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Going to the window, he peers down and sees the same slave gang that he’s seen the last few days since they arrived. A dozen men of varying ages, from early teens to even one old grandfatherly looking individual, none of which immediately stand out as the one who spoke.

He continues to watch them and after a half hour, the scene repeats itself. Someone sneezes and the grandfatherly individual says “Gesundheit.” Excited, he keeps a close eye on the old guy. The other slaves near him help him out. He does less than everyone else due to his age, but the slaver must allow it for no recriminations are forthcoming from him.

Every once in awhile the old man sits down and takes a break while the others continue working. From what Miko had told him of his experiences with slavers, he was surprised the old guy is being allowed to rest. Guess different slavers work differently.

Waking up Jiron, he tells him what’s been happening and the significance of that old man saying the word he said.

“You think he’s from your world?” he asks incredulously.

“Yes,” he says with conviction. “I can’t think of any other reason he would say that.” When Jiron looks at him skeptically, he adds, “If I can be here, others can too.”

“True,” agrees Jiron. “But there’s still no reason why he has to be from your world. He could’ve picked that word up anywhere. Or it could even be a different word that just sounds similar.”

Shaking his head, James says, “No. He said it at just the right moment under just the right circumstances. Not once, but twice.”

Jiron gives him a silent look for a moment before saying, “Okay, then. What do you plan to do?”

“Help him,” he replies.

“How?” he asks. “If we take him with us, he’ll just slow us down and then we’ll all be either dead or on a slave gang.” Going to the window, he glances down to the old man below who’s still sitting on large piece of broken wall close to their building, wiping the sweat off his face with a rag. “Look! He can’t even keep up with clearing away small rocks and wood. There’s no way!”

“I know,” concedes James. “But I have to at least talk to him. I’ve got to know for sure.”

Jiron gives him another long look and then glances back down to the street. The old guy has once more joined his fellow slaves in removing the rubble. “Where he sat is near one of the windows on the bottom floor,” he says. “Maybe he’ll sit there again and you can whisper to him out the window.”

“Good idea!” agrees James excitedly.

“Just be very quiet,” he warns. “You don’t want to attract the notice of the slavers.”

“I know,” James assures him.

Moving back downstairs, they position themselves by the window near where the old man had rested. They occasionally glance outside to see if the old man will sit back down near them. A half hour later, he pulls out his rag and once more goes to sit on the large piece of wall not three feet from the window where James waits.

Once the old man has sat down, James whispers out to him, “Don’t make a sound. I’m in the building behind you.” He sees the old man’s shoulders stiffen a fraction as his words reach him. “Do you understand me?” he asks.

The old man nods his head as he wipes his face.

The slavers who’re overseeing this group are over by the main party of slaves and are pretty much ignoring the old guy. James asks, “Are you from around here?”

He rubs his face with his rag and then turns his head toward the window where James is and replies just loud enough to be heard, “Born here.”

That was definitely not the answer he was expecting. Glancing at Jiron, he sees him shrug. Turning back to the window, he whispers, “I heard you use the word ‘gesundheit’ when that other man sneezed.”

Nodding, the old man asks, “Do you know what it means?” There seemed to be a slight tremor in his voice when he asked the question.

“It means, health, or good health,” he replies, wondering why he would ask such a question.

The old man freezes for a second then again wipes his face with the rag. He sits there quietly for several minutes until James begins