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“That’s why I said eventually. I’m staying on here for a while. Until you’ve healed. Until I’ve healed. Then if you still want to go, we go. Together.”

She didn’t say anything, but for the first time since they’d left Yavin, he felt something like hope in her.

“Adept Nen Yim. Step forth.”

Nen Yim genuflected and then stood before the warmaster, Tsavong Lah.

“First I want your account of the fall of the shaper compound. After that I have other questions.”

“Yes, Warmaster. At your command.”

“My command is given. Speak.”

“Of the space battle I know nothing, Warmaster. Many of our ships died on the ground or struggling through the atmosphere. Then the damuteks were attacked from above, and damaged beyond healing.”

“So much is obvious. Go on.”

“Then the bombardment ceased, and the infidels commenced landing. We did not understand why, at first. A more thorough bombardment would have killed us all with no risk to the infidels. As it was, some of them were slain by our surviving warriors.”

“You do not know these infidels as well as you might, Shaper. Their attachment to their own kind leads them into pointless maneuvers.”

“Agreed, Warmaster. In retrospect, it is clear that their intent was to recover the slaves.”

“And where were you during this?”

“I hid among the Shamed Ones, Warmaster. I thought they would take true castes captive.”

“A cowardly thing to do, Shaper.”

“I beg your indulgence, Warmaster, but I had more than selfish reasons for doing so.”

“Explain them. Be brief.”

“My master, Mezhan Kwaad, was slain by the Jeedai we were shaping.”

“You did not shape the Jeedai well, I think.”

“On the contrary, Warmaster, given a few more cycles, she would have been ours. If not for the interference of the other Jeedai.”

“Yes,” the warmaster snarled. “The other. Solo. Another Solo.” He paced violently away from her, then turned back. “Master Yal Phaath disagrees with you, Adept. He claims that your master conspired in heresy, and that any results you obtained were stained by ungodliness.”

“Master Yal Phaath is a respected shaper. So was Mezhan Kwaad. She was never able to answer these charges, and I may not speak for her. But I tell you this, Warmaster. What we learned from the Jeedai was valuable. It has worth to the Yuuzhan Vong. The records in the damutek were destroyed, and my master is dead. Only I remain to remember. That is why I secreted myself among the Shamed Ones, to protect that information.”

“You did so for no reason. The infidels took no captives.”

“No, Warmaster. But I could not know that at the time.”

“Agreed. They are a strange breed. They keep no slaves and make no sacrifices. They do not appreciate captives. They do not make war to obtain them. They consider them burdens or currency for the return of their own worthless kind. An ugly and godless motley of species.”

“If I may ask your opinion, Warmaster—why then did they not slay us once they had what they wanted? Corpses are no burden.”

“They are weak. They do not understand life and death.” He waved the whole issue aside with the back of his hand, then returned his stare to Nen Yim.

“This was badly bungled by shapers and warriors alike,” he said. “If Tsaak Vootuh were not dead, I would kill him myself. And I should have you sacrificed.”

“If death is my lot, Warmaster, if that is what the gods desire, I embrace it. But I repeat—what we learned of the Jeedai here ought not to perish with me. Give me at least a chance to record what I know in a worldship qahsa.”

The warmaster’s cruel eyes did not waver. “You will have that chance. It has been given you. Do not squander it as your master did here.”

“And if more Jeedai are captured? Will our work shaping them resume?”

“Your domain has failed. They will not be given a second chance with the Jeedai. Domain Phaath will continue the work on the Jeedai problem.”

Then it will never be solved, Nen Yim thought to herself. She did not dare say this to the warmaster, of course. “And Domain Kwaad?” she asked instead.

“The worldships are failing. They must be maintained.”

Nen Yim