"We don't need rock spirits," she said, looking up at the Dragon. "We have a furnace."
Zarek looked down at her. He understood immediately. A slow, smoldering smile spread across his face.
"You want me to melt it," Zarek stated.
"I want you to liquefy it," Roxy corrected. "We need to build a mold. A cast. We pour the liquid gold into sheets, and then we punch out the coins. Or we cast them individually."
She turned to Syris.
"Syris, you know how to mix stuff. Pure gold is too soft. We need to mix it with a little bit of copper or silver to make it durable. Can you figure out the ratio?"
Syris nodded, his weakness forgotten in the face of an intellectual challenge. "An alloy. Yes. I can calculate the precise mixture to ensure hardness without losing the luster."
She turned to Kaelen.
"Kaelen, you have the strongest grip and the steadiest hand with a hammer. You are the Press. Once the coins are cool but still soft, you strike the stamp into them."
She turned to Torian.
