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A predatory smile twisted across Taalon’s lips. “Come now, Master Skywalker,” he said. “I can feel the fountain’s power as clearly as you can.”

“The fountain didn’t make my Jedi Knights lose touch with reality, and it’s not what we’re here to investigate.” Luke turned toward the far side of the courtyard, where Gavar Khai was struggling to keep the pyre aflame on a diet of tree ferns and club mosses. “That would be Abeloth.”

“Whose source of power was here, perhaps?” Taalon retorted. “In this fountain?”

As the High Lord spoke, Gavar Khai stepped away from the pyre, positioning himself between Luke and Abeloth to preclude any attempt to retrieve the body. A robust man with long black hair, he had a hard face with clean lines and even features, and eyes so deeply brown they seemed the color of night. Judging by his interactions with Vestara, Khai was a good enough father—a little too stern, perhaps, but also loving and proud. Luke admired him for that much, at least. He realized he and the Sith would never part ways without doing combat, but fighting Khai would be a sad duty, and Luke would regret killing him.

From behind Luke, Taalon continued, “If you are going to reveal only what is convenient, Master Skywalker, our bargain is not worth the keeping.”

Luke stopped and allowed his shoulders to slump. He had no idea what would happen if Taalon drank from the Font of Power—whether it would kill him or bestow on him the unlimited power promised by Luke’s guides on his first trip to the ruin—and he truly did not want to find out. Unfortunately, any attempt he made to discourage the High Lord was doomed to backfire, and so he would have to pursue another strategy.

Besides, there was clearly some connection between Abeloth and the fountain, and Luke needed to learn about it as badly as his counterparts did. He turned, but remained where he was.

“I don’t know a lot,” Luke said, “and I won’t be responsible for what you do with the information I do have.”

Taalon’s voice assumed a superior tone. “Then you have been here before.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Luke crossed to the edge of the sulfurous plume, then stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “Do you agree to my terms or not?”

Taalon’s eyes grew narrow and pensive. “Interesting,” he said. “Are you trying to frighten me … or tempt me?”

“Just trying to honor our bargain,” Luke said. “And you’re the one who’s insisting.”

Taalon thought for a moment, then finally turned to Khai. “Do nothing unless the Jedi attacks.”

Khai inclined his head. “As you command, High One.”

Luke stepped into the steam. His sinuses and throat went raw after his first scorching breath, but he continued forward, using the Force to clear the fumes away from his face. As he drew nearer to the sculpted-tentacle basin, the power of the fountain itself began to pour through him, making him feel cold and queasy and vile inside. It looked much the same as it had during his first visit, a jet of dark water about as thick as his leg, rising from some well of dark side energy so deep and ancient that it felt as old as the galaxy itself.

Taalon stopped next to Luke and let out a soft breath that might have been a gasp of awe—or a hiss of fear. He stared into the column of brown water for a long time, allowing its power to wash over him, then finally stepped away from Luke and let his hand drop toward his lightsaber.

“I’ve kept my side of the bargain,” Taalon demanded. “What do you know of this place?”

Luke continued to look into the column of brown water. “Well, it’s a very powerful nexus of the dark side.”

“That much I can sense for myself.” Taalon’s voice grew menacing. “I trust you have more to offer?”

Luke nodded. “Someone tried to trick me into drinking from it.” As he spoke, a small pair of vortices appeared in the yellow steam, spinning at about head height above the basin. “They told me that if I had the courage to drink from the fountain, I would have the power to achieve anything.”

“Who is they?” Taalon demanded.

Luke could feel the cold brush