Habrunt's eyes sparkled as he regarded her, for when she had bowed, her dark hair, which hung nearly to the waist in back, had fallen gloriously across her shoulders in dark shining splendor.
He stepped outside, and held the tent flap considerately for her as he waited for her to follow.
Habrunt's countenance was like lightening, as his eyes which seemed ever to smile upon Si'Wren, somehow managed to appear so fierce unto all others as to strike terror into their hearts, be they of a spiteful mein or no, and all of this with but one and the same expression of his stony features.
When she was ready, he started out at a deliberately slow pace to enable her to keep up easily and follow dutifully close behind him. As they neared the fields, he could tell from glancing back at her once that, weakened from her long illness, she was already badly winded merely from the walk.
He brought her to Geth, the short, stout old Fieldmaster, Geth of balding head, all white of hair and long-fringed beard, with a wrinkled old face that had seen more summers in the fields than the rocks themselves, for all Si'Wren knew.
Across the windswept waves of undulating grain, interspersed with a few weeds and brush, the harvesters worked steadily, too far to clearly discern their bowed and sweaty faces.
Clasping hands, Habrunt greeted Geth with a man's greeting, and accepted the offer of a drink from the water skin. Si'Wren respectfully declined to do likewise.
After an habitual inquiry as to the progress of the harvest, Habrunt said to the old Fieldmaster, "This is Si'Wren, of the spice tent. She had the misfortune to be held accountable for the very stones that come from the ground as well as the herbs she was so skilled at grinding, and found wanting by the Master. She is sworn to a vow of silence, and now she is to become a field worker."
Geth, as aware of events as anybody, nodded his shrewd understanding, frowning with a face like old leather.
"Always use more help during the harvest," he said, characteristically sparse of words. One's very breath, so Si'Wren seemed to gather, was the better to be employed in more productive pursuits.