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slouched by the door, to all appearances perfectly relaxed. But Nom Anor knew better; Kunra was alert for trouble, listening intently to everything taking place on either side of the door. “We’ve gained a great deal of valuable intelligence since Ngaaluh joined us. She is instrumental in our growing influence.”
    Nom Anor nodded distractedly. As though his silence were a challenge, Kunra persisted in his enthusiasm.
    “Not only does Shimrra find a traitor close to his throne, but then he fails to extricate a confession from her! Did you see the look on his face? He is frightened of us!”
    “I find it difficult to watch.” Shoon-mi appeared from the shadows beside the Prophet’s stately chair with a bowl of water Nom Anor had requested. The Shamed One was dressed in a faded priest’s robe and wore his scarless face with something akin to pride. His expression, however, was forever glum, and seemed to become increasingly so with each passing day.
    Nom Anor understood his religious adviser’s concern perfectly. “In all of us lurks a residual loyalty to the old ways, Shoon-mi. Sometimes even the truth finds it difficult to erase the programming of a lifetime.”
    “That’s not what I meant, Master.” Shoon-mi looked almost sullen. “I’m referring to Eckla of Domain Shoolb.”
    Nom Anor stared blankly at Shoon-mi for a few moments before comprehension dawned: Eckla was the Shamed One who had just been sentenced to death in Shimrra’s chamber.
    “Yes, of course,” he said. “Her sacrifice was a noble one, and did not go unnoticed.” The words flowed smoothly, covering the fact that Eckla of Domain Shoolb had ceased being of interest to Nom Anor as soon as the risk of her betraying him was no longer an issue. “She will be remembered as a martyr to our cause.”
    “One of many, now.”
    Nom Anor’s instincts urged him to reprimand the impudent nobody daring to rebuke him, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “The way to liberation is long and hard, Shoon-mi. We all knew this when we joined, and we would all do the same as Eckla if our time came.”
    “Without hesitation, Master.” Shoon-mi made all the appropriate gestures, but still a hint of defiance remained in his tone. “I remind each new novitiate that pain is often the only reward of faithfulness. Few seem deterred.”
    “At least something lies beyond the pain,” Nom Anor reminded him, feeding his assistant the spiritual fodder he craved. “The
Jeedai
promise a new life, whereas the old brings nothing but death and servitude. Freedom is worth the risk of pain, don’t you think?”
    “Yes, Master.”
    With nothing more to add, Shoon-mi bowed his way out of the audience chamber. Nom Anor could have used his advice on forthcoming novitiate selections, but he let the Shamed One go for now. Had he cared at all about the life of Eckla of Domain Shoolb, he, too, might have needed some time alone to think.
    He gestured for Kunra to shut the door. He felt restless, unnerved. If Ngaaluh’s infiltration of Shimrra’s courtwas so successful, why didn’t he feel satisfaction? Why couldn’t he be like Kunra, and blithely accept that Shimrra was feeling the full effect of the heresy undermining his authority?
    “Tell me about the ones you’re training in this region,” he said tiredly, when he was certain the room was secure. “What progress have you made?”
    “I have selected three of the more adept recruits, without Shoon-mi’s knowledge.” The disgraced warrior moved from his position by the door toward Nom Anor. The confident ease of his movements revealed that he had grown to enjoy his position as lackey-cum-chief-lieutenant for the Prophet. “Each shows the right balance of fanaticism and stupidity for the task. I’ll let them fight among themselves to see which is successful.”
    “Literally fight?” Blood sports didn’t fit in with the Jedi Heresy, but Nom Anor knew that Kunra had a dark, rough edge that might go that