The Toblakai warrior was even less interested in creating a list of names, since names invited vows, and he had had enough of vows. No, he would kill as the mood took him.

He looked forward to his homecoming.

Provided he arrived in time.

Descending the slopes leading down into the Holy Desert, he was relieved to see, far to the north and east, the red crest of fury that was the Whirlwind Wall. Only days away, now.

He smiled at that distant anger, for he understood it. Constrained – chained – for so long, the goddess would soon unleash her wrath. He sensed her hunger, as palpable as that of the twin souls within his sword. The blood of deer was too thin.

He reined in Havok at an old camp near the edge of a salt flat. The slopes behind him would provide the last forage and water for the horse until just this side of the Whirlwind Wall, so he would spend time here bundling grasses for the journey, as well as refilling the waterskins from the spring ten paces from the camp.

He built a fire using the last of the bhederin dung from the Jhag Odhan – something he did only rarely – and, following a meal, opened the pack containing the ruined T’lan Imass and dragged the remnants out for the first time.

‘You are impatient to get rid of me?’ ‘Siballe asked in a dry, rasping voice.

He grunted, staring down at the creature. ‘We’ve travelled far, Unfound. It has been a long time since I last looked upon you.’

‘Then why do you choose to look upon me now, Karsa Orlong?’

‘I do not know. I regret it already.’

‘I have seen the sun’s light through the weave of the fabric. Preferable to darkness.’

‘Why should what you prefer interest me?’

‘Because, Karsa Orlong, we are within the same House. The House of Chains. Our master—’

‘I have no master,’ the Teblor growled.

‘As he would have it,’ ‘Siballe replied. ‘The Crippled God does not expect you to kneel. He issues no commands to his Mortal Sword, his Knight of Chains – for that is what you are, the role for which you have been shaped from the very beginning.’

‘I am not in this House of Chains, T’lan Imass. Nor will I accept another false god.’

‘He is not false, Karsa Orlong.’

‘As false as you,’ the warrior said, baring his teeth. ‘Let him rise before me and my sword will speak for me. You say I have been shaped. Then there is much to which he must give answer.’

‘The gods chained him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They chained him, Karsa Orlong, to dead ground. He is broken. In eternal pain. He has been twisted by captivity and now knows only suffering.’

‘Then I shall break his chains—’

‘I am pleased—’

‘And then kill him.’