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Cheney, Roland Jon

"Si'Wren of the Patriarchs"

Indeed, although she had
always been upright and honest in all her dealings with others as to a
fault, she could in all good conscience speak no evil thing this day,
for she was sworn not even to speak anything at all for the rest of her
life.
"Did you not feel the cruel whip against your flesh?" cried the stout
woman to Si'Wren. Si'Wren stared at her wordlessly a moment, then
nodded once, abruptly, with an expressionless, emphatic look. It was
only the truth, for after every time the whip had banged above her
head, it had fallen harmlessly upon her immediately afterwards.
Geth, momentarily unnoticed in all the excitement, studied Si'Wren a
moment longer.
"Come!" Geth clapped his hands in stern, proprietary fashion.
"Everyone; back to work! Have you all so soon forgotten your duties? To
the fields, lest the Master see you so slack, and tempt the gods to
work more such miracles on your backsides!"
At this, the foolish gawkers fled from their marveling over Si'Wren
and returned anxiously to their work in the fields.
* * *
Slavemaster Habrunt approached his Master Rababull and dropped to one
knee as he bowed low, and clapped his right fist across his hairy chest.
"You called, oh Master."
It was in the afternoon, and Master Rababull had heard strange tidings
from the slave quarters.


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