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“And we’re supposed to believe that.” Jaina snorted. “And how very convenient that you just happen to speak the ancient Sith language.”

“The ship that brought my ancestors to Kesh is more than five thousand years old,” Vestara said. “The Old Tongue was preserved and passed down. Not everyone on Kesh knows it, but those who are apprentices and higher do. It’s part of our training.”

Jaina looked a bit nonplussed. “Well … you could have told us this before.”

Vestara smiled, a cold little smile that Ben didn’t like. “Why should I?” was all she said.

Anxious to avoid an argument, Ben said, “How do you know there aren’t any Sith here? They didn’t … talk back to you, did they?”

Vestara turned to him, the coldness dissolving as she spoke. “No, not with words. But you saw their reactions. I told them to find the Sith that were on this world, and they cowered. They were upset because they couldn’t please me, because there is no one for them to lead me to.”

It seemed believable. Hideous and alarming and violent as they were, the tuk’ata were, in the end, canines of a sort, and canine body language seemed to be universal. They had indeed cowered, seeming to beg forgiveness—a proper display for disappointing their “master.”

Jaina seemed about to retort, but Luke said, unexpectedly, “I agree.”

Ben looked at his dad, astonished. Even Vestara seemed surprised. “You do? Why?”

“Their presences in the Force reflected their obsequious body language. Whatever it was you asked them, they couldn’t do it or give it to you.” Ben’s pleasure faded a little. So his dad was implying that Vestara was lying about what she had told the tuk’ata. He supposed he should have known.

“It also corroborates the evidence—or lack thereof—that we’ve seen so far. There’s nothing here to indicate that anyone’s been here for years. Too, I believe that I could distinguish human and Keshiri Force essences from the general miasma of dark-side energy.” He shook his head. “No, they’re not here.”

“So it’s another dead end,” Ben muttered.

“Oh, cheer up, Ben,” Vestara said, her eyes twinkling. “Think of all the other places we’re going to get to explore.”

Ben gave her an extremely dirty look.

“Fortunately we’re not the only ones searching,” Luke said. “Once we’re away from here I’ll contact the other vessels and see if they’ve discovered anything.”

“Then let’s go,” said Jaina. “I’m anxious to be on to the next one. I’m tired of playing hide-and-seek.”

The news was disappointing, to say the least. “Nothing at all?” Luke asked the fourth group they had spoken with.

“No, Master Skywalker,” said the calm, almost flat voice of Raynar Thul. “We would most certainly have told you if we found even a clue. No Sith, no Abeloth, no sign that anyone has been here for centuries.”

They had received the same response from all of the search parties, including that led by Master Kyle Katarn. No one saw anything to suspect that either Abeloth or the Lost Sith Tribe had ever visited these worlds. Luke thanked them, doing his best to keep the sharpness of his disappointment—and growing concern—out of his voice.

He leaned back in the pilot’s chair and closed his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his hand.

“Maybe they just … went home,” Jaina suggested. “They seem to keep getting the worse end of the deal.”

“You think they slunk back to Kesh to lick their wounds?” Luke said. He shook his head. “No. That doesn’t sound like the Lost Tribe to me. For one thing, I don’t think they’d survive very long if they came home empty-handed. Would they, Vestara?”

“There are severe penalties for failure,” admitted Vestara. “To have lost both you and Ben and Abeloth as prizes would not reflect well on the strike force. Better to stay away until they could come home with something to show for it, even if it took years.”

Was she simply trying to protect her homeworld still, or was she telling the truth? What she said was exactly what Luke had just stated that he himself believed. It could be—probably was—the truth.

“But you have no idea where they