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“And this deal, what was it?” Corran demanded.

Hamner hesitated, obviously reluctant to break his promise to the admiral.

“It’s the reason your Grand Master here doesn’t want to do anything,” Han prompted. “He’s still hoping Bwua’tu will wake up and fix everything with a wave of his hand.”

“Not exactly,” Hamner said through clenched teeth. “But Admiral Bwua’tu did offer to use his influence to convince Daala to be reasonable.”

“In return for what, exactly?” Kyle asked.

“Not launching the StealthX wing,” Hamner said. “The Mandos saw us preparing when they stormed the Temple, and the last thing either of us wanted was starfighters battling over Coruscant.”

Saba felt her blood turn cold. Hamner had been doing more than just keeping secrets from them. He had entrusted the Order’s well-being to a Bothan, and he had been stalling his fellow Masters—lying to them—in the vain hope that his friend the Bothan would awaken and solve all his problems for him.

Clearly, Hamner had cracked under the pressure. Clearly, he was no longer fit to lead the Jedi Order.

Saba stepped forward. Speaking as gently as her Barabel voice would allow, she said, “This one thinkz it would be best if you resigned, Master Hamner.”

Hamner’s jaw fell. “Resign, Master Sebatyne? You must be joking.”

Saba shook her head. “No joke, Master Hamner. This one has no confidence in you.” She glanced around at her fellow Masters. Receiving one nod after another, she added, “We all have no confidence in you.”

Strictly speaking, it was not a formal no-confidence vote. But there were enough Masters present to indicate what the result would be, and even Kenth Hamner was not stubborn enough to demand the formality when the outcome was a foregone conclusion. He glanced from one Master to another, his face growing a little paler each time a Master met his gaze and nodded agreement with Saba’s pronouncement. When he had come to the last face, he turned to her with a trembling mouth.

“I do not resign, Master Sebatyne,” he said. “And this is not over.”

“It is for us,” Saba replied. “Go inside, Master Hamner. Your presence is no longer required by the Council.”

JAGGED FEL FOUND CHIEF OF STATE DAALA OUTSIDE HER OFFICE, STANDING in the corner of a huge balcony that he had not known existed, looking past the shoulder of the Senate Building toward the gleaming silver pyramid that was the Jedi Temple. She was leaning out over the edge with both hands braced on the railing, her shoulders hunched in anger and her long coppery hair blowing in the humid breeze. Her posture reminded him of nothing quite so much as the linstone fiends hanging from the roof edges of some of Bastion’s most ancient buildings, a guardian monster from a lost era, still standing watch and fuming at the vicissitudes of time and humanity.

Discerning no hint in her bearing of why she had asked to see him on such short notice—and seeing no advantage in startling her during a moment of private meditation—Jag cleared his throat and started across the balcony.

“If you’re thinking of attempting a paraglider assault, I’d advise against it,” he said, only half joking. “They’ll see you coming from a kilometer away.”

Daala snapped fully upright, clasping her hands behind her back, then spinning to face Jag. “I suppose they would,” she said. “And there’s that blasted Force to worry about.”

“Yes, there’s always the Force,” Jag agreed. “It would be a mistake to underestimate its power.”

The corner of Daala’s mouth rose in a sardonic smile. “I believe I have heard that before.” As Jag drew near, she unclasped her hands and held one out. “Thank you for rearranging your schedule. I assume you’re aware of events on Blaudu Sextus?”

“I’ve been watching the Public HoloNet reports.” Jag forced himself to shake her hand—after all, a Head of State could not allow personal feelings to interfere with state business. “But if that’s why you asked me here, I must admit that I fail to see how the outrages on Blaudu Sextus concern the Empire.”

“No?” Daala turned back toward the Jedi Temple. “I should think