He almost wished he hadn't, because of what he found.
The women had evidently been abused and mistreated most evilly, as by
devils, and then murdered and discarded like playthings to be tossed
into the bushes by the wayside. For Habrunt, the manner of their deaths
was even now something to live on in his nightmares.
Since their money and the valuable swords they had brought were
unlikely to be found and would be noticed to be missing, the deaths of
the two young men could easily be credited to bandits. Habrunt held his
own sword awkwardly as he cradled Si'Wren in his arms.
It was his own absence, and the badly beaten physical condition of
Si'Wren, which must somehow endure the gainsayings of others, and which
concerned him the most now. Let them talk on, and wonder, and dream but
once of a fitting explanation according to their own dim lights, and by
their own mouths would they deceive themselves.
Chapter Three - The Light of God
When Si'Wren opened her eyes, she realized that it was night time. She
lay on a low wooden sleeping rack, and before her was the cobblestone
fire pit, the yellow flames of which warmed and illuminated the slave
quarters, a long low bungalow of rough-hewn cypress beams.
Deliriously, she half-raised her aching head and took in her
surroundings.
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