They were all given everything they were promised. There was food and the occasional entertainment, but somehow, it was soured now. Maren couldn’t bear to eat the blackberry pie, and the chores were more demanding than the ones she did on Gale Hill Farm. She often thought of Son, Faymia, and Dulnear, and wished to see them again. They were much nicer to her than the slaver crew. Her only comfort was the presence of her friend Micah, who was now reaching through the bars and gently shaking her shoulder in order to wake her up.
“What is it?” the girl asked. “It’s so early.”
“They want you to get up and eat something,” Micah answered. “There is a man coming to take you to Ahmcathare.”
Maren’s body shook from being jolted from her sleep and she urged her eyes to focus on the boy’s face. Hearing that she was going to be taken to the great city was not sitting well with her. “Why am I going there?” she asked.
“You are being sold,” the lad explained.
“Sold?” she croaked.
“Yes, to a man named Kugun.”
Maren struggled to understand what she was being told. She massaged her ear and blinked. “I thought I was going to be a part of the crew. That we were going to put on grand festivities and pirate plays.”
“I know, but you signed the paper, remember?” he reminded her.
“What paper?”
“The one saying that you could be sold,” the boy said.
Suddenly, the sound of the other camp occupants became unbearable. The singing of the birds pierced the young girl’s ears. A wagon wheel being hammered onto a cart caused her head to pound and a dog barking made her shoulders rise and her neck stiffen. She looked to and fro as if she were expecting to be attacked at any moment.
“What’s wrong?” Micah asked.
Maren made a subtle rocking motion, back and forth, as she willed herself to focus on the boy’s face. “I don’t want to go,” she murmured.
“Oh, it’ll be all right,” the boy assured her. “I’m sure Mr. Kugun is a perfectly fine fellow.”
“Will you be going too?” the girl asked, still rocking.
“I’m afraid I won’t be,” the boy explained. “But we’ll always be friends in my book.”
Maren stopped rocking and allowed her neck to relax a moment. “Are you sure we’ll always be friends?”
“Of course. You’re my best friend,” he said.
A smile began to creep out from the corner of the girl’s mouth, but she suppressed it. Now fully awake, she felt hunger gnawing away at her stomach. “What’s for breakfast?” she asked.
The concerned look on Micah’s face turned to a smile. “We have loads of eggs, and brown bread,” he said, gesturing toward the center of the circle where people were filling their plates before going off to find a place to sit and eat.
“Okay,” Maren said tentatively. She exited her cage and followed the boy to where the food was being served.
Following orders to collect the eating utensils after breakfast, Maren picked up one plate at a time and slowly walked them over to the washing tent. All the while, she quietly told stories to herself about Smarmy Kidd Black and his pirate adventures, changing them a bit to include a trip to Ahmcathare. As she did, it dawned on her that she had not yet seen Earl, though it had been several days since they’d left Laor. Bending down to pick up a bent tin spoon, she heard a voice calling her name, “Maren! Just leave that and come over here.”
Looking up toward the camp entrance, she could see the fellow with the long, gray hair waving her over. Standing next to him was an unpleasant-looking man watching her with drooping, squinted eyes. The girl wanted to comply, but couldn’t refrain from completing her task. She picked up the spoon, ran it to the tent, and then walked over to the two men waiting for her. “Yes?” she said, standing before them.
“Now, Maren,” the gray-haired man began. “This is Mister Kugun. He’s a nice man and you’re going to go with him to the city.”
The young girl felt as if someone was pressing down with great pressure on her shoulders. She aggressively massaged her ear as she stared at the man from Ahmcathare. She studied his heavy, sagging features. His hair was dark, curly, and unkempt, and his large, round jowls were covered in stubble. “Stop playin’ wif yer ear,” he said in a gravelly voice, interrupting her examination.
Maren’s eyes darted away from the man, as if she was caught doing something improper. “Um, what?” she asked.
“Stop playin’ wif yer ear, er yer gonna stretch it out,” he continued.
“Yes, Mister Kugun,” the gray-haired man said, catching Maren’s eyes.
“I think he was talking to me,” the girl said.
“I know he was talking to you, Maren. And when he does, you answer with a ‘Yes, Mister Kugun.’”
“Okay,” she said, swallowing.
“Well?” the slaver said impatiently.
“Um, yes, Mister Kugun,” she murmured, still tugging at her ear.
“I tink dis one is broken,” the unpleasant man complained.
“Oh no, she’s grand,” the gray-haired man replied. “And she’s young, so she’ll give you many years of good service.”
Maren didn’t fully understand what the men were talking about, but she didn’t like it one bit. She felt especially small and helpless, and wished she could go play with Micah.
“Den why does she look like dat?” Kugun asked.
“What do you mean?” the gray-haired man asked.
“She’s not proper,” he began. “Her hair is all over da place, she keeps whisperin’ to herself, and she won’t stop playin’ wit her damn ear.”
Maren felt as if the ground was swaying and the camp itself was shaking in a way that only she could feel. Her face turned red with embarrassment and she looked down as she willed her hands to stay at her side.
“She’s plenty proper,” she heard the slaver say. “I’ll tell you what. Take her with you for a
