"We can't sell him," Hane protested. "He's dangerous!"
Keorg narrowed his eyes, glancing back at the sleeping boy in the cart. "He is. But his heart lies with the girl, and for that reason he is weak." He smiled. "The shadow boy will be sold, Hane."
"But what about Galbat—"
Keorg cut him off with a whispered word, his vocal chords stopped by magic. "His Lordship wants Shades, to swear to him. The boy is not a Shade, is he?"
Hane shivered. He hated that word. He hated the way Keorg said it with such whispered passion, the way it slid off his partner's tongue like honey. "…No. But what about the whore's son?"
"He is not a Shade either, is he?"
Hane cringed and turned away. "No."
"Then Galbatorix needs to know nothing about this haul. Clear?"
"Yes, Keorg," Hane muttered, before turning his horse and riding to the back.
Keorg watched him go with a laugh in his heart. Hane may have looked tough, but his heart was weak. He had not the stomach for a slaver's work, that was sure.
His eyes fell to the shadow boy. The girl and shadow's rival were talking in whispers, but from the way they held themselves, Keorg knew if he listened in he would only catch lovesick nothings, an assortment of sayings that were meant to assure everything would be okay.
He had tired of slave talk years ago.
His wine eyes turned back to the shadow boy.
"Are you still Súndavar?" he asked in a silent whisper. "Are you still the Empty Hearted Shadow you were?"
But just looking at him, Keorg could tell that wasn't the case.
He felt his hand sliding over his own chest to his scar, right beside his heart.
"Have you escaped His Lordship? Are you truly free?"
Súndavar didn't awaken.
Keorg sighed and looked at the girl. "Did she save you? Or has it made you soft, the love of a woman?"
For a moment – just a flickering moment – something perhaps a bit like love glittered in the Shade's claret eyes.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Hane will be arriving soon, my love," Marcus Tabor said.
Mistress Keladry sighed and smiled sweetly. "Yes. He's a dreadful man though. He scares me." She pouted a little bit, blinking her doe eyes at him.
If there was one thing Keladry had succeeded in, it was making Tabor think she was innocent. She had come to him, a beautiful, frightened virgin, scared of the world around her and seeking a protector. In his mind, he had become such, both a doting father figure and a lover.
Bracken is my only lover, Kel thought. He gives me what you never can, not with a thousand slaves.
But she always kept the existence of Bracken secret from Tabor. She had to remain innocent in his eyes, a delicate flower to be enjoyed a little at a time. Usually she kept herself from him, sitting quietly at his side and stealing silently away when he wanted more. It was better he didn't tire of her quickly, or she would have no say in how things went.
So she remained a little girl to his view, always frightened or excited. Sometimes she pretended to be frightened of him, though in truth she was nothing of the sort. She knew he would – or could, with his current waistline – do nothing to hurt her. Her spell of childish innocence had him too entranced.
"Mind you, don't be greedy today," he bid her in a way he doubtlessly considered playful, his third chin wiggling.
She giggled, hiding her lips behind her hand. She fluttered her eyelashes, looking down at Dras Leona. What a dreadful city.
The City of Lions. It should have been beautiful. Under any reign but Galbatorix's, it would have been beautiful. But nay, in the last hundred years it had been reduced to a twisting, rotting corpse.
Kel sighed, her heart aching for Nasuada. Oh, coney, she thought. I miss you more than the world.
She resolved to send a letter to the Varden, with her next shipment of 'supporters', as she had come to think of them. Tucked in the letter, would be a private note to Nasuada.
Kel always drew strength from the memories of her dearest friend. Coney, she had called her. Little friend, in the language of Nasuada's own people. A dead language, now.
But both of them had taken to speaking it, whispering to one another in the halls. They had driven Orrin crazy, when they visited him, as they talked about him in plain sight. He just couldn't tell what they were saying.
Kel blinked, bringing herself back from the sky where her memories roamed.
"Come, sweet," Marcus Tabor was saying. "Keorg will be arriving in the square any moment. We'd best be getting down there, if we want first pickings. And we want first pickings for my flower, hmm?"
She giggled and nodded.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Súndavar awoke to the taste of Rune on his lips.
"Sún, wake up," she whispered, "Come on. We're here." With every word her lips moved against his.
He blinked groggily at her, before sitting up. Tawnyclaw watched him warily. He swooped to Rune's shoulder and nibbled on her ear.
Rune listened for a moment, then nodded. "Tawnyclaw says Hane and Keorg were talking. They're asking 200 crowns for Eragon, and 175 for you."
"Oh, wonderful," he muttered back. "I'm so glad my worth can be measured in crowns."
She kissed him, ignoring Eragon's stare. "It can't, not to me at least."
"How much are you worth?"
Rune shivered, but didn't respond. She settled between Eragon and Súndavar, holding Freoh tightly. Vanir and Shay still slept on one another's shoulders, eyes closed.
"What do you suppose will happen to him?" Rune asked, letting Freoh suck on her finger. He reached for her hair, and she dangled a strand in front of his face. He laughed and began sucking on it.
"That's gross, Rune," Súndavar said.
She giggled, tickling Freoh. She rubbed noses with him.
"He's going to be strong," Tarn said. "I don't know magic, but magic he has in him."
Rune smiled lovingly, almost as if Freoh were her own child. "What do you think he'll look like?" she asked.
Vanir opened his eyes, almost as if he hadn't been sleeping. Rune was surprised for a moment, then shrugged. It was probably an elf thing.
"It's going to look like its father," he grumbled.
Rune's eyes flashed. "You're wrong," she said plainly. "He has rather elfin features, don't you think? He almost looks like…" she trailed off.
That was silly. He looked nothing like Súndavar. Nothing at all.
But…
But he did.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Hane shoved Eragon to his knees. Súndavar hit the dust beside him.
One by one, he latched them onto a chain.
"You're going to be presented to the crowd one by one for bidding," he said. "But you'll all be on display."
Hane was almost courteous as he helped Rune from the cart. He handed her a bag, which was filled with the belongings she had been captured with.
She frowned, confused. Why was he acting kindly to her? But if there was one thing she had learned, it was don't anger Hane. It led to bad things. So she remained silent.
"You'll be sold with the whore's son," he said roughly, taking Freoh from her.
In the alleyway they had snuck into, the slaves were all lined up. Rune stood at the end of the line, still confused.
She didn't even have time to scream as hands clamped over her mouth, dragging her into another empty alleyway.
A bag was dragged over her head, blacking out the world.
A foreign consciousness probed at her mind, before gaining acsess quickly.
I'm going to release your mouth, it said. But you must promise not to scream.
Who are you? Rune demanded.
Both a friend and an enemy, the person said. Promise you won't scream.
I…I promise.
The smothering hand released her mouth, and she gasped for breath.
What do you want?
She could sense hesitation.
What I want I can never have, said the voice. But perhaps you can help.
How? Take this bag off! I want to see you.
No, you don't. Trust me, the voice returned. Now, listen very closely to what I have to say. It paused for a moment, as if catching its breath. I know who you are.
Who…I am?
Yes, princess.
Rune went rigid. She tried to claw at the bag that covered her head. Let me out! You can't know! I'm not a princess. I'm not, she insisted.
Yes, said the voice. Stop struggling. I know your identity as much as I know the identity of your friends.
You can't tell Galbatorix! You can't! I won't let you! Slate will fry your sorry hide and eat you roast. He'll share you with Saphira and the two will laugh! Let go of me!
The voice laughed harshly. Calm down, little devil. I will not tell your father. I have no love for the man who drove me from my home. He thinks I am dead. And, in a way, I am.
What?
The man I was has died.
Rune stopped trying to break free from his grasp. She thought of Freoh, being held by Hane. Please let me go, she begged. You are confusing me. I have to get back. Hane will be angry, and he'll force me—oh, please let me go.
Hane will do nothing to you, daughter of Evil. You needn't fear him.
Rune stopped. The voice sounded…authoritative. Everyone is afraid of Hane.
He isn't very smart, the voice said.
But he'll touch me. I'm afraid of him.
The voice clicked in disapproval. Forget Hane for a moment. I must tell you something.
…very well…
When you are being sold, there will be a honey haired woman with a fat man looking for slaves. You must get her to buy you.
How?
The person sighed. I do not know. But you must. She will get you back to where you belong.
Alright. I will try.
No. Not try. You must. My own dream and the fate of Alagäesia rest upon it. Rune blinked as the bag was dragged off her head.
The hand clamped over her mouth again. It was a good thing, too, because she nearly screamed.
Who are you? She asked Keorg.
The Shade smiled.
Ieran, child. My name is Ieran.