Linder fired the first shot and was loading the second bullet when an enemy arrow overtook him. Dorkhand almost screamed, seeing how his father was being killed, but Langer covered his mouth with a rough palm.
Gods! Keep quiet! Otherwise they will notice us! Your Majesty! You must not open your mouth without my permission. It might be too dangerous!
After some time they were noticed. The bandits pulled them out from behind a stone. Dorhand bit the man who grabbed him by the arm.
If you bite me again, Ill knock out your teeth!
The advisor fell to his knees. Not all people are equally brave. And the majority can only boast of courage in words.
Take what you want! Langer yelled. Do you want me to give you all the gold I have? And if you want, take all the slaves. Take it. But leave us life.
Okay, said one of the robbers. But we will take this boy with us too. In the Market they will take this for double the price.
Dorhand started to hint that he was a prince, but Langer did not let him finish.
Take the boy. But let me live! said the adviser. Dorhand tried to break free. He looked reproachfully at the traitor, but Langer lowered his gaze to the sand. The boy spat on the ground.
So the prince became a slave.
Chapter 2. Market
On Tuesdays the slave market was always full of people. Locals called this day the golden river, because the wallets were filled not only with manpower traders, but also with the owners of local taverns and brothels. The smell of sweat and fish alternated with the aroma of rose and olive oils. It was a rare nobleman in the Sands who could afford a bath. The nearest oasis was a hasty camel ride of five days. Therefore, many doused themselves with oils and Suthering perfumes to fight off the stench. Those who are poorer could not afford to do this either.
When the hot disk of the sun was at its zenith, steam rose from the ground along with dust. The city turned into an oven at such moments. Or to the bathhouse. Usually even camels were freed from work at such moments. And the silk merchants drank tea to somehow replenish the loss of moisture. But on the day of the Sale, a roar filled the Square.
Ten gold, and this beauty will join my harem! shouted a fat old man with a sparse beard and a turban on his head. He was reclining in the shade of the tent. Two girls fanned him with palm leaves. In front of him lay a tray of grapes.
Twenty-two buckets of water, and she will go with me! hissed a bald man of about forty, with a scar under his left eye. He burned under the scorching sun of Lorraine. The skin is red. It seems that he is not used to the southern sands, most likely he came from the north. From Velzuvik or Sartolla, but here no one cares about the origin. The main thing is to pay. Without money, you yourself can become a slave. And without security, even the money will not be saved: it can be taken away in the nearest gateway.
The crowd gasped and stared at him.
This is Lord Latrich himself! people whispered.
Its not fair! the fat man shouted. Using water as a currency is unthinkable! Twenty gold pieces for a young maiden!
Sold for twenty-two buckets of water! the slaves owner shouted. The girl was brought to Latrich. The lord looked at the fat man with an undisguised grin. The old man grimaced and turned away. He called one of the servants, whispered something in his ear, and he walked away. After a while, the bald man grabbed the cobra in his fist, which almost bit him on the leg. He tore off the bastards head. All eyes are directed at the owner of the scar.
Latrich pulled a musket from his belt and fired. The fat man fell, swaying. Several soldiers of the dead man immediately rushed towards the lord. But he shook his head. Their path was blocked by Latrichs thugs. The lord smiled.
Who else is dissatisfied with my trading methods?
No one had them.
Latrich often participated in trades. And it was he who won the best slaves. None of those present here knew exactly where he was taking them and for what purpose the lord needed so many slaves. He is rich, and this is the main thing for the locals.
Next lot!
Dorkhand was pulled onto the wooden platform. He tried to escape several times. Moter, one of the soldiers, applied medicinal alhans to moderate the pain of the boys finger that had almost been bitten off. Thats why the prince was tied up. Hidden under a thick linen shirt is a bruise. If it were not forbidden to beat those intended for sale, then his face would have been beaten.
Starting price seven gold!
Im placing a bet! said an unpleasant-looking woman.
Four buckets of water, Latrich said.
Six buckets! the woman shouted. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at her, not hiding surprise and admiration.
Four buckets of water and three pinches of Eldevian spice.
Now the eyes are directed to Latrich.
Sales!
Dorkhand, even tied up, almost escaped. Latrichs servants grabbed him under the arm and dragged him to the rooms bought by Latrich. A dark-skinned old woman slave with a kind face cut the ropes.
I am the prince of blood! I cant be bought!
You better not kick. My advice to you. Otherwise Latrich will skin you alive. He is not a good person and will stop at nothing. Better wash yourself before meeting the lord.
She sat the boy in a barrel of warm water. Dorkhand took his first swim since they found themselves in the damned desert. Then they put new clothes on him and took him somewhere. He tried to break free, but in vain: the soldier squeezed his shoulder tightly, something almost crunched.
It hurts!
Go peacefully then everything will be okay!
Latrich sat at a long oak table and ate dates, spitting out the seeds directly onto the floor.
Well, well, interesting!
Dorkhand could only see from close up that there was a ring on each of the lords fingers.
Sir, there has been a terrible misunderstanding! I am the prince of the blood! My name is Dorhand! I am the heir of Sartoll! My fathers advisor got something mixed up, and I
Be silent! You sucker are now my slave! Latrich grabbed Dorkhand by the ear, and a tear flowed from pain. Forget your past life. You will only speak when I allow you to. I dont like empty chatter. Take him to the barracks.
Latrich pushed Dorhand away, and he almost hit his head on the corner of the table. The same soldier approached him and pulled him somewhere by the collar. When they disappeared behind the door, Dorhand read sympathy on the face of the giant soldier.
You be careful with the lord. He has a short temper. It wont be good for you. What is your name?
Dorhand. And you?
Volume. Big Man Vol. Come on, Dorhand, eat an apple. Its a long time before dinner.
The sour apple juice flowed pleasantly across the tongue. Dorhand only now remembered that he had not eaten for two days.
Thank you.
Only you no nonsense. You wont be able to escape from the barracks.
***
It stank not only of sweat, but also of sewage. The owner of the inn did not do any landscaping, so the slaves had to relieve themselves in the middle of the barracks. Dorhand sat down on the bare wooden floor, where it was not so dirty. This looks like his home for the next few days. Maybe years. The main thing is not forever! thought the boy. Dorhand lowered his head to his knees. The body itched and hurt. From beatings and burns left by the inhospitable sun on the skin of a northerner. The face of his father appeared in his thoughts. He is now dead. Is your brother alive?
The boy was distracted from his thoughts by crying. Not far from him he saw a girl. The same one that was bought with him.
My name is Dorkhand. And you?
Lina.
Why are you crying? Dorkhand only now noticed a trickle of blood flowing down Linas leg. Were you wounded?