Two Minds, One Body
(Chapter 2)
A thought flowed through her brain, like a whisper on the wind.
Why me? It said, oh by the lord's grace why me?
It came from a stout, ginger haired man leaning on a wooden pillar, six or seven paces away.
His clothes, like the others crammed into the store house, were filthy, broken and hanging in tatters off his body. His skin was burnt, by sun and flame, and criss-crossed with white lines, scars of old torture or recent beatings. They were all destined for slavery now, though they had broken no laws. They were ambushed in there village, Germand, north of Cithrí, in Surda; while sleeping soundly in there beds. A quarter of the village was taken by the slavers, and only half survived the harsh journey north to Dras-Leona. All of them were whipped, starved and morally broken, most females abused in perverted ways.
In this bunch of doomed and pitiful people lay a young woman, or girl, of sixteen. Her mind was different from others, able to listen to the thoughts of any living thing. Apart from plants and insects.
Unknown to her, she could have been the most powerful magician in Surda. But she knew not of her powers at all, then.
Her stomach groaned loudly, begging for food that wasn't given to them since mid day, yesterday.
They were all hungry.
They were all bound in iron, shackled to a person or sturdy pillar.
*a few hours pass*
The caw of a crow rung in Dalanore's head, the crow in question eyeing the dirty lane for free pickings. Orfûna snorted, and kept on ploughing through the sea of people and stalls. The lane was alive with the loud cry of traders calling out there best bargains and the general hubbub of a crowd during market day. Three street urchins fought over a scrap of mouldy bread, while a fourth stole it during the commotion.
Dalanore followed his sense until he walked into a richer part of town.
He grunted, this person was probably some rich person who came to Dras-Leona for the extensive amount of merchandise. And rich in this city meant trained, and trained meant Galbatorix's work.
A grimace swept across his face.
Don't give up on it yet Dalanore, I feel hopeful about this one.
The last time you felt hopeful about something I ended up with a broken arm.
But a fat wallet if I recall.
I couldn't search for a week and a half.
No one appeared.
That's not the point.
Growling he resumed his search. Unfortunately he ended up in the slave market, which could mean spending a fair bit of money if the magician was a slave. Orfûna drab appearance, not to mention her rider, was getting too noticeable in this crowd of lords and ladies, so he dismounted and tied her up to iron ring set in the wall.
"Stay here, don't let anyone steal you." He said, and then repeated the message to Orfûna in her mind with the ancient language.
She snorted in response and cast her eyes to the stage were the slaves were being auctioned off like objects.
Pleased, Dalanore walked off down a side street to a warehouse. The person was near, that was clear. A door in the side was ajar and the awful smell of sweat, blood and excrement streamed out of the gap.
Coughing he stepped inside, then left immediately to throw up on the pavement.
What greeted his eyes in the warehouse was a hundred plus bodies of slaves, shackled together, and packed in like sardines. The smell was overwhelming, drifting into most senses.
A repulsive taste on his tongue, a clouding of his eyes, and a stomach churning smell.
His palms went sweaty, but he forced himself to enter again, a thick woollen sleeve covering his nose and mouth. Eyes watering he watched the slaves intently, looking for his magician. All were nearly indistinguishable from the other. Black and brown rags covered them so they were slightly modest but grime and excrement covered any exposed skin.
Stymied Dalanore cast out his mind to find him or her. The emotions from the slavers nearly incapacitated him, for so strong was there despair and self pity, but not one shied away from his presence. One however seemed to observe Dalanore's probe mentally. This person was curled up, a good fifteen or so paces from where he stood. She looked up, hazel eyes looking hopefully to the source.
Who are you? Asked Dalanore
Help me, please.
Who are you? He insisted.
I am of no importance, but please help me. You do not know what we have been through. Help me, help us.
I am here for you, not the others .I know what you have been through though. Can you escape?
No. she said/thought, raising her mucky shackles.
I will buy you then.
What, no, no I wish to be free. Please help me.
I cannot.
Why?
You are chained and bound and four guards are patrolling this area, taking you will kill you and put me in prison. Buying you is your chance of freedom. I know what you are capable of; I will not let your talents be smothered by a slave's life. Do not fear child.
What do you want of me!
You
will know soon, but not now. When are you going to be sold?
I
don't know. Buy me if you wish, but I have no useful talents.
She sighed and sank below her rags.
"You have no idea." Said Dalanore, aloud. Other slaves looked up and moaned and begged for freedom. With a heavy heart Dalanore turned his back on them and left.
Running he sped into the market and spotting Orfûna leaped up and onto the horse's back.
"Giddy up." He said.
Orfûna trotted off into the lane, back to Dalanore's house, whinnying all the way.
An hour later Dalanore was sitting on Orfûna once again, richly dressed to pass unnoticed amidst the lords and ladies, in the slave market with 200 crowns weighing down his pocket, and a coarse blue robe in a bag. He had a constant link with young woman, to make sure she wasn't taken anywhere.
Half an hour later she was dragged on stage, a sorry sight in the sunlight. The slavers, two of them, marched up to her ripped off her rags, leaving her stark naked to the crowd, forced to show her body.
The auctioneer cried out. "A slight girl from the southern areas of Alagaësia, a nice body, if a bit smelly. Might be good in bed," (The male half of the crowd sniggered until most were elbowed in the side by there wives.) "or for light labour or other activities, its only limited by your imagination ladies and gentleman."
"Starting at… 50 crowns."
Dalanore raised his hand to the crowd.
"To the young gentleman on the horse then, 100 crowns anyone?" An old wrinkly man with a covering of silver hair raised his hand, showing a sweaty palm to the auctioneer.
"100 crowns, 150?" Dalanore raised his hand
"200?" A murmur went through the crowd, so much for such a pathetic slave? The old person seemed to think about it, and then slowly started to raise his hand.
Fearing that he might be out bid he invaded the old man's mind. Thoughts flooded into his own, despicable thoughts of what the man would do with the girl made Dalanore grimace but he tightened his grip on the mans hand. The old guy fought Dalanore for control, but the dragon spirit intervened. Power fortified his grip and the old mans hand plummeted to his side.
"200 anyone? 150 crowns going once… going twice… sold to the young man on the horse." The hammer fell and Dalanore dismounted and went to collect his rightful property, and grimaced at the thought. A person should never be property.
He was keenly aware of the gazes of the crowd and didn't like all the attention. The stage steps creaked as he put his weight onto them. Holding out a hand, he motioned for the girl, and the guards complied by hurling her bodily towards him. She wasn't ready and fell at his feet, and the crowd roared with laughter. Dalanore picked her up and dragged her off stage towards Orfûna. Once they had reached the mare he dug into the saddle bags and pulled out the plain coarse robe.
"Here, wear this unless you want to catch the attention of every pervert and sicko in the city." Wordlessly she donned the garment.
"Keep right by my side and don't wander an inch away." Dalanore mounted Orfûna and trotted home, the girl practically glued to his side. He extended a thought, You are now mine by law, but will have all the freedom of a free person while you stay with me.
Thank you, she thought back.
Both Dalanore and the spirit replied, it's the least we can do for the next Saul'béris. The next soul keeper.