In that span of silent seven minutes, Conall had left to seek someone experienced medical knowledge. Asking his fellow patrons in the inn, they pointed him out to the home of Regina Quinton, the wife of the town's former most skilled doctor. Most of the men swore on Ansgar's beard that the woman was a miracle worker or something silly like that, but Conall wasn't about to doubt their words. At the very least, the woman must have be knowledgeable.
Reaching her home, Conall knocked on door and waited; the door opened and the face of a withered old crone ( a really ugly crone!) peeked out, "Yes!?" The woman practically shouted at the duke , "How can I help you, sonny!?"
Conall momentarily glanced down at the little dog that wouldn't stop barking at him . "Are you Regina Quinton? The innkeeper across the street said you might be able to help a sick friend of my ..." He wasn't quite sure what to call Katahnia. Openly declaring her a lover rather than a wife was quite scandalous and drew unnecessary attention. "Wife." He finished hastily. He should have just stopped at friend. Ah well.
"Sick person, you say!?" Regina shouted at him again. "Say no more, kid! Let me just get my things and we'll be on the way!" The old woman turned quickly from the door, leaving it wide open. Conall was surprised that she trusted him so much.
And while he waited, the dog bit his ankle.
Her enormous medicine bag acquired, Regina hobbled after Conall toward the inn. However, when they reached the room they found Katahnia in tears.
"Poor child. We're too late." Regina lamented loudly.
Conall scowled at the old healer, "She's not dead!" He hissed at her, "See to her, if you will. I'll pay you well." And then he moved over to Katahnia and took her hands in his, "It's going to be alright." He assured her.
