Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [40]
Vestara glanced around at the room. Where was—ah. She extended a hand, and her training lightsaber sprang to it. She had just finished fastening it to her jeweled belt when a knock came at the door.
The knock was for Muura’s benefit, not that of Vestara, who could sense at once who was on the other side of the door.
“Come in, Father,” she called.
Gavar Khai was clad in his usual attire—full Sith robes, black trimmed with silver. His long hair, as night black as his robes, was pulled back into a topknot. Vestara dropped a curtsy, then stood quietly. His dark eyes narrowed as he examined her, then he nodded and held out his arms.
She slipped into them and felt them close around her comfortingly, as she had when she was a little girl. He was guarding his emotions well, but Vestara was strong in the Force, and this was, after all, her father.
“What’s wrong?” She drew back to peer at him searchingly; she was almost as tall as he was now.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, not denying that there was, indeed, something amiss. She frowned, confused, sensing sorrow, worry, and … pride? Something was definitely not right.
But she was Sith, of the Tribe, and she hoped one day to become a Sith Master, and Sith Masters did not fall apart when their parents seemed worried. So instead Vestara smiled at him, and he cupped her cheek and smiled back.
“Tikk is waiting. I had one of the servants give him a bath. Can’t have you attending such an important meeting on a dusty, smelly uvak, now can I?”
Vestara laughed and hugged him. “I suppose not.”
Gavar pushed her away gently. “Off with you then. You don’t want to be late.”
“You’re not—” Vestara caught herself. She had thought her father would see her off, but he made no move to leave with her. Too, he would have been in his formal robes, not his everyday garments. Indeed, Gavar did not seem to intend to leave the room.
“No. I have some things I need to discuss with Muura.” He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “Hurry, child.”
Vestara was still standing there, puzzled, when Gavar gently closed the door. The last thing Vestara saw before the door shut was Muura looking at her master with a confused expression on her face.
SO PUZZLED WAS SHE BY HER FATHER’S BEHAVIOR THAT FOR FULLY HALF the flight to Tahv, Vestara wasn’t even thinking about standing before the Circle of Lords. But as soon as the walls of Tahv appeared below her, her thoughts immediately turned to what might happen.
The walls of Tahv had been built centuries before as a pragmatic measure; five thousand years ago, there had been dangerous beasts that needed to be kept at bay, and nearly every large habitation of Keshiri was enclosed within walls. With the arrival of the Sith and their knowledge of superior technology, even though they did not have the means to craft much of what they knew how to fabricate and operate, the Keshiri—and their new Sith allies—were able to drive off some of the dangerous, predatory creatures and domesticate others. The ever-practical uvak had been tamed for centuries, but hitherto had been reserved only for Keshiri leaders.
Times had changed. The walls had become decorative rather than functional. Nearly every high-ranking Tribe member possessed an uvak or two. And the Keshiri, whose world this once had been, had become second-class citizens.
The city enclosed within the once protective embrace of the walls had changed as well. It was now more beautiful than utilitarian, reflective of a society with sufficient extra resources, power, and time to devote to the arts. The Sith had brought the Force to bear on the place, directing the growth of trees into pleasing shapes—a very popular form was the double helix—levitating fountains, and, most famously, forming sculptures out of glass.
The Sith craftspeople who could simultaneously heat and shape great amounts of the pale lavender sand that stretched