The sick person was the arrogant man who had shoved Venya out of the way.
They weren’t hitting him like they had hit Venya.
The man had fine clothes.
Not nobleman-fine, but clearly better than what the average villager wore.
That was probably why the villagers just watched, wondering what they should do.
Then he passed out.
The villagers watched with wide eyes, murmuring about whether he was alive, but no one made a single move to check.
One villager poked him with a broom, but the man didn’t move.
Someone in the crowd suggested getting the doctor, and another villager sent their kid to fetch one.
But no one would go to help the man.
Venya crouched down.
She had to pinch her nose shut and breathe through her mouth.
She reached toward his neck to check his pulse, but hesitated and pulled her hand away.
She was not a nurse, and touching a stranger felt unnatural.
So much for being better than the rest of them.
She steeled herself.
Her fingertips found a weak pulse.
“He is alive,” she said to the crowd.
“Could you bring me a bucket full of water?” But nobody moved.
“Hurry up!” She pointed to a random villager, and he ran.
A moment later, two buckets full of water showed up beside her.
“I need to turn him on his side.
Could you help me?” She remembered enough first aid to know he shouldn’t be lying flat on his back.
And with the help of a couple villagers, they rolled the man onto his side, getting him away from the mess and keeping him from choking if he vomited again.
She took a handkerchief from her apron pocket and washed the man’s face and hands and wiped his mouth.
She tried to clean his clothes, but that turned out to be futile.
“Where is the patient?” a voice asked behind the crowd.
A doctor had finally arrived.
He was a middle-aged man who looked more like a general than a doctor, with his upright posture and booming voice.
The crowd made way for him, and he crouched beside the man and pressed his fingers to the man’s neck and lifted one eyelid.
“Now, who is taking responsibility for him?” The doctor looked around at the faces of the villagers.
Two things happened at once.
The quiet murmuring stopped dead, and everyone vanished, leaving Venya alone with the doctor and his patient.
“So it’s you.” He glanced at Venya.
“What?
I don’t know him.” “I don’t know him either.” “What kind of doctor are you?” “An expensive one.
If you don’t take responsibility for him, I can’t help.” What was that?
The man might be dying here and he was asking for money?
“Don’t you have some kind of medical oath?” Right.
She had momentarily forgotten she was not in the real world.
No wonder everyone had fled the place after the doctor came.
“Oath?
Only the one for the sovereign, and that doesn’t include taking care of a patient for free.” He snorted.
“Free?
How much is it?” “How should I know?” He thumped the patient’s back, carefully avoiding dirtying himself.
“At least a silver-half.
Could be more because I have to take him in for treatment.
Or you can take him to a much cheaper healer, but I heard she is attending a birth right now.” “Okay.
I can give you fifty pennies.
Then he is on his own.” “Fifty pennies?
Add one silver coin.” The man burst out laughing.
“You don’t seem to be local.
A silver-half is one and a half coins.
Actually, I think it’s two silver coins.
Can you pay for his treatment, look after him afterward, or have him buried if he dies?” “Yes,” she said bluntly, standing up.
She couldn’t leave him without treatment.
The burying thing sounded alarming, though.
But he was staying at the inn, so maybe he could take care of his own burying expenses.
Venya picked out two shining silver coins and placed them in his hand.
“Good.
I’m Randal Heathgoode.
You can call me Goode.
Hey Pim!” he shouted, tucking the coins in his trousers pocket while looking around for someone.
A young boy was sitting farther away on two long poles and a folded piece of canvas, reading a book.
He slipped the book into the bag hanging loosely from his shoulder.
Then he picked up the bundle he was sitting on and brought it to the doctor.
They quickly assembled the pieces.
It was a stretcher.
Goode and Pim lifted the patient onto it with practiced ease.
The doctor’s office was located several streets away toward the mansion.
It was a well-built two-story house with a fancy signboard reading “Dr.
Goode” swinging above the side door.
“Shouldn’t it be Dr.
Heathgoode?” Venya couldn’t help asking.
“Yes, but nobody calls me that.” Once Goode had properly examined the man, he finally said the man was not going to die.
The doctor was going to keep the man overnight, and Venya should come back in the morning.
Before she left, Venya washed her hands and handkerchief with some soap Goode had given her.
But the foul smell still lingered on her fingers.
She walked back home with her head down, dragging her feet.
She carried a big, rough jute bag on her back.
Damn!
Her purse was now almost empty.
She had only bought some food and one wooden container for the dry goods.
She couldn’t buy what she needed to filter and store the well water.
Of the seven pieces Ves had found, she had only twenty pennies left.
Two silver had gone to an arrogant stranger.
Another two silver and twenty-five pennies had gone toward the supplies she bought.
Her job hunting had also failed.
Back at the old inn, she picked Ves up and hugged him.
The cub knew nothing about her worries.
He rubbed his head against her chin.
“I bought us fresh meat, Ves.
Let’s make a stew with it, beans, and rosemary.” The stew was so simple that even she could make it.
“Mewp,” he agreed.
Venya had been worried about the cub’s food.
As a wild animal, he was not supposed to eat bread or vegetables, at least not very much.
She had given most of the meat Melia had brought to him, but it was salty.
But the cub had already started practicing his hunting skills.
He hunted small forest animals and lizards with his tiny claws and canines.
When he succeeded, he brought the prey over to show her, as a good cat should, before he ate it.
His mother must have taught him well.
First thing the next morning, she went to the doctor’s office.
The arrogant man, Mr.
Stone, was sleeping in a separate room behind the doctor’s main room when she arrived.
“He survived the night.
It was a severe case of food poisoning,” the doctor informed her.
“Food poisoning?” She remembered an especially bad case that had left her with a lifelong dread of dried plums.
She wondered what he had eaten and whether it had been something from the Lovely Rose.
“Yes.
He ate a little breakfast an hour ago.
After he wakes up, you can take him back to the inn.
He is weak, so he’ll need support.” “But I don’t know him.” “I don’t either.
Should I do it?
It will cost another silver.
Pim can take him for half a silver, but he should be studying.” Pim looked up from his book, but when nobody said anything, he returned to reading.
“What an unethical doctor,” Venya murmured.
“What did you say?” “I said okay.” After Mr.
Stone woke up, they left the doctor’s office and walked slowly back to the inn, with his legs still shaky.
“Could you wait for me here?
I need to freshen up,” he asked Venya.
Then Venya found herself drinking tea at the Lovely Rose with Jack Stone.
He had bought a cup of tea for her.
Mr.
Stone was in the field of soft cushioning.
By soft cushioning, he meant replacing the filling in pillows, mattresses, and cushions.
“Thank you for helping me,” Mr.
Stone said.
His earlier arrogance was gone.
“It’s what any normal person would do.” “People are afraid of sick people.
It’s common sense.” He slipped his hand inside his tweed jacket to take out his coin purse.
“Even my helper boy ran away.
He should be back home in Redfield Village.” He took a gold coin from the purse, placed it on the table and pushed it toward Venya.
He had bathed and changed his clothes, and he looked as if nothing had happened yesterday.
“Besides, he let my traveling rations spoil and didn’t want to get punished.” The gold coin could solve several of her problems at once, or buy her a cup of coffee, but it was too much.
She hadn’t earned it.
Venya pushed the gold coin back toward him.
“This is too much.
Two silver is enough.” “Very well, but I’d like to thank you somehow.” He put the gold coin away and replaced it with two silver ones.
“Is there something you need?” he asked.
Randal Heathgoode.
Location: Tinyspring Mr.
Jack Stone, Location: the Lovely Rose inn.
Entrepreneur in the field of soft cushioning.