Olives & The Stadium of Tharlarion

I spent the day brining the vine-ripened olives that grow on the gentle slope beside the field of dina I own north of Venna. I did this with an auburn-maned girl I've kept sequestered for the last few passage hands. After they are picked, they are cleaned and then bruised by slashing one side with a paring knife. They are then placed in an earthenware container, submerged in a saltwater solution for three to four hands. In the interim, at the end of each hand, one must freshen the brine. If the largest of the olives in the brine, at the end of three or four hands, is not too bitter to the taste, the lot of them are placed in a fresh pot to marinate. The marinade consists of a little wine, the juice of a tospit, spices and olive oil. The olives are completely submerged in the marinade for a few days and then they are ready to eat. At the moment, most of the containers are 'first hands' or 'second hands,' but there is one that will be ready for rinsing and marinading in the next day or so. I look forward to sampling the 'fruit of my labors,' so to speak. When I am compelled to return to Ar, there will be men from Vesutto to look after these menial tasks, but I find it very satisfying to do it myself. Joy, the girl I call Sandal, seems to enjoy the work as well. She browns nicely in the sun and does not complain about the long ahn spent picking and cleaning and mixing the brine. Of course, she is a slave. Such women find the whole business of registering complaints a losing proposition most times. That is not to say that I do not have an open-door policy, I do. It is only to say that, in conjunction with the open-door policy, I have a loose-belt policy.
"A bit more salt, Sandal," I instructed as the girl mixed the brine. She looked lovely with the kerchief tied about her forehead, her red-brown curls refusing to remain tied back neatly in place. "Then off into the field to pick the ta-grapes."
"Yes, my master," she said in what seemed to be a genuinely contented tone.
I may take her with me into the District of Telluria later in the afternoon to one of the tharlarion farms. There are races coming to Venna's Stadium of Tharlarion either tonight or the next night. I would not mind seeing some of the beasts that will be competing up close. Now and again one is fortunate enough to be about when the hatchlings are fresh from the eggs. That might be something to see as well. I walked by the Stadium last evening en route to meeting Phineahas in the city's great square. There were posters and placards announcing Horned Ubar, the fearsome monster that was in the city during my last sojourn abroad. As his name suggests, he is horned about the forehead. His leathery hide is swarthy, striped green about the rear flanks. A terrible lizard, indeed.