or menial tasks such as
brick-making, invited the whip, because that could not impair the work
nor harm the product, and would only increase the yield of bricks or
harvest of grain.
Si'Wren was knowledgeable and proficient in almost every aspect and
phase of the work of Pharmacopoeia. She was well tutored in how to
recognize and gather fresh herbs on foraging expeditions with Nelatha
in the wilds, under the protective guardianship of an armed male slave.
Whatever other herbs were not found locally could be purchased
readily enough in the market place for a fair price. Even in this,
Si'Wren was becoming skillful in identifying, grading, and haggling
over the prices of herbs according to their several worth, and she had
already gained much knowledge and experience in this.
But sometimes when at market, she still required the presence of one
with a heavy beard and a deep voice, to help her strike a good bargain,
for many of the traders were so proud and vain of their ability to make
a profusion of crude marks on the tally slate, as 'proof' of their ability to
'read and write' as well as to cheat and connive, as to be unwilling to
bargain in any manner except 'man to man', and could on occasion be
outright fiendish in their unwillingness to permit a mere slave girl to
get anything like a fair deal out of them.
Si'Wren did not mind. If her Master wanted something, he would see to
it that she was afforded whatever means was required to get it, and send
her out with some broken-nosed, one-eyed brawler of a slave with
cauliflower ears, a total illiterate who was willing enough to trade 'look
for look' in the market place, in order to back her up in the demeaning
cut-throat little realm of the traders.
Perhaps Si'Wren's most notable challenge of all, however, was her
resolute refusal of becoming involved in any form of Sorcery, and a
natural fear and reluctance of serving it's horrible totems and mystic
signs employed publicly with such pomp and ceremony. Besides this,
as a female she was ineligible to rise to a very high rank in the
priesthood anyways.
Few women rose to such positions of power. After all, it was a man's
world. Where superior strength was needed, of what use was beauty?
Woe to the man who became physically useless, in such a world.
And so, through no fault of her own, Si'Wren had already missed out
on the basic qualifying factor in life of being born male, a crucial
qualification if one was to become a true Master of Pharmacopoeia. But
she had always shunned, in heart and deed, the vile pursuits of being a
Sorcerer, and secretly regarded it as no great loss in her young life.
Neither did Habrunt, the sage Slavemaster, take part in any Sorceries
himself, ceremonial or other, and from what she saw, Si'Wren
indirectly perceived a like sentiment in Habrunt to her own. She had
never seen him so much as partake of such dark activities, even when
she saw him off by himself at such and such a time as he felt mostly
unobserved by others.
Habrunt was an exceeding strong man, and his true age was a mystery
to all. He had a naturally weathered face, with deep, dark, friendly eyes,
which held a slight but perpetual squint, as if he were ever vigilant
against the many evils of an uncertain life. Si'Wren basically entrusted
herself body and soul to Habrunt's unassuming tutelage in the many
curiosities of the world, as if nothing could be more natural.
Habrunt was a formidable man. His tireless, muscular physique was
battle-scarred, but although she knew him to be a fearless man, she had
never seen him actually fight anyone. He had no tatoos. His dark hair,
like his beard, was slightly wavy, and like his face, very pleasing to
behold in the eyes of young Si'Wren, and he kept his hair cropped to a
proper shoulder length, but no longer than that, as befitted his low
station in life, for he was but a slave himself. Habrunt was greater in
stature and strength than Master Rababull, but unlike that other, he was
no idle boaster and displayed no jewelry upon his nearly naked person.
Although only a slave, Slavemaster Habrunt ranked second in
importance in the House of Rababull after only the Master himself. The
cast of Habrunt's eyes was of a dutiful mein, but his normally pleasant,
preoccupied expression as he looked after his many responsibilities,
could become hard and unyielding at a moment's notice, even piercing
by aspect, such as when he was wont to evaluate a slave even unto his
very soul with a mere look. For this, and other, less notable reasons,
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