Page 13 of The Prison Healer

Again, Jaren didn’t reply.

Kiva kept walking until they were as close to the center of the grounds as she could get them.

“The infirmary, morgue, and crematorium are along the northwest wall.” She pointed back the way they’d traveled. “If we’d kept following it around, we would’ve hit the workrooms. Everything from stitch craft to administration work happens in there. If we’d gone in the opposite direction, turning right from the infirmary, we would’ve hit the kennels, the central barracks where most of the guards sleep, and the entrance block beside the front gates, where new inmates are processed.”

Jaren squinted through the twilight in that direction, his gaze slightly unfocused now as his pain took hold. “Is that where visitors come to meet us?”

The question caught Kiva unawares. “Prisoners aren’t allowed visitors.”

“What, never?” Jaren asked, turning swiftly back to her. He swayed a little on his feet, and Kiva had to resist the urge to reach out and steady him. “Does that mean ... You never said how long you’ve been here.”

She shrugged and looked away. It was answer enough.

“I’m sorry, Kiva.”

Three words, said in his low, gentle voice, and they were nearly her undoing. Three kind words from a stranger, affecting her enough to prompt the sting of tears—was that how far she’d fallen?

We are safe. Stay alive.We will come.

She couldn’t be so weak, not in front of Jaren, and certainly not in front of Naari. Her family needed her to stay strong.

Pushing through the heaviness in her chest, Kiva straightened her spine and said, firmly, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. My role as the prison healer might require me to help you and others, but I’m in here for a reason, just like everyone else. Murderers and rebels—that’s what we are. You said it yourself.”

Jaren said nothing for a long beat, but then, slowly, he stated, “So ... no visitors.” When Kiva nodded stiffly, he went on, “That’s no great loss. I wouldn’t want my family to come, anyway.” A small huff of laughter left him. “They’d be even less inclined to visit.”

A spark of curiosity flared in Kiva. It sounded as if he and his family were estranged, and she wondered if that was because of whatever had landed him in here. But then she saw that he was still watching her carefully, and she realized what he was doing: distracting her, giving her a moment to regain control, offering her a conversational door that she could choose to keep open or slam shut.

But ... why would he do that?

This was why she didn’t like doing prisoner orientation. It meant she had totalkwith them. Spend time with them. Get to know them. She’d much rather remain alone in the infirmary, seeing them when they were sick or hurt and then sending them on their way again. This was not ... She didn’t like this.

Closing his offered door, she promptly returned to her role as his guide.

“There’s too much for me to show you tonight, and you’re going to forget most of it anyway,” Kiva said, partly because she wanted to be rid of him, and partly because he was still swaying and she didn’t want to have to carry him all the way to his cell block. “Most of what you need to know will depend on what work allocation you’re given, and you’ll learn that tomorrow.”

Walking a few more paces and coming to a halt in front of a domed building made of mishmashed stone, Kiva slapped her hand against the side and said, “Outside of work hours, prisoners can walk freely inside the grounds, so if ever you get turned around, look for the four inner watchtowers and then head into the center of them. You’ll find yourself here, right at the heart of Zalindov, and you’ll be able to get your bearings again.”

“What is this?” Jaren asked, inspecting the odd-shaped building.

“The entrance to the tunnels,” Kiva said.

“I’ve heard about those.” Jaren raised his unbandaged hand to his head, as if to ease the ache there. “Seems foolish to me. Like an open invitation for an escape attempt.”

Kiva snorted, and Jaren turned to her in surprise. She schooled her face immediately. “It’s a labyrinth down there—miles and miles of tunnels. If anyone were stupid enough totryand escape, they’d never find their way out again. And besides,” she added, “most of the tunnels are submerged, at least partially.”

“Zalindov’s water source,” Jaren said.

“There’s over three thousand inmates here,” Kiva shared. “Without water, we die.” She jerked her head to the domed building. “This doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it’s only an entrance to what’s below. Everything happens deep underground—not just the digging of more tunnels, but also the pumping of water through the aquifer.”

She only just refrained from saying that those two jobs were the worst Zalindov had to offer—the tunnelers and pumpers. Quarriers came in at a close third, followed by lumbersmiths and harvesters.

“Now, forget about the tunnels for the moment and listen closely so you don’t get lost,” she told him, mostly because his eyes were losing clarity the longer they stood there. She turned and pointed. “The infirmary is that way.” She pivoted counterclockwise and pointed again. “Barracks, entrance block, front gate.” Another pivot. “Harvest factory for grain and produce sorting, and the luminium depository behind it.” Another pivot. “Kitchens and refectory.” She paused to add, “You’ll be given a meal schedule with your work allocation tomorrow. Don’t skip meals. Rations are scarce, especially in winter, and you’ll need all the strength you can get.”

She waited for his murmured agreement, then pivoted again. “The cell blocks are beyond the refectory. That’s where we’ll head now. There are ten in total, three hundred or so inmates per block.”

Jaren’s eyes widened. “Threehundred?All sleeping in the same building?”

“Just wait until you see the latrines. You’re in for a treat.”

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