The young man’s terrible cannon cough started again from the far side of the room, causing everyone to tense. It went on, rattling and blasting. Robin finished with Kiwi, and produced a wooden pan for the young man to use as a spittoon.

“He tell story next,” William said.

“Okay.” As he pulled me to stand beside Robin, I wondered if he also sensed the young man’s strength would not last long.

Hosea came to join us.

“Maybe we should give him the draft,” Robin said.

“Not yet,” Hosea answered.

“What’s the draft?” I asked.

“It puts them to sleep,” Robin said.

I looked hard at Hosea. “Why not give it to him? He needs rest.” And his cough is unbearable to hear.

Hosea ignored me. “If he starts producing blood, let me know.” He said this to Robin and turned away.

I followed him.

Sensing my presence, he warned me over his shoulder, “Remember our agreement. You’re not here to interfere.” He crouched over a case filled with labeled jars and riffled through them with barely leashed contempt. I knew, somehow, it was directed at me.

I stepped closer. “It’s too late. I’m involved now,” I said.

He didn’t respond. His movements remained jerky.

“I can do more than take stories, you know.”

His jaw tightened.

“What’s wrong? I’m offering my help.”

He ignored me.

“Hey,” I said, annoyed. “Answer me.”

“Or what—you’ll report me to Jones?” He glared at me.

I stepped back.

“Do you really want to help, Cobane?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

His eyes flashed. “Start by putting your quill away. No one here has a story to tell you. They’re too busy surviving.”

“Sky and Kiwi found plenty to say.”

He shot to his feet, and took my arm. “And why is that? Did you tell them about Soltice?”

“They already knew.”

“Did you tell them about the streets of fur?” He was in my face now, gripping my arm.

“I made them feel better—gave them peace.”

“Did you tell them that none of it is true? That it’s all made up so that they’ll work harder and produce more food for brats like you? You are a liar!” He pushed me aside, not violently, but I tripped and fell, still holding his gaze. The disgust in his thatch-roof eyes was unmistakable. He hated everything I stood for. He turned on his heel and walked away.

William came to my side and lifted my cloak to examine the arm I’d landed on. I barely felt his touch.

I jumped up to follow Hosea, hearing William call my name.

“Hosea,” I said.

He ignored me. I quickened my pace, colliding with his back when he stopped at another bedside.

“Hello, sister,” he said. His voice was gentle.