"The
fields and indeed the entire House shall thirst for the merest drop ere
the day is out if battle is not joined immediately!"
"What is this?!" asked Master Rababull, truly alarmed at such important
news. "Speak quickly, slave! Who has done this thing?"
"It is Kadrug, who lives to the north and proclaims himself the
anointed of the gods. He hath magnified himself greatly against the
House of Rababull, and has sworn to slay by the edge of the sword
whoever seeks to drink of the water without paying him tribute of gold
and silver!"
"Impossible!"
As Master Rababull regarded him incredulously, the messenger sucked in
more air, and went on breathlessly.
"Of a truth, sire! Kadrug has taken two hundred swordsmen, and they
have slain the watchmen of the canal, and clogged the sluice gates with
boulders, and diverted our water! He declares he will not let it out
again until much money has been paid. The crops will all soon be dead
and dried, but Kadrug has sworn this day that the House of Rababull
shall henceforth have no more water until there is enough dammed up to
utterly wash away all ere it is finally released again!"
"My croplands--dry?!" spluttered Master Rababull. "You mean--I have
been cheated of my own water?"
Master Rababull turned to Prut, and hesitated.
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