Page 55 of The Prison Healer

“Then whatdoyou dream of, healer?”

“I have a name, you know.”

“I know.”

Kiva sighed. “I have a lot of dreams. A lot of nightmares, too. Only time will tell which path my life will take.”

There was a weighty pause before Naari said, quietly, “You are wise for your years, Kiva Meridan.”

You’re wise beyond your years, little mouse.

A lump rose in Kiva’s throat at the memory Naari’s words had brought forth, something her father said to her every time she came up with a new remedy or treatment that he hadn’t considered.Smart as a whip, our Kiva,her mother used to go on for him, telling anyone who would listen and smiling proudly at her daughter.

Tears prickled Kiva’s eyes, and she blinked them back, no longer having the cover of rain to conceal them. She looked ahead to see how far they had left to walk, relieved to find they were already passing the abandoned quarry to their right, with their destination in sight straight ahead.

Kiva had never visited the abandoned quarry. It had been depleted a few years before she’d arrived at Zalindov, the laborers relocating further north to the much larger mine where she and Naari were now headed. She’d heard rumors that while the abandoned one was smaller, the prisoners had been forced to dig so deep into the earth that numerous cave-ins had occurred, resulting in multitudes of deaths. Similar accidents happened in the newer quarry, though less frequently.

“How do you want to go about this?” Naari asked as the sounds of hammers and chisels meeting rock began to reach their ears. She indicated the bag Kiva had brought with her and added, “The quarry is huge. Do you know where you want to get your samples from?”

“We need to go where the largest concentration of workers are, places that lots of prisoners have access to or spend most of their time.”

Naari’s reply was dry. “You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, so Kiva didn’t answer, though her cheeks did warm slightly.

“This way,” Kiva said as the tracks came to an end. Rail carts were piled up, empty and waiting for the prisoners to load them and push them back to the depository once their shift was over. It was hard work, grueling on the body and mind. Quarriers, like tunnelers, rarely survived long at Zalindov.

There was only one watchtower overlooking the quarry, but there were plenty of guards on the ground making sure the prisoners were working—and providing motivation when they weren’t, their whips and canes stained with blood. The quarry overseer, Harlow, was the worst of them, and he scowled at Kiva and Naari as they approached where he waited at the base of the watchtower.

“I heard youse was comin’,” Harlow said, chewing with his mouth open and then spitting a wad of blackgum close enough to Kiva’s feet that she wondered if he’d meant it to hit her. She wouldn’t have been surprised, though it would have made her less inclined to ease his discomfort the next time he came to see her about his chronic venereal rash. Kiva couldn’t have wished such an ailment on a nicer man, and she took great delight in giving him remedies that stung and burned his nether regions, conveniently overlooking the solution that would heal him in a trice.

Perhaps heshouldhave spat on her. He certainly would have done more than that if he knew the last remedy she’d given him was to deliberately inflame his symptoms, enough that it should be some time before he had the ability to partake in the activities that had resulted in the ailment to begin with.

Served him right, the rat bastard.

“We won’t get in your way,” Naari said in a cool voice.

“Better not,” Harlow said. “And don’t youse bother my workers none, either. I ain’t payin’ ’em to slack off.” He laughed suddenly, one hand clutching his barreled stomach as he arched his back and guffawed. “Payin’ ’em? Ha! Imagine that!”

Kiva shared a look with Naari, whose expression was equally repulsed.

“We won’t stay long,” Naari said, though whether that was to Kiva or Harlow, Kiva was unsure.

“Youse can stay as long as youse want, just not down in the quarry,” Harlow said. He eyed them both and licked his lips. “Youse can come down inmyquarry anytime. In fact, why don’t we—”

“We won’t stay long,” Naari repeated firmly, her lip curling with disgust. She turned on her heel and, with a pointed look at Kiva to follow, strode purposefully away from Harlow. The last Kiva saw of the repugnant overseer as they crested the lip of the quarry was him scratching his crotch, and the image had her biting back a laugh.

“He’s a pig,” Naari said as she came to a stop to look down over the choppy, layered vista spread out into the distance.

“He’s worse than a pig,” Kiva said. Deliberating for a second, she quietly added, “But if it makes you feel any better, he’s suffering in silence as we speak.”

When Naari looked at her in question, Kiva shared about Harlow’s condition and the newest remedy she’d prescribed him. The guard laughed so hard that she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Naari said, still chuckling.

“He deserves it,” Kiva said.

“That he does,” Naari agreed. She waved at the view before them and said, “I don’t want to give him a chance to come and hassle us, so where to from here?”

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