Si'Wren felt her heart and soul wrenched by the realization that
because of what she stood guilty of she was henceforth to be counted by
all others as an utter and complete outcast, a living abomination even
amongst her own kind--lowly slaves all.
Many hated her, but dared not show that either, lest Slavemaster
Habrunt should learn of it somehow and make his displeasure known to
them instead. For that, Si'Wren was doubly-taboo. Besides all of this,
she would not have dared to give the slightest verbal reply to any of
them anyway.
She spent the day in a lethargic state of abject misery, feeling as if
her head would split open from aching, an agony which she would have
readily traded places with the slaves for their pains instead, as they
went out suffering visibly and openly from being so obviously hung-over.
The old slave-woman, L'acoci, a toothless, gray-haired scarecrow of a
crone, too old and decrepit to do much useful work out-of-doors
anymore, had been instructed by Habrunt to make use of herself and be a
nursemaid to Si'Wren. With a lifetime of experience to draw upon,
L'acoci gave Si'Wren a tea poultice to sooth her bruises, and some rich
broth skimmed from the vegetable stew to strengthen her.
Throughout the afternoon, Si'Wren continued to suffer from her beating
and the fever.
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