Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith: Pantheon

Chapter Three

They just had to knock out the windows, Hilts thought. Thirty years he’d spent trying to keep his portion of the capital building from falling apart. The war- ring oafs had just set him and his staff back another thirty years — provided he survived the afternoon.

«I have to say I’m surprised to see you all here,» Hilts said, stepping over shards to the center of the room. The warriors had stepped back from one another but still held their lightsabers before them, leaving a wedge of space in between for him and Jaye. «It’s eight days until Testament Day. But this isa palace. I guess we have some extra rooms here for you—»

«Shut up, old man!» The beefy black-haired woman with all the scars took a step forward and pointed at Iliana. «We want to know why she’shere!»

Hilts looked to see Iliana and her companions, some bloodied from the battle, backed up against the Sandpipes, ready for their last stand. Iliana’s face flashed with defiance. «Don’t answer that cretin, Hilts!»

«Don’t you raise your voice in this place, woman!» The hulking bald man with a black mustache stepped forth from his leather-clad coterie and made an unkind gesture to Iliana. «The house of Korsin was no place for Seelah — and no place for you!»

Seeing the line of warriors behind Iliana poised to move, Hilts quickly stepped between them and the giant. «You — you’re Korsinite League, right?»

«I am Korsin Bentado,» the shiny-headed man said, his deep voice thundering in the chamber. He gestured to either side. «This is Korsin Vandoz, and you know Korsin Immera from the last Testament reading. We’ve come, Caretaker, to celebrate the lives of Yaru and Nida Korsin at this grand and celestial time. We hope that all is ready—»

«Well, it will—»

«— and we hope that you can show the misled among us the truth of the Testament. That the leader came from beyond, that the Tribe is the body of the leader, and that those who would imperil the body deserve neither mercy nor life,» Bentado said. He gazed reverentially at the statue Iliana had once mocked and bowed his head. «One becomes all, and all one. Korsin now, Korsin forever.»

«Whatever you say,» Hilts said. Turning, he shot a surreptitious look at Jaye and shook his head. Hilts knew these people well. A former slave had founded the Korsinite League a century earlier, taking Korsin as a title for himself, separate from the hierarchy of Lords. Emancipated, he patterned his life after those led by the first Grand Lord and his successor daughter; as he declared, any worthy could aspire to Korsinness, just as he had. His followers took it to heart — and, being Sith, decided they could just as easily adopt the title for themselves. Which they all did, over the movement founder’s complaints — and, eventually, his dead body. Now there were hundreds of self-named Korsins of either sex running about, chanting mantras and declaring their empires of one to the crowd at large. To strike up a conversation with a Korsinite was to risk death by cognitive dissonance.

«I still want to know why that — that woman has been allowed in here!» The scar-faced female slapped a bare hand on Hilts’s shoulder and twirled him around. Hilts realized with a start that the hand had only three webbed fingers.

«You’re Force Fifty-seven, I take it.»

«Obviously!» Her companions jostled behind her, growling ferally. The woman Neera was in fact the least gruesome of the bunch, Hilts saw. No one knew much about the original 57; Seelah Korsin had evidently taken steps to erase that faction’s existence from memory. But the Keshiri tales spoke of those early Omen crew members as deformed in some way, the opposite of Seelah’s perfect human specimens.

The modern Force 57 was far more than fifty-seven in number; looking at Neera’s allies, Hilts wondered if every misshapen human living on Kesh had found his or her way into the ranks. They were easy to pick out when they ventured near the capital; even those least blemished by birth had dozens of self-inflicted scars. Fifty-seven, Hilts imagined, although he had never had the opportunity or desire to count.

«Seelah banished our kind, so she could have her blissful perfection,» Neera yelled, gesturing to the walls. «This place is digusting! You see who’s missing from these paintings, don’t you? Where’s Ravilan, the leader of the Different Ones? Why, they don’t even bother to show Gloyd — the one the Korsins let live, like a pet!» She spat on the marble. «Your precious Pantheon is missing members!»

«You are, too!» Iliana shot back. «Seelah was right to purge the defectives! And we’re going to do it again!» The Sisters surged forward — only to be blocked by Hilts.

«People, people!» Looking back, Hilts saw that his triangle of neutral ground had shrunk. «This isn’t the place for this!»

«You’re absolutely right, Caretaker,» Korsin Bentado said, tightening the fasteners on his lightsaber hand’s glove. «The defilers must pay the penalty. We will finish this battle here and now — and then outside, where the other factions are gathered. The blood will sanctify this place. The Korsinite League will be triumphant— and in eight days, we alone will hear Yaru Korsin’s blessings.»

Cowering near his master, Jaye squeaked. «But there are thousands of people out there!»

«If that’s how it has to be.»

«It doesn’t have to be this way!» Hilts yelled. Remembering the recording device, he raised it into the air. «You’re here for the reading. We could do it now!» Iliana glared at him. «You said it only activated on Testament Day!»

Hilts looked back at her and shrugged. «I’m Sith. I lied.»

«The League will not accept a reading of the Testament on any day besides the anniversary,» Bentado said, golden eyes glaring under bushy black brows. «Would you be branded a heretic, Caretaker, like these others?» The line began to move again behind him. «We’ll hear the founder in eight days—alone!»

Seeing the combatants surge forward, Hilts felt Jaye clinging tightly to him. In a flash he made a connection.

Eight days.

«Jaye! Your calculations!» Pulling the Keshiri’s head from his chest, Hilts yelled urgently. «Your calculations about the Sandpipes!»

The aide looked up, tears of panic flowing freely. «Now? But you said no one would be interested in—»

«Now, Jaye!» he rasped. «Tellthem!»

Quaking in terror, the little Keshiri released his mas- ter and addressed the assemblage. «Begging your Lordships’ pardons—»

«We’re not all Lords, Keshiri!»

Jaye nearly fell over at Neera’s response. His humongous black eyes darted back to Hilts, who mouthed urgently: Say it!

«Begging your pardons, but when the Protectors landed, they brought their Standard Calendar, which we Keshiri adopted, regardless of our different length of day and year—»

Another lightsaber ignited in the crowd.

«— and we calibrated our Sandpipes to your magical chrono, aboard Omen. When the mountain temple was sealed and Omen abandoned, bearers brought the Sandpipes here, still keeping time—»

Two more lightsabers, and more movement.

«— but we found years ago that the sand didn’t flow through the pipes at the same speed on the mainland as up on the mountain.» Red energy shining in his face, Jaye swallowed. «It runs slower.»

Bentado raised his weapon — and an eyebrow. «How much slower?»

«One second slower,» Jaye said, voice creaking. «Your Standard Day is really a second shorter than what we’ve been using all this time.»

Neera and the 57s rumbled with impatience. «What the blazes difference does that make?»

Hilts clenched his fists and looked at Jaye. «Tell them!»

«Over two thousand years? It makes eight days’ difference. Which means—»

«Which means,» Hilts said, stepping beside his quivering aide, «that by our founders’ true timekeeping, Testament Day is today.And the Festival of Nida’s Rise really begins today, as well.» He looked to Iliana and lowered his voice. «But Yaru’s day is the important one.»

Bentado stomped toward the pair and raged. «This is preposterous!» He grabbed Jaye by the wrist. «You’re telling me this Keshiri fool counted all the seconds since practically when Omen landed? That must be ten million—»

«The word in your language is billion,» Jaye croaked. «And it’s more than sixty.»

Iliana stepped forward — and lowered her lightsaber. «He’s telling the truth,» she said. «I don’t see any deception in him. Nor much of anything else.»

Bentado looked back to his allies, who nodded in silence. Even the wretched 57s had paused.

Hilts looked at the Keshiri and marveled. Welldone. Now shut up!

«The reading is on,» Hilts said. «I declare the Pantheon’s Peace.» Holding the recording device aloft, he looked from one of the faction leaders to another. «Deactivate your weapons — and call in any of your rival leaders from outside,» he said. «I can’t tell you people how to run your affairs. Maybe Yaru Korsin can.»