"Your name, slave?" requested the court officer, a minor underling
named Baschal.
Si'Wren, having made a vow to the Invisible God never to speak,
remained silent.
If only Habrunt could be here to speak for her, but she had not seen
him since being left here by him several days ago, and did not know
what had become of him since. She knew him to be useless for work
because of his injuries from the merciless whipping. Habrunt's last
words had been to reassure her that in a world of such unsurpassing
evils, only in the royal household would she be not mistreated, and
that only there would she, without his strength to protect her, be
safe. He said that she should not worry about him because he knew he
would be given his freedom rather than unduly burden the food coffers
of the slave quarters as an unprofitable cripple.
Si'Wren was grieved to hear Habrunt speak down on himself in this way.
She would never call him useless or unprofitable, no matter what his
condition. But unfortunately, it was not for her to decide, so she
trusted Habrunt implicitly in everything he said. Si'Wren desperately
yearned to see Habrunt, and missed him beyond all reason, but there was
no one to turn to now.
"Well, speak up!" the man said gruffly to Si'Wren.
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