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“It feels strange,” he muttered.

“It requires a minor variation in your grip,” Kas’im explained. “Hold it more in the palm, farther away from the fingertips.”

Bane did as instructed, letting his body grow accustomed to the odd heft and balance. Already his mind was beginning to run through the implications of the new grip. It would give the wielder more power on his overhand strikes, and it would change the angle of the attacks by the merest fraction of a degree. Just enough to confuse and disorient an unsuspecting opponent.

“Some moves are more difficult with this particular weapon,” Kas’im warned. “But many others are far more effective. In the end I think you’ll find this lightsaber will suit your personal style quite well.”

“You’re giving this to me?” Bane asked incredulously.

“Today you proved you were worthy of it.” There was just a hint of pride in the Blademaster’s voice.

Bane ignited it, listening to the sweet hum of the power pack and the crackling hiss of the energy blade. He performed a few simple flourishes, then abruptly shut it off.

“Does Qordis approve?”

“The decision is mine, not his,” Kas’im stated. He almost sounded offended. “I haven’t held on to this blade for ten years just so Qordis can decide whom I give it to.”

Bane answered with a respectful bow, fully aware of the great honor that Kas’im had just bestowed upon him. To fill the uncomfortable silence that followed he asked, “Your Master gave you this when he died?”

“I took it when I killed him.”

Bane was so stunned that he couldn’t cover his reaction. The Blademaster saw it and smiled slightly.

“I had learned everything I could from Master Na’daz. As strong as he was in the dark side, I was stronger. As skilled as he was with the lightsaber, I became better.”

“But why kill him?” Bane asked.

“A test. To see if I was as strong as I believed. This was before Lord Kaan rose to power; we were still trapped in the old ways. Sith versus Sith, Master versus apprentice. Foolishly pitting ourselves against one another to prove our dominance. Fortunately, the Brotherhood of Darkness put an end to all that.”

“Not completely,” Bane muttered, thinking of Fohargh and Sirak. “The weak still fall to the strong. It is inevitable.”

Kas’im tilted his head to the side, trying to gauge the meaning behind his words. “Don’t allow yourself to be blinded by this honor,” he warned. “You are not ready to challenge me, young apprentice. I have taught you everything you know, but I haven’t taught you everything I know.”

Bane couldn’t help but smile. The notion of facing Kas’im in a real fight was preposterous. He knew he was no match for the Blademaster. Not yet. “I will keep that in mind, Master.”

Satisfied, Kas’im turned to go. Just before Bane closed the door behind him he added, “Lord Qordis wants to see you first thing in the morning. Go to his chambers before the morning drills.”

Even the sobering prospect of meeting with the Academy’s grim overseer couldn’t dampen Bane’s elated spirit. As soon as he was alone in his room he reignited the lightsaber and began practicing his sequences. It was many hours before he finally put the weapon away and crawled wearily into bed, all thoughts of Githany long banished from his mind.

The morning’s first light found Bane at the door leading into the private quarters of Lord Qordis. It had been many months since he had last been here. At that time he had been chastised for killing Fohargh. This time he had severely injured one of the top students of the Academy—one of Qordis’s personal favorites. He wondered what was in store for him.

Summoning his courage, he knocked once.

“Enter,” came the voice from within.

Trying to ignore a feeling of trepidation, Bane did as he was told. Lord Qordis was in the center of the room kneeling on his meditation mat. It was almost as if he hadn’t moved: his position was exactly the same as it had been at their last meeting.

“Master,” Bane said, making a low bow.

Qordis didn