"The good Physician must not be kept waiting, for he
will have need of her herbal skills."
As Habrunt listened to the footsteps of Master Rababull and the
obsequiously over-attentive Camel Master receding across the dusty
courtyard, he let out a sigh, sickened by what he had done, and by his
own feelings on the matter.
Harsh, unforgiving punishment must ever hang over Si'Wren's head now,
all because of a broken piece of green rock! Would that Si'Wren was but
stone herself, that she might suffer nothing further. How she trembled
so.
He took Si'Wren gently by the hand, indicating that she should rise to
her feet.
"I am sorry, little one," he rumbled in a low voice when she had risen
to stand upright beside him, speaking so quietly to her that the other
slaves still watching could not discern his words. "Return with me now
to the spice tent and bring what you need, quickly! If any should tempt
you to speak, hold your silence, on your life!"
Si'Wren nodded mutely, waiting for him to lead the way.
Habrunt regarded her a moment, his face unreadable. Then he composed
himself, and in a quiet, firm voice, said, "Come."
He scattered the onlookers, the gleeful and the merely curious alike,
with a wrathful look, and walked Si'Wren to the wrecked spice tent to
help shield her from their otherwise ruinous persecutions.
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