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“We are in pursuit,” Nom Anor said at last. “The Jedi will not be able to fly a ship such as the Ksstarr well or long.”

“It is an outrage that they fly it at all!” Khalee Lah interjected.

Harrar sent him a stern glance and then turned back to the villip. “I assume that you will not take this Jacen Solo with you as you pursue his twin. It is said the Jeedai can communicate with each other over long distances, without either villips or mechanical abominations to aid them. If this is so, he will surely warn his female counterpart of your approach.”

Khalee Lah sniffed scornfully. “What manner of hunter hangs bells around the necks of his bissop pack?”

This remark, impolitic though it was, surprised a smirk from Harrar. In his opinion, Nom Anor had become tainted by the infidels’ decadence and weakness. The image of the executor plunging through muck and swamp water on the heels of a pack of fierce lizard-hounds was both incongruous and appealing.

The executor took time to consider Harrar’s observation. “You have a military escort?” “Twelve coralskippers accompany the priestship, yes. Do you wish us to break off in pursuit of Jaina Solo?”

The villip face-shape rolled downward and back in a semblance of a nod. “As you rightly observed, the risk of contact between these twin Jedi is considerable. I will take Jacen Solo directly to the warmaster.”

“And so the glory goes to the executor, while his failure is thrust upon the priest,” Khalee Lah said, snarling.

Harrar turned away from the villip. “You are learning,” he observed softly. “But for the moment, let us disregard Nom Anor’s ambitions. You were assigned to accompany me to Myrkr, no more. It is my task to oversee the sacrifice of the twin Jeedai. I must pursue. You are not obligated to accompany me.”

The warrior didn’t require time to consider. “This Jeedai, this Jaina Solo, flies upon a living vessel. That offends me. She escaped a worldship. That should not have been possible. She is a twin, which is rightly reserved as the province of the gods, or a portent of greatness. That is blasphemy. I would pursue her to the most wretched corner of this galaxy if it meant adhering myself to a pair of molting grutchins.”

“Forcefully argued,” Harrar said dryly. He turned back to the waiting executor. “We will retrieve Jaina Solo.”

“You hesitate. Are you certain you can succeed?”

“It is the warmaster’s command,” Harrar said simply. He glanced at Khalee Lah and added with a touch of asperity, “And a holy crusade.”

His sarcasm was lost on Khalee Lah. The warrior inclined his head in grave agreement, and his face shone with something Harrar had occasionally glimpsed, but never quite embraced.

A sudden chill shuddered down the priest’s spine. Fervor such as Khalee Lah’s had always struck Harrar as vaguely dangerous. The warrior’s faith held a shaper’s art, imbuing Harrar’s facetious words with the sly irony the priest had always associated with his goddess.

And was it not said that Yun-Harla reserved her most cunning tricks for those who served her best?

TWO

Anakin is dead. Jacen is gone.

These thoughts resounded through Jaina Solo’s benumbed senses, echoing through an inner silence as profound as that of the watchful stars.

These thoughts drowned out the sounds of battle, and the frantic, running commentary of the seven young Jedi who struggled to fly the stolen Yuuzhan Vong ship. Like her companions, Jaina was battered and filthy from days of captivity, and from a battle that had lasted too long and cost too much.

Only nine Jedi had fought their way out of the worldship and onto this smaller ship, bringing with them the body of their young leader. The survivors had taken the Yuuzhan Vong frigate analog quickly, with astonishing ease. Jaina had a dim recollection of searing anger and killing light, of her friend Zekk pushing her away from the pilot’s seat and into the Yuuzhan Vong equivalent of a gunner’s chair. She perched there now on the edge of the too-large seat, firing missiles of molten rock at