It is not so difficult if one cannot see him. Consider, Si'Wren, such a
time as when you are suddenly frightened while lying in your bed after
dark, when it is not possible to go to the House temple which the
Master has built, therein to pray. Then, surely you must make prayers
to the Master's god without seeing him."
"Aye," agreed Si'Wren, wondering at this, for, of a curiosity, she
perceived strange new truths in Nelatha's words.
"Well, then," Nelatha said simply, "that's all there is to it."
"Pray tell; 'that is all there is to what?'" inquired an imperious and
sultry female contralto, coming from almost directly behind their
unguarded backs.
Both girls started like birds and together as one bent swiftly and
automatically to their tasks as if bowing to one of the many idols of
the House of Rababull with an instinctive zeal born of grievous prior
experience. One must never be caught openly slacking, and the voice was
that of Sorpiala, standing just at the opening of the tent flap.
Sorpiala, so slender and tall for her sex, with long glossy dark hair,
and such lovely almond-shaped eyes, was a beautiful young slave woman
greatly favored by Master Rababull. Like the Master, Sorpiala was not
always so agreeable with the sometimes carelessly chosen words of
others, unlike amiable Nelatha.
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