"Let this foolish one who spoke
so rashly against her Master's gods, never speak again, only--let her
live."
With that, he hurled both girls to fall prostrate before his kneeling,
perplexed Slavemaster.
"Master," Habrunt protested, "perhaps, with sufficient time for reproof
and correction--"
"You will carry out my commands immediately or you will be next!" said
Master Rababull harshly.
"I hear and obey, Master," intoned Habrunt, clasping his right fist
hard across his chest again as he bowed low in formal acknowledgment.
Screeching hysterically, Nelatha helplessly protested her innocence, as
Si'Wren remained trembling, too shaken to speak.
Habrunt straightened himself up to full stature, and looked stoically
upon the two prostrate girls, his stiffened legs like the trunks of
oaks. Nelatha clutched desperately at his ankles as she continued to
beg for mercy, but his wooden face seemed not to hear her pleadings.
Speaking as if to no one in particular, in a voice as that of one
already dead, he thrust out his right arm empty-handed, and commanded
loudly, "Fetch me a sword!"
Both boys, too scared to think, ran at once into the House. Their
squeaky voices could be heard begging desperately for a sword, any
sword.
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