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Han was still screaming into his comlink, demanding to know how Zekk and Taryn could have allowed someone to fly off in the Falcon with Allana and the droids aboard, when Leia’s comlink beeped.

She answered it immediately. “Jedi Solo.”

“Leia?”

“All—Amelia! Are you all right? Where are you?”

C-3PO’s voice was next. “Actually, that’s a lengthy story.”

And it was. It went on long enough for Han to sign off with Zekk and for the Skywalkers to come over and eavesdrop, and between Allana and C-3PO it was recounted in enough detail that Han, pale, gave in to a sudden urge to sit on the ground. “She flew the Falcon.”

Leia glowered down at him. “Hush. It sounds like she did quite well.” She spoke back into the comlink. “Amelia, sweetie, have Artoo transmit us your coordinates. We’ll be back there as soon as we can. Very, very soon.”

“All right.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Solo out.” Leia looked among her comrades. “How do we want to handle this?”

Yliri, standing uncertainly nearby, stepped up. “We should load Carrack onto the cargo speeder. I’ll take you to your ship, dump the speeder’s memory so spaceport security can’t use it to track you down. Then I’ll take Carrack in to the spaceport.”

“That’ll probably be best.” Leia sighed. “I hate leaving before things are resolved here.”

Luke shook his head. “You have to.”

“I know.” There was a beep from the pouch at Leia’s waist, though her comlink was still in her hand. She dug around in the pouch and came up with her datapad, which she flipped open. “Artoo is also forwarding your mail, Ben. Your datapad hasn’t been picking it up.”

“Yeah. My datapad is a lump of charred circuitry. Can I borrow yours?”

“Keep it. I’ll get another one on the Falcon.”

In minutes they had the unconscious Carrack and the shell-shocked Han loaded aboard the cargo speeder. Tarth Vames also boarded, apologizing for abandoning the party, explaining that he could do more good smoothing matters over at the spaceport. Then Yliri accelerated the lot of them southward.

Luke sighed. “Circumstances and the Nightsisters seem to be winning. Not one of us died and yet we’re down more than half our strength.”

“More bad news.” Looking unhappy, Ben snapped the datapad shut. “I got a message from Jaina. There was a government raid on the Temple. Daala sent Mandos to do the job. No casualties, but it’s a mess.”

Luke took a look around, noting Vestara’s location—beside Olianne, at the Raining Leaves’ chiefs’ campfire. Ben felt better knowing that Vestara had not been close enough to hear their exchange.

Ben whistled to himself. “I’ve got it. I wish I’d thought of it before.”

“Got what?”

“How she’s managed to hide her lightsaber and other gear. And maybe even what she’s doing here. Part of it, anyway.”

“Enlighten me.”

“We know she didn’t crash. The yacht at Monarg’s shop that Amelia and Threepio were talking about has to be hers. Same model and antiquity. She leaves it behind to be fixed, maybe so she can escape in it later.”

“Good. And?”

“She moves around in the wildlands to keep us moving, keep us guessing. And either her stuff is back with Monarg, or …” Ben looked off into the darkness beyond the encampment. “Or the first Dathomiri she ran into weren’t Raining Leaves, but Nightsisters. Sith and Nightsisters go together like caf and cream. Her stuff is with them. She gave them the intelligence they needed to execute this attack.”

Luke thought it over and shook his head. “Maybe she did encounter them first. That’s not unreasonable. But we know that every clan has a Nightsister or two secretly among its members, so they didn’t need her for the intelligence you mention.”

“I guess not. I just want to blame her for something.”

“Figure out what she’s really doing and blame her for that.”

“Yeah. Good plan.”

MARSHES EAST OF THE SPACEPORT, DATHOMIR

HAN SWITCHED OFF THE WELDER AND LIFTED THE NEARLY OPAQUE goggles from his eyes. He stood in the starboard-side loading ring of the Millennium Falcon, the hatch open to the moist night air beyond. The armor-grade durasteel patch he’d