The Shepherd Boys, Part 3 Where souls are sold
As the trip was coming to an end, the surroundings became more and more civilized. The Eastern Road, and the river which ran alongside it, have given birth to a number of hamlets and villages. No longer they had to sleep in chains. No more they huddled together by a campfire, under a rain that never fully stopped. Instead, they'd share some shack near an inn, the basement of a house or perhaps the stables of a local lord. Only in a relatively large village, they'd be housed in a large common room with barred windows. This peculiar trade, or any other, wasn't much developed in those lands, yet.
There, the slaves learned of the end of their forced journeys. A city that wasn't, of course, called “Yonderton”, but Caddair, a trasgrin name.
Moods went from hope to sorrow and resentment. The guards grew impatient and wary as the guards began to consider fleeing somewhere, anywhere. Two attempts had to be aborted bwith some whipping and shouting. But nobody gave a serious try at freedom. They had learnt the risk.
Just two days before reaching the outskirts of Caddair, in some desolate place by the name of Silence, a rotting body that crows wouldn't take, was nailed to an implement of two crossed beams. It had been, a week before, a very young trasgrin with ambitions of liberty.
The day came when the sad column reached Caddair. Still in darkness, the guards made their captives rush into the cold stream of River Long. At its banks they were given soap, made to bathe and change into new clothes that came straight from the city.
"Croogks & Stonharts", the slave traders, had this policy of not auctioning their souls when these arrived to the borderlands. Instead, their agents would pre-sell standard “units of talking livestock,” meaning categories of sentient beings. Their clients will then choose by order of seniority. If at all possible, a few extra slaves would be added to cover up any “casualties” along the way. This time, however, all had survived the strenuous journey, so the message was given to agents to sell the "redundant units" at a reduced price. This was the category where both Tedus and Elly had been placed.
Still early in the morning, the then anxious and fearful slaves reached the market. It was. At that time, still located outside the city walls, behind a pallisade of its own, it had its soldiers and even its own flag, the black ensign of a former pirate turned into a merchant: Master Feh Rald, half orc, half elf and, above all, an adventurer; but his stories are for another day.
Feh Rald's market wasn't big on slaves but dealt more often with wool, coal and “raven iron”, an ore mined north of their namesake mountains. The market had been well prepared for the occasion, though: stalls had been placed for the scribes to do the paperwork and for the smiths and tattooers to provide their services, should they be required. A band was already playing cheerful tunes, wee kids with baskets full of flowers were ready to make them rain on the new acquisitions. And of course there was food, drinks, chairs, tables and all that's needed to close all manners of trade. The market was for business, the more, the better, of course, and a little fun made more trade being done. And, of course, from every transaction, Mr. Feh Rald made a little “cut”.
Soon, it was over for most. Farmers who owned much land but lived safely in the city bought most of the adults for their usual trade. Some were “apprenticed”, should we say, by craft persons, others to the mines. As for the youngest they had a more diverse fate: messengers, errand boys, the quarry, a girl was made into a guide for an old lady, and the youngest hobbit was, of course, taken into the kitchens of the Caddair's Deers & Beers; just a glorified inn, really.
Our two boys, the spares, had to wait for their fates.
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