“And who do you think pointed Ba’kif?” the Patriarch countered. “Oh, yes. Labaki—that was his name back then—Labaki and I have known each other for a long time. I’m the one who told him about Thrawn and encouraged him to point that fool Thurfian toward him.”

He sighed. “I saw greatness in him, Thalias,” he said, his eyes and voice going distant. “Greatness, and skill, and loyalty. He will be my crowning, the memorial staff that will someday stand close beside my own.” He tapped his walking stick as his gaze clouded over. “If he survives.”

“I’ve seen him in battle, Your Venerante,” Thalias assured him. “He’ll survive.”

“You think I fear his loss in war?” The Patriarch shook his head. “No. Barring something unforeseen or uncontrollable, he’ll never taste more than temporary defeat. No, Thalias, the threat to him comes from within the Ascendancy. Possibly from within the family itself.” He beckoned to her. “Come. Sit beside me, if you would. I fear I have but little time left.”

Carefully, uncertainly, Thalias walked across the grass and eased herself onto the bench beside him. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“You’re doing it,” he assured her. “You’re listening to me, as few others in the family do anymore. More important, you’re watching over Thrawn, working with him as an unflinching ally and assistant. Guarding him against his enemies.”

He waved out over the mountain. “The transfer of leadership from one Patriarch to the next is designed to run smoothly. Usually it does. But sometimes it belies that promise. Even as we speak, there are several who are preparing their challenges and arguments, maneuvering for the moment when my walking stick is handed over to the historians and carvers for the version that will stand in the soil of the homestead. Some of those see Thrawn as an asset to the Mitth. Others see nothing but threat and danger.” He shook his head. “If one of the latter ascends to the Patriarch’s Seat…” He left the sentence unfinished.

“I don’t understand that,” Thalias said. “He’s a magnificent warrior. How can they see danger in him?”

“The danger is that he’ll overreach himself, or take the Mitth into some adventure that leaves us politically vulnerable. Should that happen, our rivals will surely take advantage of our momentary weakness. These particular contenders for the Patriarch’s Seat would prefer to trade any potential glory Thrawn might bring to the family for the assurance that he won’t bring an equal degree of infamy.”

Thalias nodded. “Seeking a steady path without risks.”

“Which is foolish,” the Patriarch said, his mouth twisting with contempt. “The cautious path merely guarantees a slow slide to irrelevance. The Mitth must take risks—calculated and well planned, but risks nonetheless—if we’re to maintain our position among the Ruling Families.”