Kylar felt an odd excitement. He did feel ready to ride. The overflow of energy from his invocation of immortality hadn’t worn off yet. “I’m not dreaming this, am I?” he asked.

Dehvi lifted an eyebrow. “There’s one way to find out for sure,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Go piss in the woods. If you feel wet and warm afterward, wake up.”

Laughing, Kylar went and relieved himself. When he came back, Dehvi was seated cross-legged and had laid out a huge, albeit cold, breakfast.

Kylar tore into the food with gusto that surprised himself, though apparently not Dehvi. The scene still had an air of unreality, though, and Kylar kept glancing at him. Finally, the Ymmuri said, “If you’re looking for Durzo’s mannerisms, you’re going to see fewer and fewer of them. I don’t chew garlic anymore, for one. And I’m getting rid of the rest as fast as I can. A new face isn’t much good if you still do everything else the same. I have done this a few times. So if you need me to prove who I am, let’s get it over with.”

“There is one thing Durzo told me that he never told anyone else. You’ve had all these names, and you always picked something with meaning: Ferric Fireheart, Gaelan Starfire, Hrothan Steelbender. Even the other wetboys had names that meant something: Hu Gibbet, Scarred Wrable. Why Durzo Blint? Is that another Old Jaeran pun?”

Dehvi laughed. “Trick question. I never told you why I chose it. But to answer, it was supposed to be Durzo Flint. I was drunk. Someone repeated it Blint, and I didn’t care enough to correct them. Next?”

“Flint makes a lot more sense, you old bastard.”

“Only by nature, not by birth. Anything else?”

Kylar got grim. “What does immortality cost?”

“Right to the gut, huh?” Durzo said. He cleared his throat and looked away. “Every new life costs the life of someone you love.”

There it was, as simple as anything. If Durzo had told him that before the coup, everything would be different. Of course, Durzo had tried to tell him, in the letter.

“Is there any way to stop it?” Kylar asked.

“You mean stop your immortality or stop it from killing someone else?”

“Either. Both.”

“The Wolf never told me the limits—maybe he didn’t know himself. I avoided anything that would fully destroy my body like burning or being drawn and quartered.”

“And Curoch?”

Durzo shot Kylar a sharp look. “A fatal blow from Curoch would blow apart the immortality magic. Jorsin feared the Devourer. He made sure there was at least one way to kill an immortal.”

Kylar had a sudden feeling of dislocation. He was talking with someone who had known Jorsin Alkestes. Jorsin Alkestes! And Jorsin had feared the magic Kylar possessed. “What about stopping it from costing someone else’s life?” Kylar asked.