The room was nothing more than a place to stand and prepare for battles to come. As Khem preferred.
Khem Val contemplated how much of a fight this Sith would make of his death. Surely not much. The Sith of this age never did.
The little Sith held a hand out to keep him back. He obeyed only because of his binding.
A morsel walked in to brag about her accomplishments. The old Sith knew she was lying. The morsel's tantrum availed it nothing.
Khem's little Sith treated the morsel with the contempt she deserved. She treated the old Sith with deference. She followed his orders. Both little Sith and morsel pandered and fawned in their own ways.
They received a simple mission. Kill.
Khem could do that easily. There were no longer battles like those he was used to. They left. The morsel Sith was sent elsewhere.
It was a short trip to the Cathar settlement. The killing was uninspiring. Even the little sith killed many. They were soon ready to return to the old Sith.
The morsel returned shortly after they did. She brought her own prey. The prey was not worth eating. Both Khem and the little Sith watched as it revealed all of its paltry secrets. The morsel insisted they attack in spite of this. Her plan was met with only the little Sith's laughter. The old Sith joined her in reprimanding the morsel.
She rebelled. Broke her leash. Unsurprising.
The little Sith offered to feed her to Khem. The old Sith angered Khem by refusing. Maybe the little Sith would ask him to eat the old Sith instead.
She did not.
They left after disposing of the prey.
Their mission was to enable a bombing run on an enemy base. The morsel got in the way. Her renegade attack alerted the Republic forces. Good. More to kill.
The little Sith was not pleased.
The bombing run cleared their path. Khem and his little Sith went out of their way to kill more soldiers. Their path to the enemy general was bloody. Khem knew why. The little Sith was angry. She was enraged by the morsel. The morsel's insolence incensed the little Sith. Her rashness frustrated the little Sith. Her bloodlust bored the little Sith.
Khem liked the morsel. The little Sith was a better Sith when she was angry. The morsel made her a better Sith.
It really was a pleasure to watch Dar'vao go about her work. There was something so enticing about the way she could read her prey, something so akin to Darth Zash's own talents that the elder Sith couldn't help but marvel at her own taste in apprentice.
Taste in vessel, if events had unfolded slightly more fortuitously. As it was, Darth Zash had come to learn a very different perspective on her apprentice. For one thing, it was obvious why the dashade called Dar'vao "little Sith". The twi'lek barely came up to the monster's chest.
Barely came up to Darth Zash's chest. That was something Darth Zash had begun to get used to, begun to enjoy, even. The body of a dashade had its advantages, even if she hadn't been able to get her first choice – well, second choice – of body.
There was a great deal to admire about the little twi'lek's body. A deep shade of blue, a sharply beautiful face, a physique perfected by years of training as an assassin… Perhaps her Force affinity was a little less impressive than that of a Sith Sorceress, but Zash had been willing to make do at the time. After all, she'd been as much impressed by the girl's mind as her body.
Impressed, just as she was in this moment, watching Dar'vao – or Lord Kallig, as she now insisted on being called – croon sweet lies into the ear of a Jedi Padawan.
"Thank you for trusting me," Dar'vao said so earnestly Zash would swear it was genuine if she hadn't made her career on exactly those same lies. Sweet, honeyed words and unguarded 'honesty'. It tended to make Sith complacent. But Jedi? Oh, that was just priceless.
Dar'vao's hands held to the holocron for just a moment as her prey took it from her. "You won't destroy it, will you?" Her face betrayed a hint of worry, even sorrow at the thought of any knowledge being destroyed. A trace of vulnerability.
The Jedi padawan took the holocron from Dar'vao's hands, seeming offended. She glares and snaps, "I promised I wouldn't. A Jedi keeps her word."
And Dar'vao sighed in relief. Her shoulders actually let go of some of the weight they'd seemed to carry on the trip to meet the young padawan. "Yes," Dar'vao said with a muted smile, "you are."
Ashaara hefted the little cube in her hand, inspecting it contemplatively. "Strange," she said. "I've never held one of these before. I expected it to be heavier."
"Its burden is in the knowledge it carries," Dar'vao said, eyeing the device cautiously. "It is enough to drive a Jedi to the Dark Side or a Sith to madness. Your Jedi Council will want to see it."
"Why?" the alien – a togruta, if Zash recalled correctly – asked. She pocketed the holocron carefully and continued, "I understand why me, but why give this to a Jedi at all? The knowledge inside must be valuable to the Sith."
"It is," Dar'vao admitted. "But it's not knowledge I trust the Sith – trust myself – to have. And I needed to show you I'm not like the others, because I need to ask a favour that's going to require a lot of trust."
Ashaara stepped back a pace, eyes narrowed, and Zash knew Dar'vao had overstepped. Pushed too hard at a critical moment, and probably lost the whole endeavour.
Except the Jedi said, "I won't compromise my Jedi teachings."
"I would never ask you to," Dar'vao assured her, seemingly unaware of how close she must have come to being flat-out turned down. "I still want to help. I know about the ghost in the Jedi Enclave, and I know how to purge it. I just need somebody to make sure the Jedi don't attack me on sight when I come to help."
Again, that sincerity, the perfect mix of emotions that had Zash as impressed as she was shocked. Darth Zash hadn't had much time to get to know her apprentice, back before the botched ritual. Zash had heard rumours of the girl's training with Lord Althe, seen her skill and beauty, and made the decision that time was limited enough to settle for an alien.
If she'd known how good a liar her apprentice was, Zash would probably have waited for another, and damn the risk.
"A Sith in the Jedi Enclave? The Masters would never allow that."
"I know," Dar'vao said with that perfect combination of regret and determination. "They would kill me, even though I mean no harm. That's why I came to you. I hoped you would be more open-minded than your Masters, and I knew you were strong enough that you could afford to trust me. That's… something very important among the Sith."
She said that last part as if she were ashamed of it, but the flattery got to the Padawan nonetheless. "You're right," Ashaara said. "I can go back to the enclave now and contact you when the other Jedi are gone. I'm warning, you, though, if you're planning something, I'll stop you."
"I will purge the ghost and leave," Dar'vao promised. "You have my word."
If the dashade's body could laugh more easily, Zash surely would have. Instead, she bared her fangs in a twisted, horrifying predatory grin. Zash wasn't quite sure how, but Dar'vao had managed to find a perfect, simple way in and out of a Jedi base. All using the one ability Zash had never had to teach the "little Sith".
Never had to teach her, because in this one thing Dar'vao might be Zash's equal.
It galled Zash even as it pleasantly surprised her, how she'd never caught on to this aspect of her apprentice, and how the knowledge crystallized a perfect image of the girl.
Dar'vao was a liar, just like Darth Zash. She was a talented little manipulator, working to find the best solution, the one most likely to lead to success and least likely to get her killed. The two were so alike it was poetic.
Darth Zash, in Khem Val's body, followed her apprentice away from their little rendezvous with the padawan Ashaara Zavros, grinning the whole time. After all, she'd learned something very important today.
Darth Zash had learned that her apprentice was a woman after her own heart, that "Lord Kallig" was a liar and manipulator to match any on the Dark Council. Which meant that nobody knew her better than Zash.
The little Sith was done playing. She'd saved the morsel many times now. Now she faced her rival amidst the flames of the spaceport. It was right. It was what a Sith should do. Now the little Sith would prove herself stronger in the only way that mattered.
The little Sith's lightsaber ignited. She charged. The morsel roared her rage. Khem Val stood back as they engaged. It would not do to interfere. This was a test of the little Sith's strength. It was her chance to prove herself.
Their forms were not impressive. They were novices compared to the great warriors Khem Val had fought with in his lifetime. The morsel's rage was unpolished. The little Sith's was suppressed.
Khem realized something important as the two crossed blades.
They had saved the morsel when she'd fought the soldier. They'd saved her when she was beaten by the Cathar. They'd saved her again in this very spaceport. He'd wondered why the little Sith would do such a thing. The two had nearly come to blows each time. Now Khem realized why they hadn't. It was obvious.
Dar'vao wanted this fight for herself. A weakened enemy was one that wasn't worth defeating. That was something Khem Val could understand. He'd seen evidence of it before. Why had he refused to see it? The little Sith was a warrior.
She fought to destroy her enemies directly. It had been the same every time she'd killed her rivals and enemies alongside him. There would be no offer to let him eat them. She would always kill them herself. It was proper.
Khem watched with satisfaction as the little Sith cut down the morsel. Then she turned to him. They walked out of the spaceport without a word.
Yet Khem's understanding of his master had changed with his realization. Khem knew warriors. He could understand them. Khem chuckled darkly.
"Nobody knows you better than I, little Sith," he growled quietly.