“Next.”
Alexander stepped up to the table, and watched as Anja was led away. She looked back before entering the building. He nodded approvingly.
The man looked him up and down.
“Gender, male,” he said, checking a box on his form. “Name?”
“Alex Valentine.”
“Skills?”
“I was raised on a ranch.”
The man looked up, his irritation blunted by his disinterest.
“No call for that … we’ll say you’re a miner.”
“But I don’t know anything about mining,” Alexander said.
The man just shrugged, scribbling on the form.
“Here’s your guild chit,” he said, handing Alexander a tile with a circle engraved on it. “Keep this on you at all times. If you’re caught without it, you’ll be detained by the authorities. It entitles you to room and board provided by the Slave Guild. Do you understand?”
“Slave Guild?”
“Yes, you’re now a member of the Slave Guild,” the man said. “Whoever buys you tomorrow will be required to pay your wages to the guild so they can provide you with your necessities. Move along.”
The man stood up, gathering his paperwork and motioning Alexander toward the door. A man dressed in a grey uniform stood just inside the entrance. Another stood at the point where the corridor met a hallway. “Move along,” he said, motioning for Alexander to turn right.
Down the hall, he came to the end of another line and another uniformed man.
“What’s this line for?” Alexander asked.
“No talking,” the man said.
“I’m just curious.”
“Do you see this emblem?” the man said, stepping closer to Alexander, pointing to the starburst on his collar.
“Sure,” Alexander said, working hard to keep his tone amiable.
“This means I’m an overseer. And that means you do as I say, slave. Understand?” He put his hand on the club hanging from his belt.
“Yes, I think I do,” Alexander said, stepping into line and reminding himself of his cautionary words to Anja.
The line moved slowly as, one by one, men were admitted to a room at the end of the hall. Finally, the door opened and another overseer looked at Alexander with a sense of relief that he was the last man in the line.
“About time,” the overseer behind Alexander muttered.
“Step up to the counter,” the overseer in the room said.
Behind the counter stood a completely unremarkable man who looked through Alexander like he wasn’t even there.
“Show me your chit,” he said.
Alexander placed the tile on the counter. The man nodded, turning to a set of bins behind him. “Get undressed,” he said.
“Why?” Alexander asked.
The overseer rapped his club on the counter. “Do as you’re told, slave.”
Alexander gritted his teeth and started to take off his belt.
The man placed a stack of clothes on the counter. “One pair of pants, one shirt, one smock, one pair of boots. Put them on.”
“Why can’t I keep my own clothes?”
The overseer jabbed him in the ribs with his club. “Do as you’re told or I’ll beat you senseless and nobody will buy you tomorrow. If you don’t sell, we’ll chop you up and feed you to the livestock. Understand, slave?”
Alexander nodded.
“It wouldn’t be fair to the other slaves to let you keep your clothes,” the man behind the counter said. “Only through equality will everyone’s needs be met.” It sounded like something he’d said often. “Take off your ring.”
Alexander swallowed, looking at the Keep Master’s ring, before reluctantly setting it on the counter. The overseer beside him relaxed almost begrudgingly.
“I’m surprised the Lancers didn’t take this,” the man behind the counter said, pocketing the ring.
“Mark this man, Little One,” Alexander said silently. “Tell Jack that he took my ring and I want it back.”
“I don’t like these people, My Love.”
“Me neither.”
Alexander tried to put on the boots he’d been given but they were too small for his feet.
“These don’t fit,” he said.
The overseer bristled, raising his club, but the man behind the counter nodded to himself, motioning for Alexander to give him the boots.
“Try these,” he said, handing him a much larger pair.
“They don’t fit either,” Alexander said, his feet swimming in the oversized boots.
The man shrugged. “Looks like they fit to me. Take your chit and go through that door.”
The overseer followed Alexander down the hall to another open door that led into a large room filled with long tables, each flanked by a pair of benches. The overseer just inside the room motioned for Alexander to get into another line wrapping around the walls of the room.
As he walked away from the door, he heard the other overseer say, “Keep an eye on that one, he’s a troublemaker.” They both glared at him until he took his place in line.
It moved slowly to a row of windows in the wall. “Show me your chit,” the man in the first window said, then handed Alexander a bowl and a spoon. At the next window, a man slopped gruel into his bowl. “Move along,” he said, without looking up. The man in the next window put a piece of moldy bread in his bowl and motioned for him to continue down the line. The man in the final window handed him a wooden cup half filled with water.
Alexander scanned the room and saw Kalderson. Without drawing attention, he shuffled over to the captain, trying not to trip in his oversized boots, and sat down next to him.
Kalderson started to say something, but caught himself and nodded to Alexander.
“Just keep your head down and be ready,” Alexander whispered, tearing off a bit of mold from his bread.
“No talking!” one of the overseers shouted from across the room.
Alexander didn’t look up, instead focusing on his meager meal. It was bland and not nearly enough but it was better than nothing. He hoped Anja hadn’t lost her temper, but he suspected that he would have heard something if she had.
After their meal, they were led down a corridor lined with locked doors until they reached one that stood open. Inside was a large room with barred windows across the top of the back wall. Hay was piled a foot deep along the sides of the room and there was an overseer standing by a stack of threadbare blankets beside the door.
“Take one and move along,” he said, as if those were the only words in his vocabulary.
Alexander found a spot and sat down next to Kalderson, motioning for him to remain quiet. The overseer stood at the door until the room was full, then closed it and locked them in for the night.
“What are we going to do?” Kalderson whispered in the dark.
“Try to keep your men together,” Alexander said. “It may take some time to figure this place out, but when I do, I want you to be ready to move.”
Kalderson nodded reluctantly.
Alexander lay down, wrapping his blanket around himself. He fell asleep to the sounds of grown men crying quietly in the dark.
***
After a thoroughly unsatisfying breakfast of mush and water, the overseers led the new slaves into the yard, ordering them to line up in orderly fashion. Alexander caught a glimpse of Anja and tried to reassure her with a smile but she just glowered at him.
A number of well-dressed men sat at a table on the raised platform along one end of the yard. Alexander recognized only the one known as the Babachenko. He was wearing the same austere grey uniform he’d worn the day before. The men were eating a leisurely breakfast. Bacon, sausage, eggs, ham, biscuits, potatoes and juice all served on fine silver and crystal. Slaves attended to these men’s every need. None of them were bashful about eating their fill, seeming to relish the meal while the slaves assembled before them could hear the rumblings from their own stomachs.
Eve
n after all the slaves had been lined up and stood waiting while dozens of overseers walked among them, the men at the table continued their meal and lighthearted conversation. The few slaves who muttered obscenities under their breath were beaten to their knees and left where they lay. Alexander watched fear and rage ripple through the colors of the men around him while he struggled to school his own indignation. He caught Anja’s eye again and slowly shook his head. She looked away, her colors rippling with emotion.
Finally, the Babachenko stood and strolled casually to the edge of the platform, appraising the slaves.
“It is my privilege to introduce to you three of the most distinguished servants of the Andalian Empire. Each of these men has contributed in immeasurable ways to the prosperity enjoyed by every subject of the crown. Their sacrifices are matched only by their loyalty to our people and the Andalian way of life.
“Through these men, you will contribute to our collective prosperity, fulfilling the basic needs of each and every subject, and in so doing, ensuring that all of your needs are met as well.
“I give you Lord Alden Kendrick, holder of the Andalian Shipwright Charter; Lord Nigel Mohan, holder of the Andalian Cartage Charter; and Lord Titus Grant, holder of the Andalian Mining Charter.” Each man rose in turn, smiling graciously and bowing slightly. The colors of the first two were about what Alexander expected, muddy and dark. Then the third man stood-he had no colors at all.
Alexander’s mind raced at the implications.
“Before we begin,” the Babachenko continued, “I would like to share with you a piece of profound wisdom spoken to me this very morning by His Most Excellent Majesty, the King of Andalia. He called me close to him so that he could whisper this eternal secret to me-a secret that I will share with you now. He said: Always remember, service is prosperity.
“I share this gift of divine wisdom with you today in the sincere hope that you will think on it often and endeavor to embody the spirit of selfless service exemplified by our humble king.”
The rest of the men at the table rose, applauding the Babachenko’s speech. Alexander could see from their colors that they were entirely disingenuous, but they did put on a good show.
The Babachenko walked the three nobles down the rows of slaves, while the rest of the men at the table prepared to receive their masters’ new acquisitions. They took their time inspecting each slave, asking questions and putting their hands on them as if they were livestock. Sometimes they bickered over price with the Babachenko, bidding between them until one of them won, which was usually followed by the other two suggesting that he’d paid too high a price.
After each purchase, the Babachenko made a note in his leather-bound book and an overseer directed the slave to the correct holding area. The few who were not purchased were directed to return to the slave quarters.
Alexander listened to the nobles and the Babachenko chatting when they got close enough.
“So I hear you lost another shipment of silver, Nigel,” Titus Grant said, with a gleam of mischief in his eye.
Nigel Mohan spat in the dirt. “Two days ago. That blasted Nightshade is costing me a fortune.”
“Let’s not forget, that shipment was wages for my shipwrights,” Alden Kendrick said. “They’ve threatened to strike if I can’t make payroll this month.”
“Can’t say I blame them,” Grant said. “After all, nobody likes working for free.”
Kendrick scowled at him before turning his attention to another slave and looking at his roster. “Says you’re a sailor.”
“Yes sir,” one of Kalderson’s men answered.
“I’ll take him.” Then turning to the Babachenko, he said, “Surely, you can do something to stop Nightshade from disrupting the flow of commerce. The king ordered those ships built and I won’t be able to make delivery at this rate … unless you could persuade the Shipwrights Guild to keep working without pay, just until I can arrange another shipment of silver, of course.”
“Now, Lord Kendrick, you know as well as I do that the rights of guild members must be protected,” the Babachenko said. “However, I agree that bandit raids on the Cartage Company’s shipments are becoming a problem.”
“Come now, Babachenko, you know full well that this isn’t the work of ordinary bandits,” Mohan said.
The Babachenko shook his head slowly, considering the man’s words carefully. “I’m still not convinced that this Nightshade even exists,” he said, holding up his hands to forestall protest. “It seems more likely that he’s a fabrication of the bandits plaguing our lands, a persona they’ve created to give us a ghost to chase.”
“Ghosts don’t haul off chests full of silver,” Mohan said. “Besides, he left a nightshade blossom, just like before, and he disappeared with my silver in the middle of the night without even being noticed by my guards. Ordinary bandits attack outright.”
“The man has a point,” Grant said, smiling ever so slightly.
“Don’t be so smug, Titus,” Kendrick said. “Just because you already got paid for that silver, doesn’t mean Nightshade isn’t a threat to your interests as well.”
Grant shrugged innocently. “What can I say? Whoever’s doing this seems to prefer coinage to raw ore. I guess I’m just fortunate to be the holder of the mining charter.”
Mohan shook his head, turning back to the slaves. “I’ll take these three,” he said, pointing to the three men standing next to Alexander.
The Babachenko stepped up in front of Alexander next, looking at him closely, a slight frown ghosting across his face. Alexander schooled his nerves while the Babachenko’s colors swirled with curiosity and magic. He didn’t know the man’s calling, but he did know for certain that he was standing before a mage.
Titus Grant checked his roster and looked at Alexander. “Says here you’re a miner.”
“That’s what it says,” Alexander said.
Grant cocked his head and smiled slightly. “Well, I guess if you weren’t a miner before, you are now. I’ll take him.”
An overseer tapped Alexander on the shoulder with his club and pointed at the holding area for Titus Grant’s purchases. Alexander dutifully shuffled over to the table. Grant’s men questioned him about his experience for a minute and then sent him to await their master with the rest of the day’s purchases.
Alexander watched carefully as the last of the men were bought. There were only a handful of women remaining in the yard, all of them looking fearful-all except Anja. She was scowling openly until Alexander caught her eye and slowly shook his head.
Kalderson and his remaining sailors had all been purchased by Kendrick, presumably to be sent to the shipyards.
“I’ll take all the women. If you gentlemen have no objection, that is,” Grant said. “It’s so much easier to find good servants when I buy in bulk and then discard the ones that upset my wife.”
The rest of the men laughed, heading back toward the table, now set with a steaming hot lunch.
Chapter 9
Alexander lay down in his bunk, exhausted and sore from a long day’s work in the mines. The first few days after being purchased by Titus Grant had involved endless paperwork, assessments of his health and strength, tests of his mining knowledge and finally assignment to a work crew digging deep beneath the city itself. Many of the others bought by Grant had been sent to other mines around the country.
Through Chloe, Alexander had remained in contact with Anja and Jack. He counseled Anja to remain calm and to obey. From Jack, he learned a great many things about Andalian culture and political structure.
In the short time since Jack had arrived, he’d managed to obtain papers and join the Minstrels Guild. While many of the practicing minstrels were none too happy about his musical abilities, the nobles were delighted with his first performance in a concert put on the day after he had obtained his guild chit.
The next day, he had nearly a dozen invitations to perform for various nobles and their guests.
Initially, Jack
was concerned that his true identity might be revealed, but after his first private performance, he discovered that no one really cared who he was or where he’d come from. They were far more interested in how his music was received by their guests. Jack made sure they were entertained, and he gained valuable access to the homes of the most influential people in Mithel Dour in the process.
“Are you there, Little One?”
“Always, My Love.”
“What have you learned today?”
“I’ve found the forges,” Chloe said in his mind. “It seems that they have two different magical forges, one to create force lances, the other to create slave collars.”
“Well done. What can you tell me about them?”
“Both are located under the palace. I heard one of the guards call it Crescent Palace. I believe it’s named that because of the shape of the building. It’s actually built atop a large dam. I have to admit, the view from the palace is breathtaking. On one side is a placid mountain lake framed by snow-capped peaks. The other side looks over the city itself and off to the western horizon. Sunset is particularly beautiful.”
“And the forges?”
“They’re in the lower level of the palace, accessible only through a single series of very well guarded passages. Neither of the forges appears to have been used for quite some time.”
“I wonder why,” Alexander mused. “I have to assume they’d be making more lances if they could, so what’s stopping them?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll keep searching.”
“I also wonder if the slave collars are tied to the king’s Crown like the lances are. If so, we might be able to undo them all with a single stroke.”
“I tried to get close to the king, but there were barriers around his chambers that extend even into the aether.”
“Really? I didn’t know magic could do that.”
“I remember stories from the time before man about races that commanded magic in ways that have been lost. The wards around those chambers are subtle and elegantly woven. I doubt any wizard alive today could reproduce them.”
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