Desperate Times/Part 3

Nevya looked around the circular Table of the Brethren, measuring anxious gazes and irritated ones, sulks and stares that measured her in return. Only when they were all looking her way did she speak. "This panic is unseemly—beneath us. The Master will call when she calls."

"We aren't panicking," Atrelyek insisted.

"Aren't you?" Nevya asked, raising an eyebrow. "Four short weeks without receiving a pet on the head and you begin clawing the furniture. Disgraceful."

Atrelyek snarled at her, and for a moment Nevya wondered whether her calculated belligerence had been miscalculated. Then Katrijan raised a hand. "Control yourself, Atrelyek. Nevya, it is not unreasonable to expect our…master to keep us informed."

As Vandak did? Nevya was on the border of retorting, but she caught the words at the tip of her tongue, realizing the danger just in time. Vandak had only told the Brotherhood what he felt they needed to know, on the infrequent occasions when he felt they needed to know it, but half of what Nevya had promised her brethren was predicated on the assurance that Darth Alecto was not Vandak.

"Our master sits at council with Darth Saleej himself," she reminded them. "And with the Chancellor's death, the Sith are on the move. No doubt she's needed elsewhere."

"And why are we not on the front lines of that fight too?" Hevessa demanded. "Darth Saleej wishes to press his war against the Jedi, and so much the better! I support him entirely!  I would even if Darth Alecto were not one of his councilors, but we should be fighting that fight."

She gestured behind Nevya, to the fire behind Nevya's chair and the mantle above, adorned with the lightsabers of slain Jedi and Sith. Katrijan nodded. "A single member of the Brotherhood is worth more than any adept or Acolyte. Surely our master must know this."

"Any fool can fight in direct combat, Katrijan," Keshthel called from one of the chairs along the wall. "We serve best in the shadows, and our war may not fit Darth Saleej's plans."

"It is Darth Alecto's plans that concern me," Katrijan answered. "Nevya's valor, and that of our other brethren, delivered Darth Alecto the Chancellor. Now she has the acclaim of all the Sith Lords, glory untold, and perhaps her humble Anzati brethren have served their purpose."

Again Nevya found herself stymied; to attribute too much of the victory to Darth Alecto alone made her own contribution meaningless and weakened her authority in their master's absence. Fortunately, Ikkyn came to her rescue. "If Darth Alecto saw us as disposable weapons to be fired and forgotten, she could have let me fall," he snarled. "I am here because our master saved me—because I am her brother, and she is my sister. That is enough for me.  If it is not enough for you, I would hear you speak now."

He struggled to his feet; Nevya could see how his hip still pained him, but the murderous gleam in his eyes shone in the firelight, and several of the brethren felt of tension. Nevya could smell the anxiety creeping among them; Atrelyek wavered, but Katrijan's eyes narrowed, and she spoke before he could take up the challenge. "Sit down, Ikkyn," she commanded, firm but calm. "That Darth Alecto protects her brethren is obvious. Or it should be."

She put just a little acid in her voice at the end. When they had all refocused on her, she said, "We aren't all needed here—Anzat can not support us all here. Darth Alecto will call us together when she wishes, and when she does we will reconvene.  Until then, our strength is best spread where we can do more good."

"What would you have us do?" Zarrke asked.

"Darth Saleej will press his advantage. We can assist the Sith effort in the shadows, as Keshthel says.  Spread to those worlds closest the border—Taanab, Corsin, Obroa-skai.  Eliminate those responsible for the Republic's defense."

"How very supportive of us, but should we take so bold an action without our master's command?" Katrijan asked. "What if Saleej has other plans, and our efforts are not what he intended? What then will become of our master?"

Nevya narrowed her eyes, but she had to admit he had a point, even though the admission chafed her. "Observe, then. Go to the border worlds, find those who can make or break the Republic war effort, and get yourselves in position to eliminate them.  When I have Darth Alecto's approval, I will inform you.  If we all strike at once, we can cripple the Expansion Region in a single blow."

The others were silent; Nevya considered expounding on her plan, but on the other side of Darth Alecto's vacant throne she noticed Qritzel studying the table rather than her. Did that bode ill? Was it a message? A warning? She did not dare ask for his views in front of her brethren; his support would anchor her standing firmly, but if he opposed her…

She looked out at the others. Katrijan sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. Several of the Anzati looked as if they wished to speak more, but were restraining themselves. Nevya forced herself to allow five seconds of silence, then nodded. "Go then, brethren—feed as you will and await further orders."

They stood one or two at a time, those seated at the Table of the Brethren collected the weapons they had laid on the stone surface, and they slipped from the room. Nevya was resolved to wait them out, but she noticed neither Qritzel nor Katrijan showed any desire to move. Ikkyn narrowed his eyes, but Nevya gave him a silent shake of her head, and after a long, awkward silence, he got to his feet and limped out as well, spinning his curved knives in his hands restlessly.

Katrijan and Nevya watched him go while Qritzel continued to gaze at the table. Nevya was just starting to wonder whether the old Anzat had fallen asleep with his eyes open when Katrijan said, "Well done, Nevya. I think they believed it."

Nevya narrowed her eyes. "They should, it's the truth."

Katrijan smiled in a way that made Nevya bare her teeth on reflex. It took her a moment to recognize the expression and trace her contempt to its source—Azeroth had been fond of that same smile, she realized, mocking his brethren with indulgence of their petty foibles while he conducted the real business of running the Brotherhood, even before Vandak's fall. He had continued to wear it right up until the day Darth Alecto had maimed him and cast him out to die; Nevya took some solace in that.

"As you say, Lady Khiyali." Katrijan rose, taking up his cortosis-woven khopeshes. The curved hook swords had been gifts from Darth Vandak himself; Katrijan hung the naked blades from his belt and offered a bow a little too deep to be genuine. "Excuse me. I must find my way to some world where I can continue to be a pawn of the Sith, should Darth Alecto condescend to remember me."

Nevya glared at his back. Would Darth Alecto prefer her to punish his subversiveness, or show restraint? Certainly Vandak would never have endured it, but Vandak's brutality and cruelty had already been legend when Nevya joined the Brotherhood. Darth Alecto had named her second, given her the duty to control the Brotherhood in her absence, but did she mean for Nevya to be to her as Azeroth had been to Vandak? They'd had little time to discuss it before the wheels were set in motion to roll toward the Chancellor, and since Phnyong's death…

"She must contact us soon," Qritzel said softly, "or it will get worse. Much worse."

Nevya looked across their master's throne at him. "Vandak went ages without contacting us." It was no harm to point it out to Qritzel; he had seen more than any of them, surely he had had the thought already. "Years, sometimes."

"After he had controlled the Brotherhood for years more," Qritzel countered. He was still studying the table, as if something fascinating was graven upon its surface. "I remember when Darth Vandak emerged from the Heart of the Abattoir—I remember the fault lines in his eyes where whatever is down there shone through from beneath his skin. He was an Anzat who had beheld the Heart and been found worthy, and still he governed the Brotherhood personally for many long decades before even you came to us."

"…and Darth Alecto is not an Anzat."

"Indeed," Qritzel agreed. "She was chosen by the Heart, and for that our brethren knelt, as did I. Her first true employment of the Brotherhood for more than petty guard duty is the greatest triumph for her Sith since Mizra."

"Then why do they doubt?" Nevya demanded. "Why would they think she would endure the Abattoir, climb to such glory, and cast us aside when she could do still more?"

"Perhaps therein lies the problem. She could use the Brotherhood to climb higher, or abandon it after such a victory…but either way, the Brotherhood exists to serve her purposes, and what is best for the Brotherhood is not a consideration."

Nevya hissed, eyes widening. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't, but they expect it of her—a Sith, none of whom but Vandak have ever thought of us as anything but weapons, and an alien without ties to our people and our history."

"She saved Ikkyn."

"And that small act of grace has bought her time, but time is running out." Qritzel got to his feet, sheathed his sword, and gave her a bow of respect. "I pledged myself to Darth Alecto, Nevya, and I honor my word, but not all our brethren have such faith. Caution our master…should you hear from her."

Nevya grimaced, but nodded. "Thank you for your counsel, elder brother."

She sat with her back to the fire for a long time after he had gone, twisting one of her knives with its point against her index finger. When the crackling logs had died to embers she rose, ghosting up through the sanctuary and out into the Temple proper. The mist did not intimidate her; her brethren were restive, but they would not dare yet to strike at the second's red. Now that they had accepted Darth Alecto as one of them, she had no further need to artificially shackle her power, and Nevya could imagine how she would repay disloyalty.

But how best to be loyal? How to preserve a body missing a head?

She climbed the exterior of her tower for exercise, pulling herself into the uppermost room that had once been Azeroth's. It took only a glance at her holocomm to see there were no messages, and Nevya planted her hands against the stone wall, head bowed in frustration. There was so much the Brotherhood could be under Darth Alecto's guidance—a renaissance was at hand, the Anzati emerging from the shadows and onto the galactic stage—if only the Mirialan would lead them there.

She crawled back out the window and up onto the lotus bud atop her tower, balancing her heels against one gargoyle as the rising stone ridges arched her back. Morning was coming soon, for what little that meant on Anzat, but a few whisps of the Silent Voices still gleamed in the inky sky. Nevya wished they would whisper wisdom to her.

"Master, where are you?"