“That might be because I am an authority figure, Vance!”
We gave any guards we met the same story; Elyse was the new Bishop of Erst, and they were not to let anyone into the grounds. With the official scroll in her hands, and the Resplendent Crusaders in tow, nobody suspected anything was amiss. Their primary concern seemed to be that they’d keep their jobs and, especially, their pay.
Once we’d made our way out of the cathedral district, Grast smiled.
“I’ll see you all later,” he said. “I have a dozen flagons of wine with my name on them.”
After Grast had left, Elyse furrowed her brow. “Since it seems that everyone we’ve encountered so far has been pretty accepting of my new title. I feel like it’s time for me to assert my authority. Before we go to the fountain, there’s something I need to put a stop to right away.”
I knew exactly what she was talking about. It had been gnawing at the back of my mind as well.
“The slave market,” I said.
Elyse nodded. “Under my rule, there will be zero tolerance for slavery. And my rule starts tonight, no need for any initial leniency or transition period. This rule will be enforced from day one, from the first hour.”
“I’m down with that. And I’m itching to try out my new weapons.” I looked over my shoulder at the zombie Crusaders. “And what better punching bags for my zombie boys than a bunch of slave-selling troll-sphincters?”
Isu’s smile was something between flirtatious and defiant. “Where you go, I must follow.”
“I hate slavers,” Rami said, her fingers curling around the grips of her sais. “And these blades were born and raised to serve justice.”
With the zombie Crusaders marching ahead of us and clearing a passage through the crowded streets, we reached Erst’s market square in no time. There was plenty of space for multiple wagons to pass by side by side.
The square was crammed full of vendors, market stalls, and street performers, and even though it was long past midnight, there was a huge crowd. Audiences oohed and aahed as jugglers, fire breathers, acrobats, sword swallowers, snake charmers, jesters, and other performers put on their shows between stalls that sold everything from daggers and swords to love potions and spices from distant lands. The air was thick with smoke and the scents of meat roasting over open fires. Laughter and inebriated voices echoed in a raucous symphony between the buildings.
The revelers seemed surprised to see us coming but had enough respect for the Resplendent Crusaders to get out of our way. Soon enough, we arrived at the main crossroads where we’d seen the slavers carrying out their despicable trade.
Multiple auction platforms had been set up, each one specializing in a different type of slave. Some slaves were being sold specifically for manual labor in the fields, while others were for domestic chores. Some of the more burly men were being sold as bodyguards, but the worst was the platform that held only young women. It was surrounded by sweaty, leering men, all elbow-nudging, sleazy laughing, and groin-scratching, and there was no questioning what these slaves were being sold for.
The slavers took no notice of us as we approached. They simply went on with their auctions. No doubt they assumed we were the representatives of their close ally who had, up to very recently, held the highest seat in the cathedral. They thought they had nothing to fear.
How wrong they were.
Chapter Twenty
A thin, teary-eyed girl, barely out of her teens and naked save for a loincloth, was being dragged up onto an auction platform. A group of drooling perverts were pushing and shoving each other to get to the front, their grubby hands clutching fistfuls of coins. As the slaver began the auction, Elyse stopped our party.
“You can control your zombies without making it obvious that they’re zombies, right?” she whispered to me.
“I can, yeah.”
“And I don’t think I need to explain how important it is that these people don’t realize the Crusaders are actually zombies, right?”
“Yeah, got it.”
“Excellent. Follow my lead. Vance, keep your control subtle. The Crusader Captain’s name was Jandor. I’ll refer to him as such.”
I nodded, and Elyse jumped up onto the platform next to the trembling girl. The two thuggish guards who were holding the girl, one on each arm, snarled at Elyse.
“What the fuck are you doing, whore? Get off the platform before I break your fucking jaw!”
“Captain Jandor,” Elyse said calmly, “please teach this ruffian to speak to me with a bit more respect.”
I projected part of my mind into the Crusader Captain’s body, the way I had with the skeletons when I’d first raised them. It had taken a fair bit of effort, and a lot of getting used to. Now, however, it was the easiest thing in the world. I barely had to make a conscious effort to get my mind linked to his shell of a body. In an instant, I took control of every one of his zombie nerves, ligaments, joints, and muscles. He wasn’t simply my puppet; he was an extension of me. Everything I could do, he could do just as well as I could. I simply needed to pull up a fragment of a thought about a particular fighting technique or combat move that I knew, and he’d perform it as flawlessly as if I had done it myself, instantly.
My meat puppet jumped up onto the platform. Before the thug could start to think of protesting, Jandor had shot out his gauntleted hand, clamped his fingers around the man’s throat, and lifted him with one hand, throttling him with merciless force.
“Hey!” screamed the other thug. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Get off my platform!” roared the slaver, an obese, bald man in his 50s, from behind the platform. “You have no authority to do this. Put him down!”
I could feel
