Force Heretic: Reunion by Sean Williams

Author:Sean Williams [Williams, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Star Wars, Force Heretic 3, New Jedi Order, 25 ABY—29 ABY
ISBN: 9780307795625
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-05-04T05:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR

REVELATION

Ngaaluh joined Nom Anor and Kunra deep beneath the quarters she had most recently been assigned. A double shift of guards outside the Prophet’s personal chambers let her through after checking with their master. Her expression was wary, concerned.

“Master.” She bowed her head in respect and nodded a more cursory acknowledgment of Kunra. “I came as quickly as I could. What is the emergency?”

“The emergency has passed, for now. I called you here to keep you informed.” In an unhurried, matter-of-fact tone, Nom Anor explained to his chief spy in the court of Shimrra what had happened the previous night. As she learned of Shoon-mi’s betrayal, her eyes widened. Even after years of training in the deceptive arts, she was unable to completely hide her shock.

“This is impossible,” she said at one point, shaking her head as though refusing to hear. “I cannot accept that Shoon-mi would do this.”

Nom Anor lowered the collar he had worn high all day, revealing the gash the traitor had put in his throat. “It happened,” he said. His tone remained calm, belying the rage still burning in his gut and the dark suspicion that was rising to take its place. “The fool dared raise his hand against me, and has paid for it. But I wonder if this is not the end of it.”

“I have asked around,” Kunra said, his expression grim. “Shoon-mi was not alone in his discontent. There is a feeling growing that we are not moving quickly or decisively enough.”

“And I wonder at Shoon-mi’s boldness,” Nom Anor added. “He simply didn’t have the brains to organize such a coup on his own. There has to be someone else behind it.”

Ngaaluh glanced at Kunra, then back at her Prophet. Her eyes were full of confusion and uncertainty. “Who would that be, Master?”

“At this point,” Nom Anor said, “your guess is as good as mine. But we will find them, and eliminate them.”

“There are rivals,” Kunra said. “There are at least two subordinate acolytes, Idrish and V’tel, who would take power for themselves, if they thought they could get away with it.”

“I find it ...” Ngaaluh struggled for the right words. “... appalling and inconceivable that someone in whom you have placed so much trust would consider turning on you.”

“That they would consider it is what makes them such good emissaries.” Nom Anor examined her alarm at the thought and found it sincere but puzzling. “Why does this surprise you? You are an expert at deception. You know that it is in everyone’s nature to betray—if not Shimmra, then me, or both of us.”

“But no—” She swallowed. “To attack you would undermine everything we have worked for. It is not something the Jeedai would sanction.”

Ah. The words of a true fanatic to whom the movement was as pure and incorruptible as its ideals. To Nom Anor, a realist, the heresy was something quite different, and it behaved as such. To him it was a means of attaining power, and there was nothing stopping others within the movement from trying to use it toward exactly the same end.

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