Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [85]
And he honestly believed she felt something for him, too … though he doubted she would ever admit it. Yet as close as they’d become during their secret lessons together they’d never consummated their yearning. It just seemed wrong while Sirak was still the top apprentice at the academy. Defeating him had been the underlying goal for each of them; neither one had wanted any distractions from that goal. He was a common foe that united them to a single cause, but in many ways he had also been a wall keeping them apart.
Taking Sirak down should have leveled that wall into rubble. But Bane had seen the disappointment in Githany’s face after the battle. He’d promised to kill their enemy, and she’d believed in him. Yet in the end his actions had proved he wasn’t up to her expectations, and the wall between them had suddenly grown much, much stronger.
Someone knocked softly at the door of his chamber. It was well after curfew; none of the apprentices had any reason to be in the halls. He could think of only one person who might be wandering the halls at this hour.
Leaping from his bed he crossed the floor in one quick stride and yanked open the door. He quickly masked his disappointment at seeing Lord Kas’im standing beyond the threshold.
The Blademaster stepped through the open door without waiting for an invitation; he gave Bane a nod that told him to close it once he was inside. Bane did as he was bidden, wondering at the purpose of the unannounced late-night visit.
“I have something for you,” the Twi’lek said, brushing away the folds of his cloak and reaching for his lightsaber on his belt. No, Bane realized. Not his lightsaber. The handle of Kas’im’s weapon was noticeably longer than most, allowing it to house two crystals, one to power each blade. This hilt was smaller, and it was fashioned with a strange curve, giving it a hooked appearance.
The Blademaster ignited the lightsaber: its single blade burned a dark red. “This was the weapon of my Master,” he told Bane. “As a young child I would watch for hours as my Master performed his drills. My earliest memories are of dancing ruby lights moving through the sequences of battle.”
“You don’t remember your parents?” Bane asked, surprised.
Kas’im shook his head. “My parents were sold in the slave markets of Nal Hutta. That’s where Master Na’daz found me. He noticed my family on the auction blocks; perhaps he was drawn to them because we were Twi’leks like himself. Even though I was barely old enough to stand, Master Na’daz could sense the Force in me. He purchased me and took me back to Ryloth, to raise me as his apprentice among our own people.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“I don’t know,” Kas’im replied with an indifferent shrug. “They had no special connection to the Force, so my Master saw no reason to purchase them. They were weak, and so they were left behind.”
He spoke casually, as if the knowledge that his parents had lived and probably died as slaves in the service of the Hutts had no effect on him whatsoever. In a way his apathy was understandable. He’d never known his parents, so he had no emotional ties to them, good or bad. Bane briefly wondered how his own life might have been different if he had been raised by someone else. If Hurst had been killed in the cortosis mines when he was just an infant, would he still have ended up here at the Academy on Korriban?
“My Master was a great Sith Lord,” Kas’im continued. “He was particularly adept in the arts of lightsaber combat—a skill he passed on to me. He taught me how to use the double-bladed lightsaber, though as you can see he preferred a more traditional design for himself. Except for the handle, of course.”
The blade flickered out of existence as he shut