Inaya gritted her teeth. She plunged the shard into Mettie’s chest and sawed her open from neck to navel. There wasn’t much blood there, though. She had to heave the body over onto its side, to get at her back where the blood had pooled. The blood was partially congealed already, like gelatin. Inaya coated her legs and arms in the stuff, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. If she could shift, she could repair herself on the other side of that filter. But the saffron had not worn off yet. If she arrived on the other side incapacitated, she’d be no better off than she was in here.

The more she thought about what she needed to do, the less likely she was going to be free. For the first time in many, many years, she asked herself what Nyxnissa so Dasheem would do.

She disrobed. The blood was already cool. She covered her shoes and habit in blood as well, then put her soiled clothing back on. Shivering now, she finished gutting Mettie’s body. A heap of entrails lay beside her. She stopped twice to vomit. Then she dragged the body to the edge of the filter.

Inaya knew she was going to have to push through very quickly. The soles of her shoes were slick against the bloody cell floor. She had hollowed out Mettie’s body as best she could with her crude tools, but she knew it wasn’t going to be enough unless she could push the body out ahead of her very quickly.

The filter popped and crackled. The sounds of her fellow prisoners had grown fainter. But it was the promise of water that decided her.

Inaya took a few gulps of air, then pushed her head and shoulders as deep into Mettie’s body as she could.

She grabbed the corpse at the rope belt that tied the habit, and heaved herself and the body forward.

They rolled through the filter together.

Inaya’s skin burned. It was instantaneous.

She yanked herself free of the corpse and threw herself clear.

The body’s skin was scorched. She smelled burnt flesh. Gray ash covered her own skin. Her habit from the chest down had disintegrated. She slapped at her bare skin, wiping away the ash to reveal rosy skin beneath, as if she’d spent far too long in the sun. But it was not a burn. The blood, her habit, her shoes, and the top layer of her skin had been completely eaten. She put a hand to her face. Blood and offal still covered her face and hair and shoulders.

Inaya stared at the filter. The corpse’s feet had not made it clear—from the shin down, it was still caught in the cell.