Inaya had expected Isabet and Eshe, looking like children caught dressing up in their parents’ clothes. She intended to pat Eshe on the shoulder and scold Isabet lightly, and then put them to work helping her pack. She believed God had answered all the prayers she sent to him through Mhari during her long confinement.

The last thing she expected to see was Nyxnissa so Dasheem standing next to Isabet Softel.

Inaya was speechless.

Isabet was filthy. Inaya realized, with a start, that the girl’s left arm had been severed at the elbow. Her hair was a matted tangle, pulled back from a scarred, reddened face that was barely recognizable. And Nyx—Nyx was unmistakable, though the years had been especially unkind to her, and the last several—weeks? Months?—even less so. She saw fresh wounds, scars, bruises on her hands and face. She, too, was filthy. Inaya could smell them even from three paces away. And they were not alone. Behind them were a Chenjan man and a Nasheenian man, as well as a strikingly lovely woman who stood out all the more because she appeared to be the cleanest of them.

It took a full breath before she realized the Chenjan man was Rhys. That, too, was shocking. Her mind began to work, preparing her for the worst. Nyx only showed up when things were very, very bad. Inaya worried because she could not conceive of anything worse than her current situation. It spoke of a lack of imagination on her part, and right now, that could prove dangerous.

Inaya went forward. She took Isabet by her good arm and asked, “What has she done to you?”

“Eshe is dead,” Isabet said, and her eyes filled.

“I’m sorry,” Inaya said. She swallowed a spasm of grief. But what did she expect? Nyx had gotten involved. The fact that Isabet and Rhys and these others still lived was miracle enough.

Inaya pulled her away from the others. “Go with Adeliz and get cleaned up. Let me speak with Nyx.”

Isabet slipped past her. Adeliz took her hand and led her back into the maze of rooms beneath them.

“You look good,” Nyx said, in Nasheenian.

“How is it you took up with her again?” Inaya asked Rhys.

“I haven’t,” he said. “It’s all very complicated.”

“I can imagine,” Inaya said. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I believe you owe me a favor,” Nyx said.

“A… what?”

Nyx folded her arms. “I have it on good authority that girl’s not just some minor operative.”

“And who told you that?”

Nyx looked back at the Nasheenian man behind her. “Let’s just say I know a guy who’s good at eavesdropping.”

Inaya glanced behind her, to ensure no one was in the hall. Few of her people spoke Nasheenian, but she had not come this far for lack of caution.

“She’s an oracle,” Inaya said.

“An oracle?”