Kihrin shrugged. “Oh no. I’m with you.”

“I’ve been leaving messages,” Qown said. “Nothing yet. Oh, thank you, Ninavis.” He reached for the coffee.

“Wait, you can communicate with Thurvishar? How?” Kihrin looked past Star and Dorna to address him.

Brother Qown bit his lip. “It’s—”

“Do not say it’s complicated,” Kihrin said.

Brother Qown swallowed. “My Cornerstone, Worldhearth, allows me to see through heat sources at a great distance. That’s one way we know Morios hasn’t started attacking Atrine yet—I’ve been checking through a lantern in the city. I can also, uh … I can also cast spells through to any location I see, which is how I leave messages.”

Kihrin whistled. Any Royal House in the Capital would give a dozen favorite sons and daughters to have that ability. Hell, Teraeth would be a very happy little assassin to have that ability too. Kihrin almost felt jealous—the Stone of Shackles had been an artifact you hoped to never use. Brother Qown’s Cornerstone seemed a lot more helpful on a day-to-day level.

“Have you checked on Atrine recently?” Janel asked.

The priest nodded. “Just before dinner. Still nothing.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way. The three of us were just—” Janel looked around the bar. “We were in the middle of something earlier. Dorna, Ninavis—” She looked at Star. “Uh—”

“Star,” he replied.

“Right. I know I’m being rude, but could you let us have a bit of space—”

“Oh no you don’t,” Dorna said. “I haven’t seen either you or Qown here since the Great Tournament, and you know how that went. It’s been years. We’ve got some catching up to do. I’m staying right here.” She crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis.

“Same,” Ninavis said.

Kihrin chuckled. “I guess that makes it your turn to narrate, Janel.”

Janel’s Turn. The Afterlife.

There’s a part of this story that none of you—not even Brother Qown—have heard before.

Let me tell what happened after we left Mereina and our shelter.

The storms passed. Mare Dorna, Brother Qown, and I were now joined by Sir Baramon (who had insisted a journey would be good for his constitution). We’d started out for the capital of Jorat, Atrine. I’d insisted. I knew the army marched to Mereina, but I felt obligated to report on the disaster to Duke Xun. Ninavis and the townsfolk had agreed to go back and keep watch over Mereina—and see if the witch-smoke had dissipated.