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She felt the hilt hammer into the side of her head. Stars of pain exploded through her vision. She fell to the moist, leafy ground, not quite unconscious. She tried to move, to rise, but could not. Vestara held her down.

She became aware that she was flat on her face, her arms twisted up behind her. A thong was being tightly wrapped around her wrists, binding her fingers. Moments later Vestara went to work on her ankles. Soon, too, they were bound.

Vestara rolled her onto her back. Still dazed, Halliava had at least managed to recover a little of her breath. “What—”

As Halliava’s mouth came open with the question, Vestara stuffed a ball of cloth into it. Then she took a final length of thong and wrapped it around Halliava’s mouth, binding the improvised gag into place.

Finally Vestara blew a sigh of relief and smiled down at Halliava. “I imagine you were asking what I was doing. What I’m doing is granting you a favor. A tremendous favor.

“I’ve told you I admired you, and why. I wasn’t lying. But, Halliava, you must understand. You’re a savage. Unsophisticated, unschooled, unbathed. In a little while, though, you’re going to go up and live among the stars. You’ll teach and you’ll learn. You’ll surrender for now and rule even more because of it. You thought you were doing me a favor by making me a Nightsister. I’m returning that favor and multiplying it—someday you’ll be a Sith. You’re going to have to get used to the fact that half the Sith are men, but, well, ridding you of stupid preconceptions will be the job of your teachers for the next few years.”

Vestara took a few moments to rid Halliava of her gear—weapons, supplies, even boots. Then she hauled the woman up and took her across her shoulders in a rescuer’s carry.

“Oof. You’re not the only one who makes foolish mistakes. I should have done this when we were much closer to the meadow. Oh, well. Live and learn.” She set off at a slow walk, every step pressing her narrow shoulders into Halliava’s gut.

Halliava screamed in frustration, in anger, but the muffled sound carried only a few meters.

LANDING MEADOW, DATHOMIR

BY DATHOMIR STANDARDS, IT WAS A FORMIDABLE FIGHTING FORCE. Nearly two dozen Nightsisters moved out of the forest verge. With them, in three groups, were nearly as many rancors—trained, obedient, monstrously powerful.

Ahead, halfway across the meadow, the first shuttle touched down and slid to a smooth stop. It was boxy, silvery, with wings that extended a considerable distance but raked back as soon as the vehicle was still. Two more such shuttles, visible as silvery needles, descended toward a landing.

The woman at the center of the Nightsister gathering was clearly their leader. Tall, broad-shouldered, gray-haired, carrying on her face and elsewhere on her skin the blotches that were the mark of pride of a user of the dark Arts who was not afraid to show it, she was dressed in lizard-hide garments dyed as black as night and studded with precious gems taken as prizes from a hundred raids and duels. Dresdema was her name, and the clan she had once belonged to was long gone, hunted unto extermination by enemies of the Nightsisters.

But the Nightsisters lived on, and tonight they would become an invincible force.

As they walked, she caught the eye of the sister to her right. “Halliava?”

“Any minute, I think. I felt her nearing us not long ago.”

Dresdema nodded. She would not delay these proceedings because one girl was foolishly late. Halliava was a valuable sister, clever and inventive, but clearly had no sense of time. Tonight, once the Bright Sun Clan was destroyed, perhaps Halliava would come to live with Dresdema’s core group and learn some discipline.

By the time the Nightsisters were halfway to the first shuttle, the other two had landed. They waited, their boarding hatches still closed. Dark shapes moved in the cockpits, then passed through the cockpit hatches into the shuttles’ main compartments, out of sight.

Dresdema breathed