"We are producing poultices and potions for the fever as quickly as possible- I think we can spare a few batches for the valley." There's an empty crate she can fill with both, and balms, and compresses, and tonics- everything she could think of that they might have in surplus to help those they couldn't reach normally. "No."

Lying at this point is not only impossible, but laughable. "There is too much to be done. I rest when I can."