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“What does he think he’s doing?” Nathan cried.
Nicci straightened, ready to fight in case a brawl broke out. “He’s a fool.”
The desperate man took four steps, holding up his hands as if someone from Ildakar might take him under their wing.
Two Norukai broke from their escort line and lunged after him like wolves. One Norukai drew a sword, swept his arm back, and skewered the fleeing man through the ribs. Blood sprouted like a blossom in his side. With a gleeful expression in his eyes, although his slashed and mangled lips could not show a smile, the second Norukai withdrew an iron club studded with metal points at the top, like fangs. He swung the club down on the captive’s shoulder, smashing through skin and bone. The desperate man was already collapsing, mortally wounded from the sword thrust. Even so, the second Norukai struck him in the back of the head, caving in his skull.
The Ildakaran spectators recoiled to avoid being splashed by the gore, and yet they were fascinated. Another blow smashed the man’s face into the paving stones of the square. The first Norukai raised his sword again, stabbed the man in the back, then stabbed him five more times, while his companion continued to pound him with the spiked iron club until the victim was no more than a human-shaped stain oozing onto the flagstones.
Satisfied, the two slavers replaced their weapons and returned to the line. The remaining captives were aghast, sickened—chastened.
As if they had expected this to happen, Ildakaran slaves arrived in the square with buckets and brushes and began to clean up the mess.
The Norukai leader at the front of the procession had a hooded brow and a high forehead. His face and head were shaved smooth, but on the left side of his skull, above the temple, a sharp triangular tooth was inset, perhaps a shark’s tooth. Skin and scar tissue had grown around it so that it looked as if the tooth sprouted from his head.
Nathan muttered, “Dear spirits, they find new ways to make themselves more appallingly ugly than the last.”
Sitting nearby on the row of stone seats, Andre clucked his tongue. “Yes, it is disappointing. Their techniques are so crude. I could easily have reshaped them with my gift, but they seem to enjoy the pain and scars.”
“No doubt it makes them feel strong and brave,” Nicci said. “I’ve known men like that before.”
Dressed in business robes, slave merchants gathered on the rectangular platform under the trellis of red flowers, waiting for the captives to arrive. The Norukai leader raised his voice defiantly. His loose, gashed jaw distorted his words, but the power in his voice was unmistakable. “I am Kor, captain of this brace of ships. We’ve brought one hundred sixty to your market. We expect a good price. We will be glad to rid ourselves of this walking meat.”
The Norukai herded the captives onto the large platform where the cowed and whimpering men, women, and children stood under the high trellis. The raiders glowered at them, making guttural sounds in their throats, calling up saliva that made their exhalations sound like serpent hisses.
Ildakaran slave merchants hurried about, tugging down the lush green vines of the wisterias. When they touched vine tendrils to the captives, like laughably thin ropes to hold them in place, the slaves became docile. Their expressions of terror melted into contented apathy.
Even from the bidding benches, Nicci could smell the flower perfume growing thicker, headier. She began to feel dizzy, and she assumed it was some kind of drug, a tranquilizing effect from the flowers, enhanced by the merchants’ gift.
When all the captives had been tamed, the slave merchants went up and down the rows, ripping the rags, pulling off tunics, scraps of cloth, dresses and shawls that covered the haggard and abused captives. The merchants took special pleasure in exposing the young women, even fondling their breasts while the audience made comparative notes. The most beautiful girls were brought to the front. One of the slave merchants slapped at their inner thighs, making them spread their legs apart so that all prospective buyers could see their thatches of hair.
Young children were herded in another section, also naked, for sale to the more disgusting appetites of Ildakar. The stronger male captives were segregated, as were the middle-aged women, who would be the best domestic servants. The observers talked in a drone of casual conversation, while Nicci simply felt fire in her throat, all of her unspoken words turning to acid.
Elsa pointed to the group of middle-aged women and called out, “What is the starting bid for those four?”
Chief Handler Ivan growled in his deep voice, “And those men, the front ones. Are they combat-trained? Can they fight in the arena?”
Captain Kor sneered up at the buyers in the stands. “I did not interview them about their skills. I have no need for housekeepers on our serpent ships, so they cowered belowdecks. During the raids, we killed any man who fought against us, so I would say that these are not the best fighters.” He glanced at the captives crowded on the platform and turned back with a withering glare. “You ask questions that do not interest me. These are only walking meat. Norukai are the herdsmen and, if necessary, the butchers. Buy them and do with them what you will.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Nicci saw a young man pushing his way through the crowd—Bannon. He looked sullen, his long ginger hair tied back in a ponytail that fell between his shoulders. He reached Nicci and Nathan, shaking his head. “I was with Amos and the others when we saw the ships come in. But I … I had to come here. I had to see. All these people…” He swallowed hard. “Ian was one of them, years ago.”
Nicci knew what he was thinking. Very likely his friend had been in the same situation, beaten into submission, starved into weakness, unable to fight, held listless by the vines of the bloodred wisterias.
“I’ll bid four golds for those four domestic women,” Elsa said. “They look useful, and I’ll treat them well.”
“I care not how you treat them,” Kor said.
“Four golds?” another woman grumbled. “You set the price too high!”
“If you pay well and treat them well, they serve you well,” Elsa said.
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One fat nobleman touched his fingertips together, like a spider dancing on a mirror. “How much for the three little boys, the tender ones?”
The boys didn’t even flinch. They stood naked at the corner of the dais, touched by the tendrils of the vines.
“Enough—this market is over!” said a powerful voice. Sovrena Thora emerged from the main thoroughfare on the left, walking alongside Maxim. She still showed no warmth toward her husband, but they seemed united in their purpose now.
“We invoke the city privilege,” Maxim said. “We’ll buy the whole lot.”
The slave merchants looked surprised. “But we have yet to set a fair price, Wizard Commander.”
“We have the entire city treasury,” he said flippantly. “It’ll be a fair price … but we want them all.”
Quentin said, “You can’t cull out just a few of them? This is the first time the Norukai have arrived in months. The whole city has need of slaves. So many have fled once the shroud started going down, thanks to Mirrormask helping them escape.”
“Our own slaves are breeding well enough,” Thora said. “We require these for the upcoming blood magic to restore the shroud. That will stop them from fleeing.”
Elsa looked nervous and disappointed. “In the past you needed only fifteen or twenty slaves to erect the shroud. There are one hundred sixty here.”
Thora sniffed. “Perhaps we mean to do a greater bloodworking this time, a more permanent spell.”
“It never hurts to be sure,” Maxim said. He gestured to the stone benches where the disappointed bidders sat squirming. “Elsa has set the price—four golds for four slaves. I’ll have the treasurer settle up with the merchants.” He gave a polite nod to Captain Kor. “You’ll be paid well enough that I hope you return the next time our shroud comes down.”
“If we ever allow it to come down,” Thora said.
