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Chine-kal waited for the translation, then turned to Moorsh. “Did you know of this?”

“I did not, Commander,” the priest said.

Chine-kal cut his eyes to Randa. “They divine, you say?”

“Rather astutely.”

“By what technique?”

“Manifold means. I have heard that they can read the future in the creases of the hands, the bumps on the head, the color of the eyes. They sometimes employ a deck of playing cards that are said to have been fashioned by them.”

“You have heard,” Chine-kal said. “Then you have had no direct experience with them?”

“Sadly, I have not.” Randa smiled. “But perhaps you would be willing to relieve them temporarily of their peculiar duties and judge for yourself? Your creation appears to take little interest in them, in any case.”

“I confess to being curious about them,” Moorsh said in reply to Chine-kal’s glance.

The commander nodded and turned to a subaltern of the guards. “Have the six Ryn brought to the young Hutt’s compartment.”

ELEVEN

To three sides the sea stretched to the horizon—an expanse of surging teal, frosted with whitecaps and dazzled by daybreak sunlight—and at Leia’s back climbed the rocky spires and imposing parapets of Reef Fortress, the Hapan royal family’s summer home and stronghold in times of crisis.

Against a cool offshore breeze, she hugged herself within the dark-blue wrap of her long cloak and turned through another circle, taking in the island’s surf-slapped black-rock shoreline, the majestic fortress, a droid picking wild dewberries, and closer at hand, Olmahk, along with a score of visitors who’d arrived at dawn by dragon yacht to witness the duel between Isolder and Beed Thane.

The archon of Vergill and his seconds were gathered on the square of lush lawn that was to serve as an arena for the contest. As the offended one, publicly dishonored by Isolder’s reckless backhand, Thane had been entitled to choose the weapons from a wide assortment that included everything from vibroblades to sporting blasters. The location, however, had been selected by Isolder, who had passed the previous night in Reef Fortress, along with Teneniel Djo, Tenel Ka, Ta’a Chume, Leia, and a minimal staff of advisers and retainers.

Though the designated hour was drawing near, Isolder and his second, retired Captain Astarta, had yet to show themselves. Plainly disquieted by the lapse in etiquette, Tenel Ka was unable to remain still for more than a moment.

Leia could feel the young Jedi’s agitation clear across the lawn. It was here at the fortress that she, Jacen, Jaina, and Chewie’s nephew Lowbacca had braved carnivorous seaweed and Bartokk assassins to foil Ambassador Yfra’s plot to overthrow the monarchy. Here, too, Tenel Ka had finally come to accept the mutilation she had accidentally suffered at Jacen’s hand, preferring to make do with her stump rather than employ a prosthesis—even for a swimming race.

As the memories of what Jacen had told her of those events were supplanted by concerns for the present, Leia saw Tenel Ka gaze up one of the hedge-bordered paths that climbed to the fortress and quickly walk away from the lawn. A moment later Ta’a Chume appeared where the natural path debouched into the lawn, her graying auburn hair falling from beneath a tall conical cap, to which was affixed a triangle of gauzy white fabric that veiled her lower face. Notwithstanding Tenel Ka’s efforts on behalf on the Hapan monarchy, the former matriarch refused to condone her granddaughter’s decision to embrace the life of a Jedi over that of a future queen mother.

Ta’a Chume tracked Tenel Ka’s deliberate departure, then she turned and, spying Leia, gathered her long gown in one hand and headed directly for her.

“I trust you slept well, Ambassador,” she said as she approached.

“I’d like to report that I did, but in fact, I didn’t sleep a wink.”

“This business with the duel,” Ta’a Chume said in dismissal. “Don’t worry.”

Leia stared into her green eyes. “You’re that confident of your son?”

“You’re not?”

“I’ve seen the best bested, Ta’a Chume.”

The former queen mother studied her. “I have