Hello my dahlings, and thank you for all the lovely reviews. It may seem like a simple thing, but it means a lot to me. As I have received a complaint calling for single spacing, I will do next chapter, on a trial basis. Sorry for the shortness, but this is a basic filler chapter. Next chapter will be both longer and more interesting. Promise.

Kel drifted lazily into consciousness, momentarily unaware of her

situation. This blessing evaporated at the sharp kick to her ribs.

"Enough, Eng!," an elderly feminine foice barked harshly. "You'll

ruin the merchandise."

Kel opened her eyes to find herself staring into beady black eyes,

extenuated by webs of wrinkles surrounding them. The old woman

cackled hideously and moved aside, revealing the scowling man

behind her. As groggy as Kel still was, the look in his eyes made her

creep backwards on the floor and whimper softly.

"Don't worry dear" the old woman smiled broadly. "You're intact.

Drives up the price, but makes Eng here mighty frustrated."

Reassured somewhat, though still not certain of what the woman

meant, Kel looked over her surroundings. She was in a tent, complete

with musky odor and close ceilings. Surprisingly, the tent was

decorated fairly lavishly; the rug underneath Kel was thickly ornate,

and gaudy gold ornaments hung from the tent posts. The man and

woman both were clothed in oddly decorated purple silk robes, and

wore heavy gold earrings and rings. Suddenly, she looked at herself

. She was stark naked, and partially burnt from the desert sun.

Somewhat belatedly, Kel drew a mask over her face, concealing her

panic. She hadn't been raped, both her own body and the old

woman's words told her that much, but certainly worse things were in

store. The likelihood of being kidnapped by desperate bandits just to

be released, even for a hefty ransom, seemed unlikely.

The old woman again laughed. "I think I know your buyer. You're

young, cute, and a fighter. Now, I'm going to tell you the way its

going to be . . ."

Kel stood naked on a raised wooden platform. Even behind the

curtain that served as barrier between buyers and waiting slaves, she

could hear the bellows of the auctioneer, the man Eng, and the

cultured voices, both foreign and in Common. The slaves, as the

elderly slave trader had instructed her, remained silent at all times,

unless told by a bidder to speak. Kel normally wouldn't have obeyed

such strictures, but the trader anticipated this. Spells bound her from

both speaking and running away. Chains and gags would have done

this as well, but, according to the trader, this would have hidden her

attributes. What these were, the fairly innocent Kel had little idea of,

as well as where exactly she was, and why the voices beyond the

curtain lacked the coarseness she usually associated with slavery.

These voices died down. Abruptly, Eng thrust his head through the

curtains.

"You're up, sweeting, " he hissed at her, and with a crude tongue

thrust, retreated back onto the block. Involuntarily, Kel's hands drew

apart the heavy curtains, and she stepped through into the sunlight.