The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Buy a slave,” James says. “It’s really not that hard.” He gives Jiron a glance and they both grin at the memory of their last experience. Aside from buying many of those who are currently traveling with them, Jiron had fought a blood duel with a Parvati to free his sister.

  Absentmindedly, Jiron rubs the necklace that hangs beneath his shirt that marks him as a Shynti, a designation given by Parvatis to only the most fearsome of fighters. He had acquired his shortly after winning the blood duel. The fact that he is so named has proven useful on a couple different occasions.

  They work their way through town, Reilin fending off the few salutations that they receive. After turning onto the street that will take them straight to the slaver compound, James’ stomach cramps when he smells the most delectable odor coming from one of the open air eateries.

  “Hold up a minute,” he says. “Let’s get a bite to eat first.”

  Jiron glances to the position of the sun in the sky and nods. “There are still a few hours of sunlight left,” he says. “Why not?”

  The mouthwatering aroma which stopped James is coming from an open pit where a whole pig is roasting on a spit. Sections have already been carved off its carcass for their patrons. “Here,” James says to Reilin as he hands him a couple silvers. “We’ll wait here.” He and Jiron stay just outside the entrance as Reilin takes the coins and goes inside.

  He returns shortly with three half loaves of bread. The insides have been scooped out and spicy pork meat with a sizzling sauce now fills the cavity. James takes his and looks at it questioningly, not sure the best way to eat it without making a mess. Then he notices two men sitting at one of the tables who are eating the same thing. Watching them, he sees one man tear off a piece of the bread, and uses it to grab one of the thin slices of pork. Then he shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

  Trying it, James tears off a two inch strip of bread and snags a piece of the pork. Placing it in his mouth, his eyes soon water as the spices on the meat set his tongue afire. Looking around, he sees the counter where the place sells mugs of ale. Moving over to it, he grabs one that has already been filled and completely downs it. Several of the men sitting at the various tables have noticed his reaction and a smattering of laughter breaks out. Once the fire has been reduced to a dull throbbing, James realizes that it tastes really good. Placing some coins on the counter, he takes another mug and rejoins the others.

  “Spicy?” asks Jiron.

  “You could say that,” he replies as he wipes away the tears forming once again. Tearing off another strip of bread, he takes more care this time and manages to reduce the effect of the spice.

  When they’ve finished eating, they resume moving toward the slaver compound. People on the streets pay them little heed since they are still wearing their native attire and doing nothing to stand out. As they approach the slaver compound, the main gate through which the people are moving comes into view. Two slavers stand to either side of it looking rather bored. Occasionally, one of the people would stop and ask them a question before passing through.

  Indicating the two slavers at the gate, Reilin asks, “Should I see if they can tell us if Buka is here?”

  “Go ahead,” James says.

  So when they approach the gates and are near the guards, Reilin steps up to the two men and asks, “Could you tell me where I could find a slaver by the name of Buka?”

  The two slavers perk up at that. “Buka?” one asks. “Why would one such as you wish to see Buka?” The other slaver moves in beside the first slaver.

  “I…” he stammers then says, “I…that is we…have a mutual friend.”

  “You do, do you?” the second slaver asks. “I hardly doubt that.”

  “Who is this mutual friend?” the first slaver asks. “Maybe he’s my friend too?”

  The second slaver grins. “Yes, who is this friend?” he asks.

  Reilin glances to James and Jiron. Unable to follow the conversation, they are no help. “That is none of your business,” he asserts. “Are you going to help me or not?”

  Shrugging, the first slaver says to the second, “It matters not I suppose.”

  “True,” the second agrees. Turning his attention back to Reilin he says, “Buka is here.”

  “Where can I find him?” he asks.

  “He’s inside,” the first one replies. “Not sure where exactly, but he’s in there somewhere.” The second one nods as well.

  “Thank you,” Reilin says then moves to rejoin James and Jiron. He glances back and sees the two slavers still watching him, an amused expression on their faces.

  “Well?” asks Jiron.

  “He’s in there but they didn’t know where,” he explains.

  “If only we knew what he looked like,” James says. “That would simplify things quite a bit.”

  “True,” agrees Jiron. Taking the lead again, he moves through the gates and into the slaver compound.

  They enter a large courtyard after passing through the gate and find the auction still in progress. Over to their left on one of the long, raised platforms, a slaver is conducting the auction. A beautiful young woman stands naked next to him, obviously the one whom the people are currently bidding on. Behind the auctioneer stand another five waiting their turn.

  Watching the girls being auctioned brings back the feelings in Jiron that he had when his sister Tersa was on a slave block. Before that time he had never given slavery much thought. But after that experience, he came to agree with James that slavery must be stopped and if possible, every slaver put to the sword. Or the knife as the case may be.

  “We’re not going to find him out here,” James says. The few slavers in the courtyard are up near where the auctioning is taking place.

  “I think you’re right,” agrees Jiron. “Unless he’s one of the ones taking part in the auction.”

  They look around and find an unguarded door leading into one of the main buildings of the slaver complex. Moving ever so nonchalantly, they make their way across the crowded courtyard and toward the closed door. Before they reach it, Reilin places his hand on Jiron’s shoulder and says, “We got trouble.” He then directs Jiron’s and James’ gaze to the main entrance through which they entered. Guards are entering and beginning to fan out.

  “Come on,” Jiron says as he quickens his pace to the door.

  “How did they find us?” asks James.

  “I don’t know and I’m not about to hang around to find out,” Jiron states. The last few yards to the door he practically sprints forward. He finds the door unlocked, opens it and rushes inside with James and Reilin right behind. Just as he closes the door behind them, a ruckus is heard coming from the courtyard. One woman screams and several men yell.

  “Hold the door,” Jiron tells Reilin and then moves to an adjacent window overlooking the courtyard. He and James look out as Reilin braces the door with his shoulder. Out in the courtyard, the guards have two men in custody and are escorting them out the main entrance.

  “They weren’t after us,” observes James. Then to Reilin he says, “You can relax.”

  Reilin nods and moves away from the door.

  They find themselves in a room with storage shelves on one side and a table with several chairs on the other. Two doors exit the room other than the one through which they entered. Jiron checks the one on the right while James listens at the one on the left.

  “Quiet,” Jiron says after a moment’s listening.

  “Here too,” states James.

  Jiron opens his door slowly and looks out at a hallway extending away further into the building. Several doorways line both sides. The hallway is currently empty.

  When James looks through his door, he finds a storage room full of chains and other paraphernalia that slavers might find useful. Turning back to the others he says, “Just a storage room.”

  Jiron nods and indicates they should go through his door. “Lead on,” James whispers. Opening the door, Jiron moves out into the hallway. Pa
ssing slowly and silently, he listens for any noise which may indicate that someone is approaching.

  As he reaches each door, he puts his ear to it and listens for a moment. When he fails to hear anything, he continues on to the next. At the third door where he stops and listens, he hears the sound of conversation coming from the other side. Motioning for the others to stop, he then moves back to join them.

  “There are at least two people in that room,” he says pointing to the door. Then to Reilin he says, “See if you can figure out what they are saying.”

  Nodding, Reilin moves to the door and places his ear against it. He listens for a moment then returns. “They are talking about another slaver,” he says. “Nothing of any importance.”

  Just then, the door through which they originally entered opens and voices are heard coming from the other side. All three of them turn to look and find that a slaver is there with his back to them, paused in the doorway as he speaks to another.

  Panicking, James grasps the handle of one of the other doors and throws it open. Jiron and Reilin both follow him in before he shuts it. A second after the door shuts, they can hear the other door close and the man’s footsteps approaching down the hallway.

  Jiron pulls his knife and waits next to the door in case the man should enter. But the footsteps pass by the front of their door and continue further on down the hallway. Then they hear another door open and close. Putting his ear to the door, Jiron listens and finds the hallway quiet.

  “I think it’s clear now,” he says.

  “Should we even be in here?” James asks.

  “We have to find Buka,” insists Jiron.

  “I understand that,” James tells him. “But do you think he’s going to be very helpful to those he finds sneaking around?”

  “We’re here now,” Reilin adds. “Let’s just find him and get the information we need. Then get out of here.”

  Jiron is about to open the door to leave when they hear a door opening and footsteps approaching. They sound like they are coming from the direction the earlier footsteps went. They can hear two men talking as they pass by. Jiron looks to Reilin but he shakes his head. “Nothing important,” he whispers.

  As soon as the two men are gone, Jiron opens the door slowly and peers out to find the hallway again clear of people. Moving out of the room, he continues down the hallway in the direction they were originally heading.

  At the end of the hallway is another closed door, they continue on down toward it. Jiron still pauses at the other doors they pass and listens to see if anyone is there. When they finally reach the end door, he reaches for the handle when it suddenly opens up.

  Three slavers stand there in shocked surprise at seeing them there. “What are you doing in here?” one asks.

  Jiron is about to pull one of his knives when Reilin places a restraining hand upon his. Moving forward, Reilin asks, “Isn’t this the way to view the slaves?”

  Shaking his head, the slaver replies, “No.”

  “We’re sorry,” Reilin says, “we must have gotten turned around. Could you direct us to where we can?”

  The slaver looks at him quizzically, and seems to be contemplating whether or not to believe him. Then he makes up his mind and nods, “This way.” Indicating for them to follow, the slaver turns around and begins walking down the hallway.

  “Come on,” Reilin says and motions for James and Jiron to follow. He can see the questions in their minds but are unable to ask. “It’s okay,” he says to put their minds at ease.

  Trusting in him, they nod and the three of them follow the slaver. He leads them along the corridor and then pauses at a door on his right. Opening it up, they find that they are being led outside the building and into the courtyard. He indicates a doorway over on the far side and says, “Go through there and you can view the slaves waiting for auction.”

  “Thank you,” Reilin says and then walks briskly away from the three slavers.

  “What was that about?” asks James when they are again among the crowd.

  “I told him that we wished to view the slaves and had gotten turned around,” he explains. Glancing back, he finds the door that they just passed through closed and the three slavers gone.

  Not to be deterred, Jiron looks around and sees two slavers talking to each other as they stand against one of the walls near the platform. From their age and dress, he figures them to be more than the run of the mill slaver. Deciding on a more direct approach, he grabs Reilin’s arm and points to the two slavers. “Go ask them,” he says. “See if they can help us.”

  “Alright,” he says. Crossing over toward them, he gets to within fifteen feet when the two men notice his approach. They stop their conversation and turn to meet him. “Excuse me,” Reilin says as he comes to a stop a couple feet away.

  “Yes?” one of the men asks.

  “My friends and I are looking for a slaver by the name of Buka,” he explains. “Would either of you know where we might be able to find him?”

  When he says the name ‘Buka’, both men’s expressions turn dark. “Buka doesn’t see anyone,” the older of the two men tells him. “Let alone you people from the north.”

  “But this is of some importance,” Reilin insists.

  The younger of the two visibly frowns. “What?” he asks.

  “That would be better left unsaid until we could speak with Buka,” Reilin replies.

  Snorting, the older man looks with derision at him. “If you wish to buy a slave, then buy a slave or go away,” he says. “But Buka doesn’t talk to anyone.”

  “We would be willing to compensate you for your help,” offers Reilin.

  “There’s no amount you could give me that would make me help you,” the older slaver states. “Your kind is only suited for the block. Only the propriety of the auction has made me endure your presence even this long. Go away before my patience wears any thinner.”

  Reilin looks from the older to the younger and sees the veiled threat should he persist. Without a word, he turns around and walks back to Jiron and James. “They’re not going to help us,” he tells them. Then he summarizes the gist of the conversation.

  “Sounds like a couple of bigots to me,” James says. “And you’re right, men like that are unlikely to prove helpful.

  “I’m not going to give up,” insists Jiron.

  “No one is saying that we are,” James assures him.

  From the platform where the women were being auctioned, the auctioneer begins speaking loudly. They turn to look and see that he’s standing there alone, the girls that had been there having already been sold.

  “He’s saying the auction is closed for the day,” conveys Reilin. “There will be another in two days.”

  “Two days!” exclaims Jiron loudly.

  “Shhh!” says James. “Keep your voice down.” Looking angry and upset, Jiron glares at him.

  “Everyone is leaving,” Reilin states. “We need to go or risk having attention drawn to ourselves.” Indeed, the people are all moving toward the main entrance to the slaver compound. “We can’t stay here.” Glancing back to the two older slavers he just talked to, he sees that they continue to talk in quiet conversation near the wall and are watching them.

  “He’s right,” James tells his friend. “We must go.”

  Seeing no other alternative, Jiron nods and the three of them join the crowd in its exodus from the slaver compound. Once through the gate, they move down the street for several blocks then come to a stop. Moving near the edge of a butcher’s shop, they try to come up with another idea.

  While they are throwing ideas back and forth, a small boy no more than eight crosses the street and stops before James. He looks up at him with a crooked grin.

  “Go along with you boy,” Reilin says when it doesn’t look as if he’s going to do anything.

  The boy suddenly raises his hand and holds it out to James, the crooked grin remaining on his face. Clutched in his hand is a piece of paper. “Is that fo
r me?” James asks. When the boy doesn’t reply, Reilin translates.

  Nodding his head, the boy’s grin becomes larger.

  James reaches out and takes hold of the paper. As soon as he has hold of it, the boy lets go and turns to leave. Reilin grabs him by the shoulder and asks, “Who gave this to you?” Bursting into a flurry of motion, the boy wriggles from his grasp and disappears into the crowd.

  “Who would know that I am here?” he asks, fear growing inside him.

  “Maybe it’s Azku,” suggests Reilin. “Other than us, he’s the only one who knew we would be heading in this direction.”

  “Perhaps,” James says as he looks at the paper.

  “Better see what it says,” Jiron tells him.

  “Yeah,” agrees James. “You’re right.” Uncrinkling the paper, he sees there is writing on it.

  Common room of the Wallowing Swine. Hour after dusk.

  “Great,” says James, “another enigmatic message given by persons unknown.” He sighs, “Can’t people just come right up to you and say things themselves?”

  “This is often the way with those who wish to remain unobserved while doing things that could bring them embarrassment, or trouble,” explains Jiron.

  “I suppose,” he says. Looking up at the position of the sun, he figures dusk to still be a couple hours away. “Let’s find where this Wallowing Swine is and then get something else to eat before we meet with Mr. Mysterious.”

  Jiron chuckles, “Mr. Mysterious.”

  James gives him a grin and shrugs. “Let’s go. I’m still hungry.”

  Reilin asks directions and eventually they find themselves in the seedier part of town. When they at last stand outside of the Wallowing Swine, James looks at the place and shakes his head. “Why can’t they arrange for us to meet at one of the better places?” he wonders.

  Overall the place has the general look of disrepair, nothing major, just looks like the owner hasn’t put much effort into it. The outside walls are cracked and one of the steps leading up to the front door is missing. Rolling his eyes, he can hardly wait to see what the inside is like.