He was taking a terrible risk, to speak so boldly of Master Rababull's
former personal fondness for Si'Wren. Master Rababull had but to say
the word, and the remains of Habrunt could end up in the dirt beside
Nelatha.
"What is it?" said Master Rababull, somewhat irritably now, rather than
in a full rage. It seemed Habrunt had struck his mark with the unerring
accuracy of a master archer, as usual.
"Master, I am but a coarse and brutal man, and thou alone art high and
noble and altogether good. Invisible Gods deserve invisible praise,
from invisible voices. If it be your pleasure, let this little one show
with what purity of purpose she might have served her foolish Invisible
God, by swearing a vow never to speak instead. The more she speaks, the
more her Invisible God may be viewed as false."
There was a moment of silence, as Master Rababull thought on this.
"Well spoken, Slavemaster," Master Rababull finally said, his voice
almost back to normal, almost relieved, in fact. "Let her never
speak--forever! If she speak but once, let all bear witness to the
falsehood of her Invisible God by the falseness of her broken vow, and
her life be forfeit! Let her so swear!"
Habrunt had not bargained for this! But what could he do? What was
determined now was not as vile as what had been declared before, hence,
was not enough justification to turn his sword in furious rebellion
against the House of Rababull.
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