“Here are paddles for the bidding pit and you will only be acknowledged within the designated area. Do not lose or break them unless you want to come back out here to buy a replacement,” the tallest guard explains, his black helmet hiding most of his features. The pronounced lower jaw reveals that he is an orc, but his stockiness hints that there is dwarf blood in his veins as well. “You can examine today’s products in their cages. Stay behind the lines to avoid being bitten or struck by the rowdier ones. We warn you that there is still the risk of various materials being thrown at you if you antagonize our products from afar. For your enjoyment, there are complimentary snacks and drinks being carried around by the masters’ sons and daughters. You may also purchase a catalogue from them if you are looking for a product type we are currently lacking. Please do not block the stairs to the stage because we’re on a tight schedule. Do you have any questions?”
Gerdo smirks and spins the white paddle in his hand. “I believe you’ve told me all I need to know. Thank you for being so thorough.”
With the guard opening the tent flap, the mercenaries enter and swiftly move aside to take in their uncomfortable surroundings. Even with the pink fabric around them, there is a lingering darkness about the open area. Flickering torches do their best to remove all shadows, but a taint continues to permeate everything. A growl slips from Scorpion’s lips when he sees the cages that line the sides of the tent. Most of them hold mildly dirty people of various genders, ages, and races as they wait to be trotted out for sale. Curious buyers surround each cell and indulge in the treats that are carried by the elegantly dressed teenagers. Each of the young men and women happily chat with the customers and tell them whatever they wish to know about the slaves coming up for auction. Delvin shudders when he sees the mob of people standing before the stage, their paddles madly swinging in the air. The boy that they are bidding on stares dejectedly at his bare feet, the quivering of his body betraying his silent sobs.
Flanking the child are the leaders of the flesh peddlers, each one holding a leather leash that allows them to direct him toward curious audience members. The man on the slave’s left is a towering figure with ebony hair and clothes made out of the finest silk. Several beautifully polished pendants hang around his neck, one of the pieces of jewelry long enough to touch his ivory belt buckle. His voice can barely be heard through the noise, but the few snippets reveals that he talks with a smooth, friendly tone.
Gnawing on a giant turkey leg, the shorter man is louder and rougher in his demeanor. His blonde beard is braided to resemble a seven-headed hydra, complete with golden snake heads woven into the ends. Even though he shows to have a big appetite, his bare-chested body reveals no sign of fat. Flexing his arm for a beautiful lady in the mob, he yanks the boy to his side and hoists the slave over the crowd with one hand. Snatching hands rise to the slave’s feet, pinching the filthy toes and checking for injuries.
“Do we have a plan, boss?” Scorpion asks as the child is handed to the winner of the auction. The two men on stage walk away to finish doing business with the elegant woman, the three going behind a nearby curtain for privacy. “I don’t like it here. Reminds me too much of home.”
“I was going to say we mingle around the cages to find the right guide and get an idea of what to do next,” Delvin replies, cracking his knuckles and leading the way toward the bidding area. He snatches a glass of wine and drains it, shattering the cup in his hand to gain some attention from those in the back of the mob. “Now I want to get the next person they put on the stage and leave. My skin is crawling and I’m getting angry. Gerdo can do what he wants when he thinks the time is right.”
“Just follow my lead when I speak,” the Dawn Fang whispers before stepping forward to shove people out of their way. He is very rough and subtly snaps a few paddles to remove several of the wealthier bidders from the action. “By the way, Scorpion, I borrowed something from you. Had an itch I needed to scratch and that little tonic in your back left pocket always hits the spot.”
The chaos elf scowls behind his mask and talks with an annoyed edge to his voice. “I really wish you would leave my things alone. Just ask if you’re thirsty, Gerdo. That way I don’t find myself in a situation where I want my favorite tonic and it’s gone. You’re lucky the boss told me not to fight with you in public.”
“Here we go, boys,” Delvin hisses as the men return with a new slave. “Let’s hope Cessia is smiling on us.”
The auburn-haired girl cannot be any older than fifteen and her simple clothes are dirtier than those of the previous slave. A few cuts and bruises are on her body, which many of the bidders whisper about and decide to ignore. The reason for the injuries becomes apparent when the girl tries to kick one of the masters in the leg. Her attack misses and she falls on her side only to immediately jump up to yank on the leashes. A fire in her hazel eyes causes a few of the people in the front to cheer for more entertainment. The impact of a whip on her stomach forces the girl to her knees and she remains in that position, afraid to receive another blow. By the tan color of her skin, Delvin can tell that the girl is from one of the tribes and not a luckless outsider like many of those he sees in the cages.
“This is a fresh product that we picked up two days ago,” the taller of the men announces while his companion tugs on the leash. The girl stands at her full height and stares ahead, her defiance replaced with fear as she watches the bidders raise their paddles. “We aren’t sure where she came from since we found her wandering the wilderness. As you can see, she is not malnourished, diseased, or horribly injured. The girl is of breeding age if that is what you are looking for and our company doctor assures us that she is untouched. She doesn’t talk much and her appetite is healthy, but nothing that will bankrupt you. Of course, that’s if you’re the type to keep your slaves well fed.”
“Remember that there are no refunds!” the other man interrupts to the laughter of the audience. With a yank on the leash, he makes the girl stumble a few steps and pulls to give her a spin. “All sales made upon this stage are final. Mr. Chary and I bet our reputation on having the best products, so anything that goes wrong afterwards is on your head.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sila,” the first speaker says, hiding his irritation by running a hand over his face. By the time his fingers leave his cheek, the tall flesh peddler is back to his smiling self. “I wish to start the bidding at four diamond spheres. Any takers? I see you look confused on the low price for such a specimen. Well, we’re trying something new right now. A discount slave will be done once a day to bring some excitement to the festivities. Do I hear any bidders? I see one in the back! Do I have five?”
“Ten diamond spheres!”
“Eleven and a twenty gold ruby!”
“Thirty spheres!”
Delvin crosses his arms and takes a daring step toward the stage, earning the attention of the surrounding crowd. “What’s wrong with her? I’ve never heard of something like this unless there’s an issue with the slave. Do you really expect us to believe that you’re suddenly doing this out of the kindness of your heart? I would put the girl at one hundred diamond spheres at least given her health and fire.”
“I assure you that this is an experimental sale, sir,” Mr. Chary says, glancing at his partner for help. They signal for guards who begin moving toward Delvin, their hands wrapping around their sword hilts. “Please step back into the audience or we will have you removed. This is your only warning.”
“All I’m saying is that something is off here and I’m sure other people sense it,” the champion says as he steps back. A rumble of agreement runs through the mob and the latest bidder raises his paddle upside down to undo his offer. “I can see you’re sweating, so I know I’m onto something. The girl is obviously from the plains, but I don’t see a brand. Would you be able to show that or tell us which tribe she is from? That way we know more about her history and upbringing.”
“This one didn’t have a brand,” Mr. Sila claims, his hand twi
sting at his beard. One of the serpent heads, catches a ring on his thumb and he takes a minute to shake his finger loose. “We checked her thoroughly and there wasn’t one.”
“All tribespeople get one when they turn eight,” Delvin says loud enough for the bidders to hear. The entire tent goes silent, including the caged slaves who are curious about the disturbance. “If she doesn’t have one then she’s been an exile since the age of seven, which makes no sense given her health. A lone child wouldn’t be able to survive in the wilderness without showing some damage. As you said, her body appears to be pristine. Are you hiding scars that would denote a weakness of stamina and strength?”
“That is an insult to our reputation!” both men shout in unison. A roar of curses erupts from the bidders, warning them that they are falling into a winless situation.
Mr. Chary sighs and holds up his hand for quiet. “Very well, outsiders. There is a brand on the girl, but it is in a delicate spot. We were trying to help her retain some dignity by not exposing her to the entire crowd. I can describe it to you if you wish, sir.”
“Is it on her chest?”
“Yes.”
“Then cut a hole in her shirt to reveal the brand without showing anything else. I’m sure her new master would supply her with fresh clothing.”
For the first time, the girl looks at Delvin and her eyebrows are arched in curiosity. She continues staring in his direction as Mr. Sila draws a small knife and carefully cuts a hole in her shirt. The audience watches intently, but the slave notices that the three foreigners are paying more attention to her feet. It is the gasps and angry murmurs in the crowd that draw the mercenaries’ attention to the exposed brand on her chest. The hook-beaked bird with wings spread is identical to the one hidden beneath Delvin’s shirt and chainmail. Both of the traders look nervous as their customers grow angry about the deception and a few people head for the exit. They are stopped by the guards who draw their weapons to contain the problem and give their bosses a chance to explain.
“Before anybody jumps to conclusions, this slave is not tainted,” Mr. Chary swears, lifting the girl’s upper lip and tapping at her teeth. For added proof, he forces her jaws open and rubs his thumb against her incisor. “We did find her wandering the wilderness and considered killing her, but we need to make a profit. The actions of the Osprey Tribe has made business difficult even though products are plentiful. Remember that we don’t retain our client’s information. So even if someone comes looking for the girl, we could never tell them who won the bidding. Trust me when I say that this is a low risk deal that we’re offering. You can even take her off our hands, kill her out back, and we’ll give you a replacement slave. Think of the people you’ve lost to the Osprey Tribe and consider this a taste of revenge.”
“I don’t like where this is going, boss,” Scorpion whispers into Delvin’s ear. He sees the fear in the girl’s eyes and wonders if he can escape with her before the guards react. “These people are going to lynch her if we don’t do something. Maybe Cessia is putting the perfect guide in your path.”
“Make the bid and then I’ll put my plan into action, boss,” Gerdo hisses into his friend’s other ear. “I’m really itching for this.”
“Four hundred diamond spheres!” Delvin booms over the crowd. The flesh peddlers stop with their mouths open, neither of them certain they heard such a high number. “I don’t know what this Osprey Tribe is, but I like the way she looks. Anybody want to argue with me on this or can we assume I won?”
After stifling a nervous laugh, Mr. Sila is the first to regain his ability to speak. “It would appear that you do, outsider. Come with us behind the curtain and we’ll finish our dealings. Your men can stay here.”
“Actually, I’m the money in this group,” Gerdo states with a charming smile. He reaches up to take the cautious girl’s leashes and gently maneuvers her to where Scorpion can help her off the stage. “As you can see, my boss has a habit of overspending. I need to make sure you don’t get another hundred out of him. So I will go with you to complete the transaction while my boss waits out front with his new property.”
“How do we know you won’t try to escape?” Mr. Chary asks, suspicious of the friendly stranger.
“If that happens then you will have me to sell on your stage.”
“What makes you think we would care about that?”
The Dawn Fang has his sheathed blades rise into the air and dance over his head. “A seasoned warrior with personalized enchanted blades? I’m a pretty valuable product.”
With matching greedy grins, the two men gesture for Gerdo to meet them at a curtained off area. The Dawn Fang pats his companions on the shoulder, subtly directing them toward the entrance. Delvin and Scorpion flank the scared slave as they hurry out of the tent, the sudden sunlight hurting the girl’s eyes. To keep up appearances, they leave one of the leashes on their new companion, but she sees that they are holding it very loosely. Her feet shift as if she is about to run when Delvin shakes his head and slips her a piece of bread and jerky from his rations. The warriors block her from view of the tent guards in case the flesh peddlers get suspicious of how they are treating the slave. Scorpion offers her a cup of water that she happily finishes, the last of it used to clean her face. All she accomplishes is smearing the dirt around and leaving smudges around her cheeks and nose.
“Are you going to let me go?” she asks in a low voice after nearly an hour of silence.
“My name is Delvin Cunningham and this is Scorpion,” the champion replies, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. He can see she is nearing exhaustion, the previous struggle on the stage sapping the last of her strength. “Our other friend is Gerdo Rintz and we have two other companions named Tavris and Pelo the Swift. We’re mercenaries in search of something that we’ll talk about later. We were hoping you could guide us around Yagervan since we’ve been lost for days. Do you have a name?”
“Samara and I’d be happy to help since you saved me,” the girl responds with a crooked smile. “Why is your friend taking so long? Do you think they captured him?”
“He had some special business to attend to in there,” Scorpion answers while drumming his fingers on his dagger. “I’m a little concerned, boss. It has been a long time. Wish he told us the plan.”
An eruption of shouting and crashing bodies bursts from the tent as Gerdo hurries through the flap. The entire structure shudders violently and the violent brawl inside is revealed whenever someone manages to escape. After a few minutes of chaotic rocking, the tent collapses and the surprised bystanders watch the covered forms inside continue to fight. The brawlers slowly emerge from the wreckage, revealing slaves and bidders wildly beating each other into the ground. The chaos steadily flows into the street, dragging other shoppers and merchants into the melee. The mercenaries can tell that their friend may have gone too far and the disruption of the slave traders will engulf the entire bazaar.
“What did you do in there?” Scorpion asks as they run away from the area. “By the way, our guide’s name is Samara.”
“Pleasure to meet you and I apologize for being so forward,” Gerdo replies before picking the girl up and sprinting ahead. He slows down to avoid losing his companions in the crowds that are trying to either scatter or fight. “I went to give the payment of four hundred diamond spheres that we never had in the first place. I used the stun juice I took from you to make Mr. Sila blank out for a few minutes and then I did the same to Mr. Chary. They had no idea what happened thanks to my charms and I had to remind them who the next slave for sale was. Of course, I kept them under my control until the second sale was settled under their new rules. The decision to have an immediate handoff was necessary since the two slaves in question were of a special pedigree.”
“I don’t . . . you didn’t,” Delvin says as they duck into an alley.
“All sales are final, boss,” the Dawn Fang mockingly announces. He hears Scorpion laugh under his breath, but the girl scratches her head in
confusion. “I can hypnotize others and I had the flesh peddlers auction off the other’s favorite child in a rather quick, public sale. The crowd and the youngsters were very confused, but my spell never faltered. As long as there was one bid, the sale was made. Then the owners attempted to null the transactions, but they couldn’t explain why and I had already slipped into the background. Not that anybody knew what I did in the first place. Apparently, Mr. Chary and Mr. Sila were having jealousy issues to begin with along with some . . . relations with the older daughters. I don’t even know who threw the first punch, but this officially makes my adventure in the Yagervan the most fun I’ve had in over a year.”
The mercenaries skid to a stop when they burst out of a side street and nearly get swallowed by another riot. Delvin looks back to see that the chaos they left behind is still growing, but the scene before them could not possibly be connected to their actions. This new brawl is more violent with people using whatever they can find as blunt objects. Several people have been laid out on the ground and the warriors can see many people retreating in the distance. Many of the figures are bazaar merchants, their silhouettes joined by those of their wheeled stalls.
“Those two were supposed to be the subtle team,” Delvin groans while he grabs his friends’ arms and leads them along the edge of the brawl. They stop when a dwarf lands in front of them and rolls into a pottery tent. “We’re just going to push our way to the hill. Don’t stop for anything and avoid the fight.”
“How do you know it was them?” Scorpion asks as he snatches a dagger from a shouting guard. With the flick of his wrist, he cuts the cords that bind one of his blades to its scabbard and drops the stolen weapon. “It could have been anything.”
“Call it a hunch,” the champion replies as he notices two figures standing on the meeting hill. “A very big hunch.”
The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9) Page 21
