Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [89]
Now Kas’im felt more curious than angry. “Tell me what happened, Qordis. Where is Bane now?”
Qordis sighed, almost regretful. “He’s gone into the wastelands. He’s heading for the Valley of the Dark Lords.”
“What? Why would he do that?”
“I told you: he’s obsessed with the past. He believes there are secrets out there that will be revealed to him. Secrets of the dark side.”
“Did you warn him of the dangers? The pelko swarms? The tuk’ata?”
“He never gave me a chance. He wouldn’t have listened anyway.”
That much, at least, Kas’im believed. Yet he wasn’t sure if he trusted the rest of Qordis’s story. The Master of the Academy was subtle, crafty. It would be just like him to trick someone into venturing through the deadly Valley of the Dark Lords. If he wanted to eliminate Bane without being held accountable, this would be one of the ways to do it—except for one small thing.
“He’s going to survive,” Kas’im stated. “He’s stronger than you know.”
“If he survives,” Qordis replied, turning back to the tapestry, “he will learn the truth. There are no secrets in the valley. Not anymore. Everything of value has been taken: stripped away first by Sith seeking to preserve our order, and later by Jedi seeking to wipe it out. There is nothing left in the tombs but hollow chambers and mounds of dust. Once he sees this for himself, he will give up his foolish idealization of the ancient Sith. Only then will he be ready to join the Brotherhood of Darkness.”
The conversation was over; that much was clear. Qordis’s words made sense, if this was all part of a larger lesson to make Bane finally abandon the old ways and accept the new Sith order and Kaan’s Brotherhood.
Yet as he turned and left the room, Kas’im couldn’t shake the feeling that Qordis was rationalizing events after the fact. Qordis wanted others to believe he had been in control the whole time, but the haunted look the Blademaster had glimpsed gave evidence to the real truth: Qordis had been scared by something Bane had done or said.
That thought brought a smile to the Twi’lek’s lips. He had every confidence Bane would survive his journey into the Valley of the Dark Lords. And he was very interested to see what would happen when the young man returned.
Sirak was moving gingerly. He’d spent the past thirty-six hours in a bacta tank, and though his injuries were completely healed, his body still instinctively reacted to the memories of the wounds inflicted by Bane’s saber. Slowly, he gathered up his personal effects, anxious to return to the familiar surroundings of his own room and leave the solitude of the medcenter behind.
One of the med droids floated in, bringing him a pair of pants, a shirt, and a dark apprentice’s robe. The clothes smelled of disinfectant; it was common practice to sterilize everything before bringing it into the medcenter. The garments fit, but he knew as soon as he put them on that they had never been worn before.
He hadn’t seen a single being other than the med droids since being carried unconscious from the dueling ring. Nobody had come to check up on him while he’d floated in the healing fluid: not Qordis, not Kas’im, not even Llokay or Yevra. He didn’t blame them.
The Sith despised weakness and failure. Whenever apprentices lost in the dueling ring, they were left alone with the shame of their defeat until strong enough to resume their studies. It happened to everyone sooner or later … except it had never before happened to Sirak.
He had been invincible, untouchable—the top apprentice in every discipline. He’d heard the rumors and the whispers. They called him the Sith’ari, the perfect being. Only they wouldn’t be calling him the Sith’ari now. Not after what Bane had done to him.
He turned to the door and found Githany standing there, watching him.
“What do you want?” he asked warily.
He knew who she was, though he’d never actually spoken to her. On