Sands Of Time

Chapter Two

The Slave Market

The stench in the place was the first thing to hit Quatre. The over-powering perfumes and colognes of the traders, and the ripe, unclean smell of the slaves.

And slaves there were. The Auctions were finished, and the traders all bustling their acquisitions out to their respective parts of the city.

Quatre's eyes widened as he took in the huddled masses of slaves, most covered in dirt and grime, hunched over, drug along.

"Quatre," Duo hissed, latching back onto the petite blonde's arm. "Let's go."

But Quatre was looking around, appalled by what he saw. How could people treat other humans like this? This was horrible, cruel... inhuman. Of course they'd had slaves back in Venice... and in their Normandy summer house, but Zayeed Winner treated all his slaves the same as regular servants. They were clean, healthy, well-feed, and even if not happy with their lot in life, they were better off than they'd be in other places.

Then he caught sight of what had originally drawn him in, and heard someone yelling in Arabic. Quatre moved closer, pulling Duo, and thus Heero, further into the melee, closer to where the yelling was emanating from.

Quatre understood clearly what was being said. he was fluent in Arabic, Latin, his mother's native Norman French, and knew just a little of a few other languages his father had thought suitable.

"... ignorant.... deaf, dumb... not worth a single copper... can't believe what I payed for... useless!"

Quatre moved in, noticing a trader striking a huddled overslave with a short whip with several leather braids on the end.

"Excuse me, sir," Quatre said, moving in between the slave and the trader. "But what cause do you have for such treatment?"

"Move, whelp, 'for I strike you, as well."

Duo had let go and now stood staring at his usually meek friend stand up for the filthy slave. Memories of a similar time, a few years ago, came to him, and he didn't intervene. Quatre pulled himself up to his rather pitiful full height, and brought all of the in-bred aristocracy from both sides of his family down to bear. Quatre in what his sisters called his 'zone' was a sight to be reckoned with. He could talk a starving man out of his last piece of bread if he had a mind to.

"What cause, sir?" Quatre repeated. The trader blinked once at the tone, now regarding the strange pale fellow as a fellow merchant and not a child.

"Ignorant, he is," the trader, a rather lard-like tall man, snapped. "Mute, deaf, and dumb. Payed a fair price for him not one moon ago, and now, none will buy him! Fights like a wildcat one moment, dumb as a dormouse the next. I have half a mind to slay the thing now, save myself the trouble and expense of getting him to the next market!"

"You will do no such thing," Quatre said. He really had no idea what had possessed him. He carried a small coin purse around with him, just for emergencies and such, and now he pulled a single silver coin from it. "Not worth a single copper, then here. You will sell him for a silver, no?"

"Now listen here," the slaver said, taken aback. "I was just exaggerating. He's worth at least ten silver pieces."

Quatre looked at Duo. "He did just say, not one moment ago, that this slave was not worth a single copper, correct?"

Duo, with Heero stuck like a leech against his back, nodded with a small grin. He didn't know what had gotten into his petite friend, but he would help him as best he could. "Yes, I do believe he did. And 'round here, that's as good as stating a price. Seems to me you've offered more than what Master Trader here thinks the slave is worth. I wonder what others would think of this man's reneging on a stated price?"

Duo knew what others would think. A few well placed words and this man's business would lay in ruins. No one would trade with him. The man's face paled.

"Fine," he snapped. "Take the damnable thing and give me the silver," he took the coin that Quatre dropped in his hand, steaming for the loss as he shoved the papers to Quatre; the slave, at a different market, would have sold- and for a heftier price than a single silver piece. At least fifteen silvers. Damned thing was fair to look at, but a devil to control. He scowled and just kicked the slave towards Quatre and turned and marched away. "He's your problem now," he tossed over his shoulder, along with the key to the restraints.

Quatre blinked, catching the key in a deft and automatic movement, and for the first time really took notice of what just happened. He looked down at the shackled slave. What in Allah's name had he done? He blinked again, rationality over-riding his momentary shock. He bent down to unlock the shackles that bound the slave's feet, and for the first time actually looked at the slave. Looked beneath the dirt and grim, at the person underneath. Clear, steady green eyes looked back at him from under what looked to be auburn colored hair.

"Easy, there," he said, in the soft French he'd spoken most often back home, as he unlocked the foot shackles. "Can you stand? Walk?"

With a hand underneath an arm, Quatre lifted, surprised at how easily the slave stood, at how light he felt. "Come on," he turned, and with a hand on the thin arm, led the slave away from the market.

Duo followed, with Heero still clinging to him.

Duo wore a worried little smile, while Heero's face was as impassive as ever.

"You're worried," Heero muttered into Duo's ear, speaking a language from his homelands, far to the east of here.

"I am," Duo replied softly. "Part of me can't help but think this is a mistake. Quatre could be hurt if that slave is as wild as the trader says."

"You're assuming Quatre will keep him as a slave," Heero said.

"True... I can't see Quatre keeping a slave. And then a part of me can't help but remember how well we turned out," Duo added, smiling a little more. He reached a hand back and caressed Heero's arm for a moment, before continuing on, away from the slave market.