Samuel took one last look at the small servant's courtyard, then turned and walked away into the darkness, his mind already planning his next moves.
Tomorrow would be interesting.
Very interesting indeed.
The next morning came far too early.
Well, technically it was still barely morning—more like the dead of night to any reasonable person.
Heena had just returned from the river carrying water, and her neck was hurting like absolute hell. The pain was radiating down her spine, making her shoulders ache and her head throb.
But at least today she'd only brought two pots instead of four—one balanced on her head and neck, one secured on her hip with a cloth sling.
As she walked back into the household compound, exhausted and sweating despite the pre-dawn chill, she saw that old geezer standing there.
The Master. That disgusting old man. Standing right outside the kitchen entrance.
Waiting.
