Unlike Nergal, who went out of his way to be as useless as possible, Olisha at least tried to help around the infirmary. If not for her chronic fear of illness and death—and her denial about her fallible vision—Kiva would have been much more grateful for her assistance. Instead, she often found that the two of them only added to her workload. But if nothing else, they stepped in when Kiva was needed elsewhere, and the reprieve they afforded her by covering the night shift was always appreciated.

“Did he say anything?” Kiva asked Olisha, as the woman subtly dusted crumbs from her tunic. Kiva didn’t care about the stolen food—Tilda was barely managing broth, and was nowhere near up to eating bread crusts—but she did care about Tipp.

“Nothing I can recall, sweets,” Olisha said.

Kiva frowned. “And he hasn’t been back all day? You’re sure?”

Olisha looked uncertain, like she was second-guessing herself. “I don’t think so.” She looked toward the rat pen, as if the answers lay with the vermin.

“You coming, Lish?” Nergal interrupted. “ ’S nearly dinner time.”

Olisha smacked her lips together, acting like she hadn’t eaten in three years, and glanced quickly at Kiva, seeking permission to leave.

Barely refraining from rolling her eyes, Kiva said, “Go. I won’t need you during the day tomorrow, but I will on Thursday.”

“See you then,” Olisha said, before hurrying after Nergal, who had never paid any heed to Kiva’s position of authority over him. She was a prisoner, just as he was—that was all he saw when he looked at her.

Over the last few weeks, neither Olisha nor Nergal had asked a single question about the sickness that was spreading, or the research Kiva was doing. They hadn’t even batted an eyelash upon first seeing the rat pen, as if she frequently conducted experiments in the middle of the infirmary. Perhaps it was because they spent barely any time in the quarantine room, so they didn’t understand the severity of what was happening; perhaps they didn’t realize how rapidly it was spreading, how many were dying. Or perhaps they simply didn’t care, and therefore didn’t want to be kept informed. Either way, Kiva wasn’t sure if she was relieved not to have to answer their questions at the end of each day or if she was annoyed that they weren’t worried enough to offer more help.

Placing her hands on her hips, Kiva looked around the infirmary and wondered aloud, “Tipp, where are you?”