“I’m Khatijah Basima, sent by councilwoman Fatima Kosan of Nasheen.”

The woman held out her fingers, and Nyx realized she had some kind of insect affixed to the ends of her ring and index fingers. Their mouths covered the tips of her fingers completely. Stingers protruded from their ass-ends.

“I must taste you to verify,” the woman said.

Khatijah held out her hand. The woman pricked her with the insect stingers, then drew back. She pulled her hands into her robe, no, not a robe, some kind of cape or burnous, and began humming. She closed her eyes.

Above, the murder of crows over the settlement let off a cacophony of cawing that hurt Nyx’s ears.

“Good, good,” the woman said. She opened her eyes and smiled. Her teeth were rotten. Nyx didn’t see many rotten teeth in Nasheen unless somebody was using sen or had their teeth blown out in some accident. The water was treated to prevent it.

“Thank you for speaking with us,” Khatijah said.

“I am always thankful to speak with my ancestors,” the woman said.

Mad as a fucking magician, Nyx thought.

“You told us you saw Hamza Habib brought through here several months ago. Do you know where they were taking him?”

“And who was taking him?” Nyx asked.

“They are going beyond the Wall,” the woman said, and pointed her clawed hand north.

“How far is that?” Nyx said.

Khatijah glared at her. “I’ve got it, Nyx. Thanks,”

“A few more days,” the woman said.

“But where over the wall?” Khatijah asked.

“Bomani,” the woman said.

“What is that, exactly?” Nyx said.

“One of the old purifiers. They are going to remake him.”

“Into… what?” Nyx said.

Khatijah held up a hand to Nyx. “Can you give me a moment, please?”

“Can you hurry the fuck up, then?”

Khatijah said, “Who is going to remake him? And why? Is it the Chenjans? Bel dames like me?”

“Oh, it’s much worse than that,” the woman said.

“Who, then?”

“The First ones have taken him. They have a mind to retake Nasheen.”

“Wait,” Nyx said. “Retake Nasheen? Nasheen is already taken. They already run Nasheen.”

“Not your first ones,” the woman said. “Go beyond the Wall. To Bomani. You will find them. I spoke to them before they left. They drained our cairns dry, and remade many people before we stopped them.”

“Remaking into what?” Nyx asked.

The woman cocked her head at her. “Back to the beginning. Into the stuff that makes the world. The shape shifters know of it. It is the place we go, the place we put our bodies when we are in form. They wish to put us all back there. Start over. Jealous gods.”

“This make any sense to you?” Nyx asked Khatijah.

She shook her head.

The woman bowed her head. “Is there any other way I can assist?”