Just then, the young man’s cough began again, blitzing the room.

“Hosea, come!” Robin shouted.

I jumped. She was bent over the young man’s bed.

“You go,” Hosea said. “Do whatever Robin tells you.”

As I got to Robin’s side, the young man fell quiet. His body lay limp on the bed. “Is he conscious?” I asked.

“Barely. Hold his head up, like this,” Robin said. “Make sure it doesn’t fall back.”

She transferred the man’s heavy head into my palms. It was slippery with sweat. I almost dropped it when he began to vomit. The covering over his mouth loosened and, within seconds, the front of my cloak was splashed with bile and blood. I held on tight. If I let go, all would be lost. He would collapse back and suffocate on his own vomit.

Shifting my hands, I moved to his back to prop him up. He shook between bouts. He lifted his hand to wipe his mouth, but he was weak. It withered back to his side. Without thinking, I folded the sleeve of my pallium and pressed the thick cloak to his mouth.

He opened his eyes. The whites were red with crooked vessels. “Thank you, sister,” he said.

I swallowed my pity and smiled into his gaze. I longed to offer him courageous words, but none came to mind. A second later, he was unconscious again. I eased him down to rest. His breath clattered in his chest. His brow burned with fever. Below the tourniquet, the bandage on his arm was spotted with blood.

Wintry thoughts assailed me. Thank you, sister. Had those been his last words? Would they cover him soon? Reduce him to an odorous mound of death? I dashed my hand across my beaded brow. I will not panic.

“Did Kha give you the medicine?”

I jumped, turned. “I’m sorry. Wha—?”

“The medicine,” Robin repeated. “Did Kha give it to you?”

I fumbled in the pocket of my pallium for the jar. I held it up.

“Good. You tend this part of the room. I have to go.”

“Wait! Where are you going? You can’t leave me here! This man needs a doctor!” I pointed to the young black cannon. “I’m not a doctor!”

“Nor am I,” Robin said.

“But you have experience!”

“Only a few more hours than you.”

“Robin!”

She lowered her eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”

I stiffened. Her tone, her face, her hopeless resignation struck me. An echo of my own voice filled my ears—I am your Mistress, Robin, not Arika!

Misunderstanding my distress, Robin hurried to explain. “Now that the sun is up, I have to remove the oldest bodies. They can’t stay here. But I will be back; I promise.” She gave my hand a friendly squeeze, taking care to hide the gesture from sight just as I’d trained her.