First of Summer, 513 "Can we please go outside now?" Aron frowned as he leaned in closer to the ivory throat in front of his delicate nose, dark blue eyes narrowing. He gently clamped a replacement holder around a rather prettily cut amethyst resting against the throat of his newest pet. He brushed away the silver flakes he'd made from the boy's skin, then on second thought made a small glittering trail down one shoulder. He adjusted the gilt collar around the slave's neck, his eyes noticing the beginnings of stubble on the boy's throat. He would have to be sold soon. "I taught you to be polite, refined, and well-mannered Beron. Please act like it." Aron muttered, taking another strip of silver and securing the amethyst. There, now it wouldn't fall out again. "I've been cramped up in this stupid boat for a week now! You promised you'd let me out." Beron pouted, making an aggrivated noise when Aron poked him to keep still. "And if you continue to act like a petulant child I won't let you out." Aron told him, adjusting the collar so it lay just so, then sitting back to view his work. Beron had been ready for about a month now, and Aron had been putting out feelers into the very limited market he suffered here in Zeltiva. Six months ago Beron had been a street urchin, and now he was a beautiful fifteen year old boy with groomed hair and knowledge of how to act like a perfect gentleman. Unfortunately he rarely used it unless Aron gave him a nasty look. Beron was supposed to be a scribe and pleasure pet; the boy had a beautiful copperplate hand that Aron had spent weeks fostering. Aron took off his jewelers' glasses and looked at Beron. Five foot ten, not fully grown, dark hair, dark eyes, pouty bedroom lips. He stood the way Aron had taught him, straight, chin ever so slightly up to show off the collar at his throat. "I might have a buyer for you." Aron mentioned, setting his tools aside. "A glass merchant from Wind Reach. He's offered one fifty for you." "Seems a little low doesn't it?" Beron asked. "I thought you told me two hundred." "Two hundred I wanted, two hundred is not what I'll be getting. I sent him that sample of your writing, he was pleased and wants you to work in his household. I made him promise me you'd be treated like a gem." Aron said, running his hand over his trimmed beard. "Only a scribe? But I thought you were selling me to-" "As a pleasure pet, but only because that's what so many of these merchants want. Something pretty to drape over their arms at market and satisfy them on long journeys. This glass blower seems to be immune to your charms." Aron said, rising and cleaning his hands free of metal flakes in a small bowl of water. "If that's not what you want, I can always hold out for a better offer, but there's a beggar near the University I've had my eyes on. Pretty blonde boy, sharp. I saw him pickpocket a professor's assistant." Beron smirked at that and dropped his structured stance, leaning against the dark wood side of the ship. "Already on your next project?" he chuckled. "How much did training me cost?" "Eighty. Selling you for one fifty will make that back and give me twenty to live off of and fifty to get this new one set up. That is, if he doesn't starve to death first. I would have rathered seventy to live off of and fifty to train him, but such is life." Aron sighed and stood up, fetching the small bronze key that locked the hatch down to the lower levels where he had Beron sat in his tiny workshop. He walked out into the living area and began climbing a ladder, kneeling on the deck and giving Beron a hand to yank him up. Aron looked out over Zeltiva, the city of knowledge that he was quickly staining with the taint of his new enterprise. He had thought his very expensive slaves wouldn't have caught the eye of anyone in the bookish town, but it seemed books and the lust for companionship went hand in hand. He did have a concern. The city was growing wise to what he was doing, and with two other slaves currently awaiting buyers he was worried he was sending out too many vibrations. Vibrations guards could pick up. Perhaps he could take the blonde from the University district and move to another town. |