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“It will not stand,” he said aloud.

He stood in the center of the aerie. It was quite dark inside; uvak were diurnal creatures, and enclosing them in a dark space usually put them right to sleep. He had kept the door open, and a small patch of moonlight was the only illumination. Inside were two tall columns, vanishing into the darkness. The roof, now firmly shut, was retracted during the day and the beasts were allowed to fly, within limits; a collar affixed to their legs would emit a painful shock if they drifted too far from home.

There were two uvak in the Khai family. Gavar had one and Vestara, when she was much younger, had honored the family by causing a hatchling to imprint upon her. Tikk, she had named him, for the clacking sound his beak had made as he crawled out of the shell. Gavar had watched the hatching, had watched his daughter exert her will to make the creature come to her instead of to another Sith youngling.

She’d loved Tikk. He had known, as she did not, what might happen to the beast when Vestara had chosen him to bear her to the Temple for her apprentice training.

When Vestara had arrived at the Temple, her new Master, Lady Rhea, had appeared about to give an order to have Tikk slain. Vestara reacted properly—by not protesting. Lady Rhea, pleased, had spared the beast.

It was an old tradition, a sort of hazing, never spoken of to those who had not already experienced it. Khai had known to expect it, and when he had been asked afterward if he wished to recover Tikk from the Temple, he’d realized his daughter had passed her first test.

He gazed up at the column that served Tikk for a nest. Khai used the Force to enhance his ability to see in the dark; from this vantage point, Tikk seemed to be slumbering deeply. With a slight tweak of the Force, Khai leapt upward, landing softly beside the uvak. Tikk was curled up beak-to-tail, his wings folded over his body like a blanket.

Khai watched him for a moment, then glanced at the other pillar. His mount was also asleep. Khai extended his real, living hand to the other uvak and gently, unobtrusively, guided the creature into a slumber from which she would not awaken for several hours. Satisfied, he reached out to pet Tikk’s long, sinuous neck, sending calm to the creature. Tikk stirred slightly, opened one eye, and made a rumbling, purring sound before closing the eye and falling even more deeply asleep.

Tikk had been a loyal mount, serving Vestara well, as she had served the Sith well.

Gavar Khai no longer knew if she did so or not.

There was a snap-hiss as he lit the lightsaber. A soft red glow bathed Tikk’s sleeping features. A heartbeat later the uvak’s head toppled down to land with a thud and a slight crunch on the stone floor. Tikk’s eyes were still closed.

The death had been accomplished with no pain to the creature, and Khai was glad of it. Tikk had done nothing to warrant suffering. Khai extinguished the lightsaber, nodded to himself, and Force-dropped to land gently.

He could sleep now.

TAHV, KESH

TAHV HAD NOT SEEN SUCH A CELEBRATION SINCE THE SITH HAD FIRST departed its soil to conquer the stars.

The famed City of Glass, as it had become known through the centuries, had been active day and night ever since Lord Vol had announced that a great celebration would be thrown to honor Abeloth, the Friend of the Lost Tribe. Crafters had used the Force, bribery, coercion, and threats to fashion commemorative fireglobes to encircle the entire city. Each fireglobe—a glass-and-metal sphere that contained something illuminating, be it a candle, a glow stick, or a naturally luminous living creature—was unique. Nothing was mass-produced, and each advertised its maker in some fashion: with a particular design, a unique coloration, or, more crassly but possibly more effectively, a name etched into a pane. A few of the glassmakers had quite literally worked their apprentices and journeymen to death.

Special shikkars had been crafted for the occasion, too. There would be much maneuvering