“Why do you dig three graves?” she said. “Who has died?” The cow nudged her shoulder with its horn. She twisted away from it. “Who has died?” The steward jabbed the spade into the iron-hard ground. “It is the last days, boy,” he said, stepping down hard on the blade, and Kivrin felt a jerk of fear, and then realized he hadn’t recognized her in her boy’s clothes. “It’s me, Katherine,” she said. He looked up and nodded. “It is the end of time,” he said. “Those who have not died, will.” He leaned forward, putting his whole weight on the spade.
