"Froooooooooom the planet," Gideon repeats. Necromancy comes 'from the planet' if you mean 'dead/dying things up to and including the planet.' They don't speak Gideon thinks. Resurrection beasts (number seven anyway) aren't chatty. Not all spirits are either, but even her mom yelled 'Gideon!' repeatedly. For the Ninth. She had said a lot more to God and the lyctors. Take that, Ninth. You weren't worth talking to.

Harrow is, also, still human. Calling a necromancer not human is more Blood of Eden sounding-y. Harrow's humanity or lack thereof don't have much to do with magic. "Give you puzzling," Gideon grants. "Course I was only on two planets before I died. No Cohort. No frontline planets. No passing Dominicus and collecting two hundred dollars." She shrugs. The First House had managed to have fewer people than the Ninth. This place, she grants, at least has people and they're under the age of eighty and rattling in their bones.