As Si'Wren watched incuriously, Master Rababull stopped abruptly
mid-way across the courtyard as he was interrupted respectfully but
unexpectedly by yet another slave, who approached rapidly and bowed
low, clearly needing advice or authority in the furtherance of
something.
After the incident with the two boys who had each lost an eye, Master
Rababull was not in the best of moods. Clearly impatient, he stood
frowning distractedly as he heard the man out.
Si'Wren looked beyond, musing that Master Rababull had been headed
towards the huge, sprawling, open-air mansion which was the actual
House of Rababull, with it's many rooms and beautiful central garden
with a stone fountain that was surrounded on all sides by a wide border
of smooth paving stones.
There, cushions were being laid out so that all of the guests would be
well taken care of when they arrived. He must be sure there was enough
of everything for everybody, and that included floor cushions. None
must have any visible stains or dirt marks on them. Otherwise, some
guest might be insulted.
When it came to fixed seating, invariably the master of the house
himself must unerringly decide in advance who should sit closest to
himself, and who sat on whose right hand, even unto those who must sit
progressively farther and farther from his own seat of honor.
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