by Greg Keyes
case you are my enemy, ultimately, and I will not betray information into your
hands." She paused.
"Suppose I merely lied to you, to test your loyalty?"
"Then I cannot trust anything you say," she said.
"In that case, our meeting would seem to be over." He paused again. "But
I warn you, you are not likely to get an-other chance. You say this thing is
of vital importance to our future. How important?"
"It could be our doom."
"And yet you fear Shimrra will not address it?"
"Yes."
"You think you know better what is best for the Yuuzhan Vong than our
Supreme Overlord?"
Nen Yim drew her shoulders back. "In this case, I do."
"Very well. My pretense of disloyalty was meant to draw a confession of
your own. I now believe you are loyal to the order of things. I swear by the
very gods, I am also loyal to Lord Shimrra. May they devour me if I lie." He
paused, and lowered his voice. "But like you, I do not think his judgment is
infallible. Tell me of this thing you must see. Clearly you are willing to
risk disgrace and death. This is not the time to balk."
Nen Yim clicked the nails of her master's hand together. Like her own
master, Mezhan Kwaad, she had deadly weapons concealed in it. If she decided
the priest could not be trusted, the p'hiili would feed well this night.
"It begins with a commander named Ekh'm Val," she said, softly.
His eyes widened at the name. "Ah," he said.
"You have heard of him?"
"Indeed. I begin to understand your caution. Please continue."
She told him, in brief, what she knew, but she left much out. She made no
mention of her heresy, but couched her studies of the ship in orthodox terms.
As she spoke, Harrar folded down into a cross-legged position and listened
like a child does to the true-speaker in a creche. When she was done, a moment
of silence dragged a long tail.
"Astonishing," he said, at last.
"You understand the implications, then?"
"Some of them. Others will come clear. And perhaps I understand some you
do not."
"I do not doubt that. The priesthood has its own knowl-edge, I'm sure."
Harrar drew his lips back from his teeth. "How kind of you to think so,"
he said.
"I meant no offense."
"Naturally not." He gestured. "Sit with me."
She complied, resting on a small polyp.
"You swear to me that all you have told me is true?"
"I swear it, by the gods," Nen Yim replied.
He nodded, then looked at her seriously. "Your master, Mezhan Kwaad, is
said to have claimed there were no gods."
"She was, for all her virtues, perhaps insane," Nen Yim pointed out.
"Yes, my concern exactly."
"You fear for my sanity? "
"I might, save for one thing. Are you aware of the heresy?"
Her blood went cold and heavy. "Heresy?"
"Among the Shamed Ones. The obscene belief that the Jeedai are somehow
the saviors of the Shamed."
"Yes," Nen Yim replied, hoping her composure hadn't slipped. "I was,
after all, on Yavin Four when that heresy began."
"You were, weren't you? You're a part of the story, in fact, at least in
some versions. In a few, you died gloriously. In all, you vanished."
"I am not current on the folklore of the Shamed Ones, I fear," Nen Yim
said, stiffly.
"No, I doubt that you are. This heresy now has a leader-a Prophet. Little
is known of him, but he is gaining in power. Not long ago, he made a prophecy-
of a new world, a home for the Shamed Ones, a promise of redemp-tion. A living
world." He placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward. "Does this not
sound like your Zonama Sekot?"
"I know nothing of this Prophet or his babblings," Nen Yim said.
"Again, I do not doubt you." His eyes narrowed. "Do you know where this
supposed world is?"
"No."
"So you would have me smuggle you from beneath Shimrra's nose, equip you
with a ship-"
"I can supply my own ship," Nen Yim interrupted.
His eyes turned appraising, but he resumed. "Very well. So I need only
smuggle you out, outfit you, and help you find this planet-which Shimrra
claims is destroyed."
"That is what I desire, yes."
"I cannot do that," he said. "I am too highly placed. I will be noticed."
"Then I have come in vain," Nen Yim said, preparing the weapon in her
finger.
"Perhaps not," the priest said. "Perhaps the Prophet of whom I spoke
could aid you?"
Nen Yim relaxed, marginally. "You counsel me to col-laborate with a
heretic?"
"If you are correct about the threat this planet poses, then a temporary
alliance with a heretic could certainly be forgiven. You were right, by the
way, not to ask Shimrra to help you. Neither Ekh'm Val nor any of his crew
remains alive. The Supreme Overlord fears this secret. That in itself tells me
it is vitally important."
"On that we agree," Nen Yim allowed. "Still-what good could come of
contacting this 'Prophet'? Even if he was so disposed, how could he help me?"
"How many Shamed Ones work within the Supreme Overlord's compound?"
"I do not know."
"How many of them can you name?"
She snorted. "One."
Harrar showed his teeth again at the thinly veiled reference.
"This heresy is widespread and well organized. It, as much as your Zonama
Sekot, is a threat to the well-being of our people. I feel certain that if
this 'Prophet' can be con-vinced you are with his cause, he will find a way to
help you. Especially if, as you say, you have a ship."
"Yes," she said. "It's getting the ship off the surface of Yuuzhan'tar
and out of this system that is the problem." A new suspicion struck her. "You
want to use me as bait."
"Indeed. But I will not pounce on the Prophet when he comes to free you.
I will wait, until such time as you deem your mission complete. If done in
exactly the right way, it might even be possible to convince Lord Shimrra that
you were a hostage of the Shamed Ones, rather than the insti-gator of the
expedition."
"You propose a trade in deceits."
"Consider. Two great threats to the Yuuzhan Vong-your mysterious planet,
my Prophet. We can be rid of them both. If all goes well, you and I continue
to serve our people. If not, we go to the gods, who know our motives were
pure. Can you see a better path?"
"No," Nen Yim said. "I cannot. But I know little of this Prophet. I have
no way of contacting him."
"I cannot contact him directly, of course," Harrar said.
"But there are ways of bringing things to his ears. I can arrange this.
Are we agreed?"
"We are," Nen Yim said.
And though she felt she had sealed her doom, she made the trip back
through the darkness with lighter feet, and the air felt almost warm.
Harrar watched the shaper move out of sight, wondering again how she had
managed to meet him without an entou-rage of guards. Did she have some sort of
concealing cloaker, like the cloak of Nuun the hunters wore? Probably. She was
a master shaper, after all. That didn't ma
tter.
What mattered was that he had committed himself to the proposition that
she did not represent a trap laid for him by Shimrra or someone in the Supreme
Overlord's hierarchy who disliked him. Every natural instinct warned him away,
but something very deep-perhaps something from the gods themselves-told him he
should trust the strange shaper. Rumors of the planet Zonama Sekot had
circulated very quietly among the Quorealists and some priestly sects for many
cycles, and he knew for a fact that Ekh'm Val was not the first Yuuzhan Vong
to encounter the planet. Nor, in-deed, had Ekh'm Val been sent by Shimrra,
though the com-mander himself hadn't known that.
If Zonama Sekot existed-and especially if the shaper was right about
there being some hidden history between it and the Yuuzhan Vong-then it could
be very important. In any event, the priesthood was being kept in the dark
about something that it clearly should know about. He had lately begun to have
his suspicions about Shimrra. Not voiced ones, certainly, but suspicions
nonethe-less. And today-which had already brought so many inter-esting new
thoughts-brought another.
Nen Yim did not know, perhaps, how much Harrar knew about shapers and
their protocols. He was the first to admit that he did not know everything.
But one thing was clear-Nen Yim operated outside the realm of normal shaping,
and the heresy of the Shamed Ones was not the only heresy around. Mezhan
Kwaad, Nen Yim's late master, had been a heretic, and had died for it.
And here was Nen Yim, alive, favored by the Supreme Overlord, and perhaps
practicing her own heresy in guarded secrecy.
If true, it could mean only one thing Shimrra himself was a heretic. And
that-like everything else in this situation-had the potential to change
everything.
If things went as planned, he might manage to kill three targets with a
single thud bug.
He rose, and smelled the air, and felt destiny in his veins.
EIGHT
Nom Anor turned the message this way and that in his mind, and saw it
sharp in every angle. It was hard to wrap his thoughts around it without
feeling the cut, so pregnant with the possibility of betrayal it seemed.
"Who sent you, Loiin Sool?" he asked the messenger, softly. The messenger
was a Shamed One, his shoulders and face a mass of poorly healed scar tissue.
His eyes were con-cealed by a constricted uruun cloth, placed there before
he'd begun his descent into the dark, dank places of Nom Anor's domain. The
domain of the Prophet.
A wave of his hand, and Loiin Sool would never see any-thing again.
"I come on behalf of the shaper Nen Yim," Sool an-swered. "I know little
more than that. I was taken from my work detail, given the message, and sent
to find you." Nom Anor nodded. Sool had been checked for implants, of course,
though no test short of thorough dissection was certain. Was someone looking
at him now, from some hid-den pore in the messenger's skin?
If so, they saw not Nom Anor but the Prophet Yu'shaa, his face hidden
behind a grotesque ooglith masquer that showed only one spectacularly Shamed,
eyes festering with inflammation and lesions rendering the visage almost un-
recognizable as Yuuzhan Vong in origin.
His surroundings would tell them little more. Yuu-zhan'tar was a warren
of rusting holes like this one.
"Why does the shaper not come to me herself?"
"She may not leave Lord Shimrra's compound, I am told. She takes great
risk even in sending this message."
That was undoubtedly true. What little Nom Anor knew of Nen Yim suggested
that her role was one that Shimrra was not eager to have widely known. He had
lent her for a time to Tsavong Lah, but since her return from that liaison,
she had been little seen or heard from. Indeed, Nom Anor had wondered if she
had been quietly disposed of.
And perhaps she had. There was no knowing whether this message actually
came from her. Since he'd lost Ngaaluh, his spy in Shimrra's court, much was
uncertain.
"Why does she seek me out?" Nom Anor asked.
"She heard of your prophecy of the new world. Her studies lead her to
believe it is a true one. She desires to see this world for herself."
"So you have already said. Why does she seek my aid?"
"Who else could give it? Shimrra and his minions are cor-rupt. They have
done everything they can to deny the exis-tence of our redeemer. He and the
elite will do much more, because they know that if the truth is known, they
will be seen as the false leaders they are. And you, my lord, will be seen as
the true Prophet."
"What does a shaper care for that?" Nom Anor won-dered aloud.
"Nen Yim seeks only truth," Sool said.
"You've already told me you do not know her," Nom Anor pointed out. "How
can you speak for her or pretend to understand her motivations?"
"This is the message, Prophet," Sool answered. "I only repeat it."
A vague chanting had gone up among Nom Anor's acolytes. He began to wish
he had received Sool in private rather than in front of thirty or so
followers.
A firm voice cut above the rest "Praised be the Prophet. He has indeed
prophesied truly. The planet of our salvation, our deliverance, is now in our
very grasp. And Lord Shimrra's own shaper knows it is true! Our destiny has
become a force stronger than gravity."
"Do not be hasty, Kunra," another voice said. "This may be nothing more
than a trap, a deception to lure the Prophet into their grasp."
"If so, they must fail," Kunra said. He turned to Nom Anor. "You are the
Prophet, are you not? Did you not see this, as well? Did you not see yourself
walking through the forests of the new world, preparing it for us?"
"I saw it," Nom Anor agreed. He had little choice. He had added that
little embellishment a few days before. But what was Kunra up to? Kunra had
been with him since the beginning of this whole farce. He knew who Nom Anor
really was-that the "prophet" and his planet were equally fabulous.
"Then the time has come to rise against Shimrra."
"No," Nom Anor slipped out. "Do not presume to inter-pret my prophecy
when I still sit here among you. The time is not yet come."
"But we have found the planet," Kunra said. "Let me go, Great One. I will
liberate the shaper from Shimrra. I will quest with her for the new world. If
there is betrayal, our cause will suffer little. If this is truth-"
"Truth must be practical," Nom Anor said. "We would have to flow rivers
of Shamed blood to liberate this shaper, and still she does not know the
location of the planet."
"I don't und erstand," Kunra said. "Do you fear your own prophecy?"
"Quiet," Nom Anor said, his mind whirling furiously. Zonama Sekot was,
indeed, important-if only because Shimrra feared it so much. He knew, too,
that the shaper had been given what remained of the Sekotan ship to study, and
it would seem she had discovered something quite im-portant. This message
suggested one of two possibilities. Ei-ther she was telling the truth, and she
needed help from outside the system to escape Shimrra and find the planet, or-
more likely-they thought Nom Anor knew where the planet was. They couldn't
know that he had learned of the planet by eavesdropping on Shimrra and Ekh'm
Val, that what he had learned there was all he knew.
Well, not quite all. He had heard rumors that the Jedi had found the
world.
Which struck him suddenly as a very fortuitous piece of information.
"The prophecy is indeed nearing fulfillment," Nom Anor told his
followers. "But something remains. A piece is missing. When I set foot upon
the new world, I shall not be alone. Jeedai will be with me."
A collective gasp went up at that. Even Kunra seemed disconcerted.
"Great One..."
"The time has come," Nom Anor said, solemnly. "As Vua Rapuung fought with
Anakin Solo, so shall I and the Jeedai free this shaper and find our world."
Cheers, of course.
Let the Jedi do the work and take the risk of freeing Nen Yim. If they
failed, they would be blamed, rather than him. If they succeeded-then perhaps
he would indeed bring his own prophecy to fruition. At the moment, he had
little to lose.
NINE
Han Solo scowled and shook a crooked finger at Tahiri.
"Kid," he drawled, "I hope you aren't counting on another lucky break
your whole life, because you've just used up whatever you may have had coming.
"
"Easy, Han," Leia interposed. "Anyway, look who's talking. They don't
call it Solo luck for nothing."
"'They' don't know what they're talking about," Han replied. "I've never
needed luck-I've always depended on skill."
"Of course you have, dear," Leia said, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah, well, I-anyway, that's not the issue," Han grum-bled. "The issue
is you, young lady, flying off against good advice to a planet that's always
been trouble for this family, alone, running past a Yuuzhan Vong frigate in an
X-wing-"
"I didn't have a choice," Tahiri pointed out. "The frigate was sort of
between me and escape."
"Sure you had a choice. From what you say, they probably didn't even know
you were there-they were after their own runaways. You had a whole planet to
hide on. You could have picked a better opportunity to leave-like after they
did. It's a real miracle that you got out of the system, jumping on a half-
fried engine-it's amazing you didn't end up on Tatooine. And Ylesia. And
