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“I’m glad to hear it. Shall we wait or—”

“Wait or go ahead, I don’t care.” There was the distinct sound of Corran’s comlink being deactivated.

Hamner blinked, feeling the eyes upon him, and exuded calm in the Force. “Master Horn will be joining us shortly,” he said. “As the main topic of conversation concerns him quite intimately, I suggest that if anyone else has other business to bring before the meeting, we address that first.”

He spread his arms, indicating that they should take seats. Those who could not be physically present were here in holographic form. An uncomfortable silence stretched out.

Finally Kyp Durron spoke. “Well, I’ll mention the bantha in the room if no one else will. Master Hamner, with all due respect, there is no business to be put before this assembly other than that of the Horns. Specifically Jysella, what happened to her, and how long it’s going to be before Daala and the GA do something else to us.”

Out of the corner of his eye Hamner saw Jaina relax. Clearly if Durron hadn’t spoken up, she would have.

“I do not think it appropriate or considerate to begin discussions on that subject until Master Corran Horn—”

“I’m here.”

Corran Horn stepped inside. He looked terrible. His vivid green eyes were bloodshot, and the creases around them, not unexpected in a man of middle age, seemed to have been carved by an unkind hand. He looked scruffy, as if he had not shaved in days, and there was a simmering feeling of suppressed, righteous anger hovering about him in the Force.

“Master Horn. It’s good to see you. Please, come join us.”

Corran strode toward an empty seat and dropped heavily into it, rubbing his eyes. Jaina and Leia—as they were not yet Masters, they had opted to stand rather than take one of the stone chairs—moved to stand behind Corran. Leia dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it in a silent gesture of reassurance.

Hamner turned to Cilghal. “Master Cilghal, since you were present when the … incident occurred, and have debriefed the two Jedi Knights who fought Jysella”—Hamner saw Corran flinch, ever so slightly, at the words—“I would appreciate it if you told us what you know thus far.”

Cilghal glanced compassionately at Corran Horn, then twisted her body in the Mon Calamari equivalent of a human nod. Hamner, of course, had heard her report earlier. Most of the other Masters had heard about the incident, but not the details. He wondered how much Corran Horn himself had heard, and kept his eyes on the man as Cilghal spoke.

In her gravelly voice that nonetheless held a world of kindness, Cilghal recounted the painful events: Jysella’s irrational fear and firm belief that everyone was an imposter; her pausing outside the locked door and subsequently escaping using knowledge that she could not possibly have had; her fight with her friends outside the Temple; the fact that this was on all the newsvids on what was apparently a brutal, endless loop.

“The inescapable conclusion, given the evidence,” Cilghal finished up, “is that Jedi Jysella Horn was afflicted by the same mental disorder that affected her brother. Her reaction is virtually identical. I am convinced that if I had been given the opportunity to study her, the diagnoses would have been the same.”

“Except you weren’t,” Horn said, his voice low and calm—deceptively so, Hamner suspected. “She was hunted down and dragged off, a holocam catching every minute of it. Her guilt and sentence were determined before anyone had even examined her.”

“Yet there is a difference between Valin and Jysella, one that fortunately I was able to witness—to sense in the Force,” Cilghal continued. “And it could be an important clue. As I said, I dearly wish I could verify whether or not Jysella’s brain wave pattern is similar to her brother’s.”

“By that you mean if she was able to project artificial readings?” asked Kyle Katarn.

“Exactly,” Cilghal said. “Because if my theory is correct, she would not be using that Force ability. It