He flew from his saddle before the foam-flecked charger had fully
stopped and pounded up the steps two and three at a time at a dead run.
Rushing past the two startled guards at the entrance, he ran down the
central corridor, filling the House with the strident echoes of his
high-pitched voice as he shouted repeatedly, "Master Rababull! Master
Rababull!"
Master Rababull was still in his private chambers.
The messenger arrived outside his door and shouted through the closed
curtains that he had urgent news that dared not wait.
At this most uncouth of all possible intrusions, Master Rababull's
personal valet pulled back the heavy drapes with a long-practiced,
decorous slowness, and faced him with a disdainful and dangerously
menacing look, whereupon the messenger declared again in a loud voice
that he had a message of direst urgency for the Master's ears.
Finally, Master Rababull himself stepped forth in an imperious rage,
deeply vexed at being thus disturbed on this of all possible days, for
he had lost his Slavemaster and his most favored junior female slave
all in one fell swoop, and the messenger promptly threw himself
face-down on the floor directly at the Master's feet before shouting
out his message.
"Sire, our water has been cut off!" announced the messenger.
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