Not much had changed here so far as Atton could see, though part of him still flinched at the primitive feel of the place. Just like many of the planets they'd visited in the Unknown Regions, this one eschewed technology almost completely, but for the occasional slave-driving droid and enforcement cannons. Cargo ships left the spaceport, but only sporadically. Trade, but for the consistent loads of tempa-grass bound for Hasa'ka, a nearby livestock producer, seemed only minimal in on this world. What these worlds excelled in was magic, and what they called "necromancy," though none knew how to raise the dead. The strongest in the arts rose to the top of the hierarchy of their respective planets, and jostled for dominance in triennial meetings on the core Sith world. He had heard rumors of secret technology being developed on the core world in quiet whispers in Hrax's cantina, but he'd had a hard time believing them, spoken as they were in a baked mud dome that barely stood twice his height.

His first thought when they'd landed on this backwater world two years ago was that dirt behaved like sand, forming itself into endless dunes of filth and dust. Only as they had approached the nearest of the mounds had he realized that these filth-piles had transparent windows carved into them. Outside of Custom-ash-kesah, as he'd eventually learned the main port office had been named, he'd only seen computers in five places, inside the most expensive rooms of the inn attached to the cantina; the Necromancer's palace; the Magister-ash-kesah where the law enforcement officers were housed; and two mysterious "ash-kesah" within Elhar that he hadn't understood the purpose of, even when Yakoz had tried to explain it to them. The Force was everywhere here, and none of the Sith he'd met had been weaker than blondie in using it. Shekosa, who needs computers when you can feel the Universe within?

"Verkal-oska," Jay said, "Tell me what happened with Bastila. Sy sensed something, and Atton and I shared a vision of her, but we couldn't understand why."

"Ah, shekola, it is a stupid tale, and one for the lowest of low. She landed in a tiny ship, barely large enough for one, and when the greeters sought her, she slew them with her light-sword."

"Why?" he asked. What kind of idiot do you have to be to kill for no reason… Oh.

"Skrekesh-al-tah. Of deep black, but not of power."

"Sorry?" Jay furrowed her brows.

"She wasn't strong enough, the little fool. She wasn't prepared for the Force, and it ate at her." Revan snickered. "Serves her right. Her ego was always a little too large for the limited power she wields."

"And you're so different, Sy?"

"I feel balance here, or something close. The Force breathes clear within, no matter how the users here try to bend it to their wills."

"Well, close to 'clear,'" Jay said. "And it does only because the users have changed the way they act and what they hold within hearts. Remember your old objective in this 'war?' Verkal-oska, your people do well here."

"I know, shekola. Your 'friend,' the killer, moved her way through the streets, sweeping her weapon about. You know most carry no arms, and only the droids can stun and whip, so they fell as grass-chaff to her, even though many tried to halt her with the 'mancy. She shielded herself, somehow."

"Republic technology," he said. "They've got devices that help troops resist the Force. You can thank the Jedi for that; they used them in the Civil War to stop our troops. Eventually we got smart enough to use it ourselves against them."

"Technology is for the weak, shekosa."

"Maybe so, but you've got a lot of dead bodies to bury because you're 'strong.'"

"Hm."

"She used her Battle Meditation," Revan said.

"Battle Meditation, skreketh?"

"Jedi 'mancy, as you'd call it. She weakens her enemies by manipulating their wills through the Force."

"Then it is good the droids overcame her. This bodes ill, shekosa, shekola."

"No kidding." He'd never known any of the half-Sith to state the obvious. In fact, he usually found them far more cryptic than even Darth Traya had been.

"You will release her to us, won't you, Verkal-oska? She can't be detained forever, and if…"

"She has plunged deep into the dark madness, shekola. I fear even you can't bring her to rightness."

"Sy needs her. The bonds on him…"

"Yes, I feel the ties, and see how their strands entangle him. Be careful, shekola. Something is wrong within both of them, and I fear you will come to ruin."

"I haven't killed her," Revan said.

"And I sense you could not kill shekola, dark one. But there is more than one way to ruin, and ruin is not always fatal."

"I don't feel her except as a faint thrum of life in my belly. What did you do to my little fool?"

The largest mound, the inn, loomed over them, and all of the mounds that surrounded it. Eight stories it "towered," though nothing seemed anywhere close to matching the height of the lowest factory buildings on the edges of Nal Hutta, where slaves labored to mill the spice. Perspective changed everything—insect-nest domes made a tiny building look like a looming Nar Shaddaa tower. The ability to change perspective, Jay once told him in training, is essential if you're to understand the Force. Look at the small changes within, and imagine them spreading outward to the rest of life. We did this on Nar Shaddaa, on Dantooine, on Telos, and even on Korriban. Kreia told me once that even the smallest act sends ripples, and the large acts can be felt for centuries or millennia. Make sure they're the correct acts, love.

"We've done nothing to her, skreketh, but to bind her in a field of nullity that taxes all of us. Her life cannot be heard, and her power cannot be used for 'mancy. But she lives and breathes, even as her bondage drains our power from us."

"Force nullity. I thought I'd learned all of the secrets here." Revan shook his withered head. "I have more to learn."

"And we will not teach you. So long as shekola and shekosa travel with you, we will not risk teaching them, either."

"Good," Jay said. "I don't want you risking yourselves on our behalf. Sy's enough of a worry as it is."

"Shekola speaks from wisdom, and from the brightness in her heart."

Verkal opened the door with a faint tremor in the Force, and Atton had learned the hard way that you couldn't just use the knob. The doors had been crafted of baked clay as deep as a man's forearm and had more heft behind them than even HK could move. If she doesn't let me use the Force, I'm a damned prisoner here! But he wasn't about to object in front of Revan. He knew the carved-mud walls almost as well as the scarring of the rough metal of his old container-apartment on Nar Shaddaa; he'd stared at them long enough in near-fascination. They spoke of ancient Sith legends of creation, of war, of blending with cast-off Jedi a thousand years before, and they called out in the language of the carvings of Korriban, oppressive and venial even in their grandness. He both admired them and loathed them for what they were, and now, through darker eyes, he felt the song of the ancient ways. Come, learn power, the hall-end carving of Githraz the Enlightener, Sith god of wisdom, cried out. Surrender and let it flow through you.

"Go here," Verkal said to Revan as he pushed open a door carved with Aska-lash the Darkness-Bringer. "Rest, and we will take you to Skrekesh-al-tah tomorrow."

"That's not acceptable." He heard the catch in Revan's voice and shuddered. He reached out and touched a widening fissure in the man's thoughts, something he knew Jay felt as well from her sudden paleness.

"It will have to be, skreketh. She will slay all if we release her now. I feel her violence."

"Verkal-oska, you can't let her go sooner?"

"No, not until the ties upon skreketh ease."

"Oh. I must meditate then."

"Shekola, it is not your tie I fear. Skrekesh-al-tah weakens, but only slowly. She will slay more if we ease her bonds."

"Fine, we'll wait, and she'll go mad," Revan muttered, and slammed the door in Jay's face.

"She is already mad," the half-Sith said.

On the top floor, Verkal shoved open a door leading to one of the most luxurious quarters he'd seen on the planet's surface. A sumptuous bed of woven burgundy silk spread out over half its length and lay almost oppressed beneath a heavy canopy of deep blue canvas, woven with wavy lines that reminded him of the rivers they'd seen on landing. Heavy tufted carpet soothed his feet, and the smooth gilded walls eased the pull of the hallway carvings.

"No, this is too much!" Jay had been just as horrified at her own Da's apartments on Coruscant.

"You brought us light and new ways of speaking to the other, friends. This is the least we can do to repay you."

"Thanks," he said. "This works well enough for me. It's quiet here."

"Shekosa, you will need that quiet in the days to come. I feel it, just as I felt the pull of the ancient ways upon you."

"Thank you," Jay said, her voice subdued. He felt the touch of her mind on his and he knew she felt it as well. "I…"

"If we can make your return easier, shekosa, and ease your burden, shekola, we will do whatever we must."

He circled his heart with feeling and felt the warmth radiating from the half-Sith. He looked through the Force at his own hand, then to the Sith, who warmed him with his gentle blue-grey. A little lighter, a little less pink. But not enough, and, he sensed, not enough for the morrow.