Chapter fifteen
ShishivakkaIn the general uproar, Cranchar barely heard her. He most certainly did not believe what she had said could be what it sounded like.
“We’ll have ‘The Agate-Winged Jutmen’ — that’s a good rousing tune. Play, girl.”
“No,” said Delia.
He heard her.
He still could not believe what his ears told him this slave girl said.
“Play!”
“No.”
The noise at the far end of the refectory bounced off the ceiling. The caterwauling mingled with the jingle of bottles, the crash of overturned benches as men crowded to get a better view. Cranchar put a hand to his ear, and sticking a finger in rubbed vigorously. He shook his head.
“You say you will not play for the race, slave?”
The blood rushed and collided in that already fully blown face. He gave her no chance to reply, sp
