Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 21_ The Unifying Force - James Luceno [135]
The only question that mattered to Nom Anor was why he had been summoned to the Citadel.
When the litter bearers had first arrived at his residence, he was certain that Shimrra had ordered his death for failing to have kept Zonama Sekot in the Unknown Regions. He had briefly considered fleeing into the underground and taking up the threadbare robes of the Prophet again. But the more thought he gave the matter, the more confident he grew that his safety was assured. Shimrra had never believed that the living world wouldn’t return at some point; its sudden appearance now was nothing more than bad timing.
More important, while Shimrra might very well be displeased, he was in no position to announce that he knew about Zonama Sekot—not without risking an uprising by the elite. Shimrra’s best approach would be to deny any knowledge of the initial contact with the living planet fifty years earlier. Failing that, he could claim to have been led astray by priests he had since put to death. But one thing he couldn’t do was admit to having had an audience with Commander Ekh’m Val, or of having put Val to death to keep the secret of Zonama Sekot.
The solution would have been simple if Nom Anor had been the only person who knew about Val. But, in fact, High Prefect Drathul and perhaps dozens of others also knew about the late commander’s mission to the Unknown Regions. And if Nom Anor was wrong, and he actually was riding to his death, well, there were always ways to escape the Citadel …
“I commanded the litter bearers to make haste, Dread Lord,” Nom Anor said, prostrate on the unyielding floor, “so that I might serve you all the faster.”
Nom Anor could feel the force of Shimrra’s enhanced vision as the Supreme Overlord gazed down from the throne in his private chambers in the crown of the Citadel.
“Let us see how quick you can be, Prefect, by telling me why I sent for you.”
“Because I have failed you again, Lord. About Ebaq Nine I was duped; at Zonama Sekot I evidently did less than I should have. The living world is here, and now Yuuzhan’tar itself is threatened. Death, and nothing less, is all I warrant.”
“Probably so,” Shimrra said. “But not because of the arrival of Zonama Sekot. For that, it is the gods who have failed me.”
With his face pressed to the floor, Nom Anor’s baffled expression was hidden from view. Although out of the corner of his eye, he could see Onimi, kneeling down as if to get a closer look at his face.
“The gods, Lord?”
Shimrra issued a short laugh. “You are unrivaled, Prefect. Even in this darkest hour your skepticism holds fast. You accept as truth only what your one eye shows you.” He paused, then said, “You are hardly the coward many accuse you of being. And perhaps there is even a bit of wisdom in you—though I fear you do a disservice to yourself. Rise and look upon me.”
Nom Anor took a quick glance around as he was getting to his feet. The room was absent priests, attendants, slayers, or courtesans.
It was just the three of them.
“I’m certain you remember that I told you our real war was with the gods.”
“I remember, Lord.”
“And I’m equally certain you dismissed my words as those of someone deranged.”
“Never—”
Shimrra waved him silent. “I ask now that you consider all that has transpired these past few klekkets. As one whose own efforts have been undone time and again by the Jeedai, ask yourself if there is not the hand of a grand master at work here—a god’s hand, if you will.”
Recognizing the rhetorical nature of the question, Nom Anor said nothing.
“You and I know exactly what Zonama Sekot is. There is no denying the truth of it, and no denying the threat it represents to everything I have attempted to bring about in this galaxy. You told me that you had sabotaged the world, and I do not doubt that you tried.