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“We have lost scouting ships,” the warrior concluded, “and a number of the traitor-slaves.”

“It surprises me that the Hapan infidels can still mount much of a defense,” Harrar mused. “They were sacrificed at Fondor, yet they still fight and fight well. Our first duty is to retrieve Jaina Solo, but it appears that the Hapes Cluster might yet provide other worthy sacrifices.”

“It seems unlikely,” the warrior said in a dismissive tone. “The fighters are survivors from Coruscant. These might provide a few gifts for the gods, but not these Hapan cowards.”

“We received reports that several ships were destroyed by a species known as the Chiss, a reclusive people who live on the edges of this galaxy.”

“There are countless races in this galaxy,” Khalee Lah said. “These ships are too few to make the Chiss a serious threat.”

A surge of irritation coursed through the priest. Pride was a fine thing, but a wise leader was never blinded to the possibility of failure. Not for the first time, he wondered if perhaps Khalee Lah’s presence aboard Harrar’s priestship had more to do with penance than honor. “Perhaps these few are scouts?” he suggested.

The warrior considered this. “It is possible.”

“If a few fight so well, what of a full-scale assault? It may be advantageous to learn more of these Chiss and why they’ve come.”

Khalee Lah frowned. “Our first task is retrieving the Jedi twin. The Warmaster depends upon our success.”

“And we will accomplish this task,” Harrar said with as much patience as he could muster. “The Warmaster also relies upon priests of Yun-Harla to gather information that will be useful to the Yuuzhan Vong. Alert your warriors to make every effort to capture one of these Chiss.”

Khalee Lah still looked doubtful, so the priest added, “Soon the Jedi twin will be ours. You will move on to new challenges, new glories. If these Chiss prove to be worthy adversaries, who better to lead the assault against their home worlds than Khalee Lah?”

“On that, we are in accord.” The warrior smiled, and the fringes on his scarred lips seemed to separate into short, narrow fangs.

Harrar noted the birth of new ambition in Khalee Lah’s eyes and was satisfied. If the young warrior looked upon every infidel as an opportunity for glory and advancement, he was less likely to dismiss them as “unworthy opponents.” They had made that mistake with Jaina Solo before. Harrar suspected that she might be canny enough to exploit this.

Perhaps, he mused, this ersatz trickster was exactly what she claimed to be—a being subtle and powerful enough to warrant comparison with Yun-Harla. The thought both dismayed and intrigued him.

“You look troubled, Eminence,” Khalee Lah observed.

“Thoughtful,” Harrar corrected. He smiled faintly, obscuring his heresy beneath a masquer of cynical amusement. “War is often replete with irony. I wonder what the commander of these far-traveling infidels might think if he knew that his every attack was not a deterrent to the Yuuzhan Vong, but an invitation!”

EIGHTEEN

Early the next morning Prince Isolder followed a guard into the refugee camp, trying to ignore the sharp-eyed warriors following closely behind him. Bodyguards were a necessity for someone in his position, and he could think of few times when he had been truly alone on his homeworld. But as he walked between rows of simple tents, he was keenly aware of how much these people had lost, and how grating the pomp of Hapan royalty must be to them.

His guide stopped before a tent no different from the others. “You may leave me here,” Isolder announced. His blue-eyed gaze swept over his escort, including his bodyguards in this instruction. They bowed and retreated.

He tapped on the support post and received a noncommittal grunt in response. Sweeping aside the opening flap, he ducked into the first of two rooms.

Han and Leia Solo sat at a small folding table. They were both holding steaming mugs, and they looked up at him with weary but keenly measuring eyes.

Isolder was struck by the similarity between the two, something