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It curved downward as the strand did. In his mind’s eye, Luke followed it while the rocks separated by a few handbreadths and picked up speed.

In the distance, he saw the tiny speck of the redheaded Nightsister. She rapidly grew in his mind’s eye as the rocks neared her.

At the last instant, having some presentiment of danger, she looked up. Then the cloud of rocks hit her.

The image disappeared. The strand of Force energy stemming from the Nightsister instantly evaporated. The net above twitched and weakened.

Rancors began sailing down the slope to Luke’s left. He opened his eyes to watch. First was one whose Force presence was already failing. Its face was a ruined mess. Next was a flailing, howling beast whose head was on fire.

Luke sighed. He did not wish their deaths. But where men and women chose to wield the Force to achieve unnatural ends, death always resulted.

A cheer rose from the Dathomiri on the hilltop. At first, it was ragged; then it rose in volume, strengthened.

Ben caught the eye of the Turbo leader. “How many did you lose?”

She shook her head as if unable to believe it. “None. You?”

“Two badly injured. No deaths.”

“And they didn’t get as far as our Witches.” She turned, got the attention of an adolescent Broken Columns boy. “You, bring water around.”

Minutes later, it became clear that their victory, while momentary, had been almost complete. Four clan members were hurt, one of them perhaps fatally. Four new rancor bodies were piled up at the hill bottom, three along the southwest slope and one on the eastern approach.

And Ben could feel his father down the main approach, calm, unruffled.

Dyon joined Ben at the hilltop edge. “The Star Destroyer Hilltop held up pretty well.”

Ben nodded. “And now we find out what the enemy commander is made of.”

In the next two hours, the rancors came against them three more times.

Seven members of the Raining Leaves and Broken Columns died. More were injured. Twelve rancors died. More were injured. In the last two engagements, not a single rancor coming against them was fresh; all had fought before, all had been hurt before.

Dyon, visiting Luke after each skirmish, relayed Luke’s report that one Nightsister had fallen during each exchange. Luke didn’t know how many had been killed, how many injured. “But the way your father shook his head,” Dyon reported, “makes me think those Nightsisters are goners.”

JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT

Walking down the broad hall of the main entrance level of the Jedi Temple, Leia beside him, Han smoothed the hair at the back of his neck. He pitched his voice to a stage whisper. “Didn’t we just leave this party?”

Leia shot him a curious look. “How so?”

“A bunch of people we sided with, encamped, surrounded by enemies …”

She shook her head. “There are big, important differences between the two situations.”

“Such as what?”

“Here you can take a quick trip down the street and buy yourself a good cup of caf. Here the air is kept to a comfortable temperature.”

Han brightened. “No sweating all the time. Sanisteam stalls everywhere.” Then he sniffed. “Though it doesn’t smell like everyone here is using them.”

Immediately ahead of them, Kani Asari, a golden-haired apprentice who was currently serving as Kenth Hamner’s personal assistant, glanced over her shoulder. “The government has shut off our municipal water, power, and waste pickup. We’re running on backup generators and recycled water. Not enough for all the comforts of home.”

Han gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

They reached the first set of turbolifts. Several had silvery straptape crossing and sealing their doors in broad x-patterns, indicating that they were out of service, but one was still functional. The apprentice took the Solos down several levels and conducted them as far as a conference room, but did not follow them inside.

Within the room were dark, comfortable chairs and tables, platters of refreshments—and Jaina, who rose from a chair as they entered. Leia hurried over to embrace