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Abeloth gazed at the stage, her golden brows lowered in a frown, her lovely mouth thinned. At last, she turned to Vol and asked, “This is a piece of your mythology, is it not? Like Saber Khai’s black bird?”

“No,” Vol replied. “It is a slice of our real history. This play will show how the Omen, filled with our ancestors, came to crash on Kesh, and how the Lost Tribe was welcomed as the Protectors.”

Her voice, mien, and presence in the Force revealed nothing. “Protectors?”

“Surely you know the story,” he said. “When the Omen first arrived on Kesh, our forebears were welcomed and regarded almost as divine beings. You see, the Keshiri believed that—” He broke off and leaned forward, addressing Khai. “Gavar, I can’t believe you failed to enlighten our guest on the single most important part of our history!”

Caught off-guard, Khai still managed to shield his feelings. “It is our present and future I chose to discuss with Abeloth,” he said.

“And yet here you are, dressed as a Tuash!” Vol clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “For shame!” He returned his attention to Abeloth.

“I suppose it falls to me. You see, the Keshiri had an ancient myth about magical and powerful beings called the Protectors. The Protectors would defend and save the Keshiri when the feared Destructors eventually returned. The Destructors, according to ancient Keshiri myth, periodically descend on inhabited worlds to wipe out civilization and return all beings to their natural, primitive states.”

“A legend,” Abeloth said. “As accurate as a giant bird, black or white, foretelling safety or doom.”

Vol shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We have conducted our own research. Such a planetwide catastrophe has been visited upon this world at least once.”

“You disappoint me, Lord Vol,” Abeloth said. “I had not thought you so susceptible to stories told by primitive beings. The events you speak of are natural disasters, nothing more.”

“Be that as it may, I think you know the point of why the original Sith embraced it.”

She smiled slowly. “Indeed. It would have been foolish not to exploit such an opportunity. One might think that the Keshiri would have resented your ancestors for perpetrating such a deception.” She turned to Lady Sashal. “Lady Sashal. You were lied to and taken advantage of.”

Sashal gave her a slight smile. “Our ancestors were,” she said. “Not I. While the humans of the Lost Tribe and the Keshiri are different races, no one has ever been excluded from achieving high rank if she can prove herself worthy. You yourself worked with Sarasu Taalon. It is merit, not genetics, that enables one to rise or fall in our culture.”

“Yes,” said Abeloth, “I did work with Taalon.” Vol noticed she left it at that. Sashal apparently did not notice, and continued.

“The arrival of the Lost Tribe helped my people. They brought civilization—medicine, technology, art. And now both Keshiri and the Tribe stand together as Sith, poised not only to guard against the return of the Destructors, if they do exist, but to do far more—to conquer the galaxy. It is our destiny. And you can be part of that.”

Abeloth did not bother to hide her amusement, and Lord Vol shook his head inwardly at the delicious irony. Lady Sashal was the staunchest advocate Abeloth had in the Circle. And yet she had, apparently obliviously, just treated this powerful being with condescension. No, Lady Sashal might have her political machinations going full force, but she was foolish. He would not discount her, of course. Vol never discounted his enemies until they were dead. Sashal might be stupid … but stupid beings could still be very dangerous.

He realized he actually might be grateful to the petite Keshiri female. Sashal had distracted Abeloth, who was clearly enjoying toying with her, and he could observe this potential enemy more readily.

So very often, he mused, stupid people, though dangerous, were useful.

LORD VOL’S ESTATE

Four hours later, there was a meeting. It was not held in the Circle