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“Don’t do this,” Zainab whispered as the messenger left to take the patient away. “They will recognize you. They will take you to the gallows as soon as his condition stabilizes.”
They carried in a young man—a youth barely nineteen years old, his face ashen from a gunshot wound, a festering shrapnel wound in his thigh from a hunting accident. The smell of gangrene filled the clean, herbal room like a sickly influx from a dying world.
Yusha worked in a feverish trance. He did not use