And as Si'Wren looked on unseen
from the spice tent, Sorpiala unwrapped the broken goddess and revealed
it to Master Rababull, talking in a low but animated voice.
Wise Sorpiala, who could always be so proper at even the worst of
times. There she was, soothing a time-conscious Master Rababull's
undoubtedly offended wrath over the expensive, broken goddess. Such a
large piece of jade was surely worth a king's ransom. Si'Wren found it
somewhat amazing the way Sorpiala could resort to her unrivaled
feminine charms to soothe the Master's outrage so confidently. Sorpiala
was clearly greatest in favor with Master Rababull over all other women
in his Household.
Si'Wren looked down at her little clay vase as she carefully filled it,
momentarily distracted. For herself, she would never behave like that.
A proper woman must be modest in all ways possible.
Then Si'Wren paused and looked up again to further observe Sorpiala and
the Master, and started in shock as she suddenly realized that Master
Rababull was glaring fiercely in her direction, as if he could see
through the screening veil of the tent with the eyes of a wrathful god.
Oh no! What could be wrong?! Please, Si'Wren begged her own heart, oh
please let Sorpiala's charms soothe Rababull's off-endedness.
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