"What's better than one dead guy," says John, reasonably, as he approaches the grand and distorted shape of Big Bird, "is way too many dead guys. That is practically a Nine Houses motto."

Iskierka is a bolt of normalcy against the warped bulk of her necromancer, somehow steadying. The tidy inverse of the monster John doesn't currently have at his side. He steps closer, not quite steady on his feet, the furrow of wariness in his brow dropping to tired acceptance.

"It's your lead."