Bab 17: PARAGON - Chapter 17
The Sith Empire of Seelah's youth was a nest of star systems linked by common heritage, ambition, and greed. It was also, in a sense, a black hole from which little escaped.
The Stygian Caldera's limiting effects on hyperspace travel were disproportionate, making it far easier for unlucky outsiders to wander into Sith space than for the Sith Lords to venture out.
Those who found their way in seldom returned, becoming slaves to one princeling or another. The arrivals frequently changed hands over the generations, forgetting their homes completely. They, too, were of the Sith now.
Some Sith Lords, such as Naga Sadow, saw value in the work of the human descendants of the original Tapani refugees. Where their tentacle-faced masters with lineages back to the Sith species were more interested in sorceries, Seelah's people excelled at science. When allowed to practice, they did, forming the industrial and medical infrastructures for several Lords.
Some even resolved problems of lightsaber-crystal fabrication and power generation that had eluded the Jedi of the Republic. Such feats were never heralded—no Sith Lord would share a new weapon. If failure was an orphan, success, for the Sith, was a secret love child.
The child Seelah had her own successes, serving on Rhelg with the rest of her family in the forces of Ludo Kressh, Sadow's greatest rival. At thirteen, Seelah was already a talented healer, drawing both on the Force and the medical knowledge of her forebears. Devotion had already borne fruit.
"We are advancing in this movement," her father had said. "You have done well, and it has been rewarded. Glory in the honor, Seelah—it is the greatest that can befall such as us."
She had been charged with the care of Lord Kressh's feet.
They were out all afternoon again, the two of them. Korsin and the Keshiri woman. Tilden had told Seelah that, and she had other confidants who provided regular reports. Her husband and his so-called "ambassador," Adari, would stroll the pathways painstakingly carved out of the once treacherous mountainside, discussing—what? Not a blasted lot, as far as Seelah could tell.
Adari's walks with Korsin dated from the beginning of Seelah's own relationship with him. Back then, there had been a need. The Vaal woman had discovered the Sith on the mountain, and had acted as intermediary with the Keshiri. But as years progressed and the need for a single ambassador ebbed, the walks continued, ranging ever farther away. After the birth of Seelah and Korsin's daughter, Nida, his walks with Adari had become daily—including the occasional uvak-flight.
Seelah knew enough from her sources not to suspect infidelity—as if she would care—but the native woman had taken steps to improve her plain appearance. Adari had recently begun turning up in vor'shandi face markings, a decoration unheard of for a Keshiri widow of an uvak-rider.
But eavesdroppers confirmed for Seelah that the generally mindless substance of their discussions hadn't changed. Where does the sun go at night, Korsin? Is air part of the Force, Korsin? Why are rocks not food, Korsin? If she was a spy, she was pretty useless at it—but she did have command of a huge chunk of the Grand Lord's time. And more.
"She's … really something, isn't she?" he had asked in an unguarded moment after Adari flew back to Tahv one evening.
"I think your standards for playthings have plummeted," Seelah had responded.
"Along with my ship."
And my real husband, she had not said. Seelah thought back on that moment now as she stood outside the ward. Fifteen years with her beloved husband's hated brother. Fifteen years with the man who had probably orphaned her son. Let the old purple wraith have him, she thought. The less seen of Yaru Korsin, the better.
Korsin's seduction of Seelah had not taken long at all, once she'd convinced him he'd be met with something other than a dagger. It was an acceptable arrangement on both sides.
By winning her approval, the commander had solidified his bonds with the restive miners his ship was carrying—and stripped away something that had belonged to his hated sibling. She even let him think it was his idea, though she bit her lip to ribbons that first year.
For her part, Seelah won power and influence in the new order—benefits going far beyond convenient morning ablutions. Little Jariad would be raised in the best lodgings wherever they were—first in the walled native city of Tahv, later in the mountain compound.
And she had a job. Administration of the Sith sick wards seemed like a worthless sinecure given the rude health of the Keshiri-pampered people. Certainly no one else wanted the assignment, not with a world to conquer and an interstellar escape to engineer. Most Sith injured in disagreements never reached a healer, anyway.
But Seelah got to know more about the Sith who were stranded on Kesh than anyone, including the Omen officer originally responsible for keeping the ranks. She knew who was born and when and to whom—and that was the balance of power. The others weren't even looking.
Their eyes were still on the sky, on getting out. Only Korsin seemed to understand that they might be settling into a permanent situation—though he clearly worked to prevent anyone but Seelah from sensing it. She didn't understand why he had been open with her about it.
Perhaps the wife of Yaru Korsin didn't merit hope. No matter. She didn't need it, anyway. She saw the future—here in the assembly yard behind the ward, as she walked through on her periodic reviews. Here, the youth of the Sith reported to see her.
Or rather, to be seen.
"This is Ebya T'dell, daughter of the miner Nafjan and the bridge cadet Kanika." Seelah's willowy aide, Orlenda, stood behind a stern-faced pink child and read from a parchment. "Eight years old next month by our counting. No ailments."
Seelah's hand closed in a V around the young girl's chin. Seelah looked left and right, inspecting the child like livestock. "High cheekbones," she said, mashing her index finger against the youngling's face. The child didn't flinch. "I know your parents, girl. Are you a source of despair to them?"
"No, Lady Seelah."
"This is good. And what is your duty?"
"To be like you, milady."
"Not the answer I had in mind, but I won't argue," Seelah said, releasing the child and turning to Orlenda, her aide. "I don't see any flaring of the skull, but I'm concerned about her coloring," she said. "Too florid. Check the genealogy again. She might yet have a family, if we choose properly."
With a pat on the rear from Orlenda, eight-year-old Ebya T'dell returned to play in the outer yard, momentarily safe in the knowledge that her life might not be a genetic dead end.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone