‘What were you and he arguing about?’ Jican demanded.
Elzeki, the overseer, seemed to shrivel, as if to review the events leading up to his shameful embarrassment were to relive them. ‘Many things, honourable hadonra. The barbarian speaks with such a savage accent, he is difficult to understand.’ Through the screen beyond the drapes came the sound of a distant thud, followed by a pained grunt. Mara’s orders for punishment were plainly being carried out by the guards. Since his own hide might be whipped over the barbarians’ disobedience, the overseer began visibly to sweat.
Mara motioned for the screen door to be closed, lest she be further disturbed. As a house servant rushed to do her bidding, she saw that the remaining barbarians were gathered on the walkway, their shears idle in their hands, regarding their mistress with open hostility and resentment. Stifling outrage at such blatant disrespect, Mara snapped at the overseer. ‘Then tell us just one thing that redhaired barbarian dared to feel important enough to argue about.’
Elzeki shifted his weight. ‘The redhead asked to move one of the men inside.’
Jican glanced at his mistress, who nodded permission for him to cross-question. ‘What reason did he give?’
‘Some nonsense about our sun being hotter than the sun on their own world, and this other man being stricken by the heat.’
Mara said, ‘What else?’
Elzeki glanced at his feet, like a boy caught sneaking sweets from the kitchen. ‘He also complained that some of the slaves needed more water than we were giving them, because of the heat.’
Mara said, ‘And?’
‘He gave excuses for laziness. Rather than work hard, he objected that a few of the men who were set to tend the flowers knew nothing of plants upon their own world, let alone ours, and that to punish them for working slowly was foolish.’
Jican sat back, astonished. ‘These sound like excellent suggestions to me, my Lady.’
Mara expelled a long-suffering sigh, it seems that I acted too hastily,’ she said ruefully. ‘Elzeki, go and put a stop to the beating. Tell my guards to have the redheaded slave cleaned up and brought to me here in my study.’
As the overseer hurried obsequiously away, Mara regarded her hadonra. ‘Jican, it would seem that I ordered punishment for the wrong man.’
‘Elzeki has never had much perception,’ Jican agreed. Silently he wondered why that admission seemed to cause his Lady distress.
‘We’ll have to remove him from office,’ Mara summed up. ‘Slaves are much too valuable to be mismanaged by fools.’ She appealed at last to her hadonra. ‘I’ll have you break the news to Elzeki, and then trust you to appoint his replacement.’
‘Your will, my Lady.’ Jican bowed low and departed. As he passed through the screen to the corridor, Mara stroked Ayaki’s cheek. She then called for her maid to remove him to his sleeping mat in the nursery. If she was to deal with this redheaded barbarian personally, she wanted no other distractions. That thought made her smile, as the maid lifted her stocky son and he murmured angry protest in his sleep. Ayaki awake was as much of a disaster as the redhead, and with a shake of her head, Mara sat back to await the arrival of the guards with the barbarian offender who had single-handedly managed to ruin her contemplation.
The guards stepped in soon after, the Midkemian between them, his hair and loincloth drenched. Mara’s request that he be cleaned up had been interpreted in the most uncomplicated way possible: the guards had simply dropped him into a convenient needra trough. The beating and subsequent soaking had dampened his spirit only slightly. The amusement in his eyes had changed to anger barely held in check. His defiance disturbed Mara. Lujan had often crossed the line of good manners with his playful banter, but never had a socially inferior man dared to look at her in such an openly condemnatory fashion. Suddenly sorry she had not called for a more modest house robe, Mara nevertheless refused to summon her maid, lest she grant significance to the stare of a barbarian slave. Rather than feel embarrassment before the outworlder, she matched his gaze with her own.
The guards were uncertain what to do with the wretch they had half dragged into their Lady’s presence. Still gripping the huge man tightly, they offered ineffectual bows. The more senior of the warriors broke the silence with ill-concealed diffidence. ‘Lady, what is your wish? A barbarian in your presence would perhaps be more seemly on his knees.’
Mara noticed the guards as if for the first time, and the water pooling on her waxed floor. There was blood mixed in the puddles.
‘Let him stand, if he wishes.’ She clapped for her servants, and sent the first one to answer off at a run to fetch towels.