Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 02_ Omen - Christie Golden [44]
Vestara hesitated. Should she lie? Would it be dangerous for the Lords and the Masters to know exactly how much she knew, how Ship had spoken to her? Or would it be better for her to tell them everything? It was likely that no one in this room had slept since the arrival of the strange vessel. And it was likely that it had spoken to them as it had to her. After all, these were the very leaders of the Sith, the keepers of all that it meant to be Sith. She wanted badly to lick her dry lips but wouldn’t let the gesture betray her anxiety.
“It is designed to train apprentices,” Vestara replied.
Lady Rhea had reached her now and stood with her hands on her hips. The gesture spread her black cape behind her, and even though Vestara was nearly as tall as she, the overall effect was imposing. It was meant to be.
“Indeed,” said Lady Rhea, almost purring. “What did it tell you? And what did you tell it?”
Vestara met Lady Rhea’s eyes evenly and told the truth. All of it. Right down to her burning desire to become a Sith Master. Her father had once said that the main thing that differentiated them from Jedi was that the Jedi were too afraid to embrace passion.
“Don’t ever be afraid of what you feel, Vestara,” he had said. “Just know that you can use it. You must use it, or else it will use you.”
And she used it now. Ship had contacted her. It had spoken with her. She used that, and her deep wanting—her need—to be trained. To become a Sith Master. To fulfill her destiny, as the Sith were about to fulfill theirs.
The chamber was hushed as Vestara’s youthful voice rang out clear and strong and deeply passionate. Lady Rhea listened raptly, her eyes on Vestara’s face. Finally, the girl finished, and stood waiting.
Lady Rhea glanced back at the Lords and the Masters with what could only be called a look of triumph.
“You see? Everything she says corroborates what Ship told us.”
“It is … an unusual way to pick an apprentice,” said Grand Lord Vol, placing the tips of his fingers together and regarding Vestara speculatively.
Pick an apprentice? Vestara’s breathing caught for just a second. Could it finally be—
“But I suppose that once, it was not so unusual,” the Grand Lord continued. “Ship is, after all, a training vessel.”
Lady Rhea turned back to Vestara, smiling, and there was genuine pleasure emanating from her in the Force.
“Yours was the first mind Ship contacted, Vestara,” she said. “It was intrigued by you. Far be it from the Circle of Lords to stand in the way of the decision made by such a construct.”
She snapped her fingers, and the apprentice who earlier had taken Vestara’s training lightsaber from her reappeared. In his hand he bore one of the remaining lightsabers from the original Sith. Vestara gasped, then her teeth clicked together as she clamped down on the wave of joy that surged through her.
Despite her resolve, tears stung her eyes. Usually, apprentices had to make their own lightsabers, and with the limited resources available to them, they were not as fine as these antiques. Every Master had one, certainly, but there were even some Sabers who did not. They were powered by Lignan crystals, one of the great heritages of the Sith. The crystals, thousands of which had crowded the cargo hold of the Omen when it crashed, enabled the lightsabers to burn hotter and last longer than the original design permitted. Too, for various reasons, they were perfect for Sith weapons.
And Tyro—no, Apprentice—Vestara Khai now owned such a lightsaber.
For an instant, sorrow filled her. That was why, then, her father had behaved so oddly this morning. He had known, and not been able to tell her. For once a Tyro was chosen as an apprentice, she was separated from her family with no warning—and no contact for an entire year.
But that was the order of things, and she and her family knew it. The sorrow was chased away by