"Aye, it is, isn't it?" the Physician nodded. Then, staring deep into
the boy's one good eye, the Physician said, "Look, deep, into my
eyes..."
The boy seemed to fall into a swoon.
Without another word, the Physician took over from the boy's mother,
and laid the unconscious boy out flat on the ground and began
immediately to treat his ruined eye socket.
Habrunt quietly oversaw everything that the Physician was doing for as
long as he could, the better to assist if needed, but as Slavemaster,
he had many duties, and presently he was called away by a runner boy
with yet another message from Master Rababull. Habrunt was a man of
many responsibilities.
Before going, he turned to Si'Wren and leaned close to whisper into her
ear, "Fear not, only keep silence lest any watching should find
occasion to bring an accusation against you. If any should do so, true
or not, remain silent and abide until I return, when I shall make
judgement upon them."
Then he turned and marched away without so much as a backward glance.
Si'Wren watched him go for a moment, and then feigned utter unconcern
for her Slavemaster as she resorted to watching the Physician again.
None must realize how desperately she looked to Habrunt or cared for
him now. For he had not only saved her life but had won her trust, and
somewhere in all this was bound up her heart and soul as well. This she
was anxious that none should learn of and mock.
At long last, finishing with his ministrations to the first boy's
missing eye, the weary old Physician turned finally to the bad boy who
had lost his own eye as punishment.
Eventually the Physician was done, and both boys were given over to the
care of their mothers, and Si'Wren, having no mother or father, bowed
low to the Physician after being dismissed by him, and decided to
return to the ruined spice tent.
By this time the sun had just dropped below the horizon, and it was
fast turning to dusk. The first of the party-goers had already arrived,
and the celebration was already beginning.
Arriving at the spice tent, she stared at the unbelievable destruction
and felt tears stream down her cheeks. Master Rababull had been
virtually a god to her! She had worshiped the very ground he had
walked on.
Fog drifted through the courtyard, transforming the torches in their
fixed stanchions on the nearby walls, into glowing orbs like spirits,
or like the moon above. Aye, the spirit of the moon was upon the land
tonight, the spirit of madness. Gloomily, Si'Wren reflected that the
celebrants were to be spared the sight of the slain young woman's body.
Of course! That would spoil their fun. Such must never be even dreamed
of. Si'Wren wiped ineffectually at her tears, smearing her wet cheeks.
What should she do?
She stared at the wreckage of the spice tent, and wondered helplessly
if she was expected to spend the entire night if necessary cleaning it
up. No one had said anything about what was to be expected of her now.
Should she abandon her work, or what?
Close by, she suddenly heard extremes of laughter. Abruptly she turned
from the wrecked tent and walked toward the rear gate. When she
arrived, she found it guarded by two brawny slaves standing beneath the
torches of the closed and barred gate. They ignored her contemptuously,
no doubt having already been informed of her evil belief in the
Invisible God, and of her complicity in the destruction of the
priceless green jade goddess.
She turned and walked back through the grounds toward the front,
turning aside into the shadows whenever possible to avoid meeting
others. The smells of cooking food came to her, and she realized that
she had already missed her supper as hunger gnawed at her insides.
At the front gate, as she had anticipated, the guards were admitting
the celebrants, under Slavemaster Habrunt's watchful eye. Habrunt
seemed too busy to notice her. Did he, too, secretly despise her now?
Si'Wren held back, until the guards were preoccupied with the arrival
of yet another dignitary and his extended family, and when the
attention of all seemed temporarily diverted, she walked forward
quickly and slipped out of the front gates and into the wide path.
She turned sharply, and walked away from the direction of the nearby
city, into the gathering darkness of the wilds. Cold fog enveloped her,
and in what seemed like no time at all the torch light behind her was
swallowed up in the swirling mists.
She walked on, oblivious of her surroundings, looking neither to the
rear nor to the right or left. What did it matter if some foul beast
should leap out and seize her in it's jaws? It would be a blessed fate,
compared to what she must face if she should return to the House of
Rababull now.
She heard something behind her, and looking around anxiously, thought
she saw a large shadow, as that of a man, following her, too far back
to make it out for sure. Si'Wren's heart began pounding fearfully as
she stared, eyes widening in fear.
Abruptly she turned, and began to walk quickly, looking for some place
to turn off the road and hide. When she glanced back again, the figure
was gone. Slowing, she stopped and stared behind her again, to see if
it had been her imagination. Then her ears pricked, as she thought she
heard the distant scrape of a sandal on the path.
She turned and began walking swiftly away from the House of Rababull,
deeper and deeper into the night. Whenever she looked back, she saw and
heard nothing. Was someone there?
"Hello?" she called out, looking back again.
But there was no answer.
Still staring behind her as she began to walk away, Si'Wren suddenly
blundered straight into a tree, and screamed as two of the tree's
branches seized hold of her.
She struggled helplessly as she was held in a vise-like grip by a
laughing young man, whose alcohol-laden breath caused her to choke and
gag.
Another man, as brawny as the first, towered above her.
"I've caught me a night spirit!" laughed the man, holding onto her
tenaciously.
"Make her give you a wish before you let her go," jested the second.
"She'll give us more than that, and no one the wiser," said the first
in an evil, crafty tone of voice.
Si'Wren jerked instinctively to free herself from her attacker, and
found her diminutive physical power to be as nothing compared to his
godlike strength.
He spun her around, and she bit him in the hand.
"Ouch! You filthy whore!"
He slapped her, a stunning backhand to the cheek, and she felt her head
jerked backward by the blow. The young man's foul spittle-laden breath
assailed her, together with the stink of his alcoholic excesses.
"Help me!" Si'Wren shouted, knowing she was too far from the front
gates to be heard now.
Her captor laughed, enjoying her fear.