Black Sea Horan: The Market
At long last, having tramped across uncounted miles of empty territory, they left the mountain range behind and headed towards a huge body of water, sparkling in the distance. Once they reached the shore, which Rose thought was big enough to be an ocean or an inland sea, they turned slightly north and marched on for another half a day, at last reaching a small town. The slavers bunched their captives even closer together and rode around the outside, herding them to the tiny port past the staring inhabitants of the town like so many leashed-together cattle. An open-decked ship was docked there, and after a short negotiation between the slaver Captain and vessel's master, they were all marched on board and the ropes tied to various bulwarks. It turned out to be a galley, and the strongest of the male slaves were released from their ropes and secured to their new personal hells, chained to the oars, in the half-dozen open spots. Apparently they had unknowingly paid the way for the rest with their own labor and lives.
They waited a couple of hours for the rest of whatever cargo the ship's captain was purchasing to be stowed in the hold below them in wooden barrels and crates, and finally the slavers' own horses were brought on board, skittishly dancing across the gangplank, and put into a quickly-strung makeshift rope corral at the rear of the ship, just behind Rose and the other slaves. At last they cast off, and the endless, monotonous drumbeats began, keeping time for the rowers. Their route continued northwest, just in sight of the land. They kept it up from dawn till dusk, with a few short breaks, and pulled in close enough to the land to drop an anchor each evening. Rose, like all the rest, was just glad to be off her feet at last, and let herself be lulled into a waking doze by the drums.
Five days later, they pulled into another port, this one at the edge of what looked like a large, busy city, the whitewashed walls and tiled roofs marching up the sides of nearby hills giving it a Mediterranean air, and Rose wondered again where in the world she was. A large, ornately gleaming building sprawled across the top of the nearest hill, looking serenely palatial. Dozens of galleys and sailing ships were moored in the harbor, with tiny rowboats scuttling across the water between them and the docks poking out from high city walls. The ship's captain dropped anchor in the middle of the harbor and left the ship in one of the rowboats, along with the slaver Captain, intent on their respective business. Both of them returned a few hours later, and the ship was slowly maneuvered right up next to the dock to be unloaded.
The slaver Captain had evidently brought back some exciting news, judging from the reaction of his men, who were suddenly energized, jabbering and hollering animatedly. They carefully led their horses off the boat, then impatiently yanked the slaves to their feet – still attached to the same ropes – and chivvied them quickly up off the docks and into the city.
Rose's head was whirling; sights and colors and incredible smells were coming so fast that she didn't have time to register anything individually. The place was jammed with people and animals – horses, pigs and even camels – and the dung made walking treacherous. They were led a few blocks away and then turned through an iron gate into a large, smelly courtyard, bare of adornment, but surrounded on all sides by a two-story building. Black doorways covered by more iron bars gaped at short intervals on each floor, giving the immediate impression of a prison. The slaves were cut loose at long last from the ropes that bound them and divided up, a large group shoved into each of a dozen rooms along one side, and the bars slammed shut behind them and were locked with large, ornate padlocks.
Not a prison. A slave market.
Rose whirled back around, her hands free for the first time since her arrival, and ran the two steps back to the bars, peering through them to search for the Captain, still wearing her time jumper on his wrist. He was back on horseback, watching his men quickly mount up themselves, and then they whirled around and clattered out of the gate en masse.
Gone. All she could do was stand and stare in shock at the blank, empty gate, as it clanged shut behind her only hope of ever getting home.
^..^
Two long days later a commotion outside in the courtyard startled Rose out of her doze as she sat leaning against the wall of her cell, and she sprang groggily to her feet and ran to the bars again with the others. A large group of men were slowly walking along in front of the cells, apparently inspecting the merchandise.
And in the lead was the Captain. She caught his eye, and he grinned at her, stepping away from the others towards her cell. The jumper was still on his arm, and she gulped, swallowing her heart again as it leapt upwards.
"Please," she whispered, reaching out towards him with trembling hands. Tears sprang to her eyes. "I just want to go home. Please give it back to me." She knew he didn't understand a word, but surely he didn't need to.
He was still grinning, even as he shook his head, one hand almost unconsciously moving to touch the jumper on his other wrist. He took a breath to speak – but was interrupted by a soft inquiry. Both of them jumped, and the Captain stiffened, whirling around to face the interlocutor.
The other men had caught up with them. In the lead, obviously the one who'd just spoken, was... a prince. There was no doubt in Rose's mind that this was a VIP, from the top of his perfectly pleated turban to the pointed tip of his shoes. Every inch of the man was washed, oiled, and perfumed, dressed in eye-piercing white, adorned with gold thread and flashing jewels.
The Captain murmured some demurral, and the prince glanced curiously between him and Rose – but then his eye was caught by the Captain's hand, and the strange device he was touching. He pointed to the time jumper, obviously asking what it was. The Captain, caught, instantly smoothed a mask of willing servitude over his reluctance, slipping the jumper off his wrist and presenting it to the prince with a low, courtly bow, holding it out on both upturned palms like an offering.
The prince plucked it carefully from his hands, not touching his flesh, and held it up, inspecting it from all angles. He posed another question, and the Captain replied, "Nemidanam, Khan Giray."
Rose blinked, then gave a tiny gasp. For the first time since her arrival, it was as if her ears were unstoppered, and the Captain's sentence had entered her brain as separate words, not indistinguishable noises. She still couldn't translate what he'd said, but one word leapt out at her. Khan. Didn't Jared say that one of the minor characters in "my" story was a khan? Isn't that a ruler of some sort? She looked back at the prince, who had turned at her gasp to stare at her again, his arrogant black eyes piercing right through her skin. As best she could, she sank into a small, awkward curtsey, the kind she'd seen on the telly when someone was presented to the Queen. I don't exactly fancy becoming a member of a harem, but if that's what it takes...
But it wasn't. Those black eyes swept her down, then flickered away, dismissing her. Another man, behind him, leaned in with a polite inquiry, and the prince gave the other women in the cell a quick once-over, then shook his head, rejecting all of them before turning away and once again admiring the time jumper.
As the rest of the crowd turned to follow the prince, the Captain looked back at Rose for the last time. He paused, seemed about to say something, then shrugged apologetically and turned away, straggling behind the prince's entourage. Rose watched them stroll across the courtyard and walk out the gate, utterly bereft of hope.
^..^
She watched with dull, uncaring eyes as her fellow slaves were bought and led away in dribs and drabs over the next few days, the money jingling in her jailor's pockets. She was inspected through the bars a number of times, but each time was rejected, and she tried not to take that as a blow to her ego. Finally, a man with a pair of hulking, dark-skinned bodyguards bought her and a half-dozen other women who were left, and they were once again roped together loosely for a walk across the town to their final destination.
She never made it there. A few blocks away from the slave market, a group of rowdy young men spied them, and immediately surrounded the group, talking and laughing with their new owner, coming in between the women and fondling them right there on the street. Rose slapped away the hands of the one who'd picked her out, and got into a tussle with him, crying out, "Get your hands off me! Leave me alone!" Instantly angered, he slapped her hard across the face, and she fell to the filthy, muddy street in a heap, and huddled there, sobbing, waiting for the next blow to descend.
Instead, an argument broke out above her head, which she ignored, staring at the dust in humiliation. After a few minutes, the argument ended, and a man's hand reached down with a knife and cut her free of the rope. The knife disappeared, and the hand came down again, taking her forearm, not roughly.
She slapped it away again, anyway, flinching. "Leave me alone!" she repeated, her voice thick with tears of despair.
"You know," said the hand's owner above her head, sounding lightly amused, "since I just bought your freedom, you might want to consider being nice to me."
In English.
