She managed to get Tug out of the water, the stringer of fish gathered up, and the whole bunch moved back to the wagons. Rook took charge of Tug and the fist, and she tried to get a handle on what was going on with the girls.
She had noticed the welts on their flesh on the walk back to the wagon, and instructed them to get salve from the supply wagon and to take care of those while she fed and got the baby down for a nap. Birmmah was still at her wagons, and gave a disapproving sniff. She was trying and trying to get along with the women, but right now, this was a problem at her own wagons, and she really did not need the woman's input. Thanking her for all her help, she gently urged her away, telling her that she was certain that Aamon and her other sons needed her too. Finally the woman left, and she was able to get the baby down.
When everything was settled down, she parked herself on the platform of a wagon and called the girls to her. The crying had stopped, but the two sets of eyes were red and puffy as they knelt on the ground, heads lowered as they stared at the grass. This was all upsetting to her. Never once had she had any problems with these two, and it amazed her that anyone else would.
She mustered up a firm tone and asked what was going on. As was usual, it was juneau that did the talking. It seemed that they had angered him, angered him badly, so badly, he had beaten them, then had used them down by the stream. Thank the skies that she and Tug had missed that. She probed them to find out how they had angered him. According to juneau, it was mostly just because they were there. Her brow arched at that, and she said there had to be more than that. It was kasra that whispered that part of it was because there was a wrinkle on his leathers. A wrinkle, a big wrinkle? No, a tiny little wrinkle, right at the knee, but it was enough to make him angry. She then admitted to bumping into him, splashing Mr. Rook's tea on him.
Listening to all of this, her brow furrows. She can remember one conversation with Ba'atar, long before the subject of mating came up, about her slaves, and the fact that his mother never needed slaves. If his mother could raise nine sons without slaves, why were they needed? This was something that he was going to have to understand. From what she had seen, his mother did nothing other than take care of her wagons, she did not seem to be active in a clan. She was different, she not only had her family, but she also had her clan work, which was very important to her, and the girls gave her the freedom to do that work by taking care of the trivial things around the wagons.
It was kasra that began to sob again, begging her to sell them. Sell them? This was not happening. It seems that the two girls had come to the opinion that if the Master hated them, that hate would spill over onto their Mistress, and they both adored her and did not wish to be the cause of any tension. A sigh came from her as she listened to this. She then told them to go about their normal duties, that no one was getting sold. But she did caution, that when Master Ba'atar returned home each evening, they were to stay away from him, to stay out of his sight, until he left for patrol each morning. This should help somewhat.
As for the wrinkle in his leathers, was he going to beat her when he found out she was the one that had done the laundry? Shooing the girls away, she sat there thinking on it all, trying to come up with some sort of solution to what was now a problem, that she did not know was a problem.
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