Niska knows her hands are plenty dirty, but that's from defending her family, not what she teaches. "I had a single pupil," she says. "He's clever enough now, so I don't have much purpose there, and I've moved on from where I was after that."

After David, after the suicide, after she got put in a whorehouse. She grabs the table and reminds herself not to dent it with the steel under her skin, eyes wide and unblinking as she studies the blood.

"This is pointless without a cure to test," she says, of the blood.