Some of their words could be indistinctly made out, and Habrunt
realized that the men were from the nearby city, talking with pent-up
anticipation of having a good time with a couple of lush young girls
from the caravan, whom they were taking to a nearby garden gazebo, a
flimsy trellis of bamboo, stone, and clinging green vines.
Habrunt scowled. Still more of Rababull's 'party favors', no doubt.
Four had already died this night, besides Nelatha, and another savagely
beaten. What would be the tally by dawn's light?
As their noisome prittle-prattle faded into the distance, Habrunt felt
the danger pass. He turned away from Si'Wren, and stepped out into the
night without another word, gone with such stealth that he slipped away
as silently as he had come.
She shivered, beginning to tremble feverishly all over.
The music from the House rose to a faster and louder tempo as riotous
laughter and the excited shrieks of women was accompanied by the
generally raucous bellowing of many foolishly happy male voices. Then
the voices died down a bit, and the music picked up a thumping tempo of
heavy drum beats. The scent of the incense, exotic and strange, came to
Si'Wren again, wafted through the drifting mists in the chill night air.
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