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.