Others who happened to be going about their duties in the huge
courtyard began to stop and stare, but said nothing lest they should
suddenly become unwilling victims of Master Rababull's unpredictable
wrath and irritation. Danger lurked. Let the slightest offense occur
now, and it could mean certain death to the offender regardless of the
reason, for here was every sign of a fearsome judgement already in the
making.
Si'Wren stood before Master Rababull and Slavemaster Habrunt, eyes
downcast as she waited for it all to begin again. The horrible
pronouncements, the endless anguish, the shame and torment--this time
with the promise of real punishment. In her heart, she was utterly
defeated. There was no hope anymore. There was only Master Rababull's
relentless, inescapable justice, and this time his word must surely
spell her doom.
Master Rababull regarded her, and tossed an open-handed gesture to Prut
that he might release Si'Wren's arm.
As one totally insensate to his immediate surroundings, Prut, his
empty-looking eyes locked straight ahead, dutifully let go of Si'Wren's
arm and remained standing on guard at her side.
Master Rababull walked around her, one slow step at a time, his spotted
leopard-skin robes and purple garb trailing graciously behind him as he
surveyed her untouched skin critically.
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