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“No, it doesn't take that many before you learn all the rules.”

Luke paused over one spot. “If he triggered the mechanism himself, it was with use of the Force.”

“We would have felt that.”

“Good point. So it was done by a confederate.” Luke snapped his fingers, and a portion of the top of the platform swung downward, leaving a gap easily large enough for a good-sized human or a Kel Dor to fit through. “Shall we?”

“Masters first.”

They used Luke's hook and grapnel, no longer worn on his primary belt but still in his customary gear, to descend. Ten meters down, their boots touched a stone floor. Luke pointed a finger up and the hook dislodged, dropping into his other hand; he gestured again, and the rectangular opening above their heads closed.

They were in a storage chamber of some sort. There were many metal shelves here, loaded with crates marked in the Kel Dor language. There were also several large containers that themselves looked like coffins—but silvery, lozenge-shaped, high-tech coffins. It was all dimly lit by low-intensity glow rods.

They stood on some sort of hydraulic platform that, retracted as it was now, was almost at floor level, but when raised should take it up to the ceiling and the hidden entrance above.

“Pretty simple,” Ben whispered.

Luke tucked his grapnel and line away, nodding. He gestured toward the one door out of the chamber.

They waited by the door, extending their perceptions through it. In the Force, Ben could feel living beings beyond, but not close by.

Luke activated the door. It slid open quietly, but the hiss was loud enough to make Ben cringe. Sneaking around was so much more difficult when you had to rely on other people's machinery, he decided.

He followed his father into a plain, permacrete-lined corridor. There was a large rolling cart against the hallway wall opposite; other doors lined the hall. The Force presences Ben had detected were beyond the one at the end of the hall to the left.

Luke had come to the same conclusion. Together they approached the door. It was sturdy durasteel, too thick for sound to carry through.

Luke looked at Ben and shrugged. “Might as well barge in,” he whispered.

“They're Baran Do Sages. They're not going to try to kill people for prowling through their basement, I hope.”

Luke smiled. He activated the door, and it slid up.

The chamber beyond was not large. Two shining metal rails at waist height led into a round hole, a meter in diameter, in the wall; one of the lozenge-coffin containers rested on those rails. Beside the container stood Mistress Tila Mong, Master Charsae Saal, and two other Masters whose names Ben had not learned. All four turned in surprise at their entry.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” Luke said. “Master Charsae Saal, you look very good for one who is recently deceased.”

Tila Mong looked decidedly unhappy. “This is unforgivably rude of you.”

“Unfortunately, my need—which I expressed to you, a need involving all possible knowledge about Jacen Solo—forces me to do some uncomfortable things. Such as intrude on your rituals. The problem is, when I realized that Charsae Saal was not dead, it occurred to me that your predecessor, Koro Ziil, might not be dead, either. True?”

Tila Mong, tight-lipped, did not immediately answer.

Charsae Saal spoke up. “In a moment, I will climb into that transport.” He indicated the silver lozenge. “I will be swept away, never again to see sunlight, the temple, or my family. Then Charsae Saal will truly be dead.”

“Charsae Saal will,” Luke said. “But you won't.”

Charsae Saal hesitated, then nodded. “I will take a new name. Charsae Saal will be dead.”

“So Koro Ziil also took a new name?”

Tila Mong interrupted: “We cannot answer that. It is forbidden.”

“And yet I need to speak to Koro Ziil, or whoever he is now.”

Tila Mong looked at them, considering. “This could be arranged. If you are willing to do what Charsae Saal is about to do.”

That alarmed Ben. “Fake our deaths?”

“No. Climb into a transport and ride to where Charsae Saal is going.”

“I will go,” Luke said. “Ben can