The Crimson Gold r-3

by Voronica Whitney-Robinson

  CHAPTER FIVE

  22 Mirtul, 1373 DR

  Tazi unwillingly opened her eyes, unable to ignore the incessant shaking that disturbed her troubled dreams. She discovered the duergar was hunched over her, shoving her shoulder roughly.

  "What is it?" Tazi demanded, squinting from her exhaustion. "Have we got more company?"

  Her morose companion simply shook his head and pointed down to one of the distant cages. Tazi foUowed the length of his arm and saw the guards had returned. They moved methodically from pen to pen, rousing all the occupants and forcing them to stand in the aisle. The prisoners scuttled and scurried as best they could to obey the guards' demands. In one pen, however, a woman mewled like a sick cat and could not rise. She waved a weak arm in their direction. The guards exchanged a quick word, and the one closest to her ran her through with his sword. Tazi turned away, digging her nails so deeply into her clenched fists that she drew blood. She felt the dwarf grip her shoulder.

  "No," was all he said cryptically.

  Before Tazi could say anything else, three guards arrived at their pen and opened the lock.

  "Get going," a man Tazi didn't recognize ordered.

  Must be the next shift, she thought to herself.

  "And no tricks," he warned her. Obviously, they had heard of the previous night's event.

  Tazi slowly rose to her feet. It wasn't the first time she had slept on hard ground, but she still ached from her battle with the gnoll. The dwarf, sprang nimbly to his feet. Of course, he didn't expend nearly the same amount of energy that I did, Tazi reflected. Why would he be sore at all?

  Silently, Tazi and the duergar marched along and joined up with the rest of the slow moving prisoners. While none of the other slaves were restrained, the guard who had spoken to Tazi bound her hands in front of her. Two guards led the procession, and three surrounded Tazi and her former cellmate as they brought up the rear. Along the way out, Tazi saw that the woman wasn't the only slave not to leave her pen alive. As they passed the first pen, Tazi caught sight of the little girl. She lay in a skeletal heap in the corner, finally overcome by starvation. Tazi stopped so suddenly, the guard trailing her drew his sword.

  "Move it," he snarled. Tazi turned around savagely and looked as though she wouldVe ripped the guard's throat out herself, bound hands or not. But before she could make a foolish mistake, the dwarf shoved her along himself.

  Once outside, most of the slaves covered their eyes, wincing at the daylight. Tazi found herself blinking a bit at the morning sun, but she didn't mind. The ground was still damp from the morning dew and the rains from the night before. A slight steam rose up from where the sun started to warm the earth. But all Tazi noticed for the moment was how sweet the air tasted. She drew in several deep drafts and felt her head clear. She noticed the dwarf did the same. While they were prodded along, Tazi was now better able to observe their route. The guards were herding them away from the magistrate's building.

  Because of the size and ill-health of the group, they couldn't move all that fast. She had time to mentally note much of their surroundings. The guards used less force and no outward signs of brutality to coerce the slaves since they had left the foulness of the stables. They led the group past a series of small shops that were still boarded over from the night before, though a few of the shopkeepers had started to arrive. They stood and watched the* slaves march past, and Tazi was able to recognize the appraising look in their eyes.

  They turned left off of a narrow street. The way suddenly widened up, and Tazi found herself standing in an open market square. There were no carts or stalls as far as she could see, though the square was ringed by low buildings. The square itself was devoid of structures except for a raised stage and a podium in the center that was positioned toward the front of the platform. And along one side was a small table and chair.

  Two men entered the square from one of the surrounding buildings and stepped up onto the stage. One of the men had a book tucked under one arm, and he seated himself at the table. The other moved over to the podium and waited. Tazi had a sneaking suspicion what the place was all about.

  "Auction block," the dwarf said gruffly, confirming Tazi's worst doubts.

  "There has to be a way out of this," she whispered back to him.

  "Not here," he answered back.

  Two of their guards gave them stern looks but did nothing else. Can't damage the merchandise in front of the buyers, Tazi deduced. All they did was direct the group of thirty slaves over to the side of the stage opposite the man at the table. He had set up a strong box next to his book and didn't bother to look at any of the slaves. Just the coin man, Tazi decided. The other one, however, jumped down and gave them all a cursory glance, pausing to stare a little harder at Tazi and, to a lesser extent, the duergar. He nodded curtly at the lead guard and resumed his position on the stage. The lead spoke a short command to another, who quickly trotted back to where they had entered. He disappeared around the corner.

  When he returned, he led a different kind of procession.

  Treading behind him were fifteen or so well-dressed folk. Most were tall and sallow. Tazi remembered that the barmaid from Laeril's Arms had mentioned something about the people of Mulan blood, and she figured it ran strong in the veins of this group. Tazi cursed herself again for not paying closer attention to the barmaid's words and for not learning more about Thay before she had crossed its borders.

  I was in such a rush once I knew what I had to do. That's a mistake I won't make again, assuming, of course, that I ever get out of here, she mused.

  The prospective buyers were all well-dressed, sporting fine linen tunics and cloaks. Almost every one of them was bald with more of the elaborate tattoos like the ones Tazi had seen in the tavern. She wondered if the marks were strictly decorative or if there was another use for them, such as familial affiliations or a symbol of rank in their society. Tazi was surprised to see that even a centaur roamed about in the midst of the humans. He had blond hair and a sleek coat that matched. Judging by his well-muscled physique, Tazi surmised that he was no stranger to hard labor. She suspected that he, unlike the others, was not looking for,a house servant, but someone to work a stable or a farm. She was certain that she, and quite possibly the dwarf, would go to him as they were, without argument, the strongest of the lot.

  Tazi loathed the thought of what was to come next. A few years ago, before she and her mother had come to a more gentle understanding, Lady Shamur Uskevren would parade her daughter around in front of her cronies and prospective beaus each chance she got. Tazi hated every moment of it because she felt as though she was just a commodity. Little did she know that she would end up exactly that: a piece of meat for others to barter for. Already Tazi could feel the eyes passing over her body, measuring her and weighing her value. She gritted her teeth and stood straighten

  I will find a way out of this, she promised herself. Or I will die trying.

  The guards were moving some of the slaves onto the stage. As the first, scrawny man stepped up, the Thayan behind the podium motioned for the lead guard to approach. The two conferred, and Tazi got the distinct impression that the announcer was extremely critical of the "merchandise." The guard shrugged his shoulders at the announcer's obvious displeasure. They exchanged a few more words before the guard nodded in agreement. He went back down the steps, collected another man and a woman and returned with them onto the stage. The auctioneer seemed satisfied.

  "And what do I hear for this fine group? " he asked of the crowd in a deep voice that belied his slight frame. "Do I hear one hundred? One hundred anyone?"

  Tazi turned and glimpsed the merchants murmur amongst themselves. Most wore disappointed looks or ones of distaste.

  When no one bid, the auctioneer continued.

  "Ninety, then. Ninety and the high bidder will get himself some fine brood stock here." He pointed at the woman's thin pelvis and added, "Good hips for children. Free labor." The auctioneer eventually settled for thi
rty gold pieces. Tazi shook her head in sorrow, unable to understand how life could go so cheaply. She looked over at the duergar once, but he gave no outward show of any feelings. She wasn't sure how to read his stony visage.

  The guards moved the majority of the slaves in groups of two or three. It appeared the auctioneer felt that was the only way the sorry batch would sell, and the guards accommodated his wishes. It was also clear to Tazi that he was saving the duergar and her for last. The prospective owners milled about the square, pointing and chuckling at many of the slaves. Whenever a lot was sold, there was a polite smattering of applause as the "winner" went on stage to pay the man seated at the table with the strong box. They handed over their coins and, in return, received a notice of ownership and a human being. Tazi felt the blood rise to her face.

  "Excited?" a guard whispered hotly in her ear. "I imagine you'll bring in more than enough to make up for these wretches."

  Tazi turned around and spit in the guard's face. He raised his hand^to strike her, but Tazi stood her ground. One of his comrades moved to stop him. But the guard remembered himself at the last moment and scrubbed at his face instead.

  "Enjoy it while you can," he warned her, "because your new master is going to beat the fire right out of you, one way or another. I guarantee you that."

  The slighted guard's comrade grabbed Tazi's bound wrists and started to drag her to the stage. She pulled herself free of his grasp and looked around. With nearly a half dozen, armed guards, the men on the auction block and the square of citizens, Tazi knew she realistically didn't stand a chance of escape here. But, she was certain, the time would come when someone would slip up and let their watch down. She would just have to wait for it.

  While she struggled with the guard, the duergar squirmed his way over to them. "We're together," he told the guard in a gravelly voice, pointing at Tazi. "Where she goes, I go. So sell us together."

  Tazi regarded him with surprise and pleasure. She smiled at him warmly, but was met, once again, with his stony countenance. She thought for a fleeting moment his cold look was for the crowds, but Tazi saw no warmth in his flint gray eyes. She was somewhat puzzled that he had actually tried to pair himself off with her.

  Perhaps he feels he owes me for last night, she wondered. Or maybe, after last night, he thinks that there is something special in store for me and he wants a cut.

  Tazi didn't have time to contemplate more. One guard pulled the dwarf aside, and another prodded Tazi onto the stage. She walked of her own accord over to where she had seen the other slaves stand. Even though her hair was tousled, her vest torn, and her shoulders gashed from the battle with the gnoll, Tazi was a sight to behold. She scanned the crowd as though she was the one in control, and more than one merchant glanced away from her hard, sea-green eyes. But, for as many that looked down, twice that reviewed her honey-colored skin with greedy gleams in their eyes. The announcer rubbed his hands together, and Tazi noticed he had finally smiled.

  "All right then/' he began, "do I hear-"

  "One hundred," offered the centaur.

  "One hundred gold pieces from the four-legged gentleman. Do I hear one hundred fifty?"

  A fat woman with sunken eyes cried, "One hundred fifty!"

  "Two hundred," replied the centaur.

  "Now it's getting interesting," interrupted the auctioneer. "Do I have two hundred fifty?"

  Tazi watched the crowd expectantly, wondering what her price would finally be. A field hand for the muscular horse-man or a maid to be kicked around by a spoiled woman who thinks life has passed her by?

  Caught up in her daydreaming, Tazi didn't really notice that the woman with sunken eyes had driven her price up to three hundred seventy five. The auctioneer made his second call and was beginning his third and final challenge when a voice from the far corner of the square called out.

  "One thousand anH I will match any other offer."

  The buyers turned their heads and even Tazi scrutinized the rear of the throng to see who her new owner was. The younger bodyguard from the tavern stepped forward, clothed in his rich tunic, pants, and cloak. Tazi suspected he would make an appearance, so she wasn't truly stunned.

  "Sold!" shouted the pleased auctioneer.

  Heraclos climbed onto the stage and approached the treasurer. Tazi watched as he pulled out a heavy sack and started to count out his coins. She chewed on her lip while he did that, her mind working away. As it stood, she was alone. Other than the few informants she had paid before her journey into the Sunrise Mountains, no one knew she was here. While she hated to ask for help, let alone admit that she needed it, Tazi was in a tough enough situation to entertain the idea she just might need someone. She turned toward the dwarf and reassessed her opinion of him. It was true she didn't know him or trust him much, but there had been a few moments where she wondered about his loyalty.

  If he wants to escape as badly as I do, then at least he'll be committed to helping a common goal, she thought. Right up until he sells me out for himself. I just hope I'll be ready when he does.

  Tazi let the guards press her over to her new owner. He was still counting out the coins, and Tazi realized that if he was willing to pay what was clearly an exorbitant amount for her, he, or his employer, valued her. But did he value her enough to meet one of her demands?

  "I know you came here for me," she whispered to her new owner. He paused in his counting to look at her. The treasurer was plainly irritated with the interruption to their transaction.

  "Is that so?" Heraclos asked her pleasantly.

  "I want something from you," Tazi continued, "and it is within your means. Give it to me."

  Heraclos smiled and replied, "You are in a rather precarious position to make demands of me."

  Tazi moved in closer and whispered so only he could hear, "You know I can make things difficult. Give me this one thing, and I'll make it easy on you."

  "What is it?"

  "I want the dwarf to come with me. He's my partner, and I won't leave him behind," she finished and looked at him firmly.

  The bodyguard looked at the duergar and the set of Tazi's chin. Tazi was counting on her belief that whoever wanted her, wanted her quickly and not too damaged. She guessed she had been tested for her strength and, having passed the test last night, would not be taxed until she was forced to do whatever it was she had been chosen for. She hoped the bodyguard feared his master enough to concede.

  "Fine," he answered. Heraclos returned to the treasurer and said, "Throw the dwarf into the bargain as well."

  "But that will be extra," the treasurer insisted.

  "Throw him in as a gift for the great price you received for her," he indicated Tazi, not beyond some haggling.

  The treasurer wa% about to protest until he saw the tattoos on Heraclos's right forearm. He blanched and dropped his eyes.

  "Yes. Yes, of course," he agreed and hastily scribbled out a second writ of ownership. Heraclos collected the documents and gallantly swept his arm out, indicating that Tazi should proceed him. They stopped at the gathering of guards, and Tazi watched as Heraclos spoke to the one in charge. He showed him the paperwork and the dwarf was released into his custody.

  As Tazi and the two others exited the square, she turned once to see the auctioneer in a heated argument with the treasurer. When the treasurer pointed to what must have been a name in the record book, Tazi saw the auctioneer grow quiet, and all the color drained from his face.

  Just what am I getting dragged into? Tazi wondered.

  A few hours later, Tazi stood once again and felt as though she was still being scrutinized. When her entourage had arrived at a rather luxurious inn, the bodyguard led Tazi and the dwarf to a simple, clean room. He released Tazi's wrists and made a point of checking the room's door. Tazi noticed the chamber had no windows, and she was certain that was no accident. Aside from a bed, table and chairs, the only other items in the chamber were a screen and a steaming tub of water.

  "Please make certain tha
t you clean yourself. I will re-enter the room with my associate in fifteen minutes to collect you," he told Tazi pointedly.

  "I see you were expecting me," she told Heraclos with a nod to the warm water.

  "Fifteen minutes," was all he replied.

  Nearly an hour later, a much-cleaner Tazi was still standing, and she wondered who was watching her, or if this was simply her new owner's way of reinforcing the fact that everything was on his timetable now. A few feet on either side of her stood a bodyguard. Tazi had briefly "met" Milos, the older servant, when she had tested the door to her room. He had peered menacingly at her from the cramped hallway, and she had slammed the door in his face. Now he and Hera-clos stood passively and bided their time. The only reaction Tazi evoked in them was when she tried to move. Either one or both would draw their scimitars and motion warningly to her with them. Though they rarely spoke, they communicated their message quite clearly. Tazi contented herself to exploring the room with her keen eyes alone.

  While her room had been pleasant, if austere, this room was sumptuous and extravagant. Tazi noticed the sheen of silk sheets on the bed, the embroidered cushions on the settee, and the large, carved desk. All were quality items. In front of the wardrobe were several trunks, most likely full of clothes. Her host spared no expense for his needs. Even the servants were well dressed and sporte^ weapons of fine craftsmanship. A lesser blade would nave broken under the assault she gave the night at the tavern. Coin did not appear to be an object. Tazi's mind started to turn.

  With all these belongings, my host doesn't like to travel lightly and appreciates his comforts. Probably a touch vain, judging by the obvious opulence.

  Scattered on the desk were a few letters and missives. Tazi suspected that her host was fairly well-educated. Not all of the wealthy class or the nobility could read, but Tazi suspected this person could. Desks themselves were not standard furniture in many rooms, because so few folk could use them. Her host would have requested it or was enough of a regular that the innkeeper knew to have it ready. Another piece in her puzzle as Tazi tried to read her owner and discover what he wanted from her. And all the while she was inventorying the room, Tazi was also searching for an avenue of escape. The room seemed ordinary enough, and that made Tazi suspicious immediately.