Waddell's iron weight jumped off the ledger and hit Palla on the foot. She swore, caught the table, and nearly tipped Toman's ink over eleven patients' testimony.
Under the floor grille, wheels battered the burial turn.
Denna was already dragging the nearest cot away. Its patient clutched the blanket to his throat while a clinic worker hurried beside him, squeezing his breathing bag. Palla pushed the grille back with her boot. Water slapped the underside; beneath it, the keeper notch moved with every wheel strike.
The funeral engine had come around again.
"Sorn, get those cots across the drainage rail. Take your men with you."
The marshal caught his half seal as it slid off the ledger. "You intend to open that thing with my hearing still sitting over it?"
"I intend to keep your hearing out of the wheels. You can object from the other side."
