Meekly, she followed him in total silence.
"You must not be afraid," Geth said, leading the way. She followed him over a low hillock to where a clump of trees grew at the edge of a nearby field. Beyond the knoll, a peaceful stream meandered through.
The low mound of the hill blocked from sight a direct view of the other field hands, and their view of the stream was also obstructed, neither could they see the place in the field where Geth had decided that Si'Wren might work alone and unmolested. That place being closer to the compound than the area where the other laborers were gathered, Si'Wren hoped that this would make her safer from attack by any of the countless roaming, rogue men of the land.
"Fear not. Am I not sworn to defend you?" reassured old Geth, with an unaccustomed grimace of a smile. "You will be perfectly safe here."
Si'Wren stood silent, looking up at him as she awaited his instructions.
Geth had not brought her to this particular place by sheer happenstance. If he was to successfully accomplish what Habrunt had so gravely commanded, it would be easier if the other slaves did not have the opportunity to judge for themselves whether Si'Wren had produced a proper day's work in the fields or not. For Geth to permit them to see her harvest so little, regardless of her weakened physical state, would produce much griping in their ranks. This way, what they did not know would not matter to them.
Holding out to Si'Wren the large, heavy scythe, he bade her grasp it. She took hold of it, and could not help it when the heavy blade tilted down and banged on the ground after he let go. Then he stepped behind her and reached around from both sides, took her tiny hands in his gnarled old ones, and showed her the precise motion of how to swing it in a rhythmical motion that seemed to roll as naturally as the tips of the waving grain stalks, over and over again. Geth took her through it very slowly at first, then at a more normal pace with a smooth, repetitious motion that was very easy to follow once she got the proper swing of it.
Although his breath was close upon her from behind, Si'Wren felt no danger from such close contact with Geth, as he made no attempt whatsoever to corrupt his handling of her, but only wanted to show her how to reap. Geth's kindly old soul was visibly harmless, although his heart was evidently as tough as his gnarled fingers, easily hard enough to meet the world head-to-head on it's own terms. But the memory of Habrunt's stern warnings left his behavior so impeccably holy as to rival the sanctity of the dumb idols themselves.
He was an expert reaper, and when he finally thought that she must have caught on properly to the idea, he released her. She wobbled, staggered, and tumbled down in a heap in the tall stalks of grain. Geth stood looking down at her in consternation for a moment, and then without so much as a by-your-leave, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to the shade of a nearby tree where he gently set her down.
She lay gasping for breath with an extremely drawn, exhausted look on her face.