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LUCA’S HEAD HURT, A hurt that reached down his spine and through his arms and about his stomach, so that if he moved he might be sick. Noise swirled about him dizzyingly.
His head itched somehow over the hurt, and he reached to touch it. But his motion was arrested by a blunt tug at his wrist, coinciding with another blunt tug at his other wrist.
Sharp fear raced through Luca, burning away pain and illness. He opened his eyes and stared at the iron shackles binding his arms. He lay on his side in straw, facing a wooden wall. A light chain snaked through the scuffed straw, connecting his shackles to a ring in the wall. About him he heard the now-recognizable sounds of a slaver’s stable.
Luca’s head pounded in fresh agony. He was a slave again—he didn’t know what had happened, but he was a slave again. He closed his eyes and tried to think. He remembered the caravan stopping, yes. And then the bandits had attacked. He had seen the guards fighting, and at first he had not realized that they were fighting among themselves, that some were in league with the bandits. That was when he had run with—
Marla! He jerked upright to look for her. But the stall whirled about him and his vision blurred darkly.
Hands caught his shoulder. “Easy, master,” whispered a familiar voice. “Be careful.”
Luca could barely hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. “Cole?”
“Shh, I don’t want them to hear. How’s your head?”
“Where’s Marla?”
“She got away, master. But we didn’t. Isen’s dead.”
Luca choked down nausea, relieved for Marla, grieved for Isen, frightened for them. He blinked his vision clear. “What happened?”
“Slavers and bandits. I’m overseer for their new slaves they’re selling off. You’re one of them.” Cole’s voice sounded worried. “I tried to put you in the back where you wouldn’t go as fast. I said no one would want to see you until your head was better. But they want a low price sooner rather than a high price later, so you don’t have much time.”
Luca reached for his chest and realized his tunic was torn. He felt inside the unlaced shirt and groped futilely for the wallet that should have been there. “Where’s—”
“They took it, master. You can’t buy yourself out. They took it.”
Luca’s head throbbed. His inheritance... “You’ve got to get me out of here, Cole.”
“I can’t, master. They took you half-dead to the smith and put the cuffs on you. I was only just able to put you here.”
Luca reached two-handed to probe gingerly at the swollen wound and sucked his breath. “I can’t do anything. I’m chained to a wall. You have to do this.”
“I can’t! I’m an overseer. If they think I’m helping you to escape...”
Cole was terrified of losing his tenuous safety. Luca rubbed dried blood from his fingers. “You’re an overseer, and I’m just another slave waiting to sell. Why do you still call me master?”
Cole hesitated. “I don’t know. You promised me a chance to buy my freedom. I wish...”
Voices rose from the next aisle as two men began to argue over who had seen a particular slave first.
Luca looked at Cole. “You have to release me. You’re an overseer, no one here will question you. We can walk out, as if you’re taking me somewhere else, and we can hide.”
“Hide?” repeated Cole incredulously. “We can’t hide! We can’t walk out—”
“We don’t have any other choice.”
“Cole!” boomed a voice. Cole straightened and jerked to face the end of the row, and slaves on either side shifted. A man came about the corner, tall and stern, and a few of the slaves ducked their heads. Luca recognized the traitor caravan guard who’d pursued him and Marla. Cole tensed as he started forward to meet him. “My lord.”
“Where have you been—” He stopped and looked at Luca, sitting uncomfortably upright. “Oh, so he’s more or less awake now. Been rubbing his nose in it, I guess? No harm in that, I suppose. But you’ve got other work.” He jerked his head to indicate behind him. “There’s a man eight rows down who keeps arguing he’s a freeman, keeps demanding we let him go. It’s disturbing the customers. Go and shut him up, whatever it takes.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The bandit glanced at Luca. “At least you’re sitting quiet. That’s smart. You’ll bring a better price if we haven’t had to hush you.”
Cole ventured, “My lord, if you—”
“Shut up and move. I’ve got enough to do without teaching you your work too. Get him quiet and behaving. And you, be ready to show for prospective buyers. I’m not renting space for you to play sickbed, I want you out and paid for. If you don’t sell today, you’ll auction tomorrow, so look sharp. Keep your head up so you don’t look half-dead.” He turned on Cole. “What are you doing still here, you overgrown swine? I can have you in a train for Salfield in twenty minutes. Move!”
“Yes, my lord.” Cole cast a quick desperate look at Luca and then started away.
Luca looked down at his chained wrists. It was as before—worse than before. What would happen to him now?