“I’ve heard of it,” Eshe said. “Ras Tieg’s living saints use them.”

Nyx wondered just how much Eshe didn’t know about his little Ras Tiegan friend. But she had weighed her options, and made up her mind. “Do what you need to do, then. I’m running a sweep with Kage. Eshe, you too. Let them do what they can.”

Eshe yanked his knife back out and went after Kage to make sure there were no more beasts prowling in the dark.

Nyx watched as Ahmed called a swarm of flesh beetles. Khatijah’s body spasmed. Nyx had to turn away then. She considered saying something grimly optimistic, but then her gaze fell on Isabet’s ravaged arm, and she decided against it.

“When you’re done, see what you can do for that stupid white girl,” Nyx said. “I don’t mind if she loses the arm. If she’s got experience running around with minor Ras Tiegan gods, she might prove useful later.”

When the blue dawn came, Eshe was positioned on a squat pillar overlooking the camp, watching Isabet get her arm hacked off. Ahmed had the sense to drug her first, which Eshe appreciated, because he didn’t want to hold her down. She was screaming when they put her down, though. She knew what was coming. He tried not to care.

He didn’t do a good job of it.

Eshe got up when they were through and squatted beside her. She was laid out on a burnous, her left arm taken off at the elbow. A swarm of flesh beetles busied themselves beneath the bandages on her stump. He wanted to tell Isabet to turn back now, and keep walking, alone. But now that Nyx saw something useful in her, changing his mind about Isabet would be a harder sell without telling Nyx a lot more about his business in Ras Tieg than he wanted.

Eskander and Ahmed argued a few paces away over Khatijah’s body. She had a pulse now, but not much else. Eshe half hoped she wouldn’t wake up either. Some part of him expected it would just be him and Nyx at the end.

It was about to get hot. He could already feel his flesh warming, recovering from the deep evening chill

“Are you angry with me?” Isabet said.

He glanced down at her. Her eyes were gummy with sand and mucus. Her hair was tangled. He looked away and stared off into the distance, watching the second sun break over the horizon, turn the world bloody violet.

“You worked for Genevieve Leichner, didn’t you? The living saint in Inoublie,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but… yes.”

“You were one of the virgins tasked with keeping her alive. She lives on your blood, right?”

“She does live on blood, and… replacement organs. But I wasn’t exactly one of her servants.”