And after their meals, those few men and women gorged to
the point of immobility dangled their delicate, manicured hands over the sides
of their chairs. Morg watched agog from his cage as those desperate for their
masters’ leavings, a multitude of servants, gathered to lick the salt and meaty
juice from the fingers of their somnolent overlords. While the feasters dozed
and the more fortunate among them took what sustenance they could from the sleeping
hands, emaciated attendants crept about, quietly cleaning the bones and pits
left behind, their soft footsteps lost in the careless snoring of their
gluttonous betters.
