Page 11 of The Prison Healer

“Two, yeh say?” Mot said, shuffling some parchment. “Tunnel fever still takin’ ’em?”

Kiva shook her head. “New arrivals. They didn’t survive the journey.”

Mot’s cloudy eyes shifted to Jaren. Naari had remained at the doorway, and Kiva envied her the fresh air.

“Yeh’re new today, boy?” Mot asked, his joints cracking as he stood.

Jaren looked at Kiva, as if seeking her permission to speak. Perhaps hedidunderstand the gravity of being at Zalindov. But she wasn’t the one he needed to defer to. Regardless, she gave a quick nod, and he answered Mot with a simple, “Yes, sir.”

“Ha!” Mot cried with a beaming grin, his brown teeth revealed by the luminium beacons affixed to the stone walls. “Yeh hear that, Kiva? ‘Sir.’ That’s respect.” He winked at her. “I like this one.”

“Mot—”

“Stay close to yer healer, boy.” Mot spoke over Kiva. “She’ll take good care of yeh. Mark my words.”

Kiva pressed her lips into a firm line. She wasn’tJaren’shealer. She was theprisonhealer—everyone’shealer.

“Will you collect them before you finish up tonight, Mot?” Kiva said after unclenching her jaw.

Mot waved a dismissive hand. “O’ course, o’ course. But they’ll ’ave to wait for burnin’. Grendel’s already put a load through today.”

Kiva didn’t care when the two men were cremated, as long as they weren’t decaying in her infirmary. “Fine. Tipp’s checking on my quarantined patients at the moment, but just call out to him if you need any help.”

Mot’s eyes narrowed. “Tipp?”

Belatedly, Kiva remembered why she was in the morgue, rather than her assistant. Still unsure what had happened, she hedged, “He’ll stay out of your way unless you ask.”

“D’yeh know what the brat did?”

Kiva’s eyes flicked to Naari, but the guard’s back was to them as she faced out into the grounds. There was no way to tell if she was listening or not.

“Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Gave me a heart attack, ’e did,” Mot said, scowling. “These old eyes ain’t what they used to be, yeh know. How was I s’posed to see ’?im lyin’ beneath one of the bodies?” His scowl deepened. “When I came near, ’e sat bolt upright with the corpse, wavin’ its arms and screamin’ at me. Thought the dead were comin’ back for revenge, didn’t I?”

Kiva heard Jaren cough from beside her, but she didn’t dare look his way, not when she was struggling to keep in her own laugh.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Kiva said once she was certain she could do so with solemnity. “It won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Mot said. “My ticker can’t take another fright like that.” As an afterthought, he added, “And the dead deserve our respect.”

The latter was true, and Kivawouldhave a word with Tipp. Not just for the sake of the mortician, but also for Tipp himself. If he’d been caught ... if any of the guards had witnessed his prank ... then he never would have left the morgue.

A cold feeling overtook Kiva, but she shook it off and again promised Mot that she would give the boy a stern talking-to. In return, she received Mot’s word that he would collect the deceased men immediately. Satisfied, she was quick to leave the morgue with Jaren in tow, the two of them inhaling deeply once they were outside again.

“He seems like a character,” Jaren commented.

Kiva said nothing, casting a quick look at Naari, but the guard didn’t betray whether or not she’d heard about Tipp’s misadventures. If she had, Kiva could only hope she wouldn’t care enough to report him. The Warden had overlooked some of Tipp’s foolishness in the past, but only when Kiva had something to exchange for the boy’s safety. Prison gossip was scarce of late, leaving her with no bargaining chips and an unsettled feeling in her gut.

Looking around the grounds, Kiva pushed aside her gnawing worry and considered her next move, trying to recall her own orientation. The sights, the sounds, the smells ... all of that had faded in her memory. All she could remember was what she’d felt.

Fear.

Grief.

Hopelessness.

The potent mix had clouded all else.

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