The slavers made him march besides them for days, forcing him to keep up as they crossed the plains at an exhausting pace. They gave him little water and less food, though they themselves dined relatively well.

At night they entertained themselves by forcing him to set up their tents, then delighted in knocking them down again, or making him prepare fires just to kick them over. He would be forced to rebuild them on pain of whatever ingenious form of punishment took their fancy, from beatings with broken, splintered wood to forcing lumps of dry sand down his throat.

After several days or more of this he no longer counted time, but at some point the city appeared on the horizon and even in his exhaustion and suffering some part of Rial was still alive enough to be startled at its size. He had thought the town was large!

The city extended far across the skyline, buildings of stone that stretched high above a thick, black line that must be a wall, though a wall far larger and more imposing than any Rial had imagined. He could make out no details at this distance, no gates or turrets or guard posts, nothing he could identify from what he had seen at the outpost.

He would not reach the city today, however.[1]

They had been joined over the course of their journey by other groups, groups who brought with them their own captured and fearful prisoners. By now they must number at least a hundred. As soon as they came within sight of the city these captives were gathered together, surrounded by a circle of their jeering captors.

The leader, whose name Rial had learnt was Dexan, was as always atop his horse[2] overlooking his gathered victims.

“It is time to sort you, my friends,” sneered Dexan.

Dexan always sneered, under his close-cropped stubble. A strong, wide-shouldered man with a fierce, tanned face, he carried himself with an air of viciousness that turned to physical violence at the slightest provocation. Rial had seen him beat several captives to the edge of death by himself.

He also enjoyed referring to his prisoners as friends.

“Soon you will be sold in the markets outside this great city, and I want you to show your best. You will do that for me, won’t you?”

Dexan rolled a stick of burning leaves between his teeth as he spoke. Rial didn’t know what it was; there was no such thing in the village.

“Get me a good price, boys and girls! Get us a good price!”

Dexan’s men cheered this as he rode away.

The slavers, coordinated as always by the scarred man whose name Rial still had not discovered, slammed into the prisoners, smacking them with heavy sticks to push them into some kind of order.

Eventually, what order became clear. Young girls and boys, children, were grouped together. Young women were put into another group, and strong men regardless of age forced into another. Finally, all those who did not fit into these categories were gathered together.

Rial was left until last.

The pox-marked man approached him personally, a malicious grin on his face.

“You, cast off, we have something special for you!” he laughed. “You came as a set, so you leave as a set! Even we don’t think you’re of much value!”

The scarred man struck Rial a blow to the side of his temple that almost staggered him, but did not. Rial fought to stay standing and succeeded, turning his head once more to look at his tormentor.

“Oh, you think you’re tough now, do you? Think you’re a man?” said the scarred man, striking him again, this time to the jaw.

Again Rial took the blow, though the pain sent red flashes across his eyes.

“Hmmm,” said the scarred man, with a considering eye as he massaged his knuckles. “Perhaps you are worth something. Still, boss’s orders. You’re a bonus for whoever buys your treasure.”

At the mention of the village treasure Rial had to struggle to hide his excitement. He had only seen glimpses of it since his capture, when Dexan would take it out to marvel at with his men. They seemed quite convinced that it would provide them with enough wealth to last the rest of their lives.[3]

After being gathered up, they made their way to an area of poorly-made and crumbling buildings someway away from the city proper. The ramshackle, wood-and-cloth structures looked like they would fall down at the first hint of a proper storm.

Walking amongst these structures were all kinds of people, men and women of wealth and of nothing, beggars and thieves mixed with palanquin-mounted aristocrats.[4] They walked amongst the stalls and stages that filled every available space, crammed in against each other.

And on the stages, the human product.

Tired and dusty specimens of captured humanity stood to attention under the watchful eyes of guards, both male and female, holding wickedly curved and spiked weapons. The shouts of the traders and the bidding customers filled the air even more so than the dust which scratched at the eyes.

The first of Dexan’s captives were already sold by the time Rial arrived, the long line of prisoners slowly wending its way onto the stage. Rial could see Dexan, still astride his horse, grinning in pleasure as bags of valuables were given to his subordinates and his ‘product’ was taken away.

Despite himself, Rial found himself shaking. He looked at his trembling hands dispassionately; whatever his body was feeling, he was not. He was numb.

He was still staring at his hands when the treasure was dumped into them. He looked up into the beaming face of the scarred man.

“You’ll carry that for us, won’t you, cast off?”

Rial felt a thrill of excitement. Despite all he had been through his fascination of the thing remained. And he knew the thing was more than it seemed.

Now he finally held it. It seemed to float above his palms.

The scarred man seemed annoyed by Rial’s lack of response, and cracked him around the back of his legs with a stick to get him moving. Rial clambered up on the stage and faced forward.

The hubbub of the market was consumed by an expanding ripple of quiet at the sight of the treasure, as it shone and sparkled in the light. Even the other tradesmen ceased hawking their wares. The hush turned to a chorus of murmurings as customers rushed over from other stalls to get a closer look.

Rial stared straight ahead over the crowd as he held the treasure, but his eyes took nothing in. He was focused on the object in his hands.

The smooth metal was warm to the touch, and somehow held the promise that it would always be so regardless of the temperature outside. Except for the small indentations Rial could feel not the slightest blemish. It was almost perfectly smooth; if not for the grips it would be like holding warm ice, so little was the friction of its surface. It was also ridiculously light, so that without the resistance of it between his palms he would believe he held only air.

What was it? Rial had no idea. Aside from the nasty looking spike that he now held to the top, away from his hands, it was a thing of beauty, the creation of which surpassed any skills Rial had heard of.

Some part of him heard the bidding start, a frantic clamour of numbers the worth of which Rial barely understood.

But what did it do?

Apparently nothing. He surreptitiously pressed and pulled and stroked the thing, squeezed it and tapped it.

The bidding continued, heating up now as more and more ludicrous sums were offered. Fat, bejewelled figures tumbled out of their palanquins to make their raised hands visible.

Sudden uncertainty.

What if they took it from him before he figured it out? What if he never held it again? His knuckles whitened around it.

The cries of the auction's final bids rang out.

He could think of nothing.

He had tried everything. Except…

He stared down at the spike. It glinted in the sun.

The auctioneer cried "sold!"

Dexan and his men let out a raucous cry of triumph.

Rial slammed his hand onto the spike.

It bit.

[1] Not yet. Not for a long time.

[2] Whose name Rial had learned was Debbie. Apparently in the language of the leader’s people this was a fearsome name, and no-one had the guts to tell him otherwise.

[3] Which was true, though not in the way they thought.

[4] Though Rial did not know what a palanquin was.