The Price of Freedom Read Online Free PDF

trying to look as humble as she possibly could. “I can only imagine that the Pilgrim himself wishes this slave to live. Otherwise, why would he have compelled me to speak? I have never participated in such discussions before.” She held her breath once she was finished speaking, staring at the floor and murmuring a silent prayer to the powers above her for mercy.
    Bose stood silent for several seconds, then glared around the room at the open-mouthed slaves and guards.
    “It is true that you are not one of those women who speak out of place,” he said slowly. “But you are also a sinful woman. Why would the Pilgrim work through you?”
    “I do not know, sir,” Bethany whispered, truly filled with fear now. What had she been thinking, speaking up for the slave? Had she lost her mind? Her situation was tenuous enough as things stood…
    “I do not believe that the Pilgrim would use a vessel such as you to communicate with his children,”
    Bose said finally. “But it is truly miraculous that this slave survived. If the Pilgrim wishes him to live, then he will heal him. But if you’re lying, and the man doesn’t heal, then you will die with him. Do you understand me, daughter? We cannot tolerate a woman who would lie about something so important.
    You have two weeks.”
    Bethany breathed a sigh of relief as Bose turned and strode out of the room, gesturing for the guards to follow him. She was left alone with Bragan and the slave. Apparently she was no longer worth guarding, she realized. She'd never been alone with any of the slaves before.
    “This man may die,” Bragan said quietly. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”
    "How bad is it?"
    "If he doesn't have brain damage or a skull fracture it won't be bad at all," Bragan replied. "I have no way of knowing whether he does or not, though. Not without better equipment than we have here. All I can do is treat the obvious wounds and try to keep him from getting an infection."
    "Do you need anything?"
    He gave a harsh bark of laughter, and she blushed. It was a foolish question.
    "I need all kinds of things," he said finally. "But I doubt you can get them for me. How about some painkillers? If he wakes up he isn't going to be feeling very well."
    "I don't think I can get that for you," she said softly. "My father has some, but he keeps a close eye on them. He would never give any to me."
    "I didn’t think you'd be able to help," he replied with bitter humor. "I assume you're willing to help take care of him, given the little bargain you just made with your father?"
    Bethany looked at the doctor and nodded. He looked tired, and a little sad. He had been friendly enough in the days since she had started working with the slaves, showing her supplies and helping lift the heavy trays of food from the communal kitchen. Now his eyes were filled with compassion, and she realized he didn't believe the man was going to live.
    “What’s his name?” she asked, turning to the man again. He hadn’t moved since he’d been brought up from the mines, not even when the doctor had pried his eyes open and gazed at his pupils.
    Bragan seemed startled by her question. With a wry smile, he said, “I have no idea. I try not to get to know the new slaves any more, because they don’t last very long. It’s hard enough to survive, let alone waste energy on friends.”
    “I know what you mean,” she said bitterly. Bragan lifted one eyebrow questioningly.
    “That’s a strange sentiment for a young woman like you,” he said slowly. “Although I’ve noticed the guards don’t treat you with much respect…”
    “Why should they?” Bethany asked darkly. “My husband is dead, and I have no children. I don’t serve any purpose here and they all know it.”
    “Couldn’t you get married again?”
    “No,” she said, closing her eyes against a sudden rush of tears that threatened. “You don’t understand. I can’t have children. My husband had two other wives, both of whom