"Your pardon, great Physician," he said, boldly stepping forward.
"Aye, what is it?" the white-bearded old Healer asked with a wry and good-natured impatience, scarcely bothering to look up from his work.
Many bystanders and well-wishers were already there, looking curiously on at his work as they stood idly by in whispering attendance at every hand.
"She has brought you the herbs you requested," said Habrunt.
"Good!" the Physician said, studying his patient critically. "Not a moment too soon."
The Physician took advantage of Habrunt's momentary distraction to set his mind afresh upon his work, for he was in a crucial part of the operation, and the patient would never be so ready as he was at that very moment.
Already in position, he reached in carefully, and clenched down, and seemed to set himself, and with a nod to those helping him to hold tightly onto the patient, he pulled hard with a pair of crude iron pliers or tongs, and yanked out a stinking, rotten, bloody molar from the jaw of the patient, whose gopher hole of a mouth emitted an agonized outcry. There ensued a veritable chorus of gasps and utterances from the crowd.
"There!" the Physician patted the shoulder of the sufferer, as expressions of relief could be heard from the onlookers on all sides. "Now, if I may have the herbs I was promised?"
The Physician turned to look directly at Habrunt.
Habrunt looked down at Si'Wren, and said, "Attend, little one!" in a mild pretense at impatience.