Blood welled from a slash where the whip had struck again, this time
across Habrunt's back. The skin gaped in a long thin gash, with the
matching white lines on both sides of a thin exposed fat layer just
under the skin, and a shallow division into the deeper red of Habrunt's
underlying back muscle.
CRACK!!--CRACK!!--CRACK!!...
Explosions echoed across the courtyard as the bystanders watched the
physical destruction of the former Slavemaster of the House of Rababull.
Master Rababull proceeded to whip Habrunt mercilessly, again and again,
and Habrunt tried in vain to bear up under it as he lay shielding his
precious eyes with his arms until he finally collapsed into
unconsciousness, lying limp and bloody across the stone steps.
Finally, Master Rababull laid off, gasping for air.
"Interesting," he wheezed, wiping at the spittle in the corner of his
mouth. "I see nothing miraculous! Prut, take him away and let that old
hag L'acoci see to his wounds. When he is well, let him be sold also,
beside his intended bride!"
A wild-haired and sweating Master Rababull turned callously on his
heel, and as he staggered into the House past a silently weeping
Si'Wren, he interrupted his stride and turned to shake the bloody whip
in Si'Wren's face.
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