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“Lord Everan,” Altrius says, urging his attention.
Lord Everan shifts and stares at Altrius, stopping his advance. He is clearly offended by the intrusion.
“What is it? Can’t you see I’m otherwise occupied?” Lord Everan asks, gesturing toward me.
“I am sorry,” he says. “I only need a moment of your time.”
Lord Everan gestures for the guards accompanying us to back away, giving the two of them some privacy. One of the worgs sniffs my feet, and I fight the urge to kick it away, afraid that it might nip at my bare toes which are now bloodied from the jagged stones underneath me.
“On with it,” Everan demands.
“We had an incident earlier,” Altrius says. “One of the men in the stalls was apparently given some poison and sort of… died.”
Everan looks at Altrius expectantly, then speaks in turn.
“That hardly seems like an issue,” Everan says. “Slaves die in the Dark Market all the time.”
Altrius nods. “I know,” he says. “I was wondering whether his remains might still be safe nourishment for my worg. They haven’t been eating too well, you see.”
Everan thinks for a moment.
“I don’t imagine any of the poisons available to our slaves would be harmful to a worg,” he says. “They have strong stomachs.”
Lord Everan sizes Altrius up, analyzing him from head to toe.
“Now, by the Thirteen, is that all you’ve come to ask me?” Everan asks. “That can’t possibly be it.”
Altrius looks down at his feet, and at his worg, whose gazes plead for more sustenance.
“There is one other thing,” Altrius says. “While the old man was dying, he created a bit of a scene.”
“Go on,” Everan says. I can tell from his tone of voice that he’s daring Altrius to challenge him, but Altrius doesn’t notice it and continues speaking out of turn anyway.
“We didn’t notice until now, but a couple of our orc captives escaped and fled into the woods…”
Lord Everan backhands Altrius across the face. As he does, the rings on his fingers leave gashes in Altrius’s face, digging especially deep where the prongs protrude into center stones.
Altrius doubles over in pain, blood flowing freely on the stones, licked up by the starving worg.
In Lord Everan’s facial expression, I see a rage that makes me wonder why I ever doubted his cruelty.
“You fuckingsimpleton,” Lord Everan snarls. “You mean you cost us not one but three of our subjects? How far have they gotten?”
Altrius returns to his feet. I can see now that Lord Everan might have cut into his eye.
This might be my only chance. If I can just weaken Altrius’s grip on his worgs, they will run ravenously through the square. In the commotion, Lord Everan might also loosen his grip on my chains. With the guards out of range, I will have a small window to escape.
But not quite yet. Currently, Lord Everan’s guards have stepped away. They antagonize the subject on the auction block, prodding at her exposed flesh and making lewd gestures.
“Twenty mena?” one of them says. “I wouldn’t pay thirteen for her.”
“It has been a while, my lord,” Altrius says, stuttering now. “We did not wish to interrupt your grand entrance, but they could be miles away.”
“Find them!” Lord Everan hisses. “If you cannot, then today’s auction block will quickly become an execution block, andyour headwill be used as an example!”
“B-but sir,” Altrius says. “It was not my neglect alone. There were guards appointed to watch our prisoners, and they did noth-”
Lord Everan slaps him harder this time. I recoil from the intensity of it, as Altrius’s eye is seemingly scraped out of its socket by the hard metal ring on collision.
