open market square. There were no carts or stalls as far as she could see, though the square was ringed by low buildings. The square itself was devoid of structures except for a raised stage and a podium in the center that was positioned toward the front of the platform. And along one side was a small table and chair.
Two men entered the square from one of the surrounding buildings and stepped up onto the stage. One of the men had a book tucked under one arm, and he seated himself at the table. The other moved over to the podium and waited. Tazi had a sneaking suspicion what the place was all about.
'Auction block,' the dwarf said gruffly, confirming Tazi's worst doubts.
'There has to be a way out of this,' she whispered back to him.
'Not here,' he answered back.
Two of their guards gave them stern looks but did nothing else. Can't damage the merchandise in front of the buyers, Tazi deduced. All they did was direct the group of thirty slaves over to the side of the stage opposite the man at the table. He had set up a strong box next to his book and didn't bother to look at any of the slaves. Just the coin man, Tazi decided. The other one, however, jumped down and gave them all a cursory glance, pausing to stare a little harder at Tazi and, to a lesser extent, the duergar. He nodded curtly at the lead guard and resumed his position on the stage. The lead spoke a short command to another, who quickly trotted back to where they had entered. He disappeared around the corner.
When he returned, he led a different kind of procession.
Treading behind him were fifteen or so well-dressed folk. Most were tall and sallow. Tazi remembered that the barmaid from Laeril's Arms had mentioned something about the people of Mulan blood, and she figured it ran strong in the veins of this group. Tazi cursed herself again for not paying closer attention to the barmaid's words and for not learning more about Thay before she had crossed its borders.
I was in such a rush once I knew what I had to do. That's a mistake I won't make again, assuming, of course, that I ever get out of here, she mused.
The prospective buyers were all well-dressed, sporting fine linen tunics and cloaks. Almost every one of them was bald with more of the elaborate tattoos like the ones Tazi had seen in the tavern. She wondered if the marks were strictly decorative or if there was another use for them, such as familial affiliations or a symbol of rank in their society. Tazi was surprised to see that even a centaur roamed about in the midst of the humans. He had blond hair and a sleek coat that matched. Judging by his well-muscled physique, Tazi surmised that he was no stranger to hard labor. She suspected that he, unlike the others, was not looking for,a house servant, but someone to work a stable or a farm. She was certain that she, and quite possibly the dwarf, would go to him as they were, without argument, the strongest of the lot.
Tazi loathed the thought of what was to come next. A few years ago, before she and her mother had come to a more gentle understanding, Lady Shamur Uskevren would parade her daughter around in front of her cronies and prospective beaus each chance she got. Tazi hated every moment of it because she felt as though she was just a commodity. Little did she know that she would end up exactly that: a piece of meat for others to barter for. Already Tazi could feel the eyes passing over her body, measuring her and weighing her value. She gritted her teeth and stood straighten
I will find a way out of this, she promised herself. Or I will die trying.
The guards were moving some of the slaves onto the stage. As the first, scrawny man stepped up, the Thayan behind the podium motioned for the lead guard to approach. The two conferred, and Tazi got the distinct impression that the announcer was extremely critical of the 'merchandise.' The guard shrugged his shoulders at the announcer's obvious displeasure. They exchanged a few more words before the guard nodded in agreement. He went back down the steps, collected another man and a woman and returned with them onto the stage. The auctioneer seemed satisfied.
'And what do I hear for this fine group? ' he asked of the crowd in a deep voice that belied his slight frame. 'Do I hear one hundred? One hundred anyone?'
Tazi turned and glimpsed the merchants murmur amongst themselves. Most wore disappointed looks or ones of distaste.
When no one bid, the auctioneer continued.
'Ninety, then. Ninety and the high bidder will get himself some fine brood stock here.' He pointed at the woman's thin pelvis and added, 'Good hips for children. Free labor.' The auctioneer eventually settled for thirty gold pieces. Tazi shook her head in sorrow, unable to understand how life could go so cheaply. She looked over at the duergar once, but he gave no outward show of any feelings. She wasn't sure how to read his stony visage.
The guards moved the majority of the slaves in groups of two or three. It appeared the auctioneer felt that was the only way the sorry batch would sell, and the guards accommodated his wishes. It was also clear to Tazi that he was saving the duergar and her for last. The prospective owners milled about the square, pointing and chuckling at many of the slaves. Whenever a lot was sold, there was a polite smattering of applause as the 'winner' went on stage to pay the man seated at the table with the strong box. They handed over their coins and, in return, received a notice of ownership and a human being. Tazi felt the blood rise to her face.
'Excited?' a guard whispered hotly in her ear. 'I imagine you'll bring in more than enough to make up for these wretches.'
Tazi turned around and spit in the guard's face. He raised his hand^to strike her, but Tazi stood her ground. One of his comrades moved to stop him. But the guard remembered himself at the last moment and scrubbed at his face instead.
'Enjoy it while you can,' he warned her, 'because your new master is going to beat the fire right out of you, one way or another. I guarantee you that.'
The slighted guard's comrade grabbed Tazi's bound wrists and started to drag her to the stage. She pulled herself free of his grasp and looked around. With nearly a half dozen, armed guards, the men on the auction block and the square of citizens, Tazi knew she realistically didn't stand a chance of escape here. But, she was certain, the time would come when someone would slip up and let their watch down. She would just have to wait for it.
While she struggled with the guard, the duergar squirmed his way over to them. 'We're together,' he told the guard in a gravelly voice, pointing at Tazi. 'Where she goes, I go. So sell us together.'
Tazi regarded him with surprise and pleasure. She smiled at him warmly, but was met, once again, with his stony countenance. She thought for a fleeting moment his cold look was for the crowds, but Tazi saw no warmth in his flint gray eyes. She was somewhat puzzled that he had actually tried to pair himself off with her.
Perhaps he feels he owes me for last night, she wondered. Or maybe, after last night, he thinks that there is something special in store for me and he wants a cut.
Tazi didn't have time to contemplate more. One guard pulled the dwarf aside, and another prodded Tazi onto the stage. She walked of her own accord over to where she had seen the other slaves stand. Even though her hair was tousled, her vest torn, and her shoulders gashed from the battle with the gnoll, Tazi was a sight to behold. She scanned the crowd as though she was the one in control, and more than one merchant glanced away from her hard, sea-green eyes. But, for as many that looked down, twice that reviewed her honey-colored skin with greedy gleams in their eyes. The announcer rubbed his hands together, and Tazi noticed he had finally smiled.
'All right then/' he began, 'do I hear-'
'One hundred,' offered the centaur.
'One hundred gold pieces from the four-legged gentleman. Do I hear one hundred fifty?'
A fat woman with sunken eyes cried, 'One hundred fifty!'
'Two hundred,' replied the centaur.
'Now it's getting interesting,' interrupted the auctioneer. 'Do I have two hundred fifty?'
Tazi watched the crowd expectantly, wondering what her price would finally be. A field hand for the muscular horse-man or a maid to be kicked around by a spoiled woman who thinks life has passed her by?
Caught up in her daydreaming, Tazi didn't really notice that the woman with sunken eyes had driven her price up to three hundred seventy five. The auctioneer made his second call and was beginning his third and final challenge when a voice from the far corner of the square called out.
'One thousand anH I will match any other offer.'
The buyers turned their heads and even Tazi scrutinized the rear of the throng to see who her new owner was. The younger bodyguard from the tavern stepped forward, clothed in his rich tunic, pants, and cloak. Tazi suspected he would make an appearance, so she wasn't truly stunned.
