“Come,” Nyctis said. “We will be late for supper.”
Bric stood, and the servants whose hands and arms had made a couch for him to sit upon retreated, heads bowed, toward the wall. Nyctis strode toward the door, and the four burly men who formed it retreated obsequiously before her. The table was made of at least eight backs, held straight and stiff, and a cringing pair of servants on all fours for benches.
“Bring out the appetizer,” Nyctis called.
Bric swallowed heavily as the first course, nude and trembling, made his unsteady way toward the table to be served.
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