One of them threw something like a spear of coruscating red and silver light. It flew straight at Kylar’s chest—then dissolved in midair.

Around the room, Sisters began kneeling, mouths dropping open once more. Kylar turned to see who had saved him. The Seraph walked into the room, glowing gold. “I’m sorry if my friend frightened you,” the Seraph said. “Forgive him. We needed to speak about a threat that faces us all. If he fails, all our fighting will be for naught.” The awed Sisters parted. With one last glance at Vi, Kylar left.

78

I won’t watch you kill yourself,” Durzo said. For the last three days, Kylar and Durzo had been traveling west. Durzo was traveling to Cenaria, to see Momma K at last, so he’d joined Kylar. The pass had been muddy and snowy, so they were setting up camp only a few hours from Torras Bend and a few hundred paces from Ezra’s Wood.

Kylar spread his heavy saddle blanket on a fallen log next to the fire and sat. “I don’t plan to die,” he said.

“Oh, so there is a plan? I thought you were making it up as you went. It’s getting dark. Our little stalker will be along within the hour.” They’d been followed, clumsily, since they left the Chantry. Today they’d ridden hard, trying to make it to Torras Bend, and their pursuer hadn’t been able to keep up.

“I don’t think Khali exists,” Kylar said.

“I didn’t realize you were in the habit of having religious epiphanies.”

“I mean, it exists, but I don’t think she’s a goddess.”

“Oh?” Durzo asked.

“She—it—is a repository of magic. The Wolf said magic is strongest when it’s attached to emotions. Khali is filled by the Khalidorans’ worship. As they hurt people for her, they chant a prayer. But it’s not a prayer. It’s a spell. It empties their glore vyrden into the repository. And it’s from that repository that the meisters and Vürdmeisters and Godkings draw their power. Because the talents for drawing in magic from the world and using magic are different, that means they can often use far more magic than mages. It means they can use it at night. Don’t you see? The entire nation chants this spell twice a day. The repository is the key to Khalidor’s power.”

“And this has something to do with why you’re committing suicide?”

“Curoch is anathema to that power. I saw that when I killed a meister with it. Curoch makes the vir explode. It bursts it from within.”

“A few months ago, you assassinated a man who called himself a god; now you’re going after a goddess in truth. Unless you can figure out a way to kill continents, after this you’re going to have to retire.”

“You know it’s not like that,” Kylar said, flushing.

“So you’re hoping to find Khali and put Curoch in her and what? Just see what happens?”

Kylar scowled. “You make it sound stupid.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s a way to win, really win, once and for all. Come on, how many times have you fought Khalidorans?”

“More than I like to remember,” Durzo admitted.

“Look, I lost Iures. That’s a disaster. I know it. It’s also a disaster you helped cause when you never told me what the damn thing was. With Iures in Neph’s hands, we’re going to have a hard time killing him.”

“We?”

“But if we destroy the vir, Neph won’t even be able to use Iures. If he survives the vir’s destruction, even if he has Talent, it will take him a while to think to use it. He’ll be vulnerable. Master, he’s been spending the last three months figuring out how to break into Ezra’s Wood and take Curoch for himself. If one man holds both Curoch and Iures . . .”

“It wouldn’t be good.”

“It would be a cataclysm!” Kylar said.

“You realize that if you put Curoch into the center of all the vir in the world, it might make a qualitative rather than a quantitative difference?”

“Huh?”

Durzo shot him an exasperated look. “Curoch blew the vir out of one wytch and nothing happened. If it blows up all the vir in the world, something might.”

“If it blew up every wytch in the world, I wouldn’t complain,” Kylar said.

“And if it blows you up with them?”

“At that point, I won’t be able to.”

“It might not obliterate you. It might just kill you and invoke your immortality. You know what that costs now. Are you willing to risk a friend’s life for this? Hell, it might be my life. I don’t know if I’m willing for you to risk it.”

“We were given this power for a reason, master. I don’t want to lose anyone. I don’t want to die, but if my death can change a nation, if I can save thousands, how could I not risk it?”

Durzo grinned ruefully. “You damn fool. You realize, even if all your assumptions are correct—even then, you still have to steal the world’s most coveted sword from the world’s safest place then be pursued by the ultimate hunter until you reach the heart of an enemy country in the middle of a war in which any side will happily kill you as a traitor, a spy, a wytch, or all three?”

“I thought you’d like it,” Kylar said, eyes sparkling.

Durzo laughed. “The Wolf is gonna have puppies.”

“Well, I’m hoping not to see him any time soon. But I figured if I could convince you, then there wouldn’t be much he could do about it.”

“Convince me of what?” Durzo asked.

“To help,” Kylar said.

“Oh no,” Durzo said. “Count me out.”

“You can’t!”

“I can. Kid, you took away my immortality. That gave me back my life. I—”

“You owe me!” Kylar said.

“Not like this, I don’t. I have one life left. One. Because of you, I can do with it whatever I want. I can love.”

And Kylar couldn’t. “But we can change the world!”

“Kid, do you know how many times I’ve changed the world? The Tlaxini Maelstrom used to be a shipping lane. The Alitaeran Empire stretched from coast to coast. Godkings have threatened the southlands and nearly gained ka’kari half a dozen times. Ladesh used to—look. The fact is, I’ve done my piece. Adventures are for the young, and I’m young by no measure. There’s a woman I love in Cenaria, and neither of us is getting younger. I need to go.”

“I need you,” Kylar said. “Alone, trying to steal the world’s most coveted sword from the world’s safest place and being pursued by the perfect hunter into a war—”

“Yes, yes,” Durzo said. “I’ve showed you most of my tricks—”

“Most of them?”

“—and you’ve developed a few of your own. You’re not an apprentice anymore, Kylar—”

“Fine, but I’m hardly—”

“—you are a master. Your tutelage is finished.”

“Don’t cut me loose,” Kylar said. His heart was in his throat.

“I’m cutting you free,” Durzo said.

“But you’re still better than me!”

“And I always will be,” Durzo said. He grinned, and despite himself, Kylar couldn’t help thinking that it was nice to see this once hard and bitter man smile. “In your memories. I’m smart enough to stop fighting you before you start winning. I reached the top of my game, and I had a good run. From here, I’ll only get worse.”