Chapter Six
Madame Merferi
Kovus cracked the whip.
“Ramla! Greet.”
I detached myself from the line up of slaves-in-training and knelt on the soft grass in the central garden. My hands pressed to my chest, my forehead, then offered them palms up to Kovus. I sat back and placed my them on my knees.
“That is the correct gesture and position in the presence of a superior, whether the slave is before a free person or another slave,” Targon said to a group of visitors. “There are other positions, of course.”
“Such as?” asked one man. His heavy accent easily pegged him as a northerner.
Targon nodded to Kovus.
“Abase,” Kovus said.
I fell to my stomach, arms spread flat out in a “V”, my legs the same.
“Attend.”
I jumped up, hands behind my back like the others in line, my eyes forward.
