Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 11_ Dark Journey - Elaine Cunningham [2]
The priest leaned closer to the viewport, but his eyes were not nearly as keen as Khalee Lah’s enhanced implants. He tapped one hand against the portal. In response, a thin membrane nictitated from side to side, cleaning the transparent surface. The living tissue reshaped, exaggerating the convex curve to provide sharper focus and faint magnification.
“Yes,” the priest murmured, noting the distinctive knobs and bumps on the underside of the approaching ship. “And if the battle against the Jeedai is all but won, as Nom Anor reported, why does he flee? I must speak to him at once!”
Khalee Lah turned toward the door and repeated Harrar’s words as an order. The guards stationed there thumped their fists to opposite shoulders and strode off to tend their commander’s bidding.
The swift click of chitinous boots announced a subordinate’s approach. A female warrior garishly tattooed in green and yellow entered the room, a crenellated form cradled in her taloned hands. She bowed, presented the villip to Harrar, and placed it on a small stand.
The priest dismissed her with an absent wave and began to stroke the sentient globe. The outer layer peeled back, and the soft tissue within began to rearrange itself into a rough semblance of Nom Anor’s scarred visage. One eye socket was empty and sunken, and the bruised eyelid seemed to sag into the blue crescent sack beneath. The venom-spitting plaeyrin bol that had once distinguished Nom Anor’s countenance was gone, and evidently he had not yet been permitted to replace it.
Harrar’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction. Nom Anor had failed repeatedly, but never once had he accepted responsibility for his actions. In a manner most unworthy a Yuuzhan Vong, he had foisted blame upon others. Harrar had suffered a temporary demotion for his part in a failed espionage scheme; Nom Anor had merely received a reprimand, even though his agents played a significant role in the plot’s failure. In Harrar’s opinion, the blurred face testified that the gods’ justice would, in time, be served.
The image of Nom Anor, imprecise though it was, nevertheless managed to convey a sense of impatience, perhaps even anxiety.
“Your Eminence,” Nom Anor began.
“Your report,” Harrar broke in curtly.
Nom Anor’s one eye narrowed, and for a moment Harrar thought the executor would protest. As a field agent, Nom Anor was seldom required to answer to the priesthood. His silence stretched beyond the bounds of pride, however, and Harrar began to fear that Khalee Lah’s suspicions had fallen short of grim truth.
“You have lost?”
“We have losses,” Nom Anor corrected. “The voxyn queen and her spawn were destroyed. Two Jedi prisoners held on the worldship were freed. They escaped, as did several of the others.”
Harrar looked to Khalee Lah. “You have sighted the infidels’ escape ship?”
The warrior’s eyes widened, and for a moment his scarred face held horrified enlightenment—a fleeting emotion that swiftly darkened to wrath.
“Ask who flies the Ksstarr: the executor or the infidels?”
This possibility had not occurred to Harrar. He quickly relayed the question through the attuned villip.
“Some of the Jedi managed to commandeer the frigate,” Nom Anor admitted. “We are pursuing, and feel confident that we will add the capture of this ship to our other victories.”
Capture. Harrar’s gut tightened, for that single word confirmed the identity of the escaped Jedi. “Capture!” Khalee Lah echoed derisively. “Better to reduce the defiled thing to coral dust! What Yuuzhan Vong pilot would wish to enjoin with an infidel-tainted ship?”
“Several Jedi fell to our warriors,” Nom Anor continued, oblivious to both the priest’s epiphany and the warrior’s scorn. “The younger Solo brother was slain. The warmaster will be pleased to learn that Jacen Solo is alive, and our captive.”
“Jacen Solo,” Harrar repeated. “What of Jaina Solo, his twin?”
The silence held for so long