theme of “He was her master, wasn’t he?” But one youngish man who
had been leaning against a stopped wagon, straightened up. “Pregnant?”
he repeated. “She doesn’t look pregnant!”
“She is!”
“Well,” the young man said slowly, “if that’s true, he’s only
harming his own merchandise.” He glanced nervously over to where
Damon was now standing above the deceased slave owner, whose face
was cast into a ghastly death grimace of agony.
This still left Elena with no help for a woman she was afraid was
about to die. “Doesn’t anyone know where I can find a doctor?” There
were now mutterings in various tones from the crowd members.
“We might get further on if we could offer them some money,”
Meredith was saying. Elena immediately reached for her pendant, but
Meredith was quicker, unfastening a fancy amethyst necklace from
around her neck and holding it up. “This goes to whoever shows us a
good doctor first.”
There was a pause while everyone seemed to be assessing the
reward and the risk. “Don’t you have any star balls?” a wheezing voice
asked, but a high, light voice cried, “That’s good enough for me!”
A child—yes, a genuine street urchin—darted to the front of the
crowd, grabbed Elena’s hand and pointed, saying, “Dr. Meggar, right up
the street. It’s only a couple of blocks; we can walk it.”