Kataryna

He had been kept in isolation. So had the other survivors of his ship, but they were unimportant. Servants. Slaves. Those words could never be applied to him. Every one was kept in their places, chained and forbidden to speak to anyone else. If only he could speak to his captors, tell them who he was, but every time he even uttered a sound, one of his captors would whip the end of his chain. The Prince of Pisclea’s fellow prisoners had long since stopped trying. His slave girl, Coya, never struggled. She was off in the corner of the room, the farthest away. Jordan could not understand why she did not fight, why their captors had never bothered to chain her. Coya just sat on a pallet on the floor, attentive as always but instead of serving him, she now served their captors. Jordan sat down and leaned against the dank, rock wall.

The crisp, night air blew over the bow of the ship. Safe in his cabin, Jordan sat taking an evening meal with Captain Wrislan. They disscussed the purchasing of precious laces and spice from the Geradeen which would occur when they reached port tomorrow evening. Coya was to his right, kneeling a few spans away, waiting to assist him in any means necessary. The servants moved in the shadows bringing food and drink. Shouting came from above and the ship lurched to a stop. Red wine spilled over the table and onto Jordan’s lap. Coya rushed to his assistance as the captain ran to see what was going on. Sounds of fighting and dying, steel on steel. Coya followed Jordan up the stairs carrying his sword and cloak. As they reached the door, Jordan stopped and Coya belted his weapon on. He stepped on deck. Captain Wrislan’s head rolled to Jordan’s feet. Unruffled, Jordan looked at the twenty burly men who were finishing the remainder of what used to be the ships crew. Two started in his direction. Grinning he pulled his weapon and started to dance. He quickly found himself surrounded by three dead bodies and five men. He was grabbed from behind and forced to his knees. He looked around as his bonds were being tied. Coya was face down, prostrate on the deck, servants were being brought up from below. A large man with one eye came toward him.
“He fights well enough, maybe he will fetch a fair price when broken,” One-eye laughed and looked around the deck. His gaze drifted over the servants and fell on Coya. Spitting on Jordan, he walked to Coya. “Has she been here, like this, the whole time?”

A skinny man with a bent nose stepped forward, “When he came up, she followed. She’s been like that since.” Coya did not move through their whole conversation.

“Girl!” One-eye demanded, “who are you?”

Coya spoke to his boots, “I am called Coya, sir.”

“She is--” Jordan began but one of the men that was holding him slapped him across the face.

“Well, she is not his wife or mistress,” One-eye and his men laughed. “Coya, kneel and look at me.” Coya did as she was told.

“Nilmar,” Bent-nose spoke, eyes dancing, “she is Argian. This ship and the rest are Piscles.” He spat.

Nilmar nodded, “Slave. Makes our job easier, right boys? Bind them and lets bring this ship around.”

Bent-nose spoke again, “The slave needs no binding, Nilmar.” One-eyed Nilmar just nodded in agreement.

Jordan jolted upright. That had been a week ago. This reoccurring nightmare played in his mind every time Jordan closed his eyes. Jordan now knew bent-nose was named Ontik and he was second in command to Nilmar. They were Melanese brigands. Laughter came from the table where Ontik and a group of five men were playing a game of cards. Jordan fell asleep to the smell of piss, an empty stomach, raucous laughter and cheap rum.
* * * * * * * * * *

The sting of ice water on unwashed skin was something the Prince of Pisclea had never experienced before.
“Stand up,” a man grunted and kicked him in the ribs.

“Easy on the merchandise Kelvak. It is hard to sell them with bruises,” A stout man chuckled and patted Kelvak on the back.

“Rokniv, lets talk business,” Nilmar stood with Ontik and a few others at the back of the room.

“I’ll take a thirty percent cut of the final auction price,” Rokniv walked toward Nilmar. “Kelvak, continue cleaning them up. And don’t forget the teeth.”

Jordan couldn’t listen to any of the bargaining because he was being stripped, scrubbed, and oiled. Kelvak quickly moved down the line of the other captives. Kelvak stopped in front of Coya. She was kneeling on her pallet. Ontik quickly walked over to Kelvak.

“She stays,” he growled. Rokniv and Nilmar looked up from negotiations.

“Ontik, we discussed this,” Nilmar warned. Ontik pursed his lips then took the bucket from Kelvak.

“Rokniv,” Ontik addressed the stout trader, “she is Agrian. I ask that she be given some privacy.” Rokniv’s eyebrows shot up but he nodded his assent.

“Kelvak, get the doctor to check the others. Nilmar, do we have a deal?”

“The deal is struck, my friend,” Nilmar laughed and shook Rokniv’s hand. “How about we get a drink?”

“After the auction,” Rokniv said. “Now leave and let me make these slaves sellable.” Nilmar and his men started filing out. Ontik however stayed, hand on his sword, near Coya.

Coya quietly cleaned her body behind the pallet Ontik held to shield her from view. The water was icy cold but she was used to it. She had gotten used to a lot of things since being taken as a child. She glanced at the lanky man in front of her. He had a small tattoo on the back of his neck of a gull carrying a star. He had been a member of the Culcott clan, sworn protectors of the Isles of Argia. Coya wondered what he was doing so far from home but knew better than to ask. Quietly she brushed her fingers through her hair. Coya reached for the oil that Kelvak had impatiently handed over the pallet some minutes before.

“It is time, Coya,” Ontik said as the doctor approached. Coya stood as the doctor walked around her, examining her for bruises or scrapes, checking her eyes, ears, nose and mouth. When he nodded his approval over the pallet to Rokniv, Kelvak handed her a dorvak.

At least it is clean, she thought as she wrapped and tied the piece of cloth that marked a new chapter of her slavery. She tapped Ontik on the shoulder and he lowered the pallet. Coya turned and kneeled in front of Rokniv and Kelvak. Rokniv nodded his approval.

“She will fetch a good price Kelvak. The others will need to be chained on the way to the auction but I think the girl will not present a problem.” Rokniv and Kelvak walked out discussing the upcoming auction.

Shortly after they had left, twenty men with gold collars came in and methodically attached Jordan and his fellows to a new chain. Ontik turned and looked at Coya, still kneeling on the ground. He knelt in front of her.

“I am sorry, Coya,” his voice was heavy and steeped in the accent of his homeland. “While I am known as Ontik here and now, like you, that is not my name.” Coya looked up, unsure of what to expect next but the lanky man continued, “As you may know, I am of the Culcott. My name is Rut’ontik Tulvott, second son of Kwi’rulik Tulvott.” Coya’s breath quickened as he spoke. She knew of him, she knew what was coming next, but again, the man surprised her, “Will you please tell me your name?”

“I am Coya,” she said quietly.
“No. Your given name. It is my right as son of the protectors to know.”

Tears came to Coya’s eyes as memories flashed to her mind. “I am Coj’jar’itani Amajia. I am a Coj’jar,” she whispered, her blonde hair cascading behind her as she raised her chin. This was the first time Coya had allowed herself to show pride since becoming a slave eight years ago.

“Lady,” Ontik bowed his head to the girl. “It had been my brother’s watch year. It should be me in your place.”

Coya shook her head silently at the warriors need for absolution. “Rut’ontik Tulvott, your youngest brother died with valor. Be at peace for your family served well.”

“You should not be here. Coj’jar blood does not, is not meant to--” Ontik’s voice went dark with anger.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kelvak approached the two. Ontik stood as the man approached. “Come girl.” Coya stood and followed Kelvak away from Ontik and joined the line of captives.

Jordan had watched the exchange between Ontik and the slave girl, puzzled but unconcerned. She was just a slave. The chain around his neck pulled him forward and Jordan stumbled into the sunlight.

* * * * * * * * *

Kataryna looked across the harbor. She was here somewhere, Kataryna could feel it. Nolkin leaned against the rail next to her. “Ya ready fer this, Kat?”

“As ready as I’ll every be, old friend,” she sighed. “Tell Angie to steer to the third pier.”

“Go’n get in a dress,” he chuckled as Kataryna made a face. “At least you get to be on land. Now go.” Nolkin watched Kataryna make her way across the ship. “Angie darlin’, make fer the third pier!” he bellowed to the black-haired woman steering the ship.

As Angie ordered the female crew to make ready to dock, Nolkin watched the nearing town of Beldeen. Well old man, he thought, Kat is chasing another lost pup ‘nd ya are bein’ drug along. Who’d ‘ve thought the fiery gal he found cryin’ on a beach would someday drag him all over the world chasin’ something she herself couldn’t explain? Nolkin my man, ya are to old fer this. I should just settle down somewhere quiet like. He chuckled to himself. Nolkin knew that life was not for him. He would follow Kataryna until Daagan took him from this life.

Turning quietly away from the railing as the crew tied the ship to the dock, Nolkin limped his way to the cabin he shared with Kataryna.

“You going to go ashore like that, Noli?” Angie laughed at him as he passed her.

“If only I could,” Nolkin winked. “Kip everyone on board til I give the word. Beldeen is no place fer womenfolk.” Angie nodded. Nolkin knew she had heard it all before but he couldn’t help it. He knocked three times on the door before walking into the well lived in cabin.

“I was wondering when you would come in and join me. Your outfit is on your bunk,” Kat laughed. “It has been a few years since we have been to Beldeen. Hopefully the style has not changed too much.” She pinned the last section of her hair into place. “Where did you put the ring and papers?”

Nolkin, fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and said, “In the third drawer of the Saldree chest.” Kat crossed the room and unlocked the ornate chest, carved of green stone. She quickly withdrew some folded papers and a small ring. Kat stared at signet ring. With this, she could do anything in the town of Beldeen or its parent country.

“Ya goin’ to stare at that trinket or put it on?” Nolkin place a gnarled hand on Kat’s shoulder. She jumped slightly at her old friend’s touch.

Sliding the red stone signet ring on her finger, Kat stood up. “Let’s go. The auctions start soon and I’m sure that is where we will find her.” She linked her arm through his and they stepped onto the deck. Metna quickly approached Kat.

“Kataryn, while you are ashore, I thought I’d go to market and replenish our fresh produce,” the old cook stated. “Rayla can keep me company.”

“Just remember the rules,” Nolkin warned. Metna raised her eyebrow and Angie laughed.

“Noli, I think if anyone knows the rules, it’s Metna. And don’t worry, the rest of us will stay with the ship,” Angie approached Nolkin and Kataryna. “Be safe Kat.” She hugged the tall red-haired woman. “Hope you find her.”

Kat smiled and hugged Angie back. She turned and gave Metna a small purse full of coins and one of the papers from the chest. “Get what you need and hurry back. I don’t know how long we’ll be.” The older woman nodded and gestured to an athletic brunette. They hurriedly divided the coins and hid them on their persons.

“Ya ready ta go, Lady Prishta,” Noli winked and offered his arm.

“As always, Advisor Turi’den,” Kat smiled and together they stepped off the ship and walked down the gangway.

“Lady Prishta! Lady Prishta!” A small man with spectacles hurried down the pier. Wheezing and clutching a large book to his chest, the man bowed low in front of Kat and Noli. “Lady Prishta, so glad to see you again. Is there anything I can do while you are in port?” The little man handed the book to Noli and sniffed, “Advisor Turi’den.”

“Thank you Dimunate, but I assure you we will be fine,” Kat smiled down at the dock master. Noli hurriedly wrote in the dock master’s manifest the ship’s name and nature of the visit to Beldeen. Before closing the manifest, he put three gold coins in the book.

“Master Dimunate,” Noli handed the book over.

“Lady, you are here to pick up passengers? Where might they be staying?”

“Dimunate, while we appreciate your willingness to help, I’m afraid I cannot disclose that. However, if you would be so kind as to find me a suitable carriage I would greatly appreciate it,” Kat pressed a small purse into the dock master’s hands. “And the fewer questions asked, the better, my friend.”

Dimunate nodded. “Understood, Lady Prishta. Your wishes will be honored.” Dimunate gave a slight bow and hurried away from the pair.

“Can ya track her from here?”

“I think so. She is strong. The strongest yet, Noli.” Kat closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. “We go north, like I said, to the human markets.” Noli spat and inwardly Kat agreed with his disgust. They hurried toward the end of the pier where Dimunate waited with a coach and its driver.

“Lady Prishta this is Klegg. I believe you will find his services to your liking,” the dock master pulled out a timepiece. “I’m sorry Lady. I must leave; a trade barge is due shortly. Good day, Advisor Turi’den.” Noli shook his head slightly as he watched the small man bustle towards the trade piers.

“L-llady,” Klegg bowed low. “Ho-how can I be of s-se-service?” Kat looked helplessly at her companion. Noli suppressed a chuckle.

“Master Klegg,” Noli addressed the man, “please stand. I am Advisor Turi’den, the Lady’s speaker and attendant.”

“P-pl-please to m-meet, sir.” Klegg bowed lower. Kat looked over at Noli then stepped nearer to the shaking driver. Noli gave her a warning look, so she sighed and stepped back. Kindness to inferiors was not something respected in Beldeen.

“Master Klegg, we have some urgent business in the auction district. The Lady must get there as quickly as possible.” If the driver was at all surprised he did not show it. Instead, the nervous man opened the door to the mahogany carriage and offered his hand to help Kat into the plush interior.

“R-right away, sir.” Kat allowed herself to be handed into the carriage. Settling her skirts around her and testing the seats, Kat gave a sigh. Noli joined her shortly and soon they were bouncing over the cobblestones.

“If this continues on like this, I’ll have a bruised spine,” Noli complained.

“You did tell him we were in a hurry, old man,” Kat laughed. “And, no, I’m not going to smooth out the ride. I have to concentrate to find her.” She sighed, “I hate Beldeen. I hate---this! Argh!” Kat’s hands went up in despair after trying to straighten her skirt.

“Leave it be, ya look good in a dress,” Noli chuckled again and opened the curtains in the coach. As the shops and alleyways flew past the window, Kat closed her eyes and rested against the back of the carriage.

“I thought ya said ya weren’t gonna smooth the ride?” Noli raised his eyebrows and his mouth twisted in a smirk.

“I couldn’t concentrate when I was being tossed around like a bag of potatoes,” she grumbled. “Besides, how are you supposed to be my speaker when you cannot even stand straight. Now keep quiet and tell the driver to let us out on Malren street. I‘ll need to go on foot from there.”

The corner of Malren and Silda marked a significant change in scenery. Instead of orderly, uptown shops and merchant houses, the cobblestones turn to dirt and wooden walkways. As Kat stepped out of the carriage and Noli left instructions and a small purse with the driver, a wave of smells washed over her: stale water, human filth and, of course, ale. Lots and lots of cheap wine and bad meat. Kat pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve. This is where the slaves were first brought and held. She had been kept near here.

“M-master Turi-den? Are you sure she wishes to go in there? I’m sure you can conduct whatever business in there. It is no place for a lady.” His speech is improving, thought Kat.

“I thank ya fer yar concern, Master Klegg. I assure ya, we will be fine. Master Klegg, we’ll meet ya at the Horngill Tavern.” Klegg bowed and climbed back into the driver seat. Noli touched Kat’s arm. “Let’s git this done.”

They worked their way north then east. It was as though Kat was being directed by some unseen map. Noli was used to this but after wandering for a couple miles, he began to doubt Kat’s inner guide. “Are we thar yet?” Noli grumbled.

“I’m sorry, did you forget your cane?” Kat gave him a look that oozed with false sympathy. “And yes. We are there.” She pointed to a long, low building in front of them. “She’s in there. The auction hasn’t started yet.”

“I’ll find out what I cen.” Kat watched her friend limp towards a group of grisly-looking men. Sighing, she felt at the knot in her mind that was the girl. The girl was not afraid. Curious, Kat focused her concentration. Gasping, Kat found herself not just feeling emotions, but experiencing memories. A girl, about 6, with flowers in her hair stared at herself in a mirror. Sasha stood behind her, her mother to her right. “Your first--The memory flashed. They sat at a picnic on the hill of Ancryptal, her Culcotti guardsmen watched as she and her sisters sang and played on the grasses. “Amajia! Come on! Let us go pick berries” Flash. “Amajia, you need to concentrate on your lesson. As a Coj’jar, you have a duty to your people,” a stern looking tutor loomed over her. “But I’m only eight season-cycles! There is plenty of time-” WHACK. A stick whipped in front of her nose. Flash. Fourteen priests stood in a circle around her. Her parents sat in their chairs overlooking the ceremony. She was now a woman and, when the ceremony was done, the named heir to her mother’s kingdom. Unheard of. She sat in disbelief. This wasn’t supposed to be her. This was Sasha’s honor. Sasha’s place. Her sister was two years older than her. But what was said by the Agrian queen could not be ignored. This was her twelfth name day and that morning, her mother’s prophesy had been fulfilled. The priests chanting reached an apex and the girl’s vision blurred as her once blue eyes hazed over. Her life, past, present and future began to dance in front of her. Flash. Kat was swimming in memories; at least she thought they were memories. She tried to find her own mind, swim back to reality, where the time moved at a constant rate. In the back of her conscious, she heard a familiar voice.

“Lady Prishta?!” Noli was shaking Kat. “Boy! Get the Lady some fresh water.” He lowered his voice, “C’mon Kat, what is goin’ on yer head? Come back ter me.”

“No need to shake my brains out,” Kat laughed weakly. Noli’s worried face relaxed a little at the sound of her voice.

“What happened?” he asked, steadying her with his arm.

“I’ll tell you later,” she breathed. “What did you find out?”

“That building is currently holding a bunch of slaves. They’ll be auctioned by a trader named Rokniv and sold in the Woodstowe square at high noon.”

A boy came running up to them carrying a pitcher. “Here sir. For the Lady. Like you asked,” he wheezed.

“Thank you,” Kat smiled down at the boy. Noli took the pitcher from the boy and tossed him a heavy, gold coin.

“Drink up, Lady Prishta. We have a long day ahead,” Noli chuckled but Kat could still see the worry in his eyes. “When ya have finished yer drink, let’s go ‘n’ wait in the square.”

Half a pitcher of water and a short walk later, Kat was feeling much better. As they entered the crowded square, people turned and bowed to her.

“Daagan’s tooth!” Kat whispered to Noli through gritted teeth. “You would think these people have no spine.” Noli gave a snort.

Noli continued in a louder than normal voice, “Why yes Lady Prishta! I do believe ye be in need of a new cupbearer. That ol’ one never could get the temperature right.” Upon hearing her name and title, the crowd opened for her to cross to the front few rows.

“Lady Prishta,” an oily man slid next to her, neatly jostling Noli out of arms-reach, “how lovely to see you again.”

“Wish we could say the same, Slygvin,” Noli muttered to their new companion as he found his way back to Kat’s side.

Whatever reply Slygvin might have had, it was interrupted by the appearance of a portly man in the brown vest of a slave auctioneer. He was followed by a handful of men pulling a chain. Kat’s stomach turned as she saw the faces of men and women on the chain and Noli spat in distaste.

“Today’s meat,” chuckled Slygvin. “Rokniv promised me there were a few good slaves to be had here today.” Slygvin pulled a silver pick from his breast pocket and proceeded to pick his teeth. Kat pretended to try to find a better view and stepped a few feet away from the greasy fish merchant.

* * * * * * * * * *
Shivering involuntarily, Jordan walked with his head held high, ignoring the chain around his hands and neck. This couldn’t be happening to him. He was a prince, not a common animal. The oil Kelvak had rubbed all over his chest and calves made the young prince’s skin glisten in the midday sun. He tried to walk with dignity as they were all pulled in a line through dirty alleys, ignoring children’s pointed stares. After walking what seemed an eternity through the putrid streets, their guards pulled the chain to a slow walk. As Jordan rounded the corner behind his former linen keeper, a skinny blonde woman, he saw the alley open up to a large square. Most of the square was filled with what looked like merchants and a few nobles, they appeared to be waiting. But what were they waiting for? Jordan’s guards pulled the front of the chain forward into the square, and where the chain went, Jordan went. Stepping into the square, Jordan saw Rokniv up on a platform gesturing at Jordan and his fellow captives.

“Here they are, my lords and ladies! The catch of the day, if you will pardon my expression,” Rokniv winked at the crowd. “Kelvak, why don’t you start showing off the first of the lot?” At this suggestion, Kelvak started at the front of the line, pointing out the strong teeth and arms of Jordan’s former tailor. Rokniv played the part of announcer as Kelvak acted out Rokniv’s words.

“This one, this fine piece of flesh, is a skilled tailor, or so I’ve been informed,” Rokniv announced as Kelvak showed the interested merchants the captives hands. That’s funny, Jordan thought¸ I don’t even know his name. Jordan shrugged. The man was just a tailor after all.

Jordan let his mind wander out to look at the crowd while Kelvak and Rokniv worked their way down the line. He was fifteenth, right before Coya, so he had a while. There is someone spectacular, Jordan thought, eyeing the red-haired woman. Too bad she is so attached to that old miser. It even seems as though he has a limp, pity. Jordan tried to scan the rest of the crowd but his eyes kept going back to her. She just was too spectacular to ignore. He shook his head.

“Now we get to the last man of the day,” shouted Rokniv.

Jordan jumped and looked around. I guess it’s my turn already, he thought with surprise.

Rokniv laughed, “He’s a bit jumpy today and does seem to have a bit pretty of a face,” Rokniv paused as the crowd gave into chuckles, “but I have it on good authority that he is pretty good with a sword. He took down five good men before Captain Nilmar’s men were able to hold him.” Rokniv continued to describe Jordan as Kelvak approached. Jordan’s stomach churned. Never had he been treated like this. He was of noble blood.

Kelvak attempted to open Jordan’s mouth but Jordan clenched his teeth shut. “Listen, boy,” Kelvak whispered, “you will cooperate or I will split you from navel to nose right here. Now open up like a good little boy or I’ll carve it open for you.” He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was Jordan A’riklon, First Prince of Pisclea and heir to the Golden Throne. “Open you mouth,” Kelvak threatened, pushing a fine tipped dagger delicately against his back. Finally, Jordan did as he was told, opening his mouth and allowing Kelvak to show the assembled people the row of pearly white teeth.

“As you can see, gentleman, this slave needs to be broken in a bit, but he really is a prize specimen. Moving on; our last item today is a young, healthy and completely trained young woman. She is so trained that if you give her an order, she will not break her word. This really is the prize of the day,” Rokniv beamed at the crowd. “Coya, come here now.”

Jordan watched as Coya walked in front of him, completely free from binding, towards the portly man on the platform. Looking away disgustedly, he once again scanned the crowd. The red haired lady was watching Coya with interest; she never took her eyes off of the blue-eyed serving girl. But the red-hair was not the only one, Jordan mused as he looked around, four or five others, mostly men, looked at the girl on the platform so intently that Jordan was surprised Coya didn’t have holes pierced into her.

“Now of course you can name her whatever you wish, but as you see, she answers to Coya quickly enough,” Rokniv paused and looked at his audience. A bell chimed twelve long tolls and Rokniv gestured to Coya and Coya moved to take her place at the end of the line.

“Lords and ladies! It is now time to start the auction. We will start at the beginning of the line and move down,” Rokniv announced. “Coya will be the last slave sold.” Several well dressed men grumbled at that last line but stood waiting. Jordan watched as a handful of merchants left the square.

The auction started with the tailor; Rokniv taking bids from the front before the back. This didn’t follow any order Jordan had ever heard of or witnessed before. In an auction, the item or slave would go to the highest, fastest bidder. Here, certain bids outweighed others, even if the price was lower. Despite his situation, Jordan was curious at how the auction was being conducted. One of the kitchen maids, a pretty, brown haired girl whom he had enjoyed more than one evening with, was put up with a starting price of thirty ducas. Three men immediately raised the bid and had the bid up to fifty-five when all of the sudden an older woman stepped forth bidding only fifty. The three men who had been haggling before stepped back and didn’t contest the bid. It was obvious they were wealthy and powerful so why did the woman get the maid for only fifty? Jordan shook his head. He wished Advisor Kehln was there to explain wherever he was laws and regulations. Jordan attempted to watch to see if there was a pattern, but without knowing rank or status, he felt hopelessly lost. Frustrated, Jordan scanned the crowd.

As Rokniv progressed down the line, selling his merchandise, the square slowly emptied. Only twenty men and women were left when it came time to bid on the former prince’s linen keeper, the prince himself, and his personal slave. Jordan quickly noticed the red-haired lady and several of the men who stared at Coya earlier were among those who stayed.

“This one is a bit bony but it looks like she is used to hard labor,” Rokniv laughed. “What do you say we start the bidding at twenty-five ducas?” Rokniv’s announcement was met with silence. “How about twenty?”

“Well Rokniv,” a man with a silver pick in his mouth shouted, “I already bought two others of yours, why don’t you let me have that girl for fifteen?” The man winked. Jordan watched as his former linen keeper shuddered visibly.

“You lech,” a large man drawled, “Slygvin, why don’t you go back and tend to your fish?”

Slygvin bristled, “Broden, it’s clear that you don’t want her, so mind your own business.”

“Everything is my business,” Broden said quietly. “Now why don’t you head home now before I leave you for fish food?” Jordan realized that one half of the people in the square were fingering weapons and wore lapels of the same color as Broden’s.

“Rokniv,” the man named Slygvin tilted his head in the direction of the platform before leaving the square. He was followed by two men in grey tunics holding onto two of Jordan’s former horse handlers.

“Back to business,” Rokniv hollered cheerfully. “This girl for fifteen ducas. A bargain if I ever made one.”

Broden smiled and looked around at the remaining people in the square. A timid looking old man stepped forward and raised his hand.

“Sold to Scholar Raswen,” Rokniv smiled as the old man exchanged coins for a leash and the linen keeper. Kelli, Jordan thought her name was. Jordan was surprised to see Kelli smile as the old man whispered something in her ear. Jordan watched as Kelli and the scholar approached Broden and they spoke.

“Now onto the boy,” Rokniv’s voice announced and Jordan’s stomach did a somersault. “He may be difficult to train but he truly is quite a prize. How about we start at forty ducas?”

Jordan watched as Broden stepped forth to bid. He was surprised when, not a second later, the red-haired lady also stepped up and placed a bid. Her companion, he noticed, was also startled.

“That puts the bidding up to seventy ducas from the Lady. How about you, Lord Broden?” Rokniv asked. Jordan scoffed as he realized that one probably couldn’t buy a decent horse for the price.

Broden grinned, “I think, it would be ungentlemanly to continue to fight against a lady’s wish. I shall withdraw from the bidding.”

The red-haired lady tried to stifle a laugh but failed. “I’m sorry lord. I do not mean to make you unmanly.” She tilted her head slightly in his direction as she sent her companion towards Rokniv with a purse of coins.

“Sorry fer the bother sir,” the man said stiffly to Rokniv, “but the Lady was wonderin’ if ye might be so kind as te hold onto the boy until the auction is over.” Rokniv bristled slightly and the man continued, “Don’t fret now. Here’s your money and a little extra. See, I’m just not as young as I once was and the Lady wishes to bid on the girl still so we were hoping to keep this one here, chained, until it’s all done with.”

Rokniv eyed the gold coins the man had given him and agreed to allow Jordan to remain chained. Well over seventy ducas, Jordan reasoned as he watched Rokniv slip the coins in a small chest. Then the old man limped over to Jordan.

“Now, don’ be givin no trouble. The Lady and I can’t afford a mess of this so hang tight and sit your arse down,” he whispered then he hobbled away.

Before Jordan could figure out just what the man had said, Rokniv was announcing the final sale of the day.

“Well, we have certainly grown shorter in number,” Rokniv grinned. “Now it is my pleasure to sell one of the best behaved slaves this side of the Krulean Sea!” Rokniv paused and his smile slipped just a little. Jordan looked around to see the cause. Ontik was now standing at the back of the market. Rokniv licked his lips and continued, “Just because she is so special and will not need broken, I would like to start the bidding at eighty ducas.”

Coya looked startled as the amount was shouted into the audience. But then, so was everyone who heard it. Jordan grimaced. He had been sold for less than the lowest slave. Jordan glanced back at Coya. She was unaware that Ontik was in the crowd. The girl kept looking at her feet. Jordan wondered what was going through his slave’s mind. His former slave’s mind. She was quiet, unaffected by the noise and smell. Amazed, Jordan shook his head and started to listen to the bidding.

“I have one hundred and fifty ducas from Lord Broden,” Rokniv was practically beaming. “What do I hear from you two?”

A well dressed gentleman in all black looked wistfully at Coya, mumbled, “Too much for any slave,” and walked away. Two boys in all black livery followed him.

“Poor Anurag,” Rokniv sighed. “Oh well. How about you, Lady?”

“Well, I would like to get over soon. I am hungry. So, I wish to raise it significantly in the hopes of finding an end. I will pay two hundred and fifty ducas for the girl,” the red-haired lady lifted her chin and smiled. Her companion on the other hand, grumbled and spat on the ground. Lord Broden also seemed surprised.

“I am sorry to quash your hopes, Lady, but I am in desperate need of a good serving maid. But not to leave Master Rokniv out of sorts, I will match the price of the Lady’s.”

“What was all that about you being a gentleman, Lord Broden?” the lady tilted her head quizzically in Broden’s direction. “Master Rokniv, I am prepared to pay the two hundred fifty ducas gold now. I doubt Lord Broden carries that on him.”

Rokniv was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Lady, I’m sorry but—I, uhm,” Rokniv cleared his throat. “Obviously you are unaware of how commerce is run in Beldeen.” Jordan perked up. Maybe he would learn something here. To know their rules might help him in the fast approaching future.

“Master Rokniv, Lord Broden,” the red-haired lady bowed her head slightly and smiled, “I’m afraid I have not introduced myself. Though, Lord Broden, I’m surprised you need a name. I am Lady Prishta. Lady Areala Prishta.”

“Lord Broden?” Rokniv had lost all of his confidence and looked questioningly at the tall lord.

“Do not worry, Master Rokniv,” Broden replied. He seemed distracted, his full attention now on Lady Prishta. “The lady and I can settle this between the two of us,” Broden smiled. “Master Rokniv, Jarvis will take you to my counting house on Lardeen Street.” One of Broden’s men, whom Jordan could only presume to be Jarvis, approached Rokniv with rolled paper seal. Leaving Kelvak with the keys to the chains, Rokniv gave one last look at the square before hurrying away with Jarvis.

Kelvak approached Jordan and unhooked a section of the chain. “C’mon, it seems I get to be your baby-sitter until the Lady concedes rights to Lord Broden,” he grumbled and jerked Jordan forward. “Girl, come. Both of you will follow me and not cause any bother.”

Kelvak led them towards Lady Prishta and Lord Broden. Halfway there, Jordan tripped over the uneven pavement. Looking around to make sure the nobles were occupied, Kelvak jerked Jordan halfway to his feet. Grabbing a chunk of his hair, Kelvak yanked Jordan’s head back. Kelvak whispered in Jordan’s ear, “Get up. Rokniv isn’t here, pretty boy. You may be merchandise but—oh wait, that is all you are. Get used to it, slave.” Jordan couldn’t see: stars were swimming in front of his eyes.

“I’d go easy on the boy if I were ye,” a male voice sounded somewhere above him. “He may be a slave, but he in’t yer slave, so I’d kip me hands to meself.” The grip on Jordan’s head slowly relaxed and he fell on all fours on the pavement. “Now, grub, I don’t intend on ye handlin’ any more of- what was that lovely word ye used? Merchandise. Unless of course, ye wish to become some?” the voice threatened ominously. Jordan had recovered enough of his vision to look up. Lady Prishta’s man was staring down Kelvak.

“I am a freeman and slave-handler. I’ll treat this garbage any way I decide, foreigner,” Kelvak’s face was contorted in a dark anger.

“Not if ye wish te remain free, now git. I may be foreign, but I have a feelin my Lady will feel the same as me. An’ if ye haven’ noticed, even your Lord Broden treats her at least as an equal. Under yer laws, not even ye would be protected from her if she claimed ye. Now, give me the key to the boy’s chain and go.”

Kelvak tossed the key on the pavement. “There’s your precious key, foreigner.” Jordan felt Kelvak’s spit land beside him before the man stormed away.

“Don’ even think ‘bout touchin that key, boy,” his strange new keeper said as he helped Jordan get to his feet. “Girl, would ye mind holdin on te that key fer me?” Coya bent and picked up the key and followed Jordan and the man towards Lady Prishta and Lord Broden.

“Lady Prishta, sitting here, arguing rights in the hot sun isn’t solving any issues. How about we go somewhere cool and get a bite to eat? After all, your legs must be getting tired,” Lord Broden grinned as Lady Prishta’s stomach grumbled in a very unladylike manner.

“My legs are none of your concern. However, my stomach seems to agree with you,” she smiled. “Advisor Turi’den, will you please take the boy to the ship?”

Jordan watched as the man raised his eyebrow at Lady Prishta and took a step toward her. However, Lady Prishta gave Advisor Turi’den a small shake of her head.

“As ye wish, Lady Prishta,” Turi’den bowed his head. He approached Coya and whispered, “Ye’ll be fine, lass. Give me the boy’s key and stick to the Lady’s side.” He winked and smiled at her. Taking the key from her hand, he tugged on Jordan’s chain. “C’mon boy.”

As Jordan followed the limping hulk out of the square, he could hear Advisor Turi’den grumble under his breath. “Hurry up, boy,” Turi’den growled back at him. “I’ll be damned if I go back to that blasted ship. She’s such a fool girl. Daagan’s my witness, she’ll be in hot oil soon enough.”

Jordan was shocked to hear this man talk about his superior in that way. “Ye coming boy? It’s a long walk to the Horngill Tavern. I’m in need of a drink and it looks like ye could use some real food.”