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Qordis shook his head. “Not us. None of the Masters. And none of the students, unless you feel one of the apprentices is ready.”

“No,” Kas’im replied after a moment’s consideration. “Sirak, perhaps. He is strong enough. But his pride is too great, and he still has much to learn.”

“What about Bane? He showed great promise in disposing of Fohargh.”

Kas’im shrugged. “That was a month ago. Since then he has made almost no progress. Something is holding him back. Fear, I think.”

“Fear? Of the other students? Of Sirak?”

“No. Nothing like that. He’s finally seen what he is truly capable of; he’s seen the full power of the dark side. I think he’s afraid to face it.”

“Then he is of no further use to us,” Qordis stated flatly. “Focus on the other students. Don’t waste your time on him.”

The Blademaster was momentarily taken aback. He was surprised that Qordis would be so quick to give up on a student with such undeniable potential.

“I think he just needs more time,” he suggested. “Most of our apprentices have been studying the ways of the Sith for many years. Ever since they were children. Bane didn’t begin his training with us until he was a full-grown adult.”

“I’m well aware of the circumstances surrounding his arrival at this Academy!” Qordis snapped, and Kas’im suddenly realized what was really going on. Bane had been brought to Korriban by Lord Kopecz, and there was precious little love lost between Kopecz and the leader of the Academy. Bane’s failure would ultimately become a poor reflection on Qordis’s most bitter rival.

“The next time Bane approaches you, turn him away,” the Dark Lord told him, his tone leaving no doubt that his words were a command and not a request. “Make sure all the Masters understand that he is no longer worthy of our teachings.”

Kas’im nodded his understanding. He would do as ordered. It wasn’t fair to Bane, of course. But nobody ever claimed the Sith were fair.

13

Bane knew he had to do something. His situation was becoming desperate. He was still floundering, unable to call upon the power he had used to destroy Fohargh. But now his weakness had become public.

Yesterday during the evening training session he had approached Kas’im to arrange a time for more one-on-one practice, hoping to break free of the lethargy that gripped him. But the Blademaster had refused him, shaking his head and turning his attention to one of the other students. The message was clear to everyone: Bane was vulnerable.

As the students gathered in a circle on the top of the temple after the morning drills, Bane knew what had to be done. His reputation had protected him from the challenges of the other students. Now that reputation was gone. But he couldn’t sit back passively, waiting for one of the other students to challenge him and take him down. He had to seize the initiative; he had to go on the attack. Today he had to be the first one to step into the ring.

Of course, if he challenged one of the lesser students, everyone would see it as confirmation of the weakness he was trying to hide. There was only one way he could redeem himself in the eyes of the school and the Masters; there was only one opponent he could call out.

Several of the apprentices were still milling about, trying to find a place where they would be able to clearly observe the morning’s action. It was customary to wait until everyone was in place before issuing a challenge, but Bane knew that the longer he waited, the harder his task would be. He stepped boldly into the center of the circle, drawing curious stares from the other students. Kas’im fixed him with a disapproving gaze, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

“I have a challenge,” he proclaimed. “I call out Sirak.”

There was an excited buzz among the students, but Bane could barely hear it above the pounding of his own heart. Sirak rarely fought in actual combat; Bane had never even seen him in action. But he’d heard other students talk of Sirak’s prowess in the dueling ring, telling wild tales of his unbeatable skills. Ever since