Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [88]
Bane’s thoughts turned back to his studies. There were too many such accounts documented in the archives to be mere legend. There had to be some truth to it.
“Yes,” he answered, though he knew it would infuriate Qordis even more. “I believe I can learn more from the ghosts in the Valley of the Dark Lords than the living Masters here at the Academy.”
Qordis leapt to his feet and slapped Bane hard across the face, his talon-like fingernails drawing blood. Bane held his ground; he didn’t even flinch.
“You are an impudent fool!” his Master shouted. “You worship those who are dead and gone. You think they hold some great power, but they are nothing but dust and bone!”
“You’re wrong,” Bane said. He could feel the blood welling up in the scratches on his face, but he didn’t reach up to wipe it away. He simply stood still as stone in front of his seething Master.
Even though Bane didn’t move, Qordis took half a step back. When he spoke, his voice was more composed, though it still dripped with anger. “Get out,” he said, extending a long, bony finger toward the door. “If you value the wisdom of the dead so much, then go. Leave the temple. Go to the Valley of the Dark Lords. Find your answers in their tombs.”
Bane hesitated. He knew this was a test. If he apologized now—if he groveled and begged the forgiveness of his Master—Qordis would probably let him stay. But he knew Qordis was wrong. The ancient Sith were dead, but their legacy remained. This was his chance to claim it as his own.
He turned his back on Lord Qordis and marched from the room without a word. There was no point in continuing the argument. The only way he could win was by finding proof. And he wasn’t going to find it standing here.
18
Bane had missed the morning practice session. It wasn’t hard for Kas’im to figure out who was responsible for his absence.
He didn’t bother to knock on Lord Qordis’s door; he simply used the Force to burst apart the lock, then kicked it open. Unfortunately, the element of surprise he’d been hoping for had been lost.
Qordis had his back to the door, examining one of the magnificent tapestries that hung beside his oversized bed. He didn’t turn when the Blademaster burst in; he didn’t react at all. Which meant he’d been expecting the intrusion.
Kas’im gestured violently with his hand, and the door slammed shut. What he was about to say wasn’t for the ears of the students. “What in blazes did you do, Qordis?”
“I assume you are referring to apprentice Bane” came the too-casual reply.
“Of course I kriffing mean Bane! No more games, Qordis. What did you do to him?”
“To him? Nothing. Not in the way you’re thinking. I merely tried to reason with him. Tried to make him understand the necessity of working within the structure of this institution.”
“You manipulated him,” Kas’im said with a sigh of resignation. He knew Qordis had no fondness for Bane. Not with Lord Kopecz—his longtime rival—being the one who’d brought him here. The Blademaster realized he should have warned the young apprentice to be on his guard.
“You twisted his mind somehow,” he continued, trying to draw out a reaction. “You forced him down a path you wanted him to take. A path of ruin.”
There was no immediate reply. Tired of staring at Qordis’s back, he stepped forward and reached up to grab the taller man by the shoulder, whirling him around to face him. “Why, Qordis?”
In the first brief second that the overseer of the Academy was spun around, Kas’im caught a glimpse of uncertainty and confusion in the gaunt, drawn features. Then those features twisted into a mask of rage, dark eyes burning in sunken sockets. Qordis slapped Kas’im’s hand away.
“Bane brought this on himself! He was willful! Obsessed with the past! He is of no use to us until he accepts the teachings of this Academy!”
Kas’im was taken aback: not by the sudden outburst, but by the unexpected glimpse of uncertainty that had preceded it. Suddenly he wondered