That place being closer to the
compound than the area where the other laborers were gathered, Si'Wren
hoped that this would make her safer from attack by any of the
countless roaming, rogue men of the land.
"Fear not. Am I not sworn to defend you?" reassured old Geth, with an
unaccustomed grimace of a smile. "You will be perfectly safe here."
Si'Wren stood silent, looking up at him as she awaited his instructions.
Geth had not brought her to this particular place by sheer
happenstance. If he was to successfully accomplish what Habrunt had so
gravely commanded, it would be easier if the other slaves did not have
the opportunity to judge for themselves whether Si'Wren had produced a
proper day's work in the fields or not. For Geth to permit them to see
her harvest so little, regardless of her weakened physical state, would
produce much griping in their ranks. This way, what they did not know
would not matter to them.
Holding out to Si'Wren the large, heavy scythe, he bade her grasp it.
She took hold of it, and could not help it when the heavy blade tilted
down and banged on the ground after he let go. Then he stepped behind
her and reached around from both sides, took her tiny hands in his
gnarled old ones, and showed her the precise motion of how to swing it
in a rhythmical motion that seemed to roll as naturally as the tips of
the waving grain stalks, over and over again.
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