oncoming assault of another Bentado defender. He lunged with his weapon, impaling the attacker.

  “Edell! The tower!”

  Edell looked back to see Quarra scrambling toward the steps of the tower. Squab was already on them, disappearing into the heights above.

  “No!” Bentado yelled, charging after her as best he could with his bad leg. “Blast you, woman!”

  Edell struggled to follow, slaying another black-suit as he went. This was no good! Quarra could undo Bentado’s hold on Alanciar from the tower, but she could also bring down a host of Keshiri onto his head. “Quarra, no!”

  He found her gasping in one of the lower belfries. Bentado had thrown her against the wall, knocking away her lightsaber.

  “Stay back, Edell!” Glistening with sweat, Bentado pointed the tip of the lightsaber at her neck. “If this purple thing means anything to you—stay back!”


  Edell looked to his side. Squab cowered near him, behind the wooden spiral staircase leading upward. “I don’t suppose two can play this game,” Edell said, threatening the hunchback.

  “Squab?” Bentado laughed. “Do what you want. I can find more Keshiri. There’s a whole continent full here.” He sneered at Quarra. “Is this one special?”

  “Forget me, Edell!” Quarra yelled. “You stab this filthy animal!”

  “Move and she dies!”

  Edell breathed deeply—and stepped back. He lowered his lightsaber but did not deactivate it. “She’s been a big help, Bentado. It’s rude for guests to kill their hosts.”

  “Fool,” Bentado said, projecting through the Force. Edell went flying, his head striking the concrete wall opposite his attacker. The lightsaber flew from his hand.

  Bentado kicked Edell’s weapon away and flung Quarra to Edell’s side. Squab, recovering his wits, emerged from hiding, and Bentado directed him to pick up Quarra’s ancient lightsaber. “Just hold that one. I’ll take care of these two myself.” Lightsaber glistening in his hand, he approached the injured combatants.

  Next to the stairwell, a cable tugged, ringing a glass bell. Squab, holding the old lightsaber, looked to his master. “Call coming in.”

  “Well, get it.”

  Squab hobbled partway upstairs, where he was passed a slip of parchment from another of Bentado’s Keshiri.

  “The signalers at Port Melephos report that the airship has landed,” Squab said.

  “It’s been brought down, you mean.”

  “No, they say it landed.”

  Bentado boiled. “What are you talking about? I gave the command to strike!”

  Another message passed down the steps. Squab looked at it—and then looked at it again. “The message appears to be from Grand Lord Hilts, sir. He says he has arrived.”