Perhaps it was Tavros' fear, or perhaps just the wind, but Derse felt much colder than Prospit, the deep blacks and purples of the stones making the buildings look sick and haunted to the eyes of a child raised in Prospit's whites and golds. The local carapacians were black-shelled too, like walking shadows, and the humans milky-skinned from lack of sun under Derse's clouds and mists. All were cloaked in dark shades, ranging from jewel tones to dull greys and browns, and many wore deep hoods. Some were in collars or shackles, eyes cast down, and Tavros shivered, knowing this living death in this ghostly country awaited him. The two maroonbloods carried the plank unsteadily to a huge cart pulled by two brown hoofbeasts - ordinary animals, not showing the stark whiteness and gem-toned eyes of a psychically bound lusus - and dumped him in it.
"Fine thinking, Glauzi, get a troll we can't stand upright!" snapped one of his captors. "If we make 'em stand over him they'll crush him if we bump and I'm not wasting the effort... Right, you hold this one upright!" Tavros' plank was hauled upright and balanced against the side of the cart, the strap under his arms holding him up with the assistance of a frightened human woman, who refused to meet his eyes. Tavros kept a firm hold on Tinkerbull's cage and tried to pat him through the bars as they rattled along, down the pier and onto the cobbled streets.
The cart finally stopped at a great semicircular wooden stage in a bustling market square, onto which the captives were herded, and a brownblood with a cane and megaphone stood a little to one side. A crowd gathered, a huge human male in heavy chains was shoved to the front of the stage, and the sales pitch started. Tavros tried not to listen, and averted his eyes when the man's shirt was torn away by the salesman's claws to show his strength. The woman holding Tavros up stroked his hair, but said nothing. He heard the prices being offered, and was amazed. More money than the Nitrams had ever dreamed of, and the bidders' tones of voice implied these amounts were little to them, an impression backed up by their fine clothing and the jewels many of them wore, and the fact that several of them had at least one slave already in tow. He hoped he'd be bought by one that already had a slave with them. At least he and Tinkerbull wouldn't be lonely.
One by one the captives officially became slaves, until the cart was almost empty. When the woman holding him was taken, Tavros slid down the plank he was bound to until his legs folded awkwardly beneath him. That was worrying. Pain was the body's way of telling him something was wrong, Dad had always said, and there was still no pain but there was plainly something very wrong here...
He was dragged onstage, the plank edge bouncing painfully over the cobbles and up the steps, and propped up in full view of the crowd, his arms aching from clutching Tinkerbull so hard.
"... minor accident, can't stand up yet, but that just means he can't run away!" the salesman announced, prodding Tavros' unresponsive knee and winking at the audience. "And look at this, ladies and gentlemen, his lusus came along, isn't this wonderful? Not often we get a matching set!" Tinkerbull chirped and fluttered, and the salesman laughed. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, you sure won't ever get a pair like this for such a bargain price again - just a little one and damaged too, but don't that make 'em both so pitiful? I know it does to me, I'm going soft in my old age, almost tempted to keep 'em myself, but, ladies and gentlemen, I couldn't deny you such a bargain, so shall we start the bidding?"
Whoops rose from the crowd, and the salesman and buyers exchanged shouted numbers at a speed that left Tavros' head spinning. He watched the bidders, wondering which would win; the dark-haired woman with the red dress and the cruel smile, the hulking carapacian with the chipped facial shell...
A striking seadweller with a hook-horned slave beside him waved a hand and casually called a number half over again what the last bidder had offered, and the salesman brought his cane down on the stage with a ithwack/i in lieu of a more traditional auctioneer's hammer before anyone else could make an offer. Nobody objected, and Tavros shivered again; this man seemed to scare the adults too. "Sold!" cried the salesman, bowing his head as the seadweller's slave unbound Tavros and cradled him in her arms. "And may you find much joy in your purchase, my lord."
The seadweller waved a dismissive hand and turned with a swirl of his cloak, the slave woman hurrying after him with Tavros and Tinkerbull in her arms.