The least of the elders of any of the villages round about, and those
also that sat in the gates of the Emperor's city, was each and every
one of them, from the highest to the very lowest in rank, a great civil
dignitary. That was how Si'Wren had always viewed them.
Such great men should not be trifled with, especially by a mere girl,
and might severely chastise Si'Wren for her boldness, and perhaps as
well for her blatant ignorance of such matters. What if, in their
anger, any of them was to complain to her Master Rababull and shame him
openly for the stupidity of the foolish girl slave called Si'Wren? The
more that even one of them should happen to laugh and make mention of
it to him, the more Master Rababull would punish her, it seemed to
Si'Wren. No, it was not worth such a risk, merely to ask such a curious
and doubtful question.
"Nelatha, I have longed that I might speak with you once more about
this curious Invisible God," Si'Wren finally said, eyes meekly downcast
to her work. "Why has He given us eyes, and then made Himself
invisible, that none might ever look upon His face? Is it because He is
ashamed?"
Nelatha worked on, as if she had not heard.
"Why would God be ashamed?" Si'Wren whispered, as if to herself now.
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