He listens intently to this explanation. 

"A magical signature is a unique synaesthetic pattern of magic connected with a particular person; everyone has one, at least in theory. You're a necromancer because you work with these imprints?" 

"Yes. That sounds like the energy source I use, I'd check but the middle of a war zone seems like a bad place to mediate."

"Eh, we're in camp, it'd be fine," Harding says dismissively. "More importantly..." He turns serious again. "Have you ever, or could you, raise the dead?" 

"I cannot return the dead back to life, no." I'm working on it, though, she doesn't say.

"What the necromancers here do is...more of a mockery of life. They animate a corpse with their magic and make it walk about to carry out their orders, with nothing remaining of the original personality or will."

"I can't make zombies either." It's not like she can attempt a reanimation without Mariam even if she wanted to.

He nods. "Then I'd say you aren't a necromancer as we define the term." Both men relax slightly. 

"...where were we?" 

"Getting me home."

"Right, yes. Augurs, war effort, otherworldly magic. So, if you can't raise undead, what can you do?"