Linsora had steeled herself for the sights and smells of a hospital - hushed tones, people with kind but sad faces, cleaning solution odors that never quite masked the scents wafting from bodies in distress. Death didn’t disturb her nearly as much as the idea of an illness requiring time in a medical facility. The hallways she and Harda were led through were more like those of an office than a hospital. Whenever a door did swing open, she glanced in to see tables and lab equipment.
“You may go in when you’re ready, dear,” Bindar said.
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