Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [12]
Harrar steepled his six fingers and tapped them against his tattooed lips. “That would have required an army.”
“Precisely, Eminence.”
“But no army of Jedi has been dispatched against our warriors. Battle reports indicate encounters with a mere handful.” The priest smiled faintly in revelation. “Someone not only purged Obroa-skai’s libraries but the Jedi order itself.”
“That is my belief.”
“But who?”
The tactician shrugged. “Advocates of the so-called dark side? Those whom the Jedi call Sith?”
Harrar leaned back against the cushions that propped him. “Then we may have allies in the galaxy.”
“If any Sith remain, we may indeed.”
Resolute footsteps trespassed on Harrar’s reply. Their source was a young female of severe beauty, whose long, shimmering garment accentuated an already lean frame. A turban encased most of her raven hair, and iridescent insects shone from the borders of her robe. Long strides carried her boldly to the foot of the command platform, where she folded her arms under her breasts and inclined her head and shoulders in a deferential bow.
“Welcome, Elan,” Harrar said pleasantly.
Elan lifted her head, which was neither as sloped as the priest’s nor as asymmetrical as the tactician’s. Wide across the cheekbones, her face tapered to a cleft chin. Ice-blue, her eyes swam in a sea of lavender and maroon swirls, and her nose was wide and almost without a bridge.
“Your pleasure, Eminence?”
“For the moment, only that you join us.” In invitation, and absent even a hint of condescension, Harrar patted the cushion adjacent to his own. “You’ve arrived in time to witness the sacrifice.”
Elan glanced over her shoulder.
Accompanying her was a diminutive creature of motley countenance and a peculiar manner. Made piebald by an arrangement of short feathers, the trim torso supported two thin arms, each of which ended in graceful four-fingered hands. Willowy ears and twin antennae corkscrewed from an elongated, modestly disproportionate head, whose rear attenuated to a finely feathered ridge. The slightly concave face was slant-eyed, wide-mouthed, and delicately whiskered. A pair of reverse-articulated legs and splayed feet propelled the creature in agile leaps.
Harrar took note of Elan’s hesitation. “Your familiar is also welcome to join us.”
Elan glanced at the stranger standing nearby, then reached for her companion’s right hand. “Come, Vergere.” She climbed the stairs and sat, making room for Vergere, who settled in like a nesting avian. Then she looked at the priest. “Why have I been summoned, Eminence?”
Harrar feigned disappointment and motioned to the nearest attendant. “Let us observe the sacrifice.”
The attendant bowed and voiced a command to a pair of artfully concealed receiving villips, which instantly fashioned an optical field. A sweeping view of local space resolved in midair, filling the entire forward portion of the compartment and eclipsing bulkheads and furnishings alike. It was as if that portion of the faceted ship had been rendered clear as transparisteel and the cosmos ushered aboard.
Obroa-skai’s primary was a roiling cauldron at the center of the villip-choir field. Hurtling toward the star was a battered Gallofree transport that had been captured during the battle, its ablative shields just beginning to blush with heat. Inside the pod-shaped vessel, some two thousand captives and droids, cleansed by sound, purified by incense, and stacked like split firewood, lived out the remainder of their lives.
Harrar, his guests, and attendants fell silent and remained so as the rosiness the star had imparted to the nose of the transport began to spread aft, reddening alloy and liquefying superstructures. Parabolic dishes, sensor arrays, and shield generators melted like wax. The outer husk wrinkled and began to peel back from the frame. The hull blistered, buckled, and finally caved. The ship became a torch, a hyphen of flame, then