When Nyx crawled down into the abyss with Ahmed to see what Eshe was nattering about, she counted four bodies, all of them young Ras Tiegan women dressed in red Khairian burnouses.

“Why didn’t the bugs eat them?” Nyx asked.

Ahmed shrugged. “The smell alone should have drawn them. Maybe the floor eats the bugs?”

The air down here still reeked of dead flesh, rot, though these bodies were mostly desiccated.

“How did they die?” Nyx asked.

“No sign of injury,” Ahmed said. “They could have just died of dehydration.”

Eshe was standing next to a slim, dark-haired body, favoring his left leg. Nyx hoped she wasn’t going to have to hack it off. She had already reached her fill of amputations.

“Who is she?” Nyx asked.

“Her name was Corinne,” Eshe said. “I knew her in Ras Tieg. She was one of the living saint’s handmaidens.”

“Living saint?” Nyx said.

“What are Ras Tiegans doing out here?” Ahmed said.

“It’s a sort of holy person,” Eshe said.

Nyx held a portable glow globe aloft, giving them a full view of the cavern. It was a spherical room lined in thorny, calcified spikes. The floor was strangely pliant, like walking across a tongue.

“Anybody else get the impression we’re in the gut of some beast?” Nyx said. The smell was stronger down here, but shouldn’t have been. The bodies were too dry for it.

Eshe gazed up at the strange ceiling, and the knotted rope. “We should go,” he said.

“You’re the one who asked me down here,” Nyx said. “Give me a minute.”

She inspected each of the bodies. They were not bound, and carried no weapons. She did find several water bulbs stacked near the feet of one of them.

“Nyx,” Eshe said, and pointed.

She turned, raised her light. There was something scoured deeply in the cavern wall. It looked like writing. “Is that in Ras Tiegan?” she said. “It say anything useful?”

When no one said anything, she glanced back. Eshe’s face was slack.

Ahmed answered. “It says, ‘we were betrayed.’”

There were ways to get under just about anybody’s skin, Ahmed knew. Eshe was an easy mark. Young, outwardly cocky, but unsure. Isabet was his female counterpart, only far less capable in a fight. It was easy enough to get an edge in under their insecurity. Khatijah had her pride. Eskander was… well, Eskander was many kinds of unstable. A poor wind would unsit her. Kage, he had already seen snap. But needling Nyx was like poking a hibernating cat. He was just never sure when she was going to turn around and claw his face off.

“And she knows nothing about this?” Nyx said again, more loudly, as if that would get her another answer.