“She invented the process, figured out how to turn a wizard into a god. She was the very first god-king. God-queen, I suppose. The Eight Immortals are much older and didn’t come into existence the same way. Even if no one worshipped Argas, as one of the Eight, he’d still exist—because the concept he represents still exists. Same with Thaena and death or Galava and life. The Eight are tied to concepts that give them power. The god-kings, though, require active worship, they require tenyé sacrifices to maintain their power. Without the ritual Suless created, we would have no god-kings, just powerful wizards. She found a way to be more. Then she taught her husband, Cherthog, and her daughter, Caless. Caless taught her lover, Qhuaras—who went on to found what would later become Quur…” Thurvishar spread his hands. “The rest is history. Maybe someone else would have figured it out, if Suless the witch-queen hadn’t done it first, but she did do it first. Think of all the monster races in the world who wouldn’t exist if not for Suless. The snake-king Ynis wouldn’t have created the thriss. Jorat’s Khorsal would never have made centaurs or firebloods. The Daughters of Laaka wouldn’t exist. It’s a long list. So … did Suless ‘deserve’ to be slain when Quur conquered Yor? Interesting question.”

“Even if she did, a lot of Yorans didn’t.”

“Yes, true.” Thurvishar tapped his hands against the table, unhappy and bitter. “There’s one spell in there in particular … Invented by Henakai Shan about two hundred and fifty years ago, it transforms common rock, igneous or otherwise, into razarras ore, which is … deadly. Not even House D’Talus’s Red Men know how to work razarras safely anymore. And it kills every living thing around it. Whole caverns in this dominion can’t be used because the ore poisons anyone who comes close. It’s not a fast death either. No. When our wizards realized Yorans grew their food in those caves, they cast the curse to break the siege. The poison ruins everything it touches. And it doesn’t go away.”

Brother Qown felt sick. “Why would—”

He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t have to. He knew very well why. They did it because they could, because it had seemed like an easy, clever answer to their problems.

He was growing to loathe easy, clever answers to problems.

Brother Qown opened a book. The very first chapter was titled “Suppressing Large Population Centers Using Self-Distributing Lysian Gas.” The very first paragraph included a warning about experimenting in areas without adequate ventilation systems. And the very first sentence noted that the summoned magical gas manifested as a pleasant shade of blue.

Brother Qown closed the book, fighting back nausea.

“I told you it would be hard reading,” Thurvishar warned.