Vale’s list had three hundred and eighteen people who could not open their own doors.
Iven read the heading twice before he understood which doors she meant.
“Custody,” she said.
The kitchen was between meals. Steam rose from a pot cooling near the window. Asa worked at the far end of the room with two cooks, dividing the next fuel purchase. Their new portable units stood under cover outside, clean after the morning service.
“Are they in the ward totals?” Iven asked.
“They should be. Some are. Some are entered under the address where they lived before they were taken in. Some have no current household telling the office they’re still here.”
“Who has the full register?”
“The custodians. I asked. They gave me a total and no movement plan.”
