She raised an eyebrow. “How would you know?”

“I didn’t think Thurvishar had advanced so far in your lessons, that’s all.” He cleared his throat, feeling embarrassed.

She looked vaguely uncomfortable for a second, before changing the subject. “You’re saying if I go down to the affected caverns, clad in dense metal armor, I should be able to gain enough time to transmute the rocks there? And you’ll fix any tissue damage that sneaks through?”

“Janel, you can’t do this.”

“Is that so? And why are you telling me about this, then—so I won’t try?”

“Maybe you could learn, eventually—” Qown swallowed. “I’m not exaggerating the danger. This metal kills. People poisoned by it die in great pain. If there was ever a way to handle it safely, no one knows what it is.”

“Wyrga—?”

He shook his head. “Don’t you think Kaen would have just ordered her to clean up the mess, if she knew how?”

She scowled. “You have a point. He’d have asked her. For that matter, he’d have asked Relos Var.”

“Right. Which means fixing this isn’t something either specializes in.”

“Or just didn’t want to deal with, in Relos Var’s case. Keeping Kaen hungry and vengeful, and reminding the Yoran people why they hate Quur, seems to be in line with Relos Var’s goals. If he just fixed the problem, the Yorans might lose their knife-edge focus.”

That made Qown pause. He knew Kaen’s allies weren’t always trustworthy—he often wondered why Kaen allied with the D’Lorus and D’Mon families. But Qown hadn’t given much thought to the idea Relos Var and Kaen might be considered separate entities, with different goals.

“Janel,” Qown said, “I have always thought you were a magical prodigy, but what you’re suggesting is something people study for years to learn.”

“Ah, but I’m cheating.” Her expression turned bitter.

“You are?” He waited for an explanation.

She stood, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll have to take my word for it. Are there any books I should be looking at? Practices that might help put me into the right mental state?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’ve collected all the notes I could find on the subject.” He handed her the journal dedicated to this one project.

“Thank you,” she said, and started to leave.

“Janel—”

She paused at the doorway. “Yes?”

“We should talk about what’s happening in Jorat.”

Her smile turned … feral. It gave Brother Qown a creepy feeling. Where had he seen that smile? Not on Janel’s face.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. Now you say that I can use dense metal to protect myself from this poison ore. I assume you’re not talking about a shield…”

Qown shook his head. “It would need to be encompassing. A suit of armor, perhaps. Something custom built … and expensive.”