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Royal coralcraft had transported Shimrra’s retinue from the worldship Citadel—which rose to the east, atop what had once been the Imperial District—to within a kilometer of Westport. Once back on the ground, the Supreme Overlord was conveyed the remaining distance by royal palanquin. The ornate and grotesque litter was held aloft by a pride of dedicated dovin basals, and was both preceded and trailed by an entourage of servants and courtesans, as well as by the most recent additions to Shimrra’s company—the four female seers, and members of the newly enhanced warrior sect known as slayers.

Strewn with flowers trampled to airborne fragrance by the bare feet of attendants, the winding path to the landing field meandered over the rounded summits of crushed edifices and across countless bridges that spanned those artificial canyons the Yuuzhan Vong had been unable to fill or otherwise efface. Choirs of insects honored the gods with their trilling songs, and carrion birds picked at the vestiges of the plague of stink beetles. The sky was a radiant purple, with the rainbow bridge faintly visible, halfway to apogee.

But the flawless sky belied the melancholy nature of the procession, for all who formed it knew of the events that had transpired at Selvaris. The enemy had somehow learned of the Peace Brigade convoy and had ambushed it, recapturing many of the captives who were slated to be sacrificed at the imminent ceremony. Quick action on the part of a Yuuzhan Vong commander had resulted in the escape of three Peace Brigade freighters, which had communicated the convoy’s distress to Yuuzhan’tar. A band of slayers had been dispatched, and had performed brilliantly, much to the displeasure of many an elite warrior, who regarded the slayers as abominations to the caste system, and who fretted about the augmentative power they provided the Supreme Overlord.

Nom Anor walked several paces behind the skull-adorned palanquin, in a group that included High Priest Jakan, Master Shaper Qelah Kwaad, Warmaster Nas Choka, High Prefect Drathul, and other elites. He had been worried about receiving blame for the Peace Brigade’s failure—the back-stabbing group was essentially his creation—but thus far no one had been inclined to hold him responsible. His defense would have remained unchanged, in any event: that acts of treachery were only as successful as the traitors who perpetrated them.

The Peace Brigade freighters had not been allowed to land on Yuuzhan’tar, but their non-Yuuzhan Vong commanders and crews had been shuttled to the surface by yorik-trema. With them had arrived the Alliance captives, along with the commanders and crews of the Yuuzhan Vong escort vessels. The latter groups were kneeling in ranks in an area of the landing field reserved for the naming, blessing, and tattooing of war vessels. Herded off to one side and immobilized by blorash jelly were the Alliance captives, and in the center of the field, flung down on their faces, lay the Peace Brigaders.

Nom Anor considered that Shimrra might order the procession to trample the prostrate Brigaders, but instead the Supreme Overlord called a halt to the entourage when his palanquin had reached the center of the field. The mixed-species lot of already battered turncoats knew enough to remain facedown on the rough ground, while High Priest Jakan’s acolytes, joined by Onimi, circulated among them, anointing them with paaloc incense and venogel.

Then Jakan placed himself among their midst, his hooded eyes surveying the lumps and welts that slayers had administered to the Brigaders before they had been shuttled down to Yuuzhan’tar.

The high priest moved on to the Yuuzhan Vong warriors and summoned their commander, Bhu Fath. A towering warrior with inadequate skill for command, his escalation had come about only as a result of persistent petitioning by members of Domain Fath, which included several important consuls.

“How many captives did you deliver, Commander?” Jakan asked.

Bhu Fath pivoted slightly to salute Warmaster Nas Choka. “Six packets