Kiva did a mental calculation. “Including those who have already died, close to seventy, with ten more on average every day.” And at least that many dying daily, too. The quarantine room was nearly at capacity, and would have passed it if not for the rapid increase in deaths. Kiva had even been allocated extra workers to help temporarily care for the sick, as had Mot and Grendel in the morgue and crematorium.

“Statistically, shouldn’t at least a few guards have caught it by now?” Jaren asked. He didn’t seem at all afraid of Naari, though he hadn’t witnessed a decade of guard brutality like Kiva had.

“If it’s a stomach virus as I had originally assumed, then yes,” Kiva said. “But while all the symptoms point that way . . .”

“Rayla-from-administration proves that theory wrong,” Jaren finished for her. “Or, really, the guards that she’s been in contact with, who aren’t sick.”

“So, if it’s n-not a virus, what is it?” Tipp asked, rubbing his eyes.

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Kiva said, leaning back against the workbench and feeling about three thousand years old. “It could be anything—a spore in the air, bacteria in our water, mold in our grain, diseased meat or dairy . . . the list is endless.”

“So we’re all at risk,” Jaren said, his tone part question, part statement.

Kiva made a helpless gesture. “I honestly don’t know. Why are they sick”—she pointed toward the closed quarantine door—“and we’re not? Why did some of them start catching whatever it is a few weeks ago, while others only became symptomatic today?” She paused, considering. “If it’s a bug in our food or water, it’d make sense that the guards aren’t catching it, since they have separate supplies and meal preparation from the rest of us. But if it’s something in the air or the animals or grain . . .” She frowned and continued, almost to herself, “If I can’t figure out what’s wrong, then I need to find the origin of the illness. Maybe that will help me come up with a treatment.”

“Your n-n-next Ordeal is in four days,” Tipp said. “I think you should f-focus on that.”

Tipp had kept quiet about the Trials in the days since Kiva had first volunteered to take Tilda’s place. At times, she heard him whispering to the sick woman, who remained too delirious to talk back. Kiva knew he was worried, but she also knew he was trying to remain positive about it all, which was something she desperately needed. Sometimes she resented herself for it, since she should have been the one comforting him, but it was his sunny personality that pulled her out of the shadows when her fear became too great.