Читать книгу Slave War - - Страница 3

On Tuesdays the slave market was always full of people. Locals called this day the “golden river”, because the wallets were filled not only with manpower traders, but also with the owners of local taverns and brothels. The smell of sweat and fish alternated with the aroma of rose and olive oils. It was a rare nobleman in the Sands who could afford a bath. The nearest oasis was a hasty camel ride of five days. Therefore, many doused themselves with oils and Suthering perfumes to fight off the stench. Those who are poorer could not afford to do this either.

When the hot disk of the sun was at its zenith, steam rose from the ground along with dust. The city turned into an oven at such moments. Or to the bathhouse. Usually even camels were freed from work at such moments. And the silk merchants drank tea to somehow replenish the loss of moisture. But on the day of the Sale, a roar filled the Square.

– Ten gold, and this beauty will join my harem! – shouted a fat old man with a sparse beard and a turban on his head. He was reclining in the shade of the tent. Two girls fanned him with palm leaves. In front of him lay a tray of grapes.

– Twenty-two buckets of water, and she will go with me! – hissed a bald man of about forty, with a scar under his left eye. He burned under the scorching sun of Lorraine. The skin is red. It seems that he is not used to the southern sands, most likely he came from the north. From Velzuvik or Sartolla, but here no one cares about the origin. The main thing is to pay. Without money, you yourself can become a slave. And without security, even the money will not be saved: it can be taken away in the nearest gateway.

The crowd gasped and stared at him.

– This is Lord Latrich himself! – people whispered.

– It’s not fair! – the fat man shouted. – Using water as a currency is unthinkable! Twenty gold pieces for a young maiden!

– Sold for twenty-two buckets of water! – the slave’s owner shouted. The girl was brought to Latrich. The lord looked at the fat man with an undisguised grin. The old man grimaced and turned away. He called one of the servants, whispered something in his ear, and he walked away. After a while, the bald man grabbed the cobra in his fist, which almost bit him on the leg. He tore off the bastard’s head. All eyes are directed at the owner of the scar.

Latrich pulled a musket from his belt and fired. The fat man fell, swaying. Several soldiers of the dead man immediately rushed towards the lord. But he shook his head. Their path was blocked by Latrich’s thugs. The lord smiled.

– Who else is dissatisfied with my trading methods?

No one had them.

Latrich often participated in trades. And it was he who won the best slaves. None of those present here knew exactly where he was taking them and for what purpose the lord needed so many slaves. He is rich, and this is the main thing for the locals.

– Next lot!

Dorkhand was pulled onto the wooden platform. He tried to escape several times. Moter, one of the soldiers, applied medicinal alhans to moderate the pain of the boy’s finger that had almost been bitten off. That’s why the prince was tied up. Hidden under a thick linen shirt is a bruise. If it were not forbidden to beat those intended for sale, then his face would have been beaten.

– Starting price – seven gold!

– I’m placing a bet! – said an unpleasant-looking woman.

“Four buckets of water,” Latrich said.

– Six buckets! – the woman shouted. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at her, not hiding surprise and admiration.

– Four buckets of water and three pinches of Eldevian spice.

Now the eyes are directed to Latrich.

– Sales!

Dorkhand, even tied up, almost escaped. Latrich’s servants grabbed him under the arm and dragged him to the rooms bought by Latrich. A dark-skinned old woman slave with a kind face cut the ropes.

– I am the prince of blood! I can’t be bought!

– You better not kick. My advice to you. Otherwise Latrich will skin you alive. He is not a good person and will stop at nothing. Better wash yourself before meeting the lord.

She sat the boy in a barrel of warm water. Dorkhand took his first swim since they found themselves in the damned desert. Then they put new clothes on him and took him somewhere. He tried to break free, but in vain: the soldier squeezed his shoulder tightly, something almost crunched.

– It hurts!

– Go peacefully – then everything will be okay!

Latrich sat at a long oak table and ate dates, spitting out the seeds directly onto the floor.

– Well, well, interesting!

Dorkhand could only see from close up that there was a ring on each of the lord’s fingers.

– Sir, there has been a terrible misunderstanding! I am the prince of the blood! My name is Dorhand! I am the heir of Sartoll! My father’s advisor got something mixed up, and I…

– Be silent! You sucker are now my slave! – Latrich grabbed Dorkhand by the ear, and a tear flowed from pain. – Forget your past life. You will only speak when I allow you to. I don’t like empty chatter. Take him to the barracks.

Latrich pushed Dorhand away, and he almost hit his head on the corner of the table. The same soldier approached him and pulled him somewhere by the collar. When they disappeared behind the door, Dorhand read sympathy on the face of the giant soldier.

– You… be careful with the lord. He has a short temper. It won’t be good for you. What is your name?

– Dorhand. And you?

– Volume. Big Man Vol. Come on, Dorhand, eat an apple. It’s a long time before dinner.

The sour apple juice flowed pleasantly across the tongue. Dorhand only now remembered that he had not eaten for two days.

– Thank you.

– Only you… no nonsense. You won’t be able to escape from the barracks.

***

It stank not only of sweat, but also of sewage. The owner of the inn did not do any landscaping, so the slaves had to relieve themselves in the middle of the barracks. Dorhand sat down on the bare wooden floor, where it was not so dirty. This looks like his home for the next few days. Maybe years. “The main thing is not forever!” – thought the boy. Dorhand lowered his head to his knees. The body itched and hurt. From beatings and burns left by the inhospitable sun on the skin of a northerner. The face of his father appeared in his thoughts. He is now dead. Is your brother alive?

The boy was distracted from his thoughts by crying. Not far from him he saw a girl. The same one that was bought with him.

– My name is Dorkhand. And you?

– Lina.

– Why are you crying? – Dorkhand only now noticed a trickle of blood flowing down Lina’s leg. – Were you wounded?

– Don’t think. The lord touched me. Do you know what I mean? Touched there!

Dorhand nodded, although he did not fully understand what the girl was talking about. He read about something like this in an adult book, but he never fully understood what it was.

– Do not Cry. Everything will be fine. Touched, but remained alive.

– You do not understand anything! He’s a real monster! I come from a rich family. I’m not used to being treated like this. I had a nanny. She taught me etiquette. Do you know what this is?

– I read about it. The traveler Khorel wrote about something like this. In his book about Beelzuvik.

– I’ve been to the Capital. Not once. And then… and then…

She burst into tears.

– My parents were killed. I was rich.

“And I am a prince,” Dorkhand almost said. But then I thought: “I was a prince”

– My father was killed too! – Dorkhand said, and a terrible light flashed in his eyes.

“One day I will avenge this!”

At sunset the food arrived. There is sour porridge in the bowls. They didn’t give me spoons, so Dorkhand, grimacing, stuffed it into his mouth with his fingers. I ate a crust of stale bread and washed it down with unpleasant-smelling water. But this also seemed like a royal dinner after a long famine. Tom quietly put an apple in the boy’s pocket and smiled friendly. At first Dorkhand didn’t like the big guy, but he turned out to be the kindest person. The boy broke the fruit into two parts. He handed the big one to Lina.

– Thank you! – she whispered. Others looked at the newcomers with envy. But one of the slaves looked at them, and therefore no one dared to attack Lina and Dorhand to take away the sweetness or cause harm.

Dorkhand fell asleep as soon as he rested his head on the floor. His father appeared to him in a dream.

The morning began with several blows of whips on the wooden floor. Most of the slaves left the barracks, heading to work.

– Why don’t they take us away?

“It seems that the owner has a more unenviable fate in store for you,” said the slave who yesterday protected Dorkhand from attacks on the apple. “Tam,” he extended his calloused hand.

– My name is Dorkhand. So what is the fate?

– The owner is a sorcerer. He selects slaves to conduct experiments. Many die. And those who are alive lose their own will, and sometimes even their reason.

A shiver ran down Dorhand’s spine. He read in books about sorcerers. Lately, more and more stories have been written about the King-beyond-the-Mountain, one of the new Dark Lords, who settled in the eternal ice of Sanem. The northern lands are many leagues from Sartoll, but do not think that the dashing will remain there forever.

After a while, Tom entered the barracks.

– The owner wants to see you.

Dorhand almost cried on the way to Latrich. The lord personally tore the sleeve of the boy’s shirt. Latrich lowered the iron rod into the flame. And then he left a brand on the boy’s shoulder. He screamed.

– Jump on one leg! – Latrich commanded. Dorhand felt that he had lost control of himself. An unknown force forced him to do everything the lord said, and it was impossible to refuse him. – And you said that you were a prince. A real slave.

Latrich laughed ominously, and Dorhand clenched his fist in impotent anger.

“One day I will take my revenge on you!”

Revenge is not the best advisor, but sometimes there come moments in life when there is nothing left but revenge. She becomes the only thread that does not allow her to say goodbye to the world of the living.