Still woozy, Edell looked at Quarra, stunned. Bentado’s jaw dropped. He yelled up the stairwell. “You tell him that Korsin Bentado and the Keshiri of Alanciar welcome him. And tell the troops to kill him and anyone with him—now!”
Seconds passed with only the sounds of the upstairs signal apparatus filling the room. Finally, one of Bentado’s Keshiri henchmen stepped down the stairs, looking puzzled.
“Well? What is it?”
“Grand Lord Hilts sends just a single word, my lord,” the courier said, straightening and stepping forward. “Regards.”
Bentado gaped. “ ‘Regards?’ ”
Edell looked on, confused. To Bentado’s side, Squab’s black eyes narrowed on hearing the word.
Veins bulged in his master’s neck. The lightsaber wavered in Bentado’s angry grip. “Do they toy with me?” He turned, looming over his prisoners. “Is this some kind of—”
Thunk!
Bentado’s eyes widened obscenely as the lightsaber thrust into his back found his blackened heart. He fell first onto his knees, and then his face.
Little Squab looked down at his master’s motionless form. Kneeling, the gnarled Keshiri deactivated Adari Vaal’s stolen weapon and disarmed his dead master.
Edell could barely speak. “Squab?”
“I’m sure the Hilts family has a better greeting for you, High Lord Vrai.” The hunchback bowed and passed Edell the weapons. “And I’m sure they would like to deliver it in person.”
16
The white airship sat grandly over the Sus’mintri parade grounds. The same size as Yaru, Good Omen differed in practically every other regard. In place of the dark, fearsome design, the golden inlay in the canvas traced the image of a mighty avian creature, its beak curling into a happy smile. Jewels and tassels dangled from the envelope. Silken bunting surrounded the enclosed gondola, giving the appearance that a puffy cloud had descended from the sky to hover just meters over the amassed Keshiri army, standing at attention.
Quarra stood at the receiving stand alongside Edell, who waited expectantly—and openly—amid the surviving city leaders. He seemed to look on the airship with absolute delight. “That’s the royal vehicle you were working on?” she asked.
“Yes. But they’ve made some changes to the exterior,” he said. “They worked fast.”
It had already stopped once in Port Melephos, descending first at sea shy of the range of the Keshiri ballistae. A passenger had then emerged on the forward balcony to hail the uvak-riding defenders—the same passenger who now emerged in the same place. Quarra already knew who it was.
Jogan Halder stood at the railing, wearing his Alanciar military uniform and seemingly unbowed by his injuries. “Keshiri of Alanciar,” he yelled. “I have been beyond the ocean. Let me tell you what I have seen!”
A hush fell over the regiments.
“I was taken from our shores by these beings—these humans, who have been described to us as the Sith. I did not go willingly, and whatever happened, I was determined to protect Alanciar.
“I was blindfolded soon after the Mischance sighted land, but I had time to see a lush country ahead, like the one described by Adari Vaal. I was rushed inland in a wheeled cart, while some of my captors went ahead and were joined by others.” He clapped his hands on the railing. “Again, I was determined to say nothing, no matter what torture they brought!”
His expression softened. “But then we reached the smooth stone paths of a city—and I was released. And I mean completely released, allowed to walk freely through the streets. And what streets! A magnificent, shining city with glass spires rising to the sky, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. And the city was alive—with nothing but Keshiri!”
A murmur arose from the crowd. “I know what you’re saying now, because I thought it, too. The Herald told us ages ago that the land wasn’t really theirs, and that the Keshiri weren’t really free. But I didn’t see the humans anywhere. Even those who had been my captors vanished soon after my release.
“I didn’t want to talk to these Keshiri. They look like us, but we know they’re living under tyranny. How like us could they be?” He spread his hands theatrically. “But I didn’t see any tyranny. I saw craftspeople, spending their days not at hard labor, but making art in the streets. Painting. Sculpting. Music and singing of the sort we save for holidays—right there in the open plazas. I thought it was a festival, and that the humans had staged it to deceive me. As the hours passed, I realized this was how they lived.
“Keshiri artisans greeted me. Recognizing I was a foreigner from my uniform, they asked about my land. Again, I said nothing. But they happily told me of theirs, confirming that the sights I was seeing were normal. I asked where the humans were. They pointed to what they called the capitol, an ancient marble building augmented with glass towers. It was the refuge, they said, of the Protectors!”
This time, a loud rumble came from the crowd. Jogan placed his hands before him, palms open. “Yes, yes, I know. The Herald warned us that the Sith had fooled the people of Keshtah into thinking they were the Protectors of legend. I objected to the term, tried to tell them that they’d been fooled. But they didn’t argue. Instead, they allowed me to continue around the city—called Tahv, just as Adari had described—to speak to whomever I wanted.
“Convinced that they really felt as they said, I tried to change their minds. I described Alanciar, and how we’d prepared for the coming of the Sith. I described how we’ve lived, and everything we’ve done. And the response,” Jogan said, “was pity.” His voice rose as he spoke. “Pity, over so many years lost to worry, to fear over an existential threat. Pity, over so many lives spent in drudgery, rather than craft. And pity, that we had never known the humans, with their wisdom from the stars. Humans whom I was told did not lord over the Keshiri, but rather stayed always inside their capitol in quiet contemplation.
“I asked to be taken to the capitol, to see for myself. They took me willingly—and I was welcomed inside. There, indeed, were the humans we call Sith. Unarmed, and in meditation. I was led to a chamber where their ruling circle sat, no man or woman ranked above any other.”
There’s art in the telling, Quarra thought. Just like in those sheaves of messages he sent her for months. It was what had attracted her to him in the first place. He certainly had everyone’s attention now.
“I didn’t want to speak,” Jogan said, “and so they spoke, welcoming me to Keshtah and apologizing for the method of my arrival. There I was told the same tale of their people’s landing on Kesh that Adari told, more or less. They knew of Adari Vaal—and said she was not wrong in her warnings. There were evil ones among their number in those early days: servants of the Destructors, in hiding!”
The crowd rumbled anxiously. “They were aware of the danger Adari feared, and put down those dark beings the day that she left their continent for ours. Had Adari waited but another day—just one more day!” Jogan stopped, his throat dry. All stood silent as they waited for him to continue. “In just another day, all those that Adari feared would have been destroyed, and her warning, meaningless!”
A collective cry came from the forces. No! No!
“Yes, that’s what they said. Everything we’ve done has been for nothing. I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. But they had more news. I was told that now, two thousand years later, a vile servant of the Destructors had risen again from their number, threatening all life. Driven from Keshtah, he built airships and set out in search of someplace else to conquer.”
“The warriors in black!” came a call from the crowd.
“Yes,” Jogan replied. “I now know they were attacking here, even as I was visiting there!” Murmurs increasing in volume, he pressed on. “I asked about the first airships we saw—those of Edell Vrai, whose warriors accosted and kidnapped me. The human councilors told me that Vrai was a trusted friend, who had come in search of the criminals. Startled by the swiftness and technological power of our defense, Vrai
feared that we served the Destructors, too. And that, my friends, is why they brought me to Keshtah. They had to know that we were not the vile enemies of legend!
“That’s when I spoke at last, telling them that we were on the side of good, that we would resist any evil that came our way. We weren’t deserving of their wrath. No, not Alanciar!”
“Jogan saved us all!” came a cry from the masses.
“And the humans—the Sith—were glad of it. And they offered to help!”
A cheer went up, and Quarra’s eyes widened with realization. He’s the new Herald. Jogan was the new Adari, only this one told tales pleasing to the Sith!
Quarra looked into the crowd of listeners, urgently scanning face after face. They were taking Jogan seriously. It was an incredible tale—but he was one of their own.
Well, so am I, she thought. And she had a story to tell, too.
Casting a surreptitious glance at Edell, Quarra turned toward the railing. She’d felt a paralysis since the moment in the tower over Vaal Hall, when Edell reasserted control over Bentado’s crew and the signaling devices. There’d been no chance to warn anyone. But here was the better part of an Alanciari legion, just footsteps away from the receiving stand. Maybe it wasn’t all over. Edell would try to silence her, but it would put an end to this show, while there was still some doubt—
“But don’t take it from me,” Jogan said, stepping aside to allow a new figure onto the balcony. “There’s someone you should all meet!”
A flush of white appeared at the railing. An ancient human male, clad in a cloak of gem-festooned feathers and wearing a sharp beak, raised his arm-wings and looked to the sky. Recognizing the Bright Tuash, legendary avian creature of their myths, the crowd gasped.
Only Edell, gawking, laughed aloud. Incredulous, he looked at Quarra. “Grand Lord Hilts!”
“People of Alanciar, I have come to you as the Kesh-born minion of the Bright Tuash,” the old man said. “I am more than two thousand years old. The humans are among my children—and so are you. Your herald, Adari Vaal, was my Keshiri daughter. Well meaning—but lacking in understanding.” He clapped a feathered arm on Jogan’s shoulder. “This son of Alanciar spoke true. There were servants of the Destructors among my people—but they were not all of my people. We had cast them out!
“When you so kindly welcomed me at Port Melephos, my heart rose—until I received the sad story that the renegades had struck here already, killing your great leaders.” He bowed his head sadly.
The fact was already known to the audience, but the human’s show of remorse commanded the attention of all. Hilts squinted toward the reviewing stand and pointed. “But the evil ones and their leader have been put down, thanks to the efforts of one of my agents, working in concert with one of your well-trained Alanciari!”
Thousands of eyes turned toward Edell and Quarra. The defeat of Bentado was known, too—but many marveled to see the two together. A human, secretly working in Alanciar to defeat the Destructors!
“My people feel responsible for all that has happened. In the coming days, relief workers will arrive. Human and Keshiri, dressed in white, to help put right the damage—and to build bridges between our worlds.” Applause already beginning, Bird-Hilts raised his wings. “Together, may we understand each other—and make for a better Kesh for all of us!”
The crowd roared its approval. Quarra looked around. There were Force-users here, studying the old man as she was. But no one had raised an alarm.
“They sense no malice in him,” Edell said. “He never had any for you.”
“There’s still deception,” she said.
“Maybe these people are ready to be deceived. They’re like one of your ballistae. They’ve been cocked for years, waiting to go off. Now that they’ve fired, they’re ready for something else—even a pretty story.”
She looked up. Yes, Jogan had given it to them. What could she say now?
The blimp descended now, allowing her onetime correspondent to open the gate to the ground. “There’s more to my story, but I need to get to a signal station. This story needs to be told to everyone. And if you don’t mind,” he said, smiling broadly, “I’d like to be the one to send it!”
Jogan stepped from the gondola into the crowd. Quarra descended from the receiving stand but couldn’t get near him, so mobbed was he with curious Keshiri. She dashed along, trying in vain to catch up with the moving crowd before hopping on top of a stone retaining wall. “Jogan!” she yelled.
Jogan looked left and right before spotting her. Grinning, he pointed to her with one hand and himself with another. We’ll talk, he mouthed, before being swept toward the signal station at the edge of the parade grounds.
Edell smiled. “Grand Lord, welcome.”
The Alanciari listeners had pulled back and were now meeting in large groups with the Keshiri ambassadors from the Good Omen. Hilts had brought no other humans, but they would be along in vessels to come. The aged Grand Lord brought Edell close for an embrace—and then spoke, cracked lips to the younger man’s ear. “That was the worst blasted thing I’ve ever done,” he said, waving the beak.
“The costume, or riding on the airship?”
“Both.”
Edell looked back at the massive vessel. No one had ever known the Grand Lord to ride an uvak. “It does make flight available to those who can’t ride. We could do a lot with them—”
“The people of Kesh are puffed up enough, my boy,” Hilts said, fluffing the feathers of his cloak. “It’s no way to tie together an empire. They have more of the sea vessels?”
“In the harbors. We don’t know how many can make the transit, but that’s because they simply haven’t tried,” he said. “Obviously Peppin and the Mischance made it.”
“Of course. I was hoping to see you with them—but they told me you had scouted ahead. Good thing, that,” he said. “And good thing you sent us that talkative fellow, and his reading collection. It was a lot of romantic claptrap, mostly—but he also had a copy of this.” He pulled forth a volume from inside the cloak. “His copy of the Keshtah Chronicles. This book told us what we were up against: everything the Alanciari knew about us.”
“Adari Vaal’s testament,” Edell said, shaking his head. “The Keshiri runaway did a lot of damage.”
“Not as much as you might think,” Hilts said, smiling. “You people snicker at me and my histories. But history is important. It can be a weapon—for both sides. Your lieutenant read it during the crossing, and flew ahead with it to Tahv when she reached shore. It was clear that the Keshiri in Alanciar had once been like ours in the beginning—right down to the same myth of the Protectors and the Destructors. And now, like then”—he patted the beak—“it was simply a matter of convincing them of who we were in the story. And that meant also choosing a role for Bentado.”
“But Bentado’s fleet must have already left by then!”
“And there was no recalling the headstrong fool. We knew his invaders would give the Alanciari the fight they’d been waiting for—a fight they’d probably win. So we used that. He and his ships and people looked like the face of evil. We had to look like something else,” Hilts said, slyly. “Luckily, you’d sent us a test subject.”
By the time the cart with Jogan reached Tahv, Hilts explained, the Tribe had withdrawn from public view, putting its most fervently loyal Keshiri on the streets. Once their new ambassador had been convinced, it was a simple matter of assuming a pleasing shape for the Alanciari at large.
“Bentado’s team looked like what they were afraid of. But I am a kindly old man.”
“Wearing a coat of white feathers!”
“The things I do for the Tribe,” Hilts said. He squinted. “I read your signals about Bentado turning. Well, that was only a matter of time. I’m glad you were here to take care of him.”
“I started—but Squab finished him.”
The old man pushed a feather from his face and smiled. “Loyal little Squab—another idea of Iliana�
��s. There’s a word of advice for you, my lad. When a Grand Lord of the Sith sends his regards—run!”
Edell laughed. But as he thought on it, his expression changed to a frown. “It could all begin again, Grand Lord. The Sith infighting. Our mission is done.”
“Is it?” Hilts shook his head. “Capturing new slaves isn’t victory. Any lout with a blade can do that, like the original Sith did to our Tapani ancestors. But bringing them into your service willingly? Now, that’s something. It’s going to take all of our efforts, together. That’s what Yaru Korsin thought, and it’s good enough for me.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Of course I am. I’m old.” Hilts drew his protégé closer and took his arm. “Here, let me tell you about the history I’m working on …”
17
Many wanted to meet the leader of the misunderstood humans, but Quarra hadn’t stayed to greet the Grand Lord. Edell figured she’d gone after Jogan, but no one on the parade grounds had seen her.
He’d later learned she’d gone to help with the cleanup at Vaal Hall. Squab and Bentado’s surviving Keshiri, now under Edell’s direction, had held the all-important signal tower until the white-suited human advisers arrived. Just days after Jogan’s Testament, there were several in the streets of Sus’mintri, appearing kind and helpful. Edell moved freely on the streets in his own white togs now, neither invader nor overlord but benevolent guest. The Sith had been kind and generous with beautiful gifts from across the ocean, and the Alanciari knew how to do one thing very well: spread the word.
Edell now was essentially governor of Alanciar for Hilts, but it would take years of smiling cooperation for the rule to be fully accepted and openly acknowledged. The High Lord faced many of the same challenges that the crew of Omen had, and in ways his job was more complicated. Every village, every state farm here contained some Keshiri innovation unknown on the other side of the globe. All had to be evaluated. Some advances would be brought to Keshtah; the sailing vessels were an obvious choice to replace the dangerous airships. Vast areas of Kesh, like the unknown northern hemisphere, absent from Korsin’s ancient map, might now become accessible. Could there be more natives, more mysteries there? The prospect excited Edell.
Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: The Collected Stories Page 32