Page 95 of The Prison Healer

At the thought of the old man, Kiva’s eyes traveled over to her workbench and the small flask of milky liquid waiting there. The ex-apothecary had delivered it that afternoon, having spent the week coming and going from Kiva’s medicinal garden, mumbling to himself. Today, he’d finally handed the potion over and said,Drink this tomorrow mornin’. Don’t ask what’s in it—trust me, yeh don’t want to know. Just plug yer nose first, or yeh won’t get it down.

I’m going to need more information than that,Kiva had replied, eyeing the flask dubiously.

Most people drown from panic or exhaustion, so I’m guessin’ that’s how the Ordeal will test yeh,Mot had told her.Assumin’ yeh’ll be thrown in the aquifer and made to swim awhile—yehcanswim, right?—this brew’ll help yeh, physically. It’ll take yeh longer to tire, it’ll ease any cramps and keep yer muscles from seizin’ up. I tried addin’ somethin’ to help keep yeh calm, but it, uh, reacted badly. So yeh’ll ’ave to manage yer emotions yehself.

With that, he’d wished her luck and told her he’d start thinking of ways to help with the Trial by Earth. Kiva was grateful for his confidence that she’d make it that far, choking up a little as he’d waved and left the infirmary.

It wouldn’t be easy to leave Mot behind, if Kiva survived all four Ordeals. But as with Jaren, she could do nothing for him. Tipp and Tilda, however, were relying on her, even if they didn’t know it.

“Of course I care about her,” Kiva replied to the young boy, ignoring everything else going through her mind. “And I’m glad that you do, too.”

Tipp nodded. “I really d-do. You can c-count on me whenever you’re not here—I look after her a-almost as well as you do.”

“Better, I’ll bet,” Kiva said, reaching out to brush his floppy red fringe to the side. “I’m sure you’re her favorite. By far.”

Tipp grinned. “Well, I d-didn’t want to say anything ...”

Kiva laughed and moved back to her samples. She hadn’t returned to the tunnels that afternoon, instead lingering in the infirmary after Tilda fell asleep, waiting to see if she would wake up lucid again. But as anticipated, the ill woman had slipped back into her delirium. Kiva had spent the waiting period testing the rats, as she normally would have done the following day, but since the Ordeal was tomorrow, she didn’t want to risk wasting any time.

Kiva intended to make a quick trip down to the tunnels with Naari in the morning to collect her final samples, returning before the Trial. The timing would be tight, with them needing to be back at the infirmary for Kiva’s summons, but she was confident they’d be able to sneak it in.

When the next morning arrived, however, her plans were derailed by the announcement that a prison wagon had just arrived, carrying new inmates. As the first point of call for them, Kiva had to remain in the infirmary to check them over and carve their hands, all of which took time, preventing her from collecting her final samples. The only positive was that the new arrivals also kept Kiva distracted, and, aside from making sure to ingest Mot’s foul-tasting potion, she was barely aware of the minutes ticking down to her Ordeal.

There were four prisoners in total, three men, one woman, all different ages and colorings, hailing from across Wenderall. Each was in good enough health that Kiva knew they hadn’t been transported very far on the most recent leg of their journey, not while there were still nearly four weeks left of winter. As it was, Kiva was surprised by their arrival. Only Jaren, his two dead companions, and, later, Tilda had been transported to Zalindov since the weather turned—plus the royal entourage for the first Ordeal, but they didn’t count, since their travel comfort was considerably different from what the prisoners experienced.

One by one, the new arrivals were shuffled over to Kiva, and she checked them, carved them, and sent them on their way, as she had done for years. Tipp remained with her, fetching her clean water and handing her pepperoot ash, then helping them all into their new prison clothes.

Only the woman dared to say anything to Kiva, grumbling that they’d been forced to make the frozen journey because every dungeon they’d tried to stop at along the way had been filled to capacity. She’d barely gotten the words out before Kiva hushed her, since it wasn’t Naari who had delivered the news of their arrival, nor was the amber-eyed woman in the infirmary watching over them. Instead, both Bones and the Butcher were lingering by the door, their silent menace filling the space and urging Kiva to hurry.

Finally, she finished with the last of the new arrivals, who was then herded by the two snarling guards over to where the others waited, after which they all mercifully left the infirmary, Bones and the Butcher included. They were someone else’s problem now, Kiva thought, relieved that she hadn’t been assigned orientation duties again, unlike with Jaren.

Though ... that hadn’t worked out too badly, in the end.

“That w-was intense,” Tipp said, collecting the discarded clothes and placing them in a pile. “I don’t know h-how you do it.”

“Lots of practice,” Kiva said, moving to help him. She picked up a dirty tunic that had belonged to one of the men, wrinkling her nose as she shook it out and then folded it. She nearly missed the small, fluttering item that drifted to the floor, nearly didn’t act fast enough to cover it with her boot before Tipp saw.

Her pulse leapt into her throat, but she remained calm, continuing to fold the clothes until they were all done.

“Can you run these over to the entrance block for sorting?” Kiva asked Tipp, praying that he didn’t notice the waver in her voice.

“I’ll be r-r-really fast,” he said in answer. “They’ll be c-coming to get you soon. I don’t w-want to miss it.”

Kiva barely spared a thought to how it was nearly time for her next Ordeal. All she did was hold her breath until he took off out of the room, after which she glanced around quickly to make sure she was alone, aside from the sleeping Tilda. Once certain, Kiva shifted her foot and bent to pick up the scrap of parchment that had fallen from the man’s tunic.

This was it, she thought. Her family had received the note she’d sent through Raz, and they’d finally replied to give her news of the coming rescue.

With shaking hands, she unfolded the message. It was one word, the code scrawled this time in her brother’s messy, hurried hand.

Kiva frowned, reading it again, wondering if she was mistranslating.

It was a name. A town.

Oakhollow.

If she recalled her basic geography lessons, it was down south, close to Vallenia.

But why would he—

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