20th Summer 514AV
One by one the other slaves were sold and taken away. A hole grew in the pit of his stomach. It was like he'd feared, no one wanted him which was perhaps a worse fate than to be taken away by one of the many strangers. Yet some buyers remained and a cold hope returned to his tiny frame.
He hardly recognized himself in the few words that the smooth, sly slaver attributed to him. If there's anyone with a voice to die for, Tim thought, it's him. The man, with his slick features and sharp cheek, coud undoubtedly make Sunberth's worst beggars look like champions in any profession imagineable.
"And now, the child! Is there an opening bid for this growing mind?"
Tim looked up, for so long he'd thought that perhaps this was some wicked dream or illusion. But now that a dozen eyes bore into him, his fate had become an inescapable fact. Two-hundred gold-rimmed mizas? The sheer amounts of money that these people were prepared to pay astounded him. He'd never possessed or laid eyes so much coin and his eyes widened further and further as the prize was driven up.
There, the tall man with inky figures on his body raised his handkerchief and offered two-hundred and thirty coins. Bewildered, Tim's jaw dropped an inch before he snapped it shut. Blue and green clashed as he turned to face the man. There was a steely determination in that hard, chiseled face, warning him to submit and obey or suffer the consequences. Keep me safe, Tim thought as he felt the strength leave his arms. His hands were cold with sweat now. Yet he kept his gaze trained on the man, neither capable nor willing to look anywhere else.
Then it hit him again, the thought he'd kept at bay for so long with idle hope and unanswered prayer. He was going to be someone's property for live. There would be no end, not ever, not unless he escaped. His thoughts returned to Kiran, the Kelvic he'd met aboard the slave ship and his only friend during that journey. He hadn't seen him anymore after the ship had docked and Tim was certain they would never meet again.
Two hundred and thirty. Would that be it?
He hardly recognized himself in the few words that the smooth, sly slaver attributed to him. If there's anyone with a voice to die for, Tim thought, it's him. The man, with his slick features and sharp cheek, coud undoubtedly make Sunberth's worst beggars look like champions in any profession imagineable.
"And now, the child! Is there an opening bid for this growing mind?"
Tim looked up, for so long he'd thought that perhaps this was some wicked dream or illusion. But now that a dozen eyes bore into him, his fate had become an inescapable fact. Two-hundred gold-rimmed mizas? The sheer amounts of money that these people were prepared to pay astounded him. He'd never possessed or laid eyes so much coin and his eyes widened further and further as the prize was driven up.
There, the tall man with inky figures on his body raised his handkerchief and offered two-hundred and thirty coins. Bewildered, Tim's jaw dropped an inch before he snapped it shut. Blue and green clashed as he turned to face the man. There was a steely determination in that hard, chiseled face, warning him to submit and obey or suffer the consequences. Keep me safe, Tim thought as he felt the strength leave his arms. His hands were cold with sweat now. Yet he kept his gaze trained on the man, neither capable nor willing to look anywhere else.
Then it hit him again, the thought he'd kept at bay for so long with idle hope and unanswered prayer. He was going to be someone's property for live. There would be no end, not ever, not unless he escaped. His thoughts returned to Kiran, the Kelvic he'd met aboard the slave ship and his only friend during that journey. He hadn't seen him anymore after the ship had docked and Tim was certain they would never meet again.
Two hundred and thirty. Would that be it?