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flames rolled out farther as Kylar approached. Kylar brought the ka’kari to his eyes and saw Ceur’caelestos in the hues of
     magic.
    That was when he knew the sword was the product of another age. The magics themselves had been crafted to be beautiful—and
     Kylar couldn’t understand the least of them. He sensed playfulness, grandeur, hauteur, and love. Kylar realized he had a tendency
     for getting into things that were way over his head. Not least of which was trying to steal such a sword from Lantano Garuwashi.
    “Drop the shadows, Kylar, or I’ll help you drop them,” Feir said.
    Fifteen paces away from them, Kylar dropped the shadows. “So, mages can see me when I’m invisible. Dammit.” He’d suspected
     as much.
    Feir smiled joylessly. “Only one in ten men. Nine in ten women. I can only see you within thirty paces. Dorian could’ve seen
     you half a mile away, through trees. But I forget myself. Baronet Kylar Stern of Cenaria, also known as the Night Angel, war
     son of wetboy Durzo Blint, this is War Leader Lantano Garuwashi the Undefeated, the Chosen of Ceur’caelestos, of the Aenu
     Heights Lantanos.”
    Kylar clasped his left hand to his stump and bowed in the Ceuran style. “War Leader, the many tales of your deeds attest to
     your prowess.”
    Garuwashi rose and slid Ceur’caelestos into its sheath. He bowed and his mouth twitched. “Night Angel, likewise the few tales
     of yours.”
    The horizon was brightening, but it was still dark in the forest. It smelled like rain and coming winter. Kylar wondered if
     they would be the last smells he would experience. He smiled on the rising tide of despair. “We seem to have a problem,” Kylar
     said. Several, actually.
    “What’s that?” Garuwashi asked.
    I can’t fight you invisible without killing Feir first, and even if I did, neither of you merits death. “You have a sword I need,” Kylar said instead.
    “Are you out of your—” Feir asked, but cut off at Garuwashi’s raised hand.
    “Forgive me, Night Angel,” Garuwashi said, “but you’re not left-handed, and you move like the loss of your sword hand was
     recent. If you so desire death that you would challenge me, I will not deny you. But why would you?”
    Because I made a deal with the Wolf. Mere hours afterward, Kylar had found Durzo’s note that ended, “MAKE NO DEALS WITH THE WOLF.” Maybe this was why. I can’t win.
    ~Not unless I give you a hand,~ the ka’kari said in Kylar’s mind. The black metal ball that lived within Kylar spoke rarely, and it wasn’t always helpful
     when it did. You’re hilarious, Kylar thought back at it.
    Garuwashi’s eyes flicked down to Kylar’s wrist. Feir was agog.
    Kylar glanced down and saw jet black metal writhing from his stump. It resolved itself slowly into a hand. He tried to make
     a fist, and it did. Are you joking?
    ~I’m not that cruel. By the way, Jorsin Alkestes didn’t like the idea of his enemies coming back to life. If that sword kills
     you, you’re really dead.~
    Funny, the Wolf failed to mention that. Kylar wiggled the black fingers. He even had some sensation in them. At the same time, the hand was too light. It was hollow,
     the skin thinner than parchment. Hey, while you’re doing miracles . . .  
    ~No.~
    You didn’t even listen!
    ~Go ahead.~ It felt like the ka’kari was rolling its eyes. How did it do that? It didn’t even have eyes.
    Can you fix its weight?
    ~No.~
    Why not?
    The ka’kari sighed. ~I stay one size. I’m already covering all your skin and making a hand for you. Invisibility, blue flames, and an extra hand
     not enough for you?~
    So making a dagger of you and throwing it would be a bad idea?
    The ka’kari went silent in a huff, and Kylar grinned. Then he realized he was grinning at Lantano Garuwashi, who had sixty-three
     deaths tied to his hair, and eighty-two in his eyes.
    “You need a minute?” Garuwashi asked, lifting an eyebrow.
    “Uh, I’m ready now,” Kylar said. He drew