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

Sith magic; for a moment, Adari had found herself hoping that Korsin could actually return life to her son. But of course, he couldn’t.
    She already knew they weren’t gods.
    Korsin had earned a fight with Seelah that day—healing was
her
domain—but Adari hadn’t given a thought to consulting her medics. The Sith doctors had been interested in the Keshiri only long enough to learnthat their diseases posed them no threat—and that they could bear the Sith no children. Maybe that was why Seelah tolerated Adari’s companionship with Korsin.
    But that friendship was never the same after that day. Adari had enjoyed learning from Korsin, but Finn’s death had woken her conscience. She’d meant one thing to her people. Thereafter, she’d mean something else—as the leader of the Keshiri underground resistance movement, made up of others who had come to their senses.
    And now, after a dozen years, they were finally ready to act.
    From the south, a thunderous rumble sounded. The Sessal Spire had been feeling its volcanic youth lately. Safely remote, it nonetheless disrupted the perfect formation of uvak-fliers hovering over the procession.
    Adari looked up at them—and then hard at Korsin, hair now slate gray. She’d learned to hide her thoughts from him by maintaining a steady, emotionless manner. She needed that now, more than ever.
    She managed a smile. Korsin had called to her for deliverance, years before. Soon, she would deliver her own kind.
    I’m not the bargain you think I am. Neither is Kesh
.
    Seelah watched as the flight of uvak landed on the clearing below. Theirs had been a sloppy approach; not enough to ruin the day, but enough to call attention where it didn’t belong.
    It principally did
not
belong on the lead rider, now dismounting and stepping toward the staircase. For her twentieth birthday, Yaru Korsin had made his whelp of a daughter head of something that didn’t exist: the Skyborn Rangers. It was little more than a club of Sith hobby riders, useful only for public displays like this. Nida Korsin had just shown it wasn’t even much good at that.
    That Nida was also
her
daughter was a detail of genealogy. The child’s outfit was an abomination against fashion. Seelah imagined the uvak-leather vest and chaps were supposed to make her look rugged and active, but stepping up to the receiving line, little Nida simply looked comical. Seelah recognized her own eyes and cheekbones in the girl, though not much else; short-cropped hair and colored face paints made waste of whatever natural beauty Nida may have inherited. The girl would never have made it through one of Seelah’s infamous inspections.
    “She’s the child of the Grand Lord,” Seelah rasped to Korsin as their daughter stepped past. “What must the
Keshiri
think?”
    “Since when do you care about
that?”
    Nida shuffled off the stage with barely a nod from Korsin. It was time for the real show.
    Shrieks came from the crowd—first of surprise, then of joy. From locations within the multitude, two dozen costumed merrymakers in ceremonial Keshiri masks leapt high into the air, tearing their cloaks free as they did. Landing on ground cleared of bystanders by firm Force pushes, the black-clad acrobats stood revealed as the Sabers, the Tribe’s new honor detail. Crimson lightsabers danced as they performed intricate exercises. The final flourish resulted in an explosion of delight from the Keshiri, followed by an announcement from Gloyd: “High Lord Jariad, of the line of Korsin!”
    The lead Saber strode robustly up the central staircase to the dais, stealing Keshiri breaths with every resolute step. Ebon hair and beard perfectly coiffed, Jariad made every pause a pose for history. The wild child of Devore Korsin and Seelah had come of age.
    Lightsaber still ignited, Jariad stood before Yaru Korsin. Nephew and stepson, Jariad was nearly a third of a meter taller—a fact not lost on anyone watching.An icy look passed between them.