One day, Nisa would die. It would not be this day, nor the next, or any foreseeable time within his own lifespan... but one day, Nisa would die.

He felt guilty as soon as he thought it, but then he’d felt the weight of it in his stomach for two years.

The trick was to find someone guiltier than him – or at least someone he knew little enough about to claim they weren’t. His job was wonderful for that.

“I will take care of it, Nisa,” he reassured her, cupping her hand in both of his with that stiff smile. “It is bad enough you had to see it once, my dear sister – I am certain you have better things to do than gawk at some vile, disease-ridden mouse.”