feet and said, ‘If I have not my name, what am I?’ Names, you see, are important and I will have no rival for mine.”
Vaelin’s mind immediately returned to the dead priest’s jagged rib. Kehlbrand bore no weapon that he could see, save the torch, but his confidence told of a far from defenceless man. A fair fight is often the one you lose, Master Sollis had told him once, and the years since had proven him right time and again.
“That would be foolish,” Kehlbrand said. “Bones grow soft as they age.”
Vaelin looked again at the stone, a germ of understanding building in his mind.
“There is love between you and the healer,” Kehlbrand went on. “An old love, born in youth, but now stained by bitterness and regret. The wounds left by betrayal never truly heal.” He frowned in calculation. “You were content to leave her with Obvar because she has the means to defend herself. A drug of some kind?”
“You have touched this,” Vaelin realised, eyes still on the stone. “It gave you a blood-song.”
“Blood-song? A good name. I just call it the Gift of the Unseen.” Kehlbrand’s eyes narrowed further in understanding. “You had this once, didn’t you? It sings to me a tune of envy, of grief at something lost. How did you lose it?”
“It was taken from me.”
“And yet”—Kehlbrand’s hand hovered over the stone, trembling slightly—“you once had the means to restore it, and you didn’t. Why?”
“I have seen enough to know that whatever these stones are, their power is fickle, the effect of their gifts unpredictable, dangerous. Once they brought down a realm that spanned half the world in peaceful concord, fallen to war and slaughter because one man grew greedy for the gifts the stone would give. Perhaps it would have restored my song. Or perhaps it would have given me the power to heal, or to kill with a touch, or to know every thought in every head. I wouldn’t risk it just for the chance I might regain my song.”
“What if I were to promise you it would?”
Vaelin’s gaze snapped up, finding Kehlbrand regarding him with an expression of honest sincerity. “This is no trick,” he said. “Touch the stone and regain your blood-song. Then”—he raised his arms to his sides, open in invitation—“you and I will fight for the name we both bear.”
“No trick?” Vaelin gave a humourless smile. “You think I don’t know what waits on the other side of this thing? After doing murder under my roof, its servant told me a great deal. Something vast and hungry, and you’re intent on helping it eat the world.”
“It will save the world, rescue it from greed and disunity, through me. I will give the world a god. A real, living god. One they can see and hear. A god that will make them tremble in fear and weep in gratitude. To do that, all other gods must die and all other faiths must perish. But first, I need more to my legend. For a god’s legend to endure he needs an adversary, a terrible villain to overcome. Did you think that vile ghost of your dead friend journeyed all that way to kill a pair of functionaries to the Merchant King just to redeem himself with a final service to you? He called you here on my instruction, tempted you with the healer’s peril should she fall into our hands. You are here to play a role, Thief of Names. Your dread Fire Queen has sent her greatest assassin to murder me, for she sees that only I can stand against her tide of conquest. It’s a fine tale. Touch the stone and you’ll have a chance to write your own.”
Vaelin looked at the gleaming veins tracing through the fabric of the stone, feeling a growing certainty that somehow this one was different. A conduit to something far greater in power and malice than the gifts offered by its plainer cousin. Even so, he was appalled to find the urge to touch it was strong. So many years without it, he thought. You would think the ache would have faded by now. But it was an ache he knew he had to endure, for every instinct warned him that this man, this would-be god, was lying.
“No,” he said, looking again at Kehlbrand. “I don’t need a song to fight you.”
“True,” Kehlbrand said. The humour returned to his face and he lowered his arms. “But you would need one to win.