Star Wars - Lost Tribe of the Sith 04 - Savior

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.
    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 withholding 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.

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.”
    “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 triangular 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.
    “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