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The young proctor twitched, then shook his head to lift his crests. “Yes, Viceroy.”

“Good,” Nil Spaar said. “I can have no respect for one who will not gamble his own blood.”

A breedery assistant had been discreetly keeping his distance throughout the meeting. Now Nil Spaar signaled to him, and he disappeared into the anteroom. He returned moments later, leading a nitakka prepared for the sacrifice.

“Wait,” Nil Spaar said to Tal Fraan, and walked to where the nitakka stood on the grate above the drain pit.

The young male met Nil Spaar’s eyes without fear. “I ask for your blood for my children,” the viceroy said softly.

“The darama honors me,” said the nitakka, dropping to his knees. “I offer my blood as a gift.”

“I accept your gift,” said Nil Spaar. His killing claws appeared and slashed air and flesh with silent precision. As the sacrifice collapsed to the grating, the viceroy turned away to rejoin his now pale visitor.

“I have pierced your habits, Tal Fraan,” he said. “They are familiar to me. You look at what I have, and you see yourself. No, I have warned you already—do not deny it. I respect cleverness, and courage, and most of all success. I will keep you here, close by, to serve me. If you understand the opportunity, you can expect to profit from it.” Nil Spaar smiled. “And if you err, you can expect to serve my new children instead.”

“Yes,” Lieutenant Davith Sconn said, and blew a puff of smoke from his hoat-stick. The brisk breeze blowing across the north yard of the Jagg Island Detention Center carried the acrid scent away. “I’ve been to N’zoth.”

“I’ve read the deposition you gave to the Intelligence examiner a few months ago,” Leia said. “His evaluation says that in his judgment, you were just trying to earn favors by making something up—that you knew we didn’t have any way to confirm or refute what you said.”

“Then there’s obviously a shortage of intelligence at Intelligence,” Sconn said, turning toward where she sat. His gaze flicked past her to The Sniffer and The Shooter. “You must be someone pretty important. I’ve never seen them let a weapon in here before. What if one of us dangerous war criminals got that firestick away from him and took you hostage?”

Leia smiled sweetly. “I do think they’d enjoy it if someone tried. It’s been more than a year since the last time a fool gave my bodyguards a chance to use deadly force.”

“There ain’t no justice in this galaxy,” Sconn said, and came to sit opposite her. “They get paid for the same thing I’m getting punished for. So who are you? You look a little like Princess Leia, only older.”

She ignored his gibe. “Lieutenant Sconn—”

“Davith,” he corrected. “I was forcibly retired from the Imperial Navy, you know.”

“I’ve also reviewed your trial record, Davith Sconn,” Leia said evenly. “You were the executive officer of the Star Destroyer Forger when it suppressed a rebellion on Gra Ploven by creating steam clouds which boiled alive two hundred thousand Ploven in three coastal cities.”

“On the orders of Grand Moff Dureya,” Sconn said. “For some reason, people are always leaving that part out. Don’t you Rebels believe in discipline? I still can’t figure out how you managed to defeat us.”

Despite herself, she let him goad her into a reply. “Perhaps it has something to do with having the freedom to refuse immoral orders.”

“Immoral? The little finbacks had refused to pay their defense assessments, making the Grand Moff rather cranky.” Sconn drew hard on his hoat-stick and held the smoke for long seconds. “But, then, that was late in the day for the Empire, and Grand Moff Dureya was cranky rather a lot of the time.”

“Was it with Forger that you visited N’zoth?”

“Oh, no. I was on Moff Weblin—second watch bridge commander of a Fleet tender,” he said, hooking one leg over the other. “Why should I talk to you about N’zoth?”

“Why did you talk to the NRI?”

“Because it didn’t matter,” Sconn said, shrugging. “Because it was a novelty. Because Agent Ralls was such a clueless young