Vetta awoke in the dark. Where was her baby? Voices spoke, but Vetta could not make out the faces of the speakers.
“Who do you think she might be, Lana?” a male voice asked.
“Hush, Rollam. Don’t wake her.” Lana tucked the blanket around her. “I don’t know any more than you do. You say she fell against your door?”
“That’s right. Mertie and me just finished washing the supper dishes. It wasn’t much more than half an hour ago.”
Vetta tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work.
Lana bent close to her and spoke softly, “My name is Lana Neméa. I’m the town’s healer. You’re badly wounded, but I’ll take care of you, so don’t be afraid.”
Vetta blinked and looked around, but soon drifted back into unconsciousness.
* * *
Lana carefully pulled the remnants of ragged cloth away from Vetta’s shoulder. “This is bad. I’ve never seen such wounds. What could she have tangled with to do this?” She glared at Rollam. “Why’d you bring her to my place? That was a waste of time, and she shouldn’t have been moved. It would’ve been better for me to come to your place.”
Rollam stood up and crossed his arms tightly. “Well excuse me, Madame Healer. Your place is exactly the right place for sick people. I thought we done the right thing. We also sent Yolana to tell Mr. Rahvak to meet us here.”
“Nonsense. You brought her here because you didn’t want anyone to see you harboring illegal travelers.”
“Of course I didn’t! If we get caught, the Fessals will kill us.”
“And better me and Rahvak than you, eh, Rollam Beckmoss?”
Rollam grumbled and sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. “You would have brought her here, anyway. This is where you always bring sick people.”
“Get off the bed! You’re filthy.” Lana cleaned the edges of Vetta’s wound with a damp rag that smelled of herbs. “I’m the town healer; of course I bring sick people here. And, I don’t let filthy Fessals tell me who I can’t treat. I’ll think of something to tell them—if they even show up. Besides, we didn’t violate the No-Travel law—she did.”
When Lana finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, she stood up. “Mertie! Where’s that baby?”
Mertie came into the bedroom holding the infant in a clean blanket. “I cleaned the tiny thing up nice, Lana, but she wants to be fed. I think she’s got to be less’n six weeks old.” She looked at her husband and pleaded, “Oh, Rollam, I want my own baby. Can’t we…?”
Rollam put his arm around her shoulders. “Now, Mertie, you know we can’t. No one can. Not while those soldiers threaten to—”
He didn’t finish his thought, but Lana understood. In the twelve years since Major Krossak had marched all the town’s children away, including Rollam and Mertie’s little boy, Kert, not a single child had been born in Pond Town. No one could risk such a loss again.
Mertie’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Rollam could only say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Mertie tried again. “If we can’t have our own, Rollam, maybe we can have…” She glanced down at the infant, who was looking back, waving her little arms. “See, Rollie? She wants me!”
“Oh, for Andaran’s sake!” Lana took the baby from Mertie and put her in the bed, where she could nurse without disturbing her mother. “I’m sorry you lost your little Kert, but that’s no excuse for such talk. This baby has a mother, and you’ll not be talking like that right in front of her. Out of this room, both of you. Shoo!”