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“When we can do so without fighting our way off Coruscant,” Kenth replied. “We won’t help anyone by arriving all shot up.”

“Then you may as well send Master Barratk’l to Blaudu Sextus.” Kyp’s tone was derisive, and he was shaking his head and staring at the floor. “Because we’re not getting our StealthXs off this planet without a fight—not as long as Daala is in charge.”

Kenth could see by the disgust in the faces of the other Masters that they shared Kyp’s opinion, and he knew as well as they did that this was the true test of his leadership. If he could not convince the Masters to be patient, to trust him just a little while longer, they would simply launch without him.

Deciding the time had come to confront the problem head-on, Kenth took a deep breath. “Master Durron, the situation with Daala may not be as intractable as you believe.”

No one in the Chamber could have missed his implication; they were Jedi Masters, a former Chief of State, and, well … Han Solo. And they were all regarding him with varying degrees of surprise, doubt, and outright disbelief.

Finally, Kyp cocked a brow in what was either incredulity or awe. “You’re saying you have something in the works?”

Kenth put a little durasteel in his voice. “I’m not just saying it, Master Durron. I do.”

Several Masters asked the obvious question at the same time, but it was Saba’s raspy voice that Kenth heard most clearly.

“What?” she asked. “You have planz you have been hiding?”

Kenth pulled himself up in his chair, trying to summon a commanding presence. “I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

Again the Masters spoke at once, but this time the result was an insulted—and in some cases, outraged—cacophony, “Sure,” “Very convenient,” and from Han, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Kenth raised his hand for quiet. “Please. I’m serious about this, but I can’t discuss it right now.”

He might as well have been speaking Ssi-ruuvi. The Masters merely stared as though the Emperor himself had suddenly appeared in Luke Skywalker’s chair—and it was no wonder. For the leader of the Jedi Council to say he could not trust his Masters with such important information was unthinkable, a preposterous affront to their integrity and their judgment. And Kenth had to make them accept it. He had given Bwua’tu his word that he would keep their arrangement secret, and he owed it to the admiral to honor his promise—at least as long as the old Bothan was still alive.

“Look, I apologize,” he continued. “But you’ll understand when the time comes.”

“I think we understand now,” Kyp said. He turned to the Solos. “Maybe you two had better go.”

Kenth shook his head. “It’s not because Han and Leia are here,” he said. “And it’s not a matter of trust.”

“And that’s not why I asked them to leave.” Kyp stood and nodded the Solos toward the exit, then waited in silence until they were gone. Once the door had hissed closed behind them, he turned back to Kenth. “I want an explanation now, Grand Master. You do not keep secrets from the Jedi Council—not about this kind of thing.”

Kenth remained in his seat. “Normally, I would agree. But just as Master Sebatyne is asking us to take her word about the absence of Tesar and the other Barabel Jedi Knights, I’m asking you to trust me on this. It really is to the Order’s benefit.”

“This one’s secret is different,” Saba retorted. “It involves only four Jedi Knightz. Your secret is about the whole Order. It concernz Master Skywalker and the Sith.”

Kenth could only nod. “I know it does.”

Octa Ramis sighed and ran a hand over her brow, then said, “It might help if you could at least explain why you can’t tell us.”

“Of course,” Kenth said. “Quite simply, it’s because I gave my word.”

“You gave your word,” Kyp repeated. “And you expect us to trust that?”

Inwardly, Kenth was cursing Bwua’tu’s coma and the assassin’s bad timing, but outwardly he shrugged and gave Kyp a half smile. “Hoped might be a better word.”

This actually drew a smile from Kyp. “I guess I can