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Rath looked almost disappointed. Kesta studied Dreven.

“You're agreeing with him?”

“On that point.”

His jaw tightened.

“I dislike several others.”

Rath’s smile returned. “There is the commander I remember.”

Kesta looked toward Sera. The older healer had not taken her eyes off the medical case.

“How many people have died here because you lacked supplies like these?”

Sera’s expression tightened. Dreven turned toward her.

“Sera.”

Kesta lifted one hand.

“I asked her.”

Dreven stopped. Sera looked down at the six antibiotic ampoules.

“Too many.”

“How many recently?”

The healer drew a slow breath. “During blue fever, fourteen.”

Dreven closed his eyes briefly. Kesta looked at him. He did not try to correct the number. Rath did.

“Three were children whose mothers delayed bringing them to the infirmary because they feared treatment would reduce household ration credit.”

Pela’s ears flattened. Kesta felt anger rise.

“Is that true?”

Pela stared at the ledger.

“It was.”

Dreven’s face had gone hard.

“We changed the rule.”

“After they died,” Rath said.

Dreven’s eyes snapped toward him.

“Yes.”

The single word carried enough weight to silence the room. Kesta had expected Dreven to defend Ash Camp. Instead he sat beneath the accusation and owned it. Rath leaned back.

“Consensus is a beautiful philosophy until someone dies while the council is still discussing how to divide medicine.”

Kesta disliked him. She also understood the argument. That made him far more dangerous than if he had simply been wrong.