It was a
daunting task to so order the hierarchy of the ranks of gluttony, that
none should be insulted by a lower seat than they properly deserved.
Greater men than Rababull had literally lost their heads in sudden
revenge at the sword hands of their former guests for not paying
greater attention to the exacting particulars of such a seemingly
insignificant detail as the proper seating of all guests according to
favor, rank, or privilege. The absence of one important guest, or
unanticipated arrival of another, was always sure to throw everything
into a bewildering chaos of renewed choices over who must come before
who.
To avoid this, Master Rababull chose to let almost the entire house be
used to party in, while he refused to call any seat his own but
wandered about seeing to everyone else's comforts or pleasures, so that
there should be no one spot that could be called better than any other.
An offended brother was more difficult to win back than many cities,
but Master Rababull was already so old and he was no doubt well
schooled in such matters.
Rababull finished his impromptu consultation, and the anxious slave,
having obtained his Master's decision, stepped back with a low bow and
hurried off.
Then as Rababull turned to continue across the courtyard toward the
House, Si'Wren watched as graceful Sorpiala hailed Master Rababull in
her musical voice and pulled him aside with what he obviously regarded
as yet another unwanted distraction.
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