It was good that the One Sith had taught him patience, because uncovering the would-be murderer inside the Fountain Palace was a slow and painstaking process. Much of that came from the difficulty of moving around the tightly secured structure. As a Chiss, Darth Terrid would be instantly recognizable as an outsider, so stealth was required at all times. The One Sith had humans who could have done this job more easily, but Darth Avanc had chosen Terrid for it. Most certainly, he'd discussed it with Darth Wyyrlok first. They'd conferred the rank of Sith Lord on him years ago, but still they were testing him. He tried to salvage their distrust with the knowledge that these tests were honing his skills.

The One Sith had mapped all of the Palace except the queen's most inaccessible wings and using this guide he managed to find private places to rest. Doing what needed to be done was trickier. He'd been taught how to use the Force to scrub security sensors but having to do it for every room and corridor he entered meant things proceeded very slowly. He used the narrow secret passages built into the palace whenever possible and was able to tap into the computer database from an access panel in one of those corridors.

From there he could review all the details Queen Lohr's security people had gathered about the attempted assassinations. Hapan Security deserved their reputation for thoroughness. They'd listed all the staff who'd prepared each meal and created a register of possible vessels inbound to Hapes that had passed through Dreena or Vergill within the past month. There was no guarantee that the assassins hadn't gathered the spider-blood and devil-grass from other parties away from those planets, but they'd rightly deemed it worth investigating.

That was useful information, but Terrid filed it away. The real question, which the security team had been unable to answer- was how the poisons had gotten into the queen's meals in the first place. Three totally different cooking teams had prepared each meal, and from reviewing their personnel files there didn't seem to be a connection between them. Terrid also doubted that the would-be assassin would trust at least three different agents to do her bidding.

The obvious solution was that a droid had somehow sneaked the poisons into the food, but Hapans were famously prejudiced against automatons. There were only a handful in the Palace and none had access to the kitchen. Still, he thought the security team had failed because they'd been too focused on the kitchen staff as perpetrators. It had to be something else. He spent his first night in the Palace personally scoping out the cargo container areas and the service hangar where supply ships came in and out. The next morning he observed the process by which a shipful of goods from offworld was imported, checked, and processed. Every container was cataloged and tagged. Any unusual activity would have been noted in the investigation team's logs. It should have been impossible for the poisonous materials to have been brought into the Palace at all.

When realization came he cursed himself for its not coming sooner. The impasse was only an impasse if you took the security team's report as fact.

Operating on the principle that the conspirators would be as few in number as possible, he began to check the information on the security team who'd investigated the poisonings. The team leader was a niece of the queen, which didn't mean she was loyal, but there were more likely candidates. He identified a pair of newer security officers, both assigned to the Palace for less than two years and used the security apparatus to track them. He cataloged their movements, where they ate, who they talked to. By the second day of his investigation he supposed he knew more about the Fountain Palace's staff than the queen herself.

What roused his interest was the one named Weila Panal. She was the second-newest officer on the team and she knew the layout to the Palace's scanners well. After watching her for two days he marked three times when she disappeared from view for thirty standard minutes or more. When she came back into view at the end of each incident the scanners picked up the same young man appearing in the same area, walking in the opposite direction.

It could have been an illicit affair, nothing more, but there was one way to know for sure.

When Terrid slipped into her bedroom late at night she didn't rouse from sleep. He stepped soundlessly over to her bedside. He gazed down at the woman, lying on her side, gold hair sprawled over her pillow. It would be very easy to kill her, but he knew she wasn't at the heart of this conspiracy. She was a minor functionary, nothing more, a pawn like the young man probably was too.

That was no reason to be gentle. He reached down and grabbed her by the neck. The woman's eyes popped open; a hand shot up to jab him in the elbow but her blow didn't loosen his hold. With his other hand he pinned her free wrist to the bed and loomed over her, the red glow from his eyes faintly lighting her features in the otherwise black room.

Her trachea rattled under his grip but he didn't let go. He leaned very close and whispered, "If you had any part in the plan to poison the queen, don't deny it. I'll know if you're lying."

Her eyes were wide in fright but he could tell he got through to her. He loosened his grip very slightly and asked, "Did you poison the queen's food?"

Her head twitched from side to side. Terror kept her honest. He asked, "Did you erase evidence from the security team's report?"

She froze, staring at his red eyes. He loosened his grip just a little more and she rasped, "Yes."

"Did he put you up to it?"

She was starting to tremble, but she nodded.

"His name?"

"Yanar Rolt," she croaked. "I don't know why… When he asked me we were… We were already…."

She'd been seduced. Rolt would be the next step and with access to the security apparatus he'd be easy to track. Someone would be behind Rolt in turn, but Terrid didn't expect many more layers to unpeel. The more complicated a conspiracy the more likely it was to fail.

He released her pinned wrist and whispered, "Sleep now."

He placed that palm against her forehead. She struggled for only a second, the went limp. She started breathing normally again. Her memories would be easy to modify; to her they'd be less than a dream. Darth Terrid set to work, and within three minutes he slipped out of the bedchamber and into the Palace's dark nighttime halls.

-{}-

There were many different ways to deal with traitors. While Demia Lohr hadn't decided how to handle whatever conspirator the Sith dug up- it would depend mostly on that person's identity- the queen had selected a large audience for this occasion.

A good fifty-some nobles had been gathered in the main convocation hall, ostensibly for the queen's weekly session of holding open court. She'd taken her place on the great gold throne with a fan-shaped back. Lenor Chalk and her granddaughter stood on either side of the dais. Serissa was a mere teenager, not yet twenty, but she'd already grown to have a tall and shapely figure, with long black hair like her mother. She had dark eyes, too, which watched the mingling courtiers dispassionately. Like the rest of them, she thought she was here for the usual mingling, gossip, and posturing. Demia wanted to see how well her granddaughter withstood the coming surprise.

When she was ready she gave the subtle signal with her hands, and Lenor called for everyone's attention. Demia remained motionless on her throne as she watched all eyes swing to her, curious, a little surprised. Most look like expected banal regal chatter, but a few seemed to suspect there was more. Demia spotted Ducha Reshul in the far corner of the room, and from her expression she looked like one of the latter. She didn't show any panic or make moves toward the chamber exit, beside which four guards had just quietly inserted themselves.

"Her Royal Majesty the Queen Mother wishes to address the court," Lenor said, loud and firm.

Lenor stepped aside. Demia spared a tiny sideways glance at her granddaughter, who frowned her confusion but said nothing. Without rising from the throne, Demia said, "Would Ducha Reshul please come forward?"

Too late, realization struck her. Her jaw dropped a little; she froze but did not move. The couriers slowly turned to eye the woman in the back.

A queen did not repeat herself. She waited for Reshul to finally start shuffling toward the royal dais. To her credit she composed herself quickly. She tilted her head up and said with dignity, "What may I do for you, Majesty?"

"You may answer a question for the entire court. Tell us, Ducha, how it came to be that your personal aide was seen consorting with the leader of the pirate gangs that have been attacking ships in the Lorelli Reach?"

Reshul's steel-gray brows drew together in a good imitation of confusion. "I've never heard of such a thing. May I ask where you heard this?"

"Do you doubt the resources of the Throne?"

"Of course not." She dipped her head in a quick bow. "I merely find such a thing hard to believe."

"Pirates have been running free in the Reach for months. When you failed to corral them, as was your duty, my personal investigators were sent to deal with the problem. What they found, Ducha, was most disturbing."

"Majesty-"

"Do not speak out of turn. What they found was that exactly two days after every successful raid, a set amount of credits was deposited in an account in a Raltiiri bank owned by you."

Confusion widened Reshul's eyes and anger narrowed them. She knew she was trapped and knew her objections would gain her nothing.

"On further investigation," Demia went on, "Your aide Mena Drashi has been observed meeting with members of this pirate gang on Telkur Station on three separate occasions, most recently six standard days ago. Two days ago, right after you left Andalia to attend to your duties here, agents of this court intercepted Mena Drashi and obtained the truth from her. For six months you've been sending information on shipment transit routes to the pirates and have accepted regular payments for your actions. Because of you, other members of their court have lost irreplaceable valuables as well as credits and peace of mind. Your actions will not go unpunished."

She paused before going on and waited for the murmurs to run through the audience. There was an anger in those murmurs; many of the assembled had indeed lost valuables to Reshul's pirate friends. They were hungry for compensation and it was all directed to the woman standing in front of the throne. Like the noble she was, Reshul did not embarrass herself by bleating objections to claims which she knew were fact. More, she'd seen Demia publicly humiliate misbehaving courtiers before punishment. She knew what came next and resolved herself to face disgrace with dignity.

"Ducha Reshul," Demia said, "All evidence against you will be made public. Those whose property was lost on your watch will be able to file claims for pieces of your liquidated properties. The role of Ducha of Andalia will pass to your niece. You, Convict Reshul, are sentenced to spend the next twenty years in confinement for your crimes."

The old woman wavered on her feet. Her eyes lidded shut and for a moment it seemed like she would faint; then she opened them, took a deep breath, and straightened herself.

"As you know, I'm not without mercy," Demia added. "Once those twenty years have passed, if you are still alive you will be allowed to live on whichever planet in the Consortium you chose, under minimal supervision. You will not, however, lay any claim to royal privilege again. Do you understand?"

Reshul nodded with dignity. "Is there anything else you require of me, Majesty?"

"No. The sentence has been passed." Demia signaled with her left hand and two guards stepped out to take Reshul by the shoulders. The old woman jerked their hands off her, spared one last look at the queen, then marched for the exit, guards on either flank, staring dead ahead and avoiding eye contact with any of her accusing peers.

When the doors closed, Lenor announced that the queen's special announcement was complete. With pained awkwardness, the courtiers turned away from the throne and began talking among themselves in hushed and urgent tones.

The queen exhaled and glanced at Serissa. The girl kept a good regal mask on. Demia had performed this public shaming and sentencing before, but not often, and Serissa had never attended one personally. Her mother had been there for her share, and Demia could recall the glint of amusement in Melor's eyes when one convicted noble had broken down sobbing for mercy, ruining her chances for it with such a shameful display. That streak of sadism should have been a warning, but Demia hadn't realized how badly her daughter coveted a queen's power until it was nearly too late.

Serissa was different. Demia could see through her granddaughter's mask to spot the distaste there; not just distaste for Reshul but for the entire sordid spectacle of exposing her before so many courtiers who'd shared the same treasonous desires and only lacked the courage to carry them out.

Ruling the Hapes Consortium was a sordid, ugly, draining business. When she'd taken power from the Jedi witch all those years ago, Demia hadn't understood that. She'd allowed power's glamor to entice her and blinded herself to the grueling realities.

Rule was a burden, but to preserve the Consortium from the Jedi and the Alliance it had to be shouldered. Serissa seemed like she understood that. It gave Demia hope.

Quietly, so no one else could hear, she asked, "Do you want to retire? This audience will last a while yet."

Serissa shook her head. "I'll stay with you, Grandmother."

A good answer. A ruler had to be seen. Demia turned her attention to all the gossiping courtiers once more and allowed herself to wonder which of the women arrayed before her had attempted her murder. She'd heard nothing yet from the Sith, but she had faith they'd give answer. Demia hadn't decided whether to humiliate the conspirator as she had Reshul, but one thing was certain. For attempted regicide the only punishment was death. She'd passed that judgment on her own daughter. After that, she could pass it on anyone.

-{}-

The queen's decision to call for a convocation session had caused a sudden tightening of security that slowed Darth Terrid's investigation significantly. After the old Ducha was dragged down into the prison from which she wouldn't return things finally started to relax once more.

Interrogating Yanar Rolt was more difficult than getting to Weila Panal. The security officer had her own private quarters in which she could be cornered. Rolt, like most of the young men in the Palace, acted as dual servant and decoration, and male chattel like him were afforded only bunks in dormitories. Terrid therefore had to monitor the young man's activities, discern his schedule, and figure out a time when he would not be missed.

That moment came in the hour between his dinner in the servant's mess and his night duties. Terrid placed himself in wait behind the locked door to a supply cabinet for hours until he sensed Rolt walking down the hall. The corridor was otherwise clear; it took all of five seconds to open the door and drag Rolt inside.

He locked the door and clamped hard on the man's mouth to keep him from screaming. Pressing him against the hard wall Terrid stabbed the fingers of his free hand into Rolt's hard abdomen. The man writhed; Terrid summoned the anger inside him and sparks from his hands jumped through the human's body. He screamed into the blue palm tight on his face. Terrid gave another spark and felt Rolt's resistance weaken.

"I know what you did," Terrid whispered. He could see the gleam of his red eyes reflected in the human's fright-wide pupils. "You tried to murder your queen. Triphenyl potion, Dreenan spider-fish blood, Vergillian devil-grass. You put it in her food supplies and made your mistress erase your meddling from her security report."

He tried to wag his head in denial but Terrid squeezed it hard. "Don't. Officer Panal has no loyalty to you. I know you didn't think of this yourself. You're a tool like she is. Now tell me."

His body trembled and he squeezed his eyes shut, like he was trying to wake himself up from a nightmare. He bled raw panic into the Force, but Terrid tried to pry deeper. There was more than just shock and fear; there was a strength in there too. He wouldn't crack easily. He was protecting someone.

Of course he would be. Likely the stupid young man had been seduced just as he'd wooed Panal. The entire situation was insufferably trite. Petty scheming nobles played emotional games with their pawns to manipulate them to selfish ends. As a Sith he might have admired the clever manipulation and ruthlessness of whoever was pulling these puppets' strings but it was all for so disgustingly low stakes. To be a Sith was to remake the universe as you desired using all your strength. These Hapans destroyed each other for scraps of power in an isolated backwater. Having to deal with them at all was degrading.

Terrid let that anger resonate within him. His desire for more, his hatred for what he had, fueled him and lengthened the claws he was prying into Rolt's pathetic mind. He bent in close and pressed his forehead against the human's. He tried to shake himself free but Terrid merely clasped him tighter. He reached deeper into the fool's mind and found what he'd expected: pathetic devotion to a woman and more, almost a kind of worship. Rolt drew strength from his adoration but Terrid was a Sith, and it was not difficult to pry deeper into his mind and draw out the vivid sensations flitting inside it: recalled smell and touch and sound, the curves that defined a human figure and face. He lingered on those curves to burn the geography of the woman's appearance into his memory so he could search for her later, only to realize that wasn't necessary,

He knew exactly who was trying to kill the queen. In was almost too obvious.

He pulled his head back, loosened his grip, and retreated back into himself. Rolt panted; his eyes flicked around the dark closet like he'd forgotten where he was. When they rested on Terrid's glowing red gaze his breathing quickened again.

The Sith Lord loosened his grip. He said, "I have what I need from you. Now you can forget."

Minutes later, Rolt walked out of the closet. He was uncertain why he'd been there; he looked up and down the outside corridor, then back inside the empty chamber. He closed the door and staggered down the hall without looking back. Even the memory of confusion would fade away in minutes. Rolt would remember nothing at all of his encounter.

The Sith Lord was already done by then, retreated into the secret corridors that had become almost familiar to him. He was close to the end of his duties here, but the greatest step had to be taken. It had been easy to capture the security officer and the servant. Getting the truths from their minds had been simple. It would be very different with Serissa Lohr, but Darth Terrid had no doubt it could be done.