Free Star Wars - Lost Tribe of the Sith 04 - Savior by John Jackson Miller Page A

deaths at the lake towns had been effectively ascribed to the residents’ lack of faith in the Tribe’s divinity. They’d even made a show for the doubters: a known Keshiri dissenter was trotted onto the Circle Eternal to proclaim against the “so-called Protectors,” only to fall, seemingly choking to death on his own words. Korsin himself was able to appear benevolent and shocked—but the message was clear. Plague and pestilence awaited the defiant.
    Gloyd had thought up that little stunt. Good old Gloyd. More old, now, than good. The stern Houk stood behind, lightsaber drawn, as Korsin’s ceremonial bodyguard—but the onetime gunner now looked like
he
needed the protecting. He was the last nonhuman left from the original crew. An age would pass with him.
    “The Daughter of the Skyborn, Adari Vaal,” Gloyd announced. Korsin immediately forgot all about architecture and clever Houks. Adari, their native rescuer of old, stepped mildly before them and bowed.
    Korsin watched her cold welcome from Seelah. If they weren’t in front of half of Kesh, it would be colder still. He always marveled when he watched the two together. There wasn’t any comparison. Seelah was attractive, but she knew it—and never let anyone forget it. She found the Keshiri ugly: more proof her judgment was never to be trusted.
    As a Keshiri, Adari was so much less than Seelah—and yet so much more. She wasn’t touched by the Force, but she had a nimble mind, grappling with things far beyond her people’s obvious limitations. And she had the will of a Sith, if not the beliefs. Only twice had he seen her strength fail her—most important, the first time, when she had agreed to keep Devore’s death a secret. That had made so many things possible—for both of them.
    Stepping before him, Adari regarded Korsin with her dark, probing eyes, full of mystery and intelligence. He took her hand and smiled.
Forget Seelah
.
    Twenty-five years. He’d saved his people.
    This was a good day.
    You can read my mind. Don’t you know how uncomfortable this is for me? Don’t you care?
    Adari pulled her hand free from Korsin’s and managed a smile. Seelah’s “greeting” had only given her a mild shiver. But Yaru Korsin always looked at her like a cart he was about to buy at half price.
    She tried to step back and continue down the receiving line, but Korsin pulled at her arm. “This is your day, too, Adari. Stand with us.”
    Marvelous
, she thought. She tried to avoid Seelah’sgaze, unsure if Korsin’s body would be enough to block it. But at least this was a discomfort she’d learned to cope with on a daily basis. Public spectacles, like this one, she’d never get used to.
    And they had all gone so well for her, whatever her age or status. Right here on this site, she had stood accused as a heretic. And then, days later, she’d stood fêted as a hero—no matter that she had just brought a plague upon her people in the form of the Sith.
    Now that the old plaza was buried under this new edifice, she was here again, looking out across a sea of ignorance. The Keshiri blithely celebrated their own enslavement, ignoring their countless brothers and sisters who had died since the Sith arrival. Many had perished in the lake-town disaster—but many more lives had been lost at hard labor, attempting to please their guests from above. The Sith had twisted the Keshiri faith so none of that mattered. Every vain hope the masses ever had was invested in the Sith.
    Even Adari wasn’t immune. She thought back to her poor son Finn—bloodied and smashed. He’d insisted on joining the work crews on reaching his teen years. No child of the Daughter of the Skyborn needed to work, but Zhari Vaal’s youngest had rebelled exactly on schedule, haring off to a work crew.
    A scaffold, hurriedly erected, had given way. Adari had failed that day, too, flying her broken child to the temple and Korsin’s feet. Korsin had immediately come to Finn’s side, working his