When I come to, my body doesn’t answer for a while. I can dully feel pain from the worst of it: my leg, hand, and wing. I can also tell I’m moving, the bumpy shaking indicating probably a cart of some sort. I manage to peek an eye open. It’s a flat cart and as it goes over a hole, I hear the familiar clink of chains. The sound has a conditioned effect on me, my fire draining and the dark cloud of despair looming.

I’m captured which means two options: death or the auction block. Considering my history and condition, the former is the more likely.

Once the hunters get to a record house and check the history on my number, they’ll know this is my fifth escape. An unheard of number as it is. The only reason I wasn’t put down after the third was because of how rare Avin slaves are becoming. Using a small population as slave messengers in a war means it’s not long before most are shot down. The Soli didn’t quite think that one through all the way and now has to do it’s best to 'conserve the remaining population”.

But if the “remaining population” keeps running away, it’s no good to the empire and can only be used as an example.

So has the time finally come for me to end it? To choose my own death, robbing the Soli of my humiliation. Or do I hold out—try to escape one last time? I consider, but a sharp pain from my left wing brings reality back to my desperate calculating. I’m grounded and possibly fatally injured anyway. All I can do now is end it.

As feeling (and pain) come back to my hands, I try to move. The hunters are more clever than I hoped, the chains are attached to two iron pins and are short enough that I can’t make it to the edge of the cart to throw myself off. I’ll have to wait until they unload me. Surely some soldier will have a sword out I can run onto.

What a sad way to go, what a futile life. I can feel the wary eye of the hunter on me and I tuck my head down, my shaggy hair covering my face as a few last tears burn the gash on my jaw. By the time the sound of people surround us—with the familiar gasping and pointing as the cart comes to a stop—my body is so tired and sore I’m like a board. The hunters were smart and trimmed the branches stuck in me, but I’m sure I look like a corpse to most of the spectators.

I try to focus, but I’m going in and out of consciousness. Faces blur by and I hear words but can’t understand them. The only thought I manage is that it’s a lot of people and that we might be in a larger city. Soon, the voices quiet and my focus sharpens as someone grasps my chin and forces my head up to look me over. I try to glare, but I’m too tired. It’s a man with spectacles and the cold calculating eyes of a slaver. He cranks my head to the side reading the number tattooed on my neck out loud to someone.

“2A44D. An older number.”

I’m too tired to snort at that. Yeah, twenty years old. Old enough to see the empire spread like a disease across En, old enough to be passed through a dozen different masters.

Veteran, experienced, well-trained. Other words that have been used to describe me. That and defiant, broken, defective. So yeah, it’s an older number, it took me ten years to get pushed too far, to make my first escape attempt, no doubt that’s what it says on my record.

“Looks like this one’s a repeat offender. Says here it’s been recaptured twice already.” Another voice.

Maybe it’s the creeping delirium, but I give a dry, cracking laugh, “Your records are outdated. This is my fifth escape.”

“Was. It was a fifth escape,” says the man coldly, not phased at all. He looks above me where the hunters must be standing. “We’ll update the record and send an inquiry to Astrix, make sure there’s no warrant out that would prevent us from putting this one down.”

“And if there’s a reward above the standard bounty?” It's the younger hunter’s voice.

“Then that will be the fee of my office,” answers the slaver sharply.

“Of course,” The older hunter interrupts the younger’s protests. “Forgive my apprentice. Thank you for your time. We’ll return tomorrow for your offer.”

“Very well.” The man pauses his turn away to add, “Also do try to keep it alive. It’ll be worth more that way.”

“Alright, haul out, Kortik.”

After a few moments, the cart moves again and I blink at the bright sunlight as we exit the large warehouse. Kortik asks, “Why do we have to wait? Why can’t we get the money today?”

His senior sighs. “Look, Avins are a fluctuating market. If it has military secrets, that’s money. If its got court secrets, that’s trouble. We could try to track down a new buyer or its old master, but in the state it’s in, I’m not sure it’d live long enough. Best to just take the state standard and go through the paperwork. Be grateful, that wasn’t always an option and before the open bounty, the goods could eat through any profits before you found a proper buyer.”

“Still three thousand doesn’t seem like a lot considering the trouble,” Kortik grumbles and his senior laughs.

“A bit of a stab will be good for you. If you can’t take a half-dead Avin, those rebel bounties are out of your league. Now, I don’t want to go too far from the warehouse, go check that inn over there and I’ll get out of the loading zone.”

As my captor maneuvers the cart through the crowds, more people stare and point. Most common folk have never seen an Avin. Last time I was captured, they charged gawkers admission. Maybe I should aggravate my wounds, bleed out before tomorrow.

“You’re welcome to stay here, but that thing’s not coming inside. This isn’t a morgue.”

Kortik is arguing with the innkeeper. I maneuver my hands, trying to pull the wood from my right palm. I can’t help but gasp as I yank it free, swallowing a whimper as the blood begins to flow again.

“Look at that blood. It’s getting all over the street. Honestly, you bounty hunters are more trouble than you’re worth. People are trying to eat lunch,” the innkeeper chides my captors.

Good. I hope they all watch. The idea of Soli being put off a luxurious lunch by a bloody sight of their own creation makes me chuckle. It turns into a cough and then I hack and taste blood. I don’t think it’s going to take much more before I do finally give out.

“Excuse me, sirs. A word if you would be so kind.” It’s a new voice, this one bright. I try to turn, but it’s too difficult.

“Master Killex! May I—May I help you with anything?” the innkeeper babbles.

“No, I’m afraid I’m not here for your fine establishment. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with these bounty hunters, though I would appreciate a quick drink. Some wine if you have it.”

“Of course!”

The innkeeper disappears and the bounty hunters look at each other before walking past me toward the newcomer. They’re right behind me. The new voice speaks first.

“You appear to have captured my Avin, gentlemen.”

His Avin? I’ve never even heard the name Killex before. No doubt this is some new blood aristocrat looking to get a discount trophy Avin. Could be a chance to escape. Or could be another decade of slavery.

“Your Avin, you say? You got papers? Forgive me for the impotence, but it’s business.” The elder hunter takes charge.

The voice goes airy and then businesslike. “Unfortunately, they were lost in the same unfortunate event that led to its escape, but I understand. You are businessmen and I can respect that. I believe the state standard is three thousand? Let’s see, I have that much here. Surely, you wouldn’t mind saving yourself more trouble with our good innkeeper and getting your pay early. House Killex would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause and then the familiar clink of money. “Sir, we’d be honored to do business with your noble house.”

“Wonderful!” The voice perks up. “Ah, my wine, thank you.”

The innkeeper walks around me distastefully and gives my buyer his wine which he drinks and with a satisfied sigh. Stars, I hate him already.

“Thank you, I think I’ll finish this on the move, I did have business to attend to. Vix?”

A young voice, probably a page of some sort. “Yes, sir!”

“Show these gentlemen to the estate. Take the side entrance, no need to upset the courtiers with this mess. Get Nikolie to look over the Avin and then come back with payment for the tanner since I’m afraid I’ve just spent it.”

“Yes, sir. Right away. Follow me, please.”

When the cart moves again, I get one glimpse at Master Killex as he climbs back into his gilded carriage. He’s wearing a rich red half cloak and he glances over his shoulder meeting my eye for just a moment. To my surprise, it’s not greed on his face but something much more calculating. As he shuts the door, I see the crest on it. I may not be educated, but I delivered enough messages to nobles to recognize the six stars at the top of the crest. The House Killex must be a high ranking family to have part of the imperial crest incorporated in theirs.

Despite this turn in events, I decide to carry on my efforts in bleeding to death. I am much too tired to deal with a new master and new escape—at some point, a man has to cut his losses. I make sure I have a satisfied smile as I pass out.