I set down Tamin’s shoulders, motioned for Kalazan to lower the man’s feet. Tamin had quieted some, a product of whatever ministering Brother Qown had provided, but his color remained ghastly. He might live but never be whole or right again.

“What are you about?” I asked Dorna. Calm, I reminded myself. I must stay calm.

“Oh, Dango said we should start a pyre. You know, because—” Dorna made a significant gesture.

“This isn’t the time for funerary rights,” Brother Qown said.

I sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose or punch someone, anyone, in the face. “We don’t burn our dead in Jorat for religious reasons, Brother Qown. We do it to make sure demons have nothing to possess. You saw what happened to Dedreugh. That potential exists anytime a body’s left to rot.”

Brother Qown blinked at me. “What?”

I frowned. “Your order are experts on fighting demons. How has Father Zajhera never told you this?”

Brother Qown stared at me. “What?”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He sputtered. “I saw Dedreugh was possessed, but I assumed black magic summoned the demon…” His voice trailed off as he turned to Ninavis. “Is she serious?”

Ninavis understood our customs. “As metal. Demons have to take possession of a living person to summon more of their kind, but they can possess the dead too. Make ’em walk. Make ’em kill. That’s not how it works where you’re from?”

He started mumbling something under his breath.

My attention focused back on Dango and Dorna. “This leaves me with two questions. First, since the witch-smoke smothers fire, how did you intend to light the wood? Second, are you really planning to burn those bodies using ritually enchanted burning stakes, designed to send souls straight to waiting demons?”

“Oh, dear,” Dorna said.

Dango’s eyes widened with horror. “But…?”

I pointed to the stakes. “You can’t use this wood. You can’t use this wood, and you can’t burn the dead here. You’ll be doing the witch’s work for her.”

Tanner threw down the flint and steel he’d been trying to use to light kindling. “Damn it all, we have to burn the bodies!”

“No,” I corrected. “We want to burn the bodies. But as it happens, we can’t. So stop wasting my time.”

He straightened, glaring at me. “If we don’t burn these, the dead won’t stay dead for long.”

“If we don’t leave here soon, we won’t stay living for long. We don’t know when the smoke will dissipate. Maybe it will still be here when the demons start playing dress-up using our slain. We cannot wait. Do you understand? We cannot stop this.”

“Is that the baron?” A voice I didn’t recognize asked the question. I groaned inside. People might well be eager to blame him for the day’s events.