The Last of the Jedi : Underworld de Jude Waston
It took him a moment to make sense of the piles, the jumble of objects. Rows and rows and rows disappearing in the dusky light at the corner of the vast space.
Ferus felt his breath catch and his heart stop. He could not move.
Trever, sensing his emotion, drew back. In a rare display of tact, he said nothing.
Ferus moved forward. His boot hit a lighstaber hilt, and he flinched. He leaned over to pick it up. He ran his fingers along the hilt. He didn't recognize it. He put it carefully back down.
Row after row after row...jumbles and piles, some laid out neatly, no doubt for identification. "How many?" he whispered.