Isabel and Eyas stood together in the privacy of the shrouding room, side by side next to the body. Neither said a word. Tamsin had pulled up a chair. Her legs were giving her extra trouble that day, so she was saving herself – ‘preserving her batteries,’ as she put it – for the walk up the ramp.

‘This is so . . .’ Eyas began. She shook her head. ‘I know how to do this with families. I’ve done this a thousand times.’

‘I know,’ Isabel said. ‘I’m feeling lost, too.’

They were quiet again, and still.

‘Can I see him?’ Tamsin asked, nodding toward the body.

‘Are you sure?’ Eyas said. In preparation, she’d made an understandable break with tradition: the body was already shrouded. Usually, that was part of the ceremony – the family lovingly wrapping the cloth together. In this case, though . . . ‘He’s not in the best of shape.’

Tamsin pursed her lips. ‘Is it bad?’

‘Not—’ Eyas’ face twisted as she thought, perhaps weighing the difference between what was ‘bad’ to her and what it was to people who didn’t do this every day. ‘Not gruesome. There’s no blood or disfigurement. But we didn’t receive him right away. He’d started to decay before I got him into stasis. I did my best with him, but he . . . doesn’t look like they usually look.’

Tamsin took in that information. ‘I’d like to see him.’

Eyas stepped forward and pulled the shroud from his face. She’d done her best with him, that much was clear. He was clean. He was peaceful. But yes, he was different, different enough to give Isabel a stab of adrenaline, a shiver of disgust. This wasn’t right.

‘Oh, stars,’ Tamsin said. ‘He’s just a kid.’ Isabel laid her hand on Tamsin’s shoulder. Her wife grabbed it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, brushing at her cheeks.

‘Don’t be,’ Eyas said. ‘I’m glad someone’s crying for him.’ She paused. ‘I did, too.’

Tamsin nodded. Her tears continued to flow. She stopped wiping them away.

‘Do you want to read the Litany?’ Eyas said. ‘I wasn’t sure which of us should do it, so if—’

The door to the shrouding room opened, and they all turned to look. A boy stood there, a teenage boy in fresh-pressed clothes that didn’t fit quite right. Isabel didn’t know him. It didn’t appear that Eyas did, either.

‘Are you lost?’ Eyas said.

The boy’s eyes fell to the body, and he stared. ‘I, um—’ He cleared his throat. ‘I asked outside where to go, and uh, they said I should go here, and— I didn’t know you’d already started—’

‘Are you a friend of his?’ Eyas said, her words rising with a sliver of hope. ‘Did you know him?’

The boy continued to stare. ‘No. I just, um, y’know, I heard about it, and I—’ He tugged at the edge of his shirt. ‘Tika lu— I mean, I’m sorry, this is stupid, I—’

Eyas gave a puzzled frown. ‘You’re welcome to join, if you want, but—’

Two pieces clicked together in Isabel’s mind – a sliver of gossip and an inexplicable hunch. ‘Are you the one who told patrol?’

The boy swallowed, and nodded. Isabel watched him with interest. His eyes had yet to leave the table. Had he been to a funeral before? Had he seen a body? To him, the face on the table would not be young, but older and respectable, an ideal he could grow into, a stage he aspired to, a promise cut short.

‘What’s your name?’ Isabel asked.

The boy finally made eye contact with someone other than the corpse. ‘Kip,’ he said. ‘Uh, Kip Madaki.’

Madaki, Madaki. Her brain tossed the name around, seeking connection. ‘Does someone in your family work in water?’

‘My Grandpa Griff did.’

Another piece clicked. ‘Yes, I remember him. Not well, but I remember.’ Old memories surfaced. She remembered being an assistant, an extra pair of hands at a naming. ‘He had twin girls?’

‘Yeah. My mom and aunt.’

Her brain was satisfied. ‘Well, then. Kip Madaki.’ She nodded with confirmation. ‘I’m Isabel, and this is Eyas and Tamsin. We’re glad you’re here.’

‘Would you like a seat?’ Tamsin asked, pointing toward the other chairs.

‘I’m good,’ Kip said, shuffling closer to the table. ‘Thank you.’

Isabel continued to study him. ‘How did you know this was happening today?’

The boy moved as if he didn’t know where to put his limbs. Stars, Isabel didn’t miss that age. ‘I’ve, um, been checking,’ he said.

‘Ceremony schedules? The public feed?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You mean, since they found him?’

The boy shrugged.

Isabel felt her spirits rise. ‘Kip, before you came in, we were discussing who should read the Litany for the Dead. Would you like to?’

Kip was taken aback. ‘Me? Um . . . I dunno, I’ve never—’

‘Is this your first laying-in?’ Eyas asked gently.

‘No,’ Kip said, ‘but – I’ve never read the . . . that.’

‘It’s up to you,’ Isabel said. ‘But you helped this man. You helped the right people find him. You’re the closest thing he has to a friend.’