That he had already taken in the
plight of Si'Wren seemed inevitable, but he betrayed no sign of it.
The two runner boys finally caught up and, terrified by the mask of
rage on Master Rababull's features, immediately threw themselves
face-first flat in the dirt and lay trembling as they fearfully hid
their eyes.
"I come at thy bidding, oh master," Habrunt intoned in his deepest and
most servile do-or-die manner.
Master Rababull stared at Habrunt deliberately for a long moment,
before speaking.
"Slavemaster, I have found corruption, in the spice tent, of all
places," said Rababull. His allusion to the spice tent was especially
ironic, as spices were commonly used to cure infections in the living,
and to embalm the dead to delay the onset of corruption and rottenness
as long as possible. Of course, only those who could pay were so
embalmed. Most could not afford it.
Speaking as to the earth, Habrunt declared emphatically, "Speak, Lord,
and it shall be my will!"
"My prize green goddess has been broken. For this crime, let Nelatha be
slain," said Rababull.
Nelatha's eyes closed as she keened silently in helpless terror.
"And let this little one--" Master Rababull's voice faltered, so strong
and so deep were his feelings for her.
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