The blue energy was slick with malice. Brother Qown forced his conscious will against it and found it responded like a living being. It twisted away from him, slid away from his grasp.

Smoke, Brother Qown thought. You’re nothing but smoke.

Sweat ran paths through the dust and ash on his forehead, but he refused to relent, refused to stop. His win happened so suddenly he reeled as if the ground shifted under his feet.

Tamin’s coughing changed from the timbre of a man choking on a bone to a man choking up phlegm after a long illness. Then he rolled to one side and vomited. Smoke escaped from his nose, from his mouth.

Normal smoke.

The baron fell back, gasping. He closed his eyes and drew in deep, shuddering breaths. His face took on a more regular color too.

Dorna slapped Brother Qown on the shoulder. “Nicely done, foal.”

Brother Qown rocked back on his heels and looked up toward Dorna. “How long have you known about me?”

The old woman shrugged and looked at her fingernails. “You think I wouldn’t notice when a guard who’s had his skull bashed in don’t die? I’m old; I ain’t blind.” She lifted a metal hoof-pick from a workbench, examined the tip, and then casually put it in a pocket. “Nobody’s explained what being Blood of Joras means to you, have they?”

“I need—” Tamin’s rough voice only faintly resembled speech.

“What you need is a good swift kick to your ass,” Dorna said. She reached down and grabbed the noble by his collar, dragging him behind her. Normally, this would have been a pointless exercise, but Tamin’s strength was gone. He shuffled after her, almost on his knees but managing at last to stand. He shouted out something incoherent at the end as he tumbled out onto the street.

Brother Qown followed, not sure if he wanted to see what would happen next.

“My count!” Dorna shouted.

Janel looked over. As soon as she saw Tamin, she broke away from the townsfolk and joined Dorna and Brother Qown.

“You cured him.”

Brother Qown couldn’t tell if the news made her happy. Perhaps she didn’t know herself.

“He ain’t gonna die from the smoke, anyway. Plenty still wrong with him.”

“Janel—” Tamin gasped.

The count’s jaw tightened. She stared at Tamin with flared nostrils. Slowly, she tucked her fingers into fists at her sides. “Who was the woman, Tamin? The warden’s nurse. The foreigner.”

“I didn’t—” His voice sounded granite rough. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know … what she would … what she’d do.”

“I didn’t ask you if you knew what she’d do. I asked you who she is.”

A crowd began to gather. Ninavis and Kalazan held back the others, explaining the need for patience. Janel ignored them all.