Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 08_ Ascension - Christie Golden [5]
“Quite the contrary. He has insisted that Kesh, and primarily Tahv, be granted three days to prepare for your arrival, that the Sith may welcome you as the honored guest you are.”
“You suspect he is lying?”
It was a very dangerous game Gavar Khai was playing. Above all else, he wanted to ensure his own personal success—nay, simple survival, if it came to that. He had always been fiercely loyal to his people, but his experiences with Abeloth had also opened his eyes to the vast power she could wield. Ideally, he could bring the two together, but he had to always be aware that conflict could again erupt between Abeloth and the Lost Tribe.
And if that did happen, he needed to make sure he was on the side of the victor.
While lies were useful, sometimes the truth could be even more so. So he told the truth. “I do not think he is lying. It is a cultural tradition to have great celebrations for momentous occasions. There are always parades and parties and so on. And certainly, Lord Vol is very well aware that choosing to ally with you is an extremely important moment for the Sith.”
“But three days seems like a long time to ask so apparently honored a guest to wait.” There was irritation in her voice, and he could feel it, cold and affronted, in the Force.
“Such preparations do take time,” he said. “I do not know what he plans.”
And that much, at least, was as true as the sun rising, although Tola Annax probably could give him a list of possible ideas.
“Very well. We shall give Lord Vol his three days. I must admit, I think I will enjoy seeing so elaborate a celebration. It is good to be honored and respected.”
“Indeed. It will be a joyous occasion. I have been told that there will be a parade and afterward a masquerade.”
A moment, then a chuckle. “A masquerade. How fitting. Yes, I will definitely enjoy this.”
“I can safely say it will be unlike anything you have seen before.”
“Of course. I am sure so isolated a world must have developed unique traditions.” The way she said isolated made it sound like backward. Khai forced down any hint of resentment at her condescension.
“This is your world, Saber Khai,” she continued. “I know you have other family besides your daughter. You will be visiting before the celebration?”
“I am the leader of this flotilla,” Khai said. “I had not planned to, no.”
“Do,” said Abeloth. It was couched as a suggestion. Khai knew it was not. “And any others you think would appreciate the chance to visit should do so, as well. I do not think that I will be tarrying over-long.”
“As you wish,” said Gavar Khai, wondering, for the hundred thousandth time, just what she meant.
KHAI ESTATE, KESH
THE NIGHT WAS BEAUTIFUL. THE MOON WAS HUGE AND FULL, CASTING a silvery blue glow on the land surrounding the Khai estate. Gavar Khai leaned on the balcony of the master suite, naked save for a pair of light, billowy trousers. His black hair was undone from its usual topknot and flowed loosely about his shoulders.
He looked down at his cybernetic arm, lifting it slowly, clenching and unclenching the fist. The technology was excellent. It looked in all respects like a real arm. It had complicated sensors, so that all tactile sensations were replicated. And in many ways, it was superior to a flesh-and-blood arm. Now that he was mastering the use of it, he realized that he would soon become stronger and faster with it than with his real hand. If such were the case, then the “disfigurement” so frowned upon by the Lost Tribe would be recast in the light of an advantage.
But … it was still a false hand. And when he had caressed his wife’s body with it an hour earlier, her skin had not felt the same.
It was not a flaw—no senseless accident had caused its loss, but rather a fight with one of the most powerful Jedi who had ever lived. And yet, he could not shake the feeling that it should not have happened.
Khai sighed quietly, looking out again over the landscape of rocky hills and stubborn trees that grew, albeit twisted, in the arid environment. Directly below