“Come on,” Reilin says and motions for James and Jiron to follow. He can see the questions in their minds but are unable to ask. “It’s okay,” he says to put their minds at ease.
Trusting in him, they nod and the three of them follow the slaver. He leads them along the corridor and then pauses at a door on his right. Opening it up, they find that they are being led outside the building and into the courtyard. He indicates a doorway over on the far side and says, “Go through there and you can view the slaves waiting for auction.”
“Thank you,” Reilin says and then walks briskly away from the three slavers.
“What was that about?” asks James when they are again among the crowd.
“I told him that we wished to view the slaves and had gotten turned around,” he explains. Glancing back, he finds the door that they just passed through closed and the three slavers gone.
Not to be deterred, Jiron looks around and sees two slavers talking to each other as they stand against one of the walls near the platform. From their age and dress, he figures them to be more than the run of the mill slaver. Deciding on a more direct approach, he grabs Reilin’s arm and points to the two slavers. “Go ask them,” he says. “See if they can help us.”
“Alright,” he says. Crossing over toward them, he gets to within fifteen feet when the two men notice his approach. They stop their conversation and turn to meet him. “Excuse me,” Reilin says as he comes to a stop a couple feet away.
“Yes?” one of the men asks.
“My friends and I are looking for a slaver by the name of Buka,” he explains. “Would either of you know where we might be able to find him?”
When he says the name ‘Buka’, both men’s expressions turn dark. “Buka doesn’t see anyone,” the older of the two men tells him. “Let alone you people from the north.”
“But this is of some importance,” Reilin insists.
The younger of the two visibly frowns. “What?” he asks.
“That would be better left unsaid until we could speak with Buka,” Reilin replies.
Snorting, the older man looks with derision at him. “If you wish to buy a slave, then buy a slave or go away,” he says. “But Buka doesn’t talk to anyone.”
“We would be willing to compensate you for your help,” offers Reilin.
“There’s no amount you could give me that would make me help you,” the older slaver states. “Your kind is only suited for the block. Only the propriety of the auction has made me endure your presence even this long. Go away before my patience wears any thinner.”
Reilin looks from the older to the younger and sees the veiled threat should he persist. Without a word, he turns around and walks back to Jiron and James. “They’re not going to help us,” he tells them. Then he summarizes the gist of the conversation.
“Sounds like a couple of bigots to me,” James says. “And you’re right, men like that are unlikely to prove helpful.
“I’m not going to give up,” insists Jiron.
“No one is saying that we are,” James assures him.
From the platform where the women were being auctioned, the auctioneer begins speaking loudly. They turn to look and see that he’s standing there alone, the girls that had been there having already been sold.
“He’s saying the auction is closed for the day,” conveys Reilin. “There will be another in two days.”
“Two days!” exclaims Jiron loudly.
“Shhh!” says James. “Keep your voice down.” Looking angry and upset, Jiron glares at him.
“Everyone is leaving,” Reilin states. “We need to go or risk having attention drawn to ourselves.” Indeed, the people are all moving toward the main entrance to the slaver compound. “We can’t stay here.” Glancing back to the two older slavers he just talked to, he sees that they continue to talk in quiet conversation near the wall and are watching them.
“He’s right,” James tells his friend. “We must go.”
Seeing no other alternative, Jiron nods and the three of them join the crowd in its exodus from the slaver compound. Once through the gate, they move down the street for several blocks then come to a stop. Moving near the edge of a butcher’s shop, they try to come up with another idea.
While they are throwing ideas back and forth, a small boy no more than eight crosses the street and stops before James. He looks up at him with a crooked grin.
“Go along with you boy,” Reilin says when it doesn’t look as if he’s going to do anything.
The boy suddenly raises his hand and holds it out to James, the crooked grin remaining on his face. Clutched in his hand is a piece of paper. “Is that for me?” James asks. When the boy doesn’t reply, Reilin translates.
Nodding his head, the boy’s grin becomes larger.
James reaches out and takes hold of the paper. As soon as he has hold of it, the boy lets go and turns to leave. Reilin grabs him by the shoulder and asks, “Who gave this to you?” Bursting into a flurry of motion, the boy wriggles from his grasp and disappears into the crowd.
“Who would know that I am here?” he asks, fear growing inside him.
“Maybe it’s Azku,” suggests Reilin. “Other than us, he’s the only one who knew we would be heading in this direction.”
“Perhaps,” James says as he looks at the paper.
“Better see what it says,” Jiron tells him.
“Yeah,” agrees James. “You’re right.” Uncrinkling the paper, he sees there is writing on it.
Common room of the Wallowing Swine. Hour after dusk.
“Great,” says James, “another enigmatic message given by persons unknown.” He sighs, “Can’t people just come right up to you and say things themselves?”
“This is often the way with those who wish to remain unobserved while doing things that could bring them embarrassment, or trouble,” explains Jiron.
“I suppose,” he says. Looking up at the position of the sun, he figures dusk to still be a couple hours away. “Let’s find where this Wallowing Swine is and then get something else to eat before we meet with Mr. Mysterious.”
Jiron chuckles, “Mr. Mysterious.”
James gives him a grin and shrugs. “Let’s go. I’m still hungry.”
Reilin asks directions and eventually they find themselves in the seedier part of town. When they at last stand outside of the Wallowing Swine, James looks at the place and shakes his head. “Why can’t they arrange for us to meet at one of the better places?” he wonders.
Overall the place has the general look of disrepair, nothing major, just looks like the owner hasn’t put much effort into it. The outside walls are cracked and one of the steps leading up to the front door is missing. Rolling his eyes, he can hardly wait to see what the inside is like.
“Still an hour to dusk,” he announces to the others. “Let’s get something to eat.” They move off and head back to the better part of town.
Chapter Twenty Five
They return before the appointed time and find that the common room of the Wallowing Swine is already becoming full. James is amazed at the number of people here. All the choice tables are taken and they are forced to sit near the center of the room. Jiron would rather not sit so exposed, but there’s nothing to do about it.
Once they’ve taken their seats, a girl comes by and takes their order. Soon, all three are sipping mugs of ale. While James sips his, he unobtrusively takes in the other patrons to see if he can possibly determine which one sent them the note.
“They have a better clientele than I would have expected,” observes Reilin.
James understands what he’s talking about. The outside of this tavern gave the impression of a dive, yet counted among the patrons are men and women in fine clothes. Gentlemen and ladies mixed in with the riff raff, altogether an unusual sight.
