Master Rababull turned to stand between Habrunt on the one hand, and
Si'Wren on the other. Prut was a nonperson, seemed almost as invisible
as the mythical Invisible God Himself, and would remain so until called
upon to do whatever Master Rababull commanded of him.
"Look at me!!" Master Rababull shouted at Habrunt suddenly, and
automatically Habrunt lifted his head and froze.
Master Rababull's eyes were like coals of fire, locked upon Habrunt's
like those of an eagle upon it's four-legged prey.
In an unexpectedly mild tone of voice, Master Rababull went on, almost
conversationally, "Slavemaster Habrunt, I must ask of you, my most
noble and trusted servant; Which is the greater miracle? The cruel lash
of the whip, which cuts through a young girl's flesh like a hot knife
through lard, and leaves her very skin unharmed?..."
"Or..." Master Rababull turned to Si'Wren, "the dewy eyes of love,
which but lightly touch upon the stony heart of a slave, and leave that
worthless organ slashed to RIBBONS?!!!"
Habrunt, still kneeling, did not so much as dare to flinch nor venture
the slightest response.
Master Rababull walked jerkily, haltingly, a step at a time, like a
dusty, strutting cock bird preparing to fight and make love at one and
the same time as he walked thusly down the stairs until he could step
across behind Slavemaster Habrunt, and continued in this manner on
around, climbing the steps again slowly, with agonizing slowness, to
his original starting point where he halted and remained standing in
front of a kneeling Habrunt at the top of the wide stone steps again.
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