The kettle boiled. Alan scoured the teapot, added the tea leaves and filled the pot. A refreshing fragrance filled the kitchen. Eric, leaning on the counter, breathed deeply. Doctor Theodore Collins, standing by the door, also inhaled and imperceptibly relaxed. The three men sitting at the table watched as Alan set down the teapot to steep. One man was a graying Academic in frayed tweeds; one a thin young fellow, perhaps a little pale, in spotless Reaper uniform; the third was Jonas Burns, with the somewhat scuffed appearance of one who has just come off defense duty on a Reaping shift.

On the table was a Thermos bottle of the latest design, amid a layout of the sort of refreshments that could be offered by a householder with a sparsely stocked pantry; as long as the householder could send an intern to see what the nearest shop had in stock. The cupboards contained only two teacups, so mugs were set out for the guests.

"Mister Humphries, pray rinse this bottle with boiling water? I want it to be free of possible contaminants, and the tea to remain hot as long as possible."

"Would you like a cup, Doctor?"

"No. None for you either. Don't want any objections that we tainted the sample with someone who has had the Thorns and might have some sort of immunity therefrom; or somebody who's had long exposure to a Thorns victim, ditto. I wish to duplicate as closely as possible the events of that evening when four men sat down to tea.

"Mister Stone,"—the grey man in tweed nodded a greeting— "is an Archivist from the Academy's Bursar's office. Hasn't seen the light of day for lo these many years, nor wanted to, no exposure to practicing Reapers at all. He has generously agreed to serve as our control subject. Junior Agent Haye was cursed five months ago. Senior Burns, of course, is paused at an earlier stage of the curse. The thermos tea will be taken to a terminal patient too ill to travel. Please, as much as possible, serve these men exactly as you served Mister Burns before. At the same time, serve the Thermos the same way you serve your guests."

"Then let me pack up a picnic to go with the Thermos," Eric suggested. "That way your man in hospital will have the same as these gentlemen. It might be that having something to eat affects what the tea does to you."

"Yes. Quite true. Alan, the hospice patient asks that the thermos tea should have milk and two sugars."

"Of course. Shouldn't you have someone with an active case in the middle stages?"

"Arguably. But that would change the amount that each man receives today. Also, I want to see what this second dose does for Senior Burns."

"So do I," said Burns with some humor. "I rather fancy not dying just yet. Now, our last meeting was much more relaxed. Shall we drop the formality, Doctor?"

"That would be appropriate, I think."

"Good. Hey, Alan, how's your new aide doing? Gossip has it you threw him off the bridge to see if he could swim."

"He swims quite well. I intend to corrupt him into a proper henchman."

"Ye should allow him the occasional rest, ye know. Remember how many of your aides have found easier work elsewhere."

Mister Stone looked up, myopically trying to focus on Eric. "Quite true. It's possible to overwhelm the most promising and eager of new hires. It can destroy them if one is not also supportive and understanding. A sad waste, for they will go and present their talents to another employer, but that first bright enthusiasm will be forever lost."

"Quite true!" said Alan. "My error. I will assign him a few of my more boring shifts until he gets his feet under him. The last thing I want to do is run him off. Now, the tea is ready. Mister Stone?"

"Lemon, if you will."

"Mister Haye?"

"Milk and one sugar, please."

"And Jonas, the same, and Mister Thermos. Please, everyone, help yourselves to whatever you would like."

Burns offered finger sandwiches to Stone, the eldest present. Burns then took one and handed the plate off to the silent Junior. Haye was holding his mug in both hands, eyes closed. Burns put the plate down in front of the boy. "Go ahead, Junior. It can't hurt you. It might help. In any case it's a free nosh."

Haye breathed deeply. "So good. It reminds me – it almost reminds me of something wonderful but forgotten."

"Fragrances can do that. Enjoy it. Don't push to remember. It just gives one a headache." Alan turned his attention to Burns, who was obviously enjoying his tea immensely. From Burns he looked over to Stone. The Academician Administrator sipped, paused, sipped again.

"Quite refreshing. May I ask if this delightful blend is available for purchase? I do believe I might be tempted to leave my dusty repositories to acquire a tin of this. And I assure you, Sir, that up to this moment, I would not have done so for all the tea in China. Although I have indeed left my lair to please a Doctor." A genuine spark of humor lit his eyes. He smiled at Collins. "I believe I must thank you, young man. Dear me, how very energizing."

Haye set down his empty mug. "I think—I think I'm hungry." He reached for the smallest sandwich. "This tastes good!"

"Yes, the Thorns take away the appetite and food tastes like dust," said Alan. "I remember."

"My arm, my shoulder. Doctor, the pain is fading. May I have another cup, Senior Humphries?" Another sandwich vanished from the plate.

"Doctor, may I rebrew? Good. Eric, do we have something that the picnic plate could travel in?"

"We do. The box the groceries came in. Room for the Thermos as well. I'll pack newspaper around it. They're fragile."

"Here you are, Junior Hayes. Do try the biscuits, they are fresh-baked this morning. Jonas? Archivist Stone? And for Mister Thermos, another cup."

Burns was eyeing Collins with worry. "Doctor, I am no prude, but I do have some standards. You will not strip me at the tea table. Alan, may we borrow your sitting room for the physical examination that he's dying to perform?"

"Indeed. I am unfortunately familiar with his obsessions. Go on, Ted, if you restrain yourself any longer your collar buttons will pop."

Collins snorted. "Just remember you have an appointment with me in two weeks, Lecturer, and I have many ways to repay your cheek. Haye, drink up. You're next."

Eric finished packing up the food quickly, so as not to tempt poor Haye, who had suddenly remembered missing many meals. "Ye'll want to wait a wee bit, youngster. Don't go Reaping over-full, it will slow ye down and make ye sleepy. Have ye a long List to collect?"

"No, Senior, only a few. I'll be careful. My group is working a quiet area tonight. They're good friends. They've been keeping an eye on me, though they think I haven't noticed. Please don't tell our Senior that I'm cursed."

"It's no shame, me lad, and no secret either. Your Senior knows; Senior Jacobs will have seen to it. If it gets to the degree where it might endanger yer group, go to Avram and he will ease your load."

"I'm sorry, sir. I am not of London, but of Margate."

"A fine Branch. Good people there. Your man to see is Senior Sidney Hatch, then. Hoping for a berth in Maritime someday?"

Haye blushed slightly. "They indicated that I might file an application six months before my promotion to Senior. That, of course, is impossible now. But I am proud to have received the offer."

"Of course ye are. And in your second year, too. Usually they look among the fourth and fifth year Reapers. Listen, Junior; don't let yourself despair and fall behind. Work every day toward that goal. For who can say that you shall not achieve it? We are working on a cure as you are working towards your dream. Make yourself ready to apply for transfer in yer fifth year if yer life is given back to you. Now, here's Jonas back for his last half-cuppa. Go and let the sawbones poke at yer, and I'll slip ye one more biscuit when he's done."

Alan carefully poured the last half-cup of tea into the Thermos and sealed it. He wrapped it in newspaper and snugged it into a nest of wadded newsprint in the grocery box. The sandwich plate followed, tucked in a biscuit box, and the lid folded into place. "Archivist, the tea is not available yet, and may never be. Please be assured that if it does enter general use, I shall notify you at once. I'm one of the Visiting Lecturers. If I leave a note with the Bursar's office, will it find its way to you?"

"It should, indeed it should. Or come yourself, young man. Bring your partner. Yes, I know you both teach. I approve your paychecks, after all. Yes, yes, do come and tell me how your new aide prospers. Ten Hagen, that would be. A good student, that boy, I would be very happy to hear of his good fortune. I feared that his vision was too poor for anything bur deskwork. And that friend of his as well. Smithfield, yes. Rather overlooked by some teachers, because his remarkable talents were not the talents they valued. But I know he found his proper place in Scythes. My goodness, they must both be in their eleventh or twelfth years now. Has Smithfield qualified as an Engineer? That's quite a difficult apprenticeship."

"Indeed he has, sir, right on schedule in 1915, with honors. He's working on something secret right now."

Burns set down his tea mug. "Another one of your saves, Alan? Quite a crowd you must have by now. I must go, it's been a long day and Charlie frets. Thanks for the hospitality which Ted was so kind as to offer me."

"Oh-nine-hundred tomorrow, Burns. Don't be late!" came from the sitting room. "Haye, tomorrow as soon as you are off-duty. If Senior Cummins has other ideas, refer him to me."

Haye came in, buttoning his vest. "I'm on-shift, sirs, and must run. Thank you for your hospitality. And for your advice, Senior Slingby. May I have my biscuit?" With the reward between his teeth, scythe in one hand and tie in the other, he walked out into the hall and ported away.

"Good kid. If he survives, and if Margate Maritime's silly enough to reject him, London can always use a Reaper with dedication. I'll set up a folder for him. Seniors Cummins and Hatch; good men. They'll do well by him. We might help him to apply to another Maritime branch someday if he's determined to be a blue-water man. Ted, do you want me to carry this box for you?"

"I don't think that's necessary—"

"Ye've got your charts and notebook, and we don't want the Thermos dropped. When all's done, I can bring our plate back. We've only got the six."

"Of course. Alan, don't ask to come. You've been busy around the hospice quite a bit recently. Maintenance and Supplies personnel resent it. They are whispering that you distrust their skills and diligence. Stay away and send someone else to fill the candy bowls. Eric, we are going to visit a terminal patient. Do you really want to do this? You must maintain a quiet and cheerful aspect, which is not at all your common presentation. You may wait in the hall if that is too much to ask."

"I can be quiet when there's a need. Alan, I'll be back in a wee bit. Wait up for me and we'll have a dram before dinner."

Once an echoing, empty space, the warehouse had been broken up into manageable sections. The ambulatory lived in barracks from which they could port to whatever jobs they were fit to hold. There were common rooms for games, reading, socializing; each had a candy jar, though few knew why, but they were much appreciated. For the convalescent and the bedridden there were wards staffed with orderlies and nurses in training. There were doctors in attendance, though the Academy Hospital could not spare many senior staff; most were in their intern years or last years of training. Eric marveled at what Spears could accomplish if he really wanted to. There had been volunteer labor, of course, but it required skilled people to wire and plumb and tile. Of course, Spears had Madame Administrator prodding Maintenance, Supplies and the Cafeteria to step up. It was still a warehouse, but a warehouse with pretentions; the barracks were as comfortable as they could be, the wards were well-supplied and meticulously clean, the patients well cared for. Eric followed Doctor Collins through the hallways to a four-bed ward with a single patient. Eric set his box gently on an unused bed. The doctor was keeping his secrets, then. This patient was a dying man who had volunteered to be isolated and given an experimental treatment. A brave man, willing to die alone.

Eric glanced quickly at the one occupied bed. Aye, he'd seen this before; grey skin, blue tinge to lips and fingertips – the curse was well rooted in the lungs, and the heart was affected. Thin and quiet. Thorn scars reaching outwards from beneath his collar and cuffs. Alan had looked like that before—before. Eric began unpacking the box while Collins woke the patient. Sandwiches and biscuits went on the little tray table for patients' meals. The Thermos went onto the bed, under the sheets to keep it from rolling.

Collins reviewed the chart at the foot of the bed. "Eric, take the pillows from the other beds and we'll prop Mister Jones up for his tea. Mister Jones? Time for a treat. We have tea for you that has not been sitting at the back of the stove for three days, and food that is not hospital fare."

"A condemned man's last meal, is it?" whispered Jones. "I must rise to the occasion, then."

"Indeed ye shall, up ye go," said Eric, reaching an arm behind the patient's shoulders and raising him up, then slid his other arm under the man's knees to move him toward the head of the bed. Collins placed pillows. Eric lowered the patient onto them. "Are ye upright enough to drink, or shall we get more pillows?"

The man laughed weakly. "This should be fine. Thanks, Senior Slingby. Don't think I can eat, but tea would be welcome."

"Well, then, tea ye shall have, and a fine brew it is." Eric retrieved the Thermos, opened it. As he poured tea into the bottle's lid, the fragrance bloomed in the air.

"Oh, my," said Jones. "Steady the cup, please? Don't want to spill a drop of that. I'm a little shaky these days, and the Thorns like to make their presence known at the most inconvenient times."

Jones did indeed have a tremor in his hands. Eric, who had considerable experience with nursing a Thorns sufferer, held the cup so Jones could sip at his own pace. He spoke quiet encouragement and harmless nothings. Collins, notebook in hand, sat and observed. After the first cup, Jones rested for a bit. Then he said, "Do I see a plate of treats over there? Could I—"

"Right. Let me set the tray table over your lap. Now, shall we start with an easy one? This is cucumber. That little one is chicken, and this last one's beef."

"Cucumber, please." The sandwich that Eric held up was slowly but successfully nibbled away. Another cup of tea was poured and offered. Jones took it in both hands, enjoying the warmth. His tremor was a little less. Eric kept one hand on the bottom of the cup so the tea wouldn't spill. Jones sipped and rested again. "That was quite good. Thank you. I'd forgotten about things tasting good." He looked a little pinker at the edges. "May we try the chicken?"

The chicken was managed very well. More tea was offered. Jones essayed the beef with commendable courage, and fed himself a biscuit without needing help. "It's the tea, isn't it? It's helping with the pain. It's better, a little. Not complaining, not at all, can't expect it all to go away without those awful drugs, but so much better. The Thorns are quiet, too, they usually get restive when I sit up. Evil things. Yes, the rest of the tea, please… Do you know, I think I could sleep. Without nightmares about Reaping in the mineshafts. Do they need Reapers in the high hills? Up in the heights, under the sky? No more mines. I'm done with mines. I'll trade with someone who's sick of wind and rain."

The tray was set down on the floor. Eric supported Jones while Collins removed the extra pillows, then moved him gently back down on the bed. Jones was asleep before Eric had the blankets up on his chest. The Thorn scars on his throat seemed a little less angry.

Collins sighed. "You're good at that. Was Alan that far gone when he died?"

"Nay. Not this bad. His scars were still covered by his clothing. He kept reaping long after he should have gone to desk work, ye ken. Ye know how stubborn he can be. He would not be seen as weak. We were very short-handed back then. The overconfident stripling that Will hired to replace him was not ready to reap alone, having no thought but for drink and women. Alan stayed on so that the boy could partner with Grell and be safe. But Alan had a number of attacks that left him helpless, and I tended him when he let me. D'ye think we have done any good here?"

"Relief of pain is always good, as is managing to get a meal down a patient who has lost interest in eating. Comfortable sleep is also a blessing. Sometimes small blessings are all we have to give. So yes. We have done all we can. Pick up your plate, Eric, and go home to your partner. I will stay with Mister Jones."